The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1904-09-01

Qaecr, wasnE ny Not Mary alone, hu
q all his old friends had failed even to writ
q to him while he lay 90 long 10 the hospital
& No one cared.
2 Not even Milford, the farmer. for whom
y he bad worked ever since he could bride ,
e horse.
. Not evtn Pete kellsr, the friend OF BIZ
bosom, the only fellow In all 0lenhAyer
: who participated 10 the secrc, that pretty
) Mary Farrell had promised to wed sturdy
JOHN Jones when the latter came home
: from the war.
Well, be would soon know what 1t all
meant, Then he could determine what to
do. II Mary WAS married or was keeping
company" with someone else, never should
/ she see the wourd she had left upon his
! heat.
He would be the gayest Of the gsy-the
most carefree daredevil who ever came
! home from smelling gunpowder and tasting
OF lead.
As the village hero he might even do bet
ter than Mary. There were other fish In
the sea. Well, no, not quite like Mary.
To bis inner consciousness he would hard.
ly admit this SANDER, whatever proud toss
Ing Of the head he might wear upon his
sleeve.
4 There was only one Mary, after all. He
could whip the fellow who would veture to
hold different view.
i Even the crawling train which carried
Private Jones over the last part Of his jour
ney did not stop at the Glenhaven station,
except upon sigaal or to let off passengers
Therefore, when the pulling locomotive
stopped on this shining morning the station
master came to his door In curiosity, sbad-
Ing his eyes with his hand.
When he saw Private Jones, |. Y. fetbly
descend the steps and set his feet toward
him the station.master turned pale. Then
he shouted AID with bound reached the
home coming soldier aud seized both his
halds.
Why, John Jones, cried he exultantly,
where have you been; coming here like a
ghost to set people afrightY
Where'd you spose I'd been, Mr.. Lswler,
nlhin.'
John Jones was naturally p'qued. He
knew where he had been. They knew
where he had beer, Of course. They had
been we'll enough aware when he went
away. The whole population from over
the hill had come to see bis company when
1t went thror gh Fairbury to join the regi.
ment. John lad stood out on the platform.
How all Of IT, m had cheered him And
there was on, who cried louily.
Law Ter dral ed his story from him by
inches. The volunteer thought himself III.
used.
But when he grasped the truth the sta
tion.master whist!ed one long note Of ming
led pride and wonder.
Great bells, said he, but theirs one will
be glad to see you, John.
Then he fell again into reverie Of aston
ishment.
Who, III like to know? queried John I
crustily. None Of them thought 1t worth {
time to write or inquire.
He still thought himself much ll-used
patriot. I.
The station.masler looked up quickly, a
light breaking over his stolid face. t
Oh! I'd forgot, he said Maybe you don't
know you're dead. L
Dead' 4
Yes, and buried. c
may be dead, said John, who was laugh |
ing now, for he sighted land, but I'm bless b
ed II I'm buried. Who buried me' i
Her.
The station master jerked an indicatory 9
thumb across his shoulder, over hllwards
way. '
Tell me about 1t, cried John impatient b
ly.
Ard he told-all too slowly for the impe- n
tuous youpg VOLUNTEERED how news had b
come OF Johns killing before Colenso, Of
how II had been verified by oflicial Lists, 7
Of how Rev. Gibson had preached a mourn
Ing sermon upon patriotism with John as
his theme. OF how Mary Farrell had fallen t,
In the clutch OF brain fever and woke with Il
. mind little astray. She was not violent, D
he station-master sald, nor mad, but only b
Taft, as he called it, upon ore subject
Johns death and his promotion. D,
They let her alone, said Lswler. and up o,
n that big place among the trees she does "
,rttt ymuch as the likes and surely hurts nc as
me. That's where you're buried. Lets
zee. Tt-iay you are General. c,
The volunteer looked his amszsment. n
It's this way, the station-msster went
IN, enjoying his unused lequacity, she
nsde little memorial mound for you, sort "
: grave like, you know. up there in the sc
voods, and she keeps n)wers and wrea,hs
nd thrgs on 1t. be
Well, cried John, whose eyes were mois- tr
ened, what has that to do with me being a
ienerals pa
On, well, she painted some head-boards. 10
acred to the memory oi-you, know, who at
eli at Colenso, AID each day she puts up a ct,
ew one. Sunday it reads Private John ha
ones,' Tuesday 1t says Sergeant This
Saturday. Chances are fhe's up there de
ow s-sit,in' up a board which says Gen. dr.
raj John J1nes,' AID a.waterin' your grave ca
'ilh her tears. st'
Even was It 30. III
John hslted lorg With bis nagers on the pli
ate Of the ohurchyard.
within the familiar enclosure sat upon ga
10 ground amid the autumn leaves the 'H
larry he loved dearly, her hands within her ID
~, stetdfaaily looking a. mound Of
nth, at whose head shone white head
oard amid whose proiuse lettering Lo
,uld clearly read only one lice, this--ien-
raj John Jones, Y"