New-York tribune., 1910-10-09

hemian club in Boston. called
the Macaroni Club We met in the base
ment of the old Parker House near the
Boston Museum. and as this was dinner
club we used to pull off what to us were very
smart affairs We dined only once month.
and as look back on those youthful years
it is not clear to my mind to-day Just why we
did not gather round the festive board more
than once a month, unless it was a matter OF
economy. At any rate, Charley Stevenson
was master of ceremonies, and took the
deepest interest in finding a guest OF honor
on these occasions, guest of honor wFO was
leading light in either drama, music, art,
or letters, who would insure us gOOdly
drawing number at the gathering OF the clan.
There was one member. though, wlo was
a continual guest. He had not joined the
club; but the bows liked to see him among
those present, and he was always hidden to
the feast. He was good listener. and the
BOYS called him Old CrOpOne- He had a
wooden leg, and always walked with a
Crutch.
Everyone was feeling pretty Jolly after the
feast, and storytelling was IN trll SWING
when some one called out, See here, Gro
pOne! It's your turn to give us story
To the surprise of everybody. he reached
for his CrutCFes and stood up at the table
asking for another glass Of wine, which he
drank before he began. Il guess YOU fcl-
lows all know that | lost my leg in the Civil
War; but up to date | haven't bored you
with an account of Our gallant dash for
liberty How we saved the Union, and the
rest of the herOics that your neighbOrs suffer
for the rest of their natural lives, if they
happen to be tolerant enough, with the
poor CrippleS who come marching home. 1t
wasn't even what you might call battle;
Just little engagement on the side where
nearly every soldier in the company got
more or less smashed up.
Next morning we were lying round on
the grass and wanted to die quick. when
word was brought in that we should all be
taken over to house about five miles away
that had been converted into hospital, if
we could hold out until night. Well. hap
pcncd to be one of those who held out, and
about five o'clock next morning we found
ourselves fairly comfortable on cots III one
of the big rooms of a Southern mansion. We
didn't have the best of medical attention.
Still, it was not bad; but we were peevish,
disgruntled lot and lay moaning and grOan-
ing, and there wasn't a whole man of the
twenty-five in our ward. | mean by that
that there wasn't a man with two legs, and
two or three fellows had both legs shot away;
so We were rather fOrlOrn bunch and not
CGIlllS llluCn Wt'eInCT VIC got WClI OF NOT.
Then, afterthree weeks, word was brought
that a woman had crossed through the lines
and would visit us that day. 1t is wonder
full how a woman's visit will spruce up low
cbb courage in a sick man. There we lay
watching the door, and at last she appeared.
She carried on her arm a basket filled with
little packages, which she distributed to the
cots as she came along, meanwhile talking
to each invalid. She wasn't what you would
call a pretty woman, in fact she would be
called plain but the influence of the hour
and her presence made her appear to me
angelic. | could hardly wait for her to
reach my bed and hear her low spoken words
OF comfort. Her progress was very slow, and
the poor fellows kept her talking to them as
long as they could. got to wondering what
it was that she gave each of them as she left
the cots, and from the size of the package
guessed that it might be tobacco.
AT last she came to me. | thanked her in
advance for her kindness and told her in my
plain words how cheering her presence made
us feel; that if we took a new lease on life we
owed it to her visit.