The Press., 1898-05-26
..Were you in the warp"

regulated the menses. It relieved the pain quickly and cured the disease"
 Were you in the warp
 For answer MT. Smith pushed back his gray hair from his forehead and showed long, ugly scar that ran up into the scalp.
 The boy gave low whistle. "Cracky That must have hurti You were on the southern side?'' .....-
 ''I 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 foolingP'
 "No," said the man, 1T 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 canP''
 The boy hitched his chair nearer, forget ting the parade, and laid his hand-it was long, shapely little hand-on the mans knee, while he gazed at him with his clear blue eyes, full of amazement.
 1T was wounded at the battle of Atlanta in the chest and on the head MT. 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. It is supposed horse stepped on me. A any rate when I came to in the negro cabin where MT. Gwinnett had left me l could remember nothing I had no past In few weeks, as soon as I was able, was moved to MT. Gwinnett's mothers home in Atlanta. was long time getting well, but I 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 uniformp'
 HSome one had stripped ne of that, thinking me dead. We'll, took the name of James Smith and started life over again. l don't know what I have lost know l gained the best friend God ever gave man"
 There was something in his face as he looked at his friend, who was watching the soldiers, that made the boy swallow quickly.
 'I 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 hard squeeze.
 The boys face was very grave as he said, "GOodby, {" and he ran back to throw himself on MT. Smith and whisper, "Itll come back some day, see if it don't"
 "Good little chap" said MT. Smith as he stood listening to the sound of his feet as he ran noisily down the stairs.
 Yes, he's a regular boy; no cherub business about him. But, Jim, you look tired.'
 ''My head feels thick,' said the other
 "It's this confounded procession. wish we hadn t waited over. 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 it 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 past you would not choose now-have you ever thought that the chances are you'd lose the interimP That the 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.
 II don't want my past without you, Walt, said his friend simply.
 It 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 tho 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 flashing of red before his eyes. His idea trains were bro- ken and inooherent.
 "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. Thero was 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 must belong to that boy. He held it idly a moment, and then his eye caught a spray of lnistletoe beaten in the silver. 'sThe name, 'Baldur, is on the other side, " he thought. He turned it around Yes, there it was. God in heaven, how did he knowY He trembled so he fell into the nearest chair His heart beat against his ribs, the cold sweat stood upon his brow as he asked himself the question. Then from under heath came the answer as the dead self rose from its grave and God said, "Loose him and let him go''
 Baldur was his dog, and this was Bal dur's collar. He had had it made in Swe- den, in Lund. The quaint old peaken roof shop, the silversmith and the some one who was with him. Some one who was young and beautiful and who loved him, His bride, Barbara rending groan burss from him, and his head fell forward on the table, but his hand still clutched aft curtains rolled away, little by little the lost years came back. Thanks be to God, there were no awful guilt spots upon this risen self of his in this his day of judgment.
 He saw happy, sheltered childhood, flowing into the enthusiasm of youth, and the steady purpose of manhood. He saw himself responding gladly to his country's call, though Barbara and the baby clung about him. Then the long list of battles burned their way through his memory, ending with Atlanta.