The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1908-05-24

way for long time. and have a grand,
good time
He could feel in his stuffy little bed
room the air blowing free across the
wide fields; he could see the wax flow
ers that his sister had made and which
he knew always stood on the parlor
mantei; he could hear the melodeon
that Sophronia wrote she had lately
purchased. In the morning he rose
little refreshed. with a red spot burn
ing on either cheek and an expectant
CLEAN in his eyes. The first thing he
did was TO hide the money under the
edge of the carpet beneath his bureau.
That days mail brought him another
letter. He turned white when he saw
II, for there was the same indistinet
post mark; he opened it, sitting in the
same place as yesterday. But there
was only a tiny printed slip inside, the
announcement of the death of Mary
Spring at the. age of 20 years, from
heart disease on May 5; there was no
place mentioned. The little sister had
passed beyond already and met Josh.
The sergeant's literal religious imag-
nation could almost see the two con-
sulting together.
'Of course they'd want me to have
ii. he murmured. Providence is in
it,"
That day he went to his closet and
took down his one well-worn suit of
citizens clother. He examined his
boots to see if they were strong enough
to last him on his prospective journey;
he looked over his collars. his few and
cherished neckties. He sat down by the
window. brushing his coat and smiling
hopefully at the great bouquet of a
poisoning apple tree just without.
PPGCf14lR no al Wit n u
uplifted in his hand. Il must so and
see the superintendent today about
starting; l don't believe III wait till
Decoration day; the other men'il have
to decorate Joshs grave. But I'll go
out there tomorrow.
Poor JOSH he went on, brushing
softly. 'NO stone to his head or name
to his" Suddenly he paused; the
brush fell from his hand, the coat
slipped TO the floor and the sergeant
gazed helplessly before him. ut isn't
mine he whispered after pause. I'D
be thief; it's his. it's Josh's! It's
Josh's, It's all I can do and I'd
oughter do it,"
The melodeon strains were hushed,
the Wax flowers grew dim. the sergeant
was suffocating in the warm air. why
didn't | think of il before? Why didn't
II" The tears came into his eyes, and
two of them went slowly down his
checks. He drew out his bandanna
with a jerk and rubbed his face fiercely
and laughed at himself. What a fool
am" he cried: then, picking up his
coat. he fell to work on il vigorously
with no smile on his lips. but with a
fixed purpose set about his mouth.
That afternoon he visited the super
iutendent, as ne had intended; but in
stead of asking for leave of absence
for some time to visit his sister in the
west. he asked for a pass TO town
where business matter needed his at
tentiOn. When the sergeant came home
that night his face was jubiant. He
declared the hash was the best ever
tasted: that ne noticed coming from
town today what a fine location the
home enjoyed. and he cracked several
poor and unexpected jokes that de-
lighted and reassured his old comrades
In the privacy of his own room the
sergeant kept up his cheerful play ITO
think 7 should have found that hand
some one all ready. and that JOshs
grave should be on the top of the hill:
and that inscription! Twas an inspira-
ton. an inspiration" Then the SER