Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1902-06-27
Private Lawson'S Coronation.

community, he was welcome to stay.
The neighbors referred to him
usually as "Dick Canfelds hired
hand" 1t didn't matter so much about
his name or his antecedents. His for
mer life in Indiana might remain a
closed book unless he chose to have it
otherwise. Folk of Round Prairie
knew he was up with the sun every
spring morning. and they heard his
whistled songs as he tramped across
the dew-spangled pasture for his team
before breakfast All this made him
one of them to all outward appear
anCes.
But Tom Lawson was not the
dreamless clod that they believed
him. VI he did not reveal his inner
and truer self to these practical. mat
ter-of-fact tillers of the soil it was be-
cause they did not understand him
and did not care for his condolences.
His was one of those souls that hun
gered for sympathy. for kindred com
partnership, and found them not. There
is no keener senss of loneliness than
that.
He was thinking of all this as he
sat-tired and dusty-on the beam of
his pillow and looked out vacantly over
the acres of brown earth that lay in
long ribbons before him. Something
in the gathering twilight saddened
him. Maybe it was the thought of
his isolation, maybe a vague yearn-
ing for a different life, maybe-and
much more likely-the dream of a
fair-haired lass he had left behind in
Indiana.
"Hey there. Lawson! working purity
/ IL. ..,ft
the road. Better unlock and go
home"
Il was just thinking so myself" was
the answer. It's been a long day,
| Frank"
by the way, Tom, did your hear
/ the news?"
What news"
Governors called out all the militia
| to help fight the bloody Spaniards
| down in Cuba. The Canton com
pany's goin' to Springfield tomorrow
morning, and wants 80 men to make it
! 100"
That night Lawson tossed on his bed
until long after midnight. Why
I shouldn't he be one of the 40? Maybe
he would be killed if he went to war
and maybe he would come back a
|
possibilities crowded upon his mind.
He scanned them all as they appeared
against the background of his lonely
life in Round Prairie.
While the little farmhouse was still
and every other soul in it was sound
asleep he crept out of bed. quietly
donned his only suit of clothes. felt
| his way to the door and passed out
| f,,+, : bn ffyhf GN-a mil
away. but his footsteps were set stur-
Oily toward distant glow on the sky.
! There he knew nestled the little city
asleep, and waiting the bugler's
revelle that would call the boys" to
war for the first time in a third of a
century.
No need here to tell of the excite
ment that attended the mobilization
of Co. NJ and its marching away TO the
train already painting at the station as
if eager to begin the run to Spring
field No need either to picture the
scenes of parting A similar drama
was enacted that April morning in
1898 in two scores of towns in Illinois.
1t is sufficient to say that not one of
the thousands who gathered at the sta
ton grasped the hand of Tom Law
son and said "Goodby.' Not a tear
was shed for him. not a hand was
waved to him as the train pulled out,
not one voice expressed the hope that
he would come back alive. and yet-he
was one of the 40 who had volunteered
to help bring Co. VI TO the maximum of
strength
AS the train reeled off its miles past
fields and farmhouses and wayside
villages Lawson felt that he had cut
loose from the old life. but there was
spirit of comradeship abroad that
already bound him to his new-found
friends with a tie stronger than any
he had known in Round Prairie.
He took to himself a share of the
cheers of the throngs along the way.
1t was grateful music in his ears. He
! wished-deep in his heart-that Lucy
might see him with these rollicking
soldiers. Maybe-how fondly he
thought it-she might give him the
rose she had withheld in a one-time
pleading, a rose that would stand for
hope. and something more.
The train swung around a long
curve. A monster dome heaved it.
self into view. From its top flag
shook its stripes in the wind Another
starry emblem beckoned from a lofty
pole.
Camp Tanner" was the cry that
spread from coach to coach. Ten
minutes later Company NJ was inside
the post. Hundreds of men just like
themselves had preceded them. Hun
dreds more followed, and when taps
was sounded that night 1000 men
slept the sleep of soldier.
Lawson began the rudiments of
drill in the awkward squad. The
! guns of the novices were sticks, their
belts pieces of rope or strap their
hats a motley array of derbies and fe-
| doras. They were awkward enough,
but-men do not laugh at the stun
bling volunteer when war looms above
the horizon
What a day it was-that first Sun
! day in camp. Fifty thousand fathers,
mothers, sisters and sweethearts
/ came to say another goodby. They
/ brought books and flowers and great
| boxes of sweets and poured them
around thick and redolent as the APP
! pies in grandfather's cellar.
! There was something for every man
/ save Tom Lawson. Nobody had
come to see him. nobody had thought
to send or bring him a souvenir, a
/ token of love or friendship. For an
hour he looked on the joy of the others
| in silence, then he turned away and
! crept into the shadows of tent.