The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-01-12
CHAPTER XIX.
Thumbs Up or Down?

1 Thumbs Up or Down?
 The Reunion of which Warfield spoke l was a joint meeting of survivors Of the great civil war from both sides, 1 Northern and Southern. Their ranks ] had been thinning wofully of late, and.
 the fact that they had been former | enemies making them better present 1 friends, they had decided to meet to- 1 gether at Louisville which was ftly 1 chosen as a border city, and the time
 was set for late September, when the
 weather would be cool and bracing. | I should never have dreamed of re- | fus1ng to speak to these old men, after
 the custom of our country. It is true | that some of them may not have been l heroes. and even a few may have been | irnpostors, but I am not one Of those who take 8 pleasure in blackguarding g | the entire race. Of late a great fash 1 ion of attacking everything had grown l LID among us. Just as one Englishman when he was bored would say to an other: Let's go kill something," an American when he was bored would | say to another: Let's go expose some- thing" It was exposure, exposure. un- | til my ears grew weary and l did not l believe the tenth part of 1t.
 I repeat that I was tired of exposure, or alleged exposure. or exposure for l profit, and I prepared my speech with no desire to lecture these old soldiers and to tell them that they had fought in bad cause. whichever side they were on, and that they had given fur ther proofs of natural and inherent
 badness by living so long afterward. The personal and sympathetic side ap- pealed to me and as worked over my address, 1 forgot my personal affairs for the time being. I ceased also to give the newspaper more than cur sory glance, and many of the attacks m nO did not see them or know of them. The appointed time came, Jimmy Warfleld ran down to Frankfort as committee of one to escort me to Louisville. and we took the short ride on pleasantly cool afternoon. War field was rather silent and seemed more than usually thoughtful, but I was glad of his presence and personal support. It had been some time now since had faced a great audience. and felt that I should encounter hostile looks if not worse.
 It was almost dusk when we came in- to the station, and the usual crowd was about to see a Governor arrive. When I alighted from the train I heard cheer and then the moment after it died the soft sbilant sound of a hiss, the most bitter of all sounds, the sound that the rattlesnake makes as he shoots his poison. Jimmy Warf1eld put his hand upon my arm.
 Don't mind it. Harry he said. Its some vicious scamp with nothing better to do.''
 'I don't mind it,' I replied.
 But did mind it. It was the rattle snakes poison in my veins.
 The hiss was not repeated and my friends and committee of the old sol- diars came forward to greet me. Here was no lack of spontaneity or hearti- ness and my hand was shaken with great enthusiasm, first by the veterans. upon every one of whom time had set a very deep seal. It was an affecting thing to see these white haired old men who had fought against each other, now clinging together for companion ship and for strength to resist the as- saults of years. After them came younger men, friends of my own age or near it and among them I saw the handsome, priestly face of Guthrie, the young member of the Lower House of Congress from the Louisville District and my exceedingly good friend. We shook hands warmly and then the group moved o2 to the carriages.
 Gro be Continued.)