The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-08-02
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The boys in blue. the rows of tents and
Old Glory waving over all, Who that can
remember the early sixties, or even the
year '9S, can see them without a constric-
ton Of the throat and a moisture in the
eyes? And in these jolly boys from farm
and shop, from desk and college, bearing
the hardships of their weeks encampment
so gayly, relieving the tedium by pranks
and practical jokes, lie the same possible
ties of heroism, the same capacity for
''Venturing life and love and youth for the
great prize of death in battle" that ami
mated the heroes of those wars.
For that men are indeed the sons of God
and brothers of the Lord Jesus Christ is
shown in this-that the prize for which they
will give most, bear most, endure suffering.
danger. injustice, the tyranny of military
rule. loneliness and semi-starvation-is not
wealth or fame or worldly success. but the
JOY of uttermost sacrifice, the chance to die
for a great cause.
The sight of the National Guard recalls
a little story. A crack company, the pride
of a heighboring town, enlisted in 4 body
when war was declared in 9s. But alas!
all they We're allowed to do for their coun-
try was to fall victims to typhoid fever in
Florida, while more fortunate comrades
were fighting in Cuba. The mother of one
of the boys, sympthizing with their dis
appointment, wrote these verses by way
of consolation:
Here's to Admiral Dewey,
Sampson, Watson and Schiey!
He smashed them at Manila.
They caught them on the fly,
AS they fed from the leaguered harbor
Across the blue expanse-
And here's to the other heroes
Who didn't get chance!
Here's to the dauntless cruiser
That sailed AROUND the Horn;
Here's to the ships that crossed the sea
To where the day is born;
Here's to Fighting Bob and HobEon.
Those paladins of romance
And here's to the other heroes
Who didn't get chance!
To the men that stormed the trenches
On Santiagos heights.
Young volunteers and veterans
OF bloody Indian fights;
To the Riders Rough. knightly
AS those of spear and lance
And. then. to the other heroes
Who didn't get a chance
Here's to the men that fed the fire,
To the men that served the gun;
To those who fought, and those who fell
Ere the fight was well begun;
Oh, straight they shot and fierce they struck,
And led the Dons dance
And here's to the other heroes
Who didn't get chancei
They gave themselves as freely,
They bore The life of camps.
They faced the deadly fever,
The tropic heat and damps:
For all their truth and courage,
The fools Of circumstance
Our boys as brave any.
Who never had a chance!
The little poem was published In Leslie's
Weekly. signed with the authors full
name-call 1t Helen Everett Brown--and her
place of residence. 1t pleased the boys for
whom it was written, ii even won the mo-
mentary attention of the public, and then
dropped into the great limbo of Oblivion,
where 1t Joined the 'innumerable caravan
of forgotten newspaper verses.
But year or so after the war was over
came sequel IN the shape of letter
from Texas cowboy. addressed. to Miss
Helen Everett Brown, Dear Miss"
He had been looking through his box, of
treasures the letter said, end had come on
that poem, which he had cut out OF a
paper while he lay in hospital. He was HIM
self one of the boys who didn't get chance
and the poem expressed his feelings ex-
actly. He felt convinced that the writer
and himself were kindred souls. He had
never known any one whose feelings and
thoughts corresponded so exactly to his
own. He had thought about it ever since
and had finally CONCLUDED to write and
hoped that Miss Brown would be so kind
to answer. Now, wasn't tia pity to
have to spoil such a promising romance
Mrs. Brown did her best, wrote a grateful
note, thanking him for his appreciation,
mentioning. incidentally. that she felt SO
strongly about it because her own son was
one of the boys: and signed her name with
it's proper prefix of Mrs. She heard no
more from her admiring cowboy. But If she
had been Miss Browp. and sweet-and-
twenty instead Of gray-haired and fifty,
and the cowboy mad been one of those
younger sons of noble English families
whom we read about, or even one of Owen
Wister's superb diamonds i'm the rough,
what pretty story it might have made.
There is a small boy i'm the city whose
dreams by night and thoughts by day are
haunted by an apprehension that probably
never troubled any small boy before When
he was about four or five he extracted from
his family, by much severe cross-question-
ing on the subject of courtship and we'd
dings, the appalling fact that it is the pre-
rogative of his sex to pop the question. -
Ever since his mind has been distracted by
the problem of how he can ever get UP
the courage to do it. Several times the
terror of it has driven him to resolve to
be an old bachelor. But nobody is more
appreciative of the charms of the fair sex
than he, and this resolution is abandoned
every time it is made. Once he had a
CLEAN of hope; he heard of the traditional
feminine privileges of leap year, and in
quired eagerly as to it's truth. When he
learned 1t was only joke, and ladies did
Tot really propose in any year, he was
again sunk I'm despair. There is one hope
for him-he has plenty of time to recover
from his fears before he can possibly be