Lincoln County leader. [volume] (Toledo, Lincoln County, Or.) 1893-1987, 1900-06-29

60 HE railway passenger station
was mass of people. Cheers
and sobs, smiles and tears, were
mingled and merged into the scenes of
the last minute. One of Chicago's vol
unteer regiments was leaving for the
front. A blaze of soldiery, fever Of
patriotism, and ten thousand people
had transformed the station into tur-
bulent sea with waves of unrestrained
emotion. Between the inspiring strains
of patriotic airs and the rattling of
drums, shouts Of encouragement we've
pouring from the megaphoned mouths
Of the multitude.
Remember the Maine" thundered
man whose appreciation for the eternal
fitness of things is more to be admired
than his originality.
Instantly a thousand voices took up
the uncouth refrain, which ended final
ly in an uproar.
xiii every bloody Spaniard you seew
added a young man, whose appearance
gave no token of the vicious injunction.
An old fellow with a copper button
in the lapel Of his coat hobbled through
the throng, fourishing his cane in the
air with little consideration for the
comfort of his countrymen.
The clang of the bell gave notice that
little time remained for the final fare
wells. Wives, mothers and sweethearts
were clinging about the necks of the de-
parting soldiers, and, amid the tumult,
great tears were falling from the eyes
Of the parting friends.
A witness of all these demonstra-
tiOns, and alone, with no one to cheer
him or to say good-by, was silent
young soldier who stood lost in reverie.
He looked scarce more than a boy,
with a proud mi.itary bearing and
handsome face. While his comrades
were biddil their last adieus, he stood
as If transfiXed to the platform, but
claimed:
Wont somebody kiss me goodbye"
Before he could escape pair of arms
were thrown around his neck from be-
hind, and as he turned he caught Il
warm kiss squarely on the lips, and
soft voice whispered: BE good boy
and come home againr'
In another instant the savior had
gone. but as the train moved out a
dainty white handkerchief was waved
in the crowd-and for him.
The vision-the sweet face. the burn
ing of the kiss on his lips, and the ten
der admonition to "be good boy and
come home again"-followed Eugene
Brockway to Springfield. 1t broke camp
with him when they We're ordered
South and embarked with him when
on the transports which carried the
regiment to Cuba. In his dreams the
girl was sure to present herself, and
when the fever took possession of his
reason the boys heard him say:
"Be n good boy and come home
again!'
After n years struggle with war and
the elements of the tropical island
Brockway was returned to Chicago,
haggard and weak from the privations
and hardships of the Cuban campaign.
One thought remained uppertuost in his
mind. His deeds of daring and bravery
while in the trenches of Santiago, his
praises sounded in the home papers,
and his new commission us lieutenant
were entirely forgotten in his quiet
search for the pretty and plump little
maiden whose kindliness had complete
ly disturbed his peace of mind.
In comfortable and happy home in
one of the suburbs the movements of &"
certain Illinois regiment had been
uncommon interest to Maine Hur,
man. She followed the campaign of the
Infantry in Cuba with a consuming rel
lsh. She scrutinized the printed lists
81 casualties and refused to believe
that death was able to overcome the
rugged lad she had jokingly clasped in
her arms, and who, in return, had car
'led away her heart with neither her
consent nor hint of where he might be
found in the future.
Several weeks after his return Lieu
;enant Brockway received an invitation
to reception ne was disposed to de-
,line, owing partially to the state of
als health, but more directly to the gen
sral disfavor with which he now CON
sidered society girls In comparison
with one romping yet sympathetic soul
whose Image was lodged in his men,
Dry. Had II not been for the persist
ency of his friend, Horace Judson, he
would have remained in his room. But
Horace had sent him word that he
would call for him with carriage and
two ladies at 1880 o'clock, and there
was but one thing to do.
"Hang the parties" muttered Gene.
rs he pulled aud tugged with his high
tiff collar.