The National tribune., 1902-08-28

on their return. and. when near the gate
| of the fort, degenerated into unmilltary
celebrity, attended with some little crowd,
| ing in passing through the gate, yet not
more than one-fifth of the water was
spilled, and the eyes of the youngest had
not diated to more than double their or
binary size"
The apostrophic tribute of the poet Gal
lagher finds fitting place here:
| 1.-The mothers of our forest-land!
On old Kentucky's soil,
How shared they with each dauntless
hand
Wars tempest and life's tOil.'
As l said in the beginning, l am rest
| ing under the shade of the trees, while
the Summer sun illumes a peaceful land;
but it was not ever thus. Naturally my
mind frequently reverts to the bloody. bar
barrie strife between Indian and pioneer;
to the war of 1872: to the combat with
Mexico, and more especially to the san
culinary conflict between the States-the
SouthrOn against the Northman. in which
the Kentucky home was divided against
itself-Federal and Confederate. There
still live fathers and mothers, brothers
and sisters who saw the horrors of inter
necine warfare-war on the border. Many
of them are keeping green in their hearts
memories of loved ones who marched
away to battle never to return. When
war came it was not uncommon, in this
borderland. for sons of the same parent
age to find that they had come to the
parting of the wayS-the one putting Oh
the blue. the other the gray. l find no
bitterness along the border now. Fed
erals and ConfederateS are friends. They
have forgotten that they were enemies in
the long ago. Their heads with silver
spread" they are looking into the azure
empyrean toward the eternal camping
ground"
Zone by one shall our ranks be lessened.
One by one will our comrades pass,
As they join the silent army
In its bivouac meath the grass
One of my Confederate comrades has
fallen = fallen from grace in the
Church. BY nature he is a genial, COM
panionable man of the world. fond of gay
company and, incidentally, of the paste
boards and ''clinkinG glasses" Not long
ago he experienced change of heart
and fOrsook the "gilded palaces" renounc-
ing. as he thought. the wicked ways of the
transgressor forever. The church forth
with elevated him to an office. making
him the clerk and ex-Officio custodian of
the records. However, like many another
weak mortal. he could not stand the pace
set for him in the straight and narrow
way. The seductive vintage of the vine
and extract of Bourbon corn made him
stumble, finally throwing him down all in
n heap. so to speak. Getting up, he I'M
steadily meandered homeward. Upon
reaching his vine-clad home, wherein had
dwelt love in n cottage" he summoned
his Borrowing side-partner from the nup-
tial couch and imperatively babe her
bring forth the book containing the
church records. Turning to the list Of
,In,. h. hot 90
nent member caught his inQuisitorial eye.
John Jones gets drunk on the sly. I'll
just scratch his name off the book. Here
is Jane Brown. She gossirs too much and
ISLANDERS her neiGhbors. I'll turn her out,
too. Here is the name of Bob Smith. He
is 4 cheat on jockey street. His name
must come off. Here is August Schmidt.
He swears in a foreign tongue. He must
go. Here is Mary Gardner. She is all
vanity and vexation of shirt. I'll blue
pencil her name. Here Is the name of
Charley johnson. He is 4 bad man. I'll
just turn him out on general principles.
Ah! here is my name-the chief of sin
ners. l am drunk right now. OF course.
l must erase my name and get out of the
sanctuary" Thus the conscientious and
cOnscicnce-Smitten custodian of the rec
ords went down the list. making apropos
comments. until the revision was com
plete. and. so far as there was any rec
ord in the church book. there We're very
few sheep left. the relentless reviser hav-
ing turned out the majority to fellow
shin with the goats. Viewing his work
and pronouncing it good. he sought his
couch of down and slept TRANQUILITY. the
load that had burdened his soul having
been rolled away.
Moral: Sometimes wolves in sleeps
clothing occupy high places in the sane
tuary.
And yet,
''The sun shines bright in the old Ken
lucky home,
1t is Summer. the darkies are gay,
The corn tops ripe and the meadows are
in bloom.
And the birds make music all the day."