The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-05-20
NONE BUT THE BRAVE
By HAMBLEN SEARS.

80 uol hnOW why 1 shOuld SIT mere 10
write of my earlier days There was moth
ing In them out Of the ordinary, as l look
back at them nOw-nothing but what might,
and no doubt did, happen TO many another
young fellow in those busy days of our
great fight for the right 10 live as we
deemed best in this new land across the
sea And yet those days did then seem TO
me unusual and I can tell the youngsters
that come after me that there was some
thing 10 be done every hour, and many
goodIy thrust of sword and pike 10 make
for what was our right and our just due.
Thank God. the long years are gone that
devastated this fair land and destroyed
the happiness OF so many families! And
when I think Of the ruined towns and the
thousands of graves left by that long war
i cannot help bidding those who come after
us to give their forbears Nhat is but their
due-the credit for making a free land with
their blood. and leaving bit Of this green
earth where the next that come to it may
breathe the air Of freedom.
Perhaps in this year OF our Lord, 1911, the
grave signs of another disagreement with
Great Britain makes me want TO do my
share to ward off another fight by telling
gle We had thirty and more years ago. In
good truth. if the hot-heads have not
care we shall be at IL again. and no mis-
take And yet, if the time should again
come. If a second struggle is to be fought
out. then this hand that scratches across
the page now is not so weak nor the heart
so sluggish but that / can take the old
sword down from my study wall and strike
another blow for the rocks and hills and
homes we worked so hard to call our own,
back In the last century. Let the men of
England make no mistake. Those of US
who are getting on toward the three score
OF years have still the spark in US, and we
can stand up beside the younger ones, who
have come up since the old days, and may
hap show them a point or two that came
TO us from the great Washington
Perhaps. though, this itch of the pen
comes only from a wish to recall those
strenuous days when my friends and lived
a life that could not be equaled for its con-
slant change and it's constant action. Those
were great old times. when we saw little
OF the misery and much of the famous
fighting. when we worked out the begin
nings of what We now call American.
Perhaps. yet once again. it is all to recall
the face that is not hundred. miles from
me at this moment, that has walked and
worked by my side these thirty years. Aye,
friend, If you had but known her then-if
you but knew her nOw-the fearless, gentle
nature that has made me what am, that
would have made me so much more had
been aught but lump of animated clayl
If you could but have looked into her eyes
and seen what 1 saw If you could but
have heard her voice-hark 1 hear it
now-that old song somewhere above stairs,
as she goes about her daily work of bring
ing up the chickens she and I are trying
TO make worthy their native land. Chick
ems they are no longer. but sturdy boys and
girls men and women they would call
themselves. Yet their father. sitting here
in his study, locking out on Boston Com
mon. could tell them a tale-aye has many
a time, in part-that would wake the brave
spirit in them.
Well whatever the reason for this scrib-
bling, have liking for trying it. Perhaps
1T may stir up some lad. Perhaps it may
give hint to some young girl as to what
a woman was in those days and should be
in these. Indeed, 1 believe / have ii now!
IT'S the last reason. to be sure. For as
walk down old Beacon hill and along the
Charles after a useless day of voting in
the House TO widen my neighbours street or
some such meaningless trash. and come
upon one OF the fairest of all Gods crea-
tions-as see her walking onward in all
the innocence and beauty of her youth,
there must needs come into these eyes of
mine weak tears 10 think that I am old.
and yet that 1 have seen the time when
such as she would send me smiling to my
grave could l but keep her just as she is
in her fearlessness and gentleness and
youth. And, indeed if need be, can do it
now; for fifty winters cannot so change a
man that he should forget that.
But, such as il is, here is the story.