Frostburg mining journal. [volume] (Frostburg, Md.) 1871-1913, 1898-05-28

my dog collar. 1t wouldn't lock. And
that's mother with the blue flowers in her
belt. They re for Yale, you know"
The splendid Seventh had just swung
INTO Madison square past the reviewing
stand to the sound of mighty cheer,
which had encompassed them down Fifth
avenue.
Behind them came the guests of the day,
the New Haven Invincbles, military
organization almost as old as the days of
John Davenport The blue and buff of
colonial times, the bearskin shakos, the
pure white facings of the elaborate uni
forms, all made them the mark for the
eyes of the multitude. Their alignment
was perfect.
"Thore's father, said the lad, Eat the
head of that company. See? The tall man
with the plain face. Oh, l tell you he's a
dandyn'
He had sunk back in his chair, his fair
face all aglow, and he looked up at the
older man with friendly confidence
charming to see "Im sure of it,, said
Mr.. Smith heartily. "Suppose you tell me
your name now? Mine is James Smith. )"
Francis Trumbull, said the boy
Have you got a little boy?"
There was a perceptible pause, which
made the boy curious, before the man said
slowly:
"No."
"That's pity, said Francis compass
sionately. ''Its great thing for a man
to have little boy. l don't know what
they d do without me-"
HIT was so sure of his own Importance,
SO serene in it, that it touched the lonely
L., l. l..
much account?
"Have you got little girl?" went on
the boy.
81 have no one in the whole world be-
longing to me. That gentleman, Mr..
Gwinnett, is my friend, and we old bache-
lors live together in Atlanta"
There was pause of a full minute be-
fore the next shot fell.
"Were you in the war?'
For answer Mr.. Smith pushed back his
gray hair from his forehead and showed "a
long, ugly scar that ran up into the scalp.
The boy gave a low whistle. "Cracky F.!
That must have hurt! You We're on tho
southern sidc?''
81 don't know" said the man. And he
smiled, though his eyes were grave.
"Don't know" said the boy; "don' t
know which side you were on? Oh, come
now, you re fooling!"
"No," said the man, 81 don't know,
and I've been 30 years trying to find out
I've been to the best doctors in Europe
and this country, but they cannot help me.
DO you think you camp
The boy hitched his chair nearer, forget
ting the parade, and laid his hand--it was
long, shapely little hand-on the man S
knee, while he gazed at him with his clear
blue eyes, full of amazement.
Il was wounded at the battle of Atlanta
In the chest and on the head. Mr.. Gwin
nett, who was on the southern side, found
me unconscious and nearly dead on the
field, where the cavalry had been charging
back and forth. 1t is supposed Il horse
stepped on me- At any rate, when l came
to in the negro cabin where Mr.. Gwinnett
had left me | could remember nothing.
had no past. In few weeks, as soon as |
was able, was moved to Mr. Gwinnett' S
mothers homo in Atlanta. l was "a long
time getting well, but l never wore out
their goodness. My memory never came
back, and had to begin all over again
learn my A b C's even.'
"But," said the boy, "there was your
uniform?"
''Some one had stripped ne of that
thinking me dead. Well, l took the name
of James Smith and started life over
again. l don't know what l have lost 1
know l gained the best friend God ever
gave Il man"
There was something in his face as he
looked at his friend, who was watching
the soldiers, that made the boy swallow
quickly.
81 say" said the boy, and there was a
little quiver around his sensitive mouth,
'that was rough on you" And he slipped
his hand into the mans and gave it a
hard squeeze.
The boys face was very grave as he
said "Goodby," and he ran back to throw
himself on MIR. Smith and whisper, eth
come back some day, see if it don't"
Good little chap" said Mr.. Smith AS
he stood listening to the sound of his feet
as he ran noisily down the stairs.
eyes, he's regular boy; no chcrub
business about him. But, Jim, you look
tired
MY head feels thick" said the other.
Its this confounded procession. wish
we hadn't waited over. l don't know why
you insisted" And his friend kicked his
heels petulantly against the table on which
he was sitting.
"Walt, wanted to try another expert
ment to see if it would suggest anything
l thought perhaps if had been northern
man and l saw the old flags and all that
1t might bring something back, but it has
not
"Of course it hasn't, for you re south
ern fast enough. See here, Jim, suppose
you got your past back-and it might be
u past you would not choose now-have
hot h. ,l,
you'd lose the interim? That tho last 30
years would go-all your manhood-and
and / along with it?'
He spoke with an angry vehemence. He
was afraid and jealous of those unknown
years
Il don't want my past without you,
Walt" said his friend simply.
1t was evening Mr.. Gwinnett had gone
to the theater, leaving his friend to recover
from his headache. He sat in the dusk,
though his room was full of reflected light
from the street below. All day long he
had been in singular state of anticipa-
tion, behind which there was lurking ap-
prehension. His head throbbed, he had
had turns of dizziness and a flashing of red
before his eyes. His idea trains were bro
ken and incoherent.
I'D better pack, " he thought, glad of
any physical effort, and he went into
Gwinnett's room-the connecting door
stood open-to collect his things. He
turned on the light and began sorting the
numerous parcels thrown on the table.
There was IA pasteboard box, with Tiffany's
name upon it, He opened it and took out
large silver dog collar. Gwinnett had
not bought it, and it was not his. Why, it