The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1899-03-01

She passed through the French WIN
dow and said to the old cook: Marse
Jack is dead, Melinda; he was killed
in the big battle last week" Melinda
hadn't been brought up a Calvinist,
and Marse Jack had been her baby.
Morals or no morals, she gave him the
loyalty dogs give men-without analy-
sis-and she cried her poor old heart
out through the long day. She yearn-
ed to go comfort his mother-draw
her head down to her big lap and cry
with her; but Mrs. Rivers lad become
a woman that women didn't easily
touch.
The next morning the paper had the
name in staring headlines. The
mother saw it across the length Of the
piazza as the colored girl brought it.
"Gh, they have remembered" she
cried; sswhy not have let him rest in
DEATH
But the headlines told of glory. 1t
was dispatch from she Associated
Press correspondent and it told how
Rivers, private, had fallenin the front
Of his regiment, holding the old flag,
cheering OF men who were a quarter
Of century older than he, planting
his colors at the top Of a hill, the first
man there!
Such was his death. in the mad
heat, under an awful sun, bored BY
bullets, while he dug his flagstaff in
the enemy's country. making crazy
by his example hundreds Of men who
tugged like bloodhounds at leash to
get down the hill after the retreaters,
and choke, strangle every man who
shot at him.
Then came columns about him from
the local staff. This Rivers, they
now remembered, was Jack Rivers, a
townsman. an aristocrat who enlisted
as a regular years ago: anecdotes OF
his childhood were told; stories Of
daring adventures when he had been
the worst young scamp in town and
had led every other boy into mischief.
There was an editorial telling how his
father had died. This was written by
the grey haired old editor who fought
by the fathers side. He touched the
boys death with fine old phrases and
gave him place by his fathers side.
A cablegram came from the white
haired Southern general, who knew
the family we'll, and he told the moth
er over the wire that death had given
her another hero and that the dead
boy lay in his old tent, where hun
dreds honored him. The mayor sent
to ask if the cablegram might be pub
lished, and said he had. arranged to
have the body brought up at the city,s s
expense. On the day Of the funeral
the Church was thronged far past the
inner doors with curious and interest
ed groups of people, friends and ac-
quaintances. It was the first soldier S
funeral in that town since IS.
The town people knew now that this
was war.
1t was cannon as we'll as flag.
It was bullets as we'll as talk.
Every mother in the city had heart
ache for this bereaved mother. But
when those people tell you the story
of that day now, they talk no more of
grief-they tell of something that only
few understand.
The crowd. at the gateway Of the
Church parted to let the coffin pass,
and hundreds Of faces were lifted to
the one mourner. Dozens Of emo
tional colored people were sobbing
aloud. The town was showing its
patriotism in this funeral. Union
veterans walked beside Confederate
veterans, the local militia had turned
out, the Sons Of the Revolution aud
the Daughters Of the Confederacy
were side by side. The coffin was
covered by the flag and was borne by
colored servants. The mother, the
only mourner, walked behind by the
side of the grey haired friend Of the
boys father. Eyes that were turned
to her in pity grew large in astcnish-
ment.
Here was no bent, broken woman.
She stood every inch her splendid
height
The face was triumphant.
The younger generation who had
only known her since she looked so
old and feeble hardly recognized her.
The grey eyes looked squarcly into
the future; her step was buoyant;
her mouth almost smiled. And only
! I IL Al l., l.