The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1898-02-10

Who-is-here p That seems almost right,
don't it, Shortly"
''It certainly does, replied Shorty, scratch
ing his head to accelerate his mental action.
cor it might be, 81, who, who; is, Is; and
Yer, yer. You know some ignorant folks
say yer for you. And they say the name
came from the people who first settled in In
jianny sayin' Who's yer?' to any new
conner"
q believe you're right, Shorty" said ST,
bending over the board with the charcoal to
begin the work. ''We1l make it that way,
| anyway"
The next day passers-by saw white board
nailed up over the door, which contained a
charcoal sketch of a soldier seated on a chunk
of wood, with a pipe in his mouth, taking rs
much ease as 81 could throw into the outlines
of his face and body, and with it was this
legend:
"WHO IS. YER.S' REST'
! The next idea that came into the partners
minds was that the requirements of society
| demanded that they give housewarming in
their sumptuOus abode. They at once set
| about making it a memorable social event.
! While out with q wagon after forage they
| found an Indiana man who had settled in
that country. He had good orchard They
bought from him a barrel of pretty hard
| cider and several bushels of apples. His wife
knew how to make fried doughnuts of the
real Indiana indigestibilty. They would be
| luxuries for the boys, and half bushel were
| contracted for. The farmer was to bring
them all in his wagon, and ST and Shorty
were to meet him at the pickets and guard
the treasures to their abode.
They bought a little bale of fragrant
| Kinnikinnick tobacco from the sutler, made a
sufficiency of corn-cob pipes, swept off the
ground in front Of their house, which, as
there had been no rain for several days, was
in good condition, with brooms of brush,
that it might serve for dancing floor,
gathered in stock of pitch-pine knots for
their fire, spoke to Bunty Jim to bring his
fiddle along, and to Uncle Sassafras, the
ColonePs cook, to come down with his banjo,
and their preparations were completed.
1t was crisp, delightful Winter evening,
with the moon at full, the fire burning
brightly, and every body in the best of spirits.
The awful week of marching, enduring and
suffering, of terrific fighting, Imitless blood
she'd of wounds and death to one out of every
four men in the ranks, of nerve-cracking
anxieties to all might as well have been CEN
turtles ago, for any sign that appeared on the
bright, animated faces of the young men who
q.
danced old fashioned country dances to the
music of the fiddle and the banjo, and sang
songs which lamented the death of Lilly
Dale, mOurned that my Nelly was sleeping
in the Hazel DELL" adjured the Silver
Moon " to roll on" and so on through the
! whole repertoire of the sentimental ballads
of that day
Then they were invited into the house to
inspect its complete, luxurious appointments,
and feast themselves to bursting on apples,
hard cider, and doughnuts that would have
tried any stomach but young soldiers
Billy Quincy, who had been back to Nash
vile as one of the guard to train-load of
wounded, was induced to favor the company
| with the newest song, which had Just
reached that city. He cleared his throat
with another tincupful of cider, and started
Off with:
| when this cruel war is over"
Rapturous applause followed the first verse,
and Billy started in to teach them the chorus,
so they could all join.
loud explosion came from the fireplace
q eamp-kettle full of cider that was being
mulled by the fire was splattered over the
company, scalding some of them severely;
stones from the fireplace and bullets flew
about the room. They all rushed out. Foot
steps could be heard running in the distance.
They looked in that direction, and recognized
Sol Murbury's broad back and bushy head.
That blamed Wagonmaster dropped q
nosebag with lot o cartridges in it down
the chimbly," said Shorty, who had made an
inspection of the fireplace Mad because be
wasn't invited You bet, I'll salivate him
well for that little trick"
ITO be confinued)