The Somerset herald. [volume] (Somerset, Pa.) 1870-1936, 1899-03-08

her baby. Morals or no morals, she
gave him the loyalty dogs give men
without analysis-and she cried her
poor old heart out through the long
day. She yearned to go comfort his
mother; draw her head down into her
big lap and cry with her, but Mrs. Riv-
ers had become woman that women
didn't easily touch.
The next morning the paper had the
name in staring headlines. The moth
er saw 1t across the length of the piazza
as the colored child brought it.
'0h, they have remembered" she
cried. "Why not have let him rest in
deathr'
But the headlines told of glory. It
was a despatch from the Associated
Press correspondent, and it told how
Rivers, private, had fallen in the front
of his regiment, holding the old flag,
cheering on men who were a quarter of
a century older than he, planting his
colors at the top of hill, the first man
therei
Such was his death in the mad heat,
under an awful sun, bored by bullets
while he dug his flagstaff in the enc
my's country, making crazy by his ex-
ample hundreds of men who tugged
like bloodhouuds at leash to get down
the hill after the retreaters, and choke,
straugle every man who had shot at
him.
Then came columns about him from
the local staff. This Rivers, they now
remembered, was Jack Rivers, a towns
man, an aristocrat who enlisted as a
regular years ago; anecdotes of his
childhood were told; stories Of his
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 died. This was written by the
gray 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 well, and he told the mother
over the wire that death had given her
another hero, and that the dead boy
lay in his own tent, where hundreds
honored him. The mayor sent TO ask
if the csbiegram might be published,
and said he had arranged to have the
body sent up at the city's expense.
On the day of the funeral the church
was thronged far past the inner doors
with curious and interested groups of
people, friends and acquaintances. 1t
was the first soldiers funeral in that
town since '65. The townspeople knew
now that this was war.
1t was cannon as well as flag.
1t was bullets as well as talk. Every
mother in the city had heartache for
this first bereaved mother.
But when those people tell you the
story of that day now they talk 10
more of grief; they tell of something
that only few understood.
The crowd at the gateway Of the
church parted to let the coffin pass,
and hundreds of faces were lifted to
the one monrner. Dozens Of emotional
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 Revo-
luton and the Daughters of the Con-
federacy were side by side.
The coffin was covered with flag,
and was borne by colored servants.
The mother, the only mourner, walked
behind by the side of the gray-haired
friend of the boys father.
Eyes that were turned to her in pity
grew large with astonishment- 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 gray eyes looked squarely into
the future; her step was buoyant; her
mouth almost smiled; and only few
in the crowd knew that the look meant
that her boy would never be humilia-
ted now. He had died as his fathers
son should die
Down the long church aisle she swept,
as if going to marriage altar instead
of a mourner's pew. Her appearance
was the sensation of the church; and
men and women pressed to the door to
see her come out.
They buried him under the hanging
Spanish moss by his fathers memorial
tablet. She stood straight as lance
beside the open grave, and was almost
beautiful with that triumphant look in
her eyes
The bells of the old Spanish cathe-
dral by the sea rung out the "Ave Ma
rie;" few good Catholics in the crowd
crossed themselves. The salute was
fired over soldiers body. Just as the
evening star twung into the glowing
sky an old man who had gone through
the war with his father stepped from
behind a great tree and placed the bu-
gle to his lips.
He tried twice and failed. Then
Lights Out" quivered and died on the
air. The man sobhed aloud as he broke
on the last note. lie had gone in MEM
ory b-ck to the night before the fathers
death. But the mother stood there
with that same look on her face, ready
at last to look into the eyes Of the COM
ing years
Her husbands son had died hero
and the town had forgotten the past.
wouldn't the dear God do so, too?-|
Harrydele Hallmark.
Remarkable Restus.