The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1898-05-27


expense of living. The holder of the
mortgage was one of those who think
sentiment is unbusincsslike, men who
think the dollar mark better badge
than the hero's scars. So the day of
Fate drew on apace and the skies of the
future seen from the little home dark
ened. There was faith and courage
there, but these do not heal SCARED
| hearts or shield the most heroic souls
from bitter SORROWS. How would have
liked to spike that hard-hearted old
skinfiint who sneered cynicaliy at pleas
made for time and opportunity. 1t is
lucky for such wretches that swords
are poweriess to act upon impulse or
strike when the iron Tor rather the
steeD is hot.
The night before the day of doom.
that on which the aged couple were to
be driven from the home made sacred
by precious memories, there was a
knock at the door and who should walk
in but young Louis Carroll, the son who
was supposed to have been lost on the
Pacific. Stalwart, smiling, brown as a
berry, he clasped the aged parents in
his arms and they mingled smiles and
was unphilosophical. The ship had
been lost but all the passengers had not.
Louis was one of the rescued, was taken
in the schooner which picked them up
to it's far northern destination as one Of
the whaling fleet in the Behring sea,
and he had been out of reach of mail
facilities and ordinary transportation.
One letter he had entrusted to rowing
Esquimo, but the man in furs had evil
IDENTIFY proved poor postman. Perhaps
he had fallen victim to a walrus or
polar bear, and the letter reposed with
his remains in it's department of the
interior.
Better still, Louis had been to the
Alaska mines and had been there rea-
sonably successful. He was not mill
lionaire, but he had nuggets enough to
erect an efficient barrier against mort
cages for lifetime. I heard him say
after he paid Old Moncybags his claim,
that he was strongly tempted to hit
| him with the fiat of the sword which
| hung on the wall and then throw him
out of the window. I wish he had, for
should like to have had share in the
| skirmish. His good mother rebuked
him for the words, but 1 thought I saw
q CLEAN of approval in mis- fathers eyes,
though he too was fairly good Chris
| tan under ordinary circumstances.
And SO the cloud over the little home
| lifted. Who was it that said: "At
eventime there shall be light?" In
life's dim twilight the old people are
| happy and safe once more.
When Memorial day comes 1 shall be
worn again by the honored commander
of the G. A. r. post as the members
march proudly under their tattered bat
tie flag to decorate the graves of their
dead. Upon those grassy affairs we will
renew our vows of fidelity to the old
flag and the union it gloriously repre-
sents. Already arrangements have been
made with American friends at Havana,
and a silken flag with flowers in pro-
fusion will lie on the grave of the young
soldier l served. sleeping peacefully
there with more than 200 comrades
who wore the blue. In Gods good time,
perhaps in 1899, soldiers of the Cuban
republic, then fully established, may
plant the flags and scatter the flowers
on those honored graves.
And on the evening of Memorial day
here we are to have wedding. Louis
Carroll, the returned Klondiker, will
marry Virginia Secession Poindexter,
daughter of the man who once captured
me from her father-in-law. Captor and
captured will be there, and the whole
squad will be union to the core. The
! dainty little maiden will practice what
she breaches by her union" with the
son of the man in blue, and the old uni
form will be brought out for the occa-
sion, my honored self hanging as of old
near the soldiers side. The old soldiers
will each wear blue and gray; blue in
faded uniforms, gray in boards and hair.
And over the alcove in which the happy
pair stand to be wed will futter the
tattered remnant of the old battle flag.
t Alas, of the old comrades am the
only one who looks as young as ever. I
hope to fight the enemies of my country
hundreds of years after all of you who
read this sleep with the silent majority
under the sod. Shall we meet in Heav-
en-? st. John in Revelations speaks of
flaming swords there, and of faunt-
ing blades. Be that as it may, "AlPs
well that ends WELL" I leave those 1
love in the happy light which illumines
their radiant faces as a result of the
| reunion and the wedding, the light of
undying affection which arches like
halo over the altar of home. My simple