Anadarko daily democrat. [volume] (Anadarko, Oklahoma) 1901-190?, 1902-04-09

Joseph Major, SAID the little man
in the gray serge suit, to the clerk in
side the postoffice window, who, taxi
ing second glance of kindly inquisi-
tiveness at the gentle face outside,
handed him several letters.
The little man hustled away handling
over the letters until one of them
caused him to stop in his steps. 1t was
a scared and yellow envelope, bearing
in its whole appearance, in the cramp-
ed handwriting and in the stamp up
in the corner, a look of years, as II 1t
had dropped, meteor-like, from the
far-away past.
The man stood. turning ii over In
his hand, regardless of those passing
and repassing him, many of whom
turned curious glances toward HIM
On his face expressions of amazement,
pleasure. sadness and CONSERVATION
succeeded each other with kaleido-
scopic rapidity. A moment afterward
he walked away from the postoffice,
and, crossing the street, to small
triangle of grass adorned with shrub
berry and seats and decorously named
a park, he seated himself in retired
spot, and with trembling fingers and
fast-going breath, opened the envelope.
AS he glanced at the first lines his
face grew white and drawn and he
stared at the contents as il he were
looking at a ghost. He leaned back
and his hand sought his forehead as
IL seeking to brush away cobwebs from
his brain. This was what the letter
was. written in an uniformed and
girlish hand:
CairovlIle. o., Ap o. 1863
Dear Joseph--1 cannot tell you how "a lelt
when came home and found that you s 4 gene
10 the and I had not seen you 20 {
even one word to yOu before you went bu;
found your letter waiting for me and explaining
Il all. and that was something. though | don
see sec why you should have started before iist rnt
and / am proud Of You for IT,
But oh! Joseph. when l think that may
never sec you again; that at any moment even
now you may be wounded and suffering and
am here helpless, 1t seems II cannot bear
r. And losing poor mamma, too, Just at THIS
time feel as IN had no one TO turn 10 nut
you and you hundreds of miles away. AS
you know, mamma died and they brought her
home and laid her to rest in the little cemetery
on the hill. or course, Joseph, you can. rely
upon me. You need never have doubted it, but
everything was 50 uncertain while mamma was
Ill and | felt that my first duty was 10 her
and could not say anything more definite them
but now that she is gone belong wholly to
you
When shall see you again. and when win
these terrible troubles end When read Of
the dreadful battles and, particularly when 1
read the long lists OF dead. wounded and miss
Ing my heart beats that it seems that 1t
Goodbye, my dear Joseph, and may God pro-
tect and keep you from harm.
Your loving sweetheart
His eyes fingered over the signature.
All those gentle loving words he had
so longed to hear and never had they
reached him during all the weary
years The words rang in his ears.
His heart beat them out in its pulsa-
tions, and his eyes saw them wherever
he looked The bitterness and sad
ness of it all filled his heart with ach-
ing, and seemed to crush his very soul
He sat gazing at the green grass,
the trees, the singing birds and the
children playing about him, but he
saw none of these-only the tragedy
of his life,
Thirty years before he reflected and
saw himself boy, just entering man
hood, hard at work on the farm with
a step-father who had little use for
him except as working machine
with no mother, sister or close kin to
look to in those years of longing for
companionship; but with one friend
the sweet, black-eyed girl, to whom
his sensitive nature had turned for
sympathy.
Again he heard the roll of the drums
and felt the thrills that went through
him when, as boy, he heard of the
counry's danger and the call for men
and yet more men. Again he drilled
as a raw recruit and marched away