The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1900-06-21
: The Power Of a Song I
G By Samuel Emery.
OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES

land laddie gone?
He's gone to fight the French with King
George all on his throne,
And it's Oh, in my heart. that 1 mad him
safe at home"
nVER and over again the childish
" treble rose. Outside the fierce
June sun cast glare over field and
wood, over vine-shaded house and
dusty road. The first hot term of the
summer had come, with drought, OPP
preston and discomfort in its track.
At every window the blinds were
closed, but here and there a flaming
shaft of light penetrated to the dusk
and quiet within. L vas as if the
weather had entered into a fell con-
spiracy against all the living world,
but chiefly against the life of the
crops end the tempers of men.
But it's Oh in my heart, that 1 had him
safe at home"
Mabel said weary voice, with
hint of irritation in it, ''how much
longer before you'll have him safe
at home?'"
"Oh, Uncle George said the little
girl, turning, to a long figure on the
sofa, almost invisible in the gloom,
81 didn't know you were there. Does
your head ache? l was just, prac-
ticing for the school entertainment -
Come and tell me all about it,
won't you, little one," making room
for the slight figure on the sofa.
well, you see,' began the little
girl, as she nestled into his arms,
school closes on Friday, and in the
evening we're going to have an en-
tertainment, with songs and pieces
and be-yu-ti-ful flowers, and, oh, lots
of nice things
ANY body l know going to do any
thing"
"Nhy, Uncle George" said the little
maid reproachfully, I'm going to
sing. Didn't l tell you l was prac-
ticing?"
''Oh, yes, so you did l remember
now. And what are you going to
sing?"
Now, believe you're teasing. I'm
going to sing The Blue Bells of Scot
land of course"
Dear, dear, what an honor. and
you're sure you won't be frigh~-
ened?''
why, Uncle George, of course not, -
with firm conviction.
What shall you do ii they all clap
and stamp, and perhaps shout and try
to brighten a little nine-year-old maid
/ know
Why l should keep right on" with
decision.
a hot night, with all that is con-
tanned in the words; a night with no
cooling westerly breeze; with shrub
berry and grass parched and brown;
night when the dust raised by pass
ing teams settles lazily with no wind
to blow it about: a night with no
gathering thunder caps to herald
welcome shower; a night when men
see with apprehension the dwindling
of the water supply, and talk of for
est fires, and shudder at the men
ton; night when the changing of
the fire engines brings startled sleep
ers to their feet with alright: a night
when clothes are a burden and move
ment an abhorrent thing.
The assembly room on the second
floor of the ancient wooden school
house was filed with a fretful. per-
spring audience, whose temper was
short, and whose patience was short
er; whose politeness was scant and
sympathy scanter; one hated the
sight of his uncomfortable neighbor.
and loathed to touch him.
In front sat the rows on rows of
little girls who were If anything more
deserving of pity than their audience.
They were prim to a degree, each
with starched dress, ana a braided
pig-tail. Their hands were clasped
in their laps, and they looked with
scared eyes at the people. In the
midst of them, also with a starched
dress, braided pig-tail, and clasped
hands, but sharing in no degree the
apprehension of the others. calm with
a great resolve, sat Mabel. Uncle
George could but smile with pride at
so dauntless a bearing, and felt it
some compensation for being dragged
out this sitting night by the illness
of the little ones mother. He looked
about him, taking in the rows of I'M
happy mortals on either side: the
prim little girls in front; the limp
and faded flags hung in restless pro-
fusion, with sublime disregard of
the gas jets. His face grew grave.
"As long as there's no wind, an inch's
as good as a mile" he said, half
aloud.
81 beg your pardon, did you speak
to ne?" said a voice beside him. He
turned and behold very stout gem
tleman, with a wisp of rag for a
collar, his face an unknown shade of
purple, surmounted by a mop of car
roty red hair
"Yes, warm night. isn't it?''
The stout gentleman looked at him
indignantly II hadn't noticed" said
he testify. 81 was looking to see that
that | didn't get in draft" and he
mopped his face savagely.
81 was noting the very careless way
that flag was hung" said Uncle
George, indicating it. 1T wouldn't