Abilene weekly reflector. [volume] (Abilene, Kan.) 1888-1935, 1898-12-29
A TOUCHING SCENE.


sAe = WI vVs~hAsIVhs
have seen the American flag In
many countries and circumstances. !
have seen it floating at the head OF
great war squadron. once saw il
carried, ragged ard wet with blood,
but triumphant, from battlefield
which was strewn with the corpses
of men who had died to defend il.
Eut nowhere has it seemed to me
more touching and imrressively used
than in "A homely little scene of which
happened to be witness during the
Civil war.
In August. 1868, | was going from
West Virginia to Philadelphia through
Pennsylvania. The south-bound trains
that summer were heavily loaded with
troops and provisions for the army,
but going back they carried few pas.
sengers,
AT Pittsburg. when the train rollea
Into the station. great, silent crowd
waited for it, A splendid funeral car
stood in the background surrounded
by troops, and the street was filled by
long line of closed carriages. A
volunteer officer in the Union army,
/ who had been a man Of influence and
high position in Pittsburg, had been
killed in the last battle, and now his
native city incurred for him and did
him honor.
The coffin, rich in decorations and
covered with flowers, was reverently
borne from the car. The troops pre-
scented arms; the standards, draped
with black, were lowered. and the air
was filled with solemn music of fun
eral marches.
After short delay, the train rolled
on its way.
Late that afternoon it stopped at
a little station among the Allegheny
Mountains. The station house was
but rough shed; a pig was roofing
under the platform. In the back
ground was a squalid cabin in pota-
to patch. The whole landscape spoke
of harrenness and helpless poverty.
Standing on the platform was a
woman, a poor country girl, She
wore an old, patched gown THAI hung
Imply to her thin body. and a calico
smbannet which she had thrown back
that she might better watch the train.
A little barefooted boy chung to her
but she did not heed him. Her face
was pinched and bloodless. She leaned
forward. staring with childish, dilated
eyes into each car as it passed
There was a grating sound as the
trainmen dragged IA rough pine box
from the freight car and laid 1t on
the platform. The woman went up
to it.. and without word or tear
dropped down and clasped her arms
about it. There was not a man on the
train who did not uncover his head.
but she saw nothing of the many
strange pitying eyes fixed on her.
Her boy came to her, crying.
"Where is papa? You said he would
come"
She did not hear or answer; only
clasped the box closer.
The tragedy was so squalid, so hope
less, that the onlookers saw only its
cruelty. Why should this poor farm
boy be struck down, and this helpless
wife and her child be left to struggle
and to suffer? Why need there he
this waste of human life? Just then
a man ran out of the station carry
ing tattered old flag and spread Il
proudly over the box.
And at the touch of it. it seemed to
us who watched as il our country laid
her hand on the poor coffimandsaid:
"rhis is my son. He died for mo
Pay reverence TO him."
The train steamed slowly away
The setting sun threw it's low light
over the lonely group on the platform
the woman and her child and her
deadAbWt the flag ennobled this poor
martyrdom. Never in the trumphS
of peace or fury Of battle did il eX-
press with more emphasis the majesty
of our country than when it claimed
the poor volunteer as its son. one OF
its heroes TO be honored for all time
The Youths Companion.