Catoctin clarion. [volume] (Mechanicstown, Md.) 1871-1940, 1912-05-30

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tale that does not
require the slightest movement of lit
erary machinery to weave 1t into
shape. The woof and warp are as
straight and true and compact as il
1t had required hours of concentration
to produce the fabric. Actual events
follow in such dramatic sequence that
1t almost seems as IL art had been
brought to bear upon their presenta-
tion.
The other day a magazine writer
visited the new state house in Boston
in order to see the decorations that
had been recently placed on the walls.
He was standing looking at the pic
ture painted by Mr.. Robert Reid, the
picture of Otis delivering his fiery
speech before the judges, when sud-
denly a voice spoke at his elbow.
Looking round. he saw standing be-
side him a short, slight man in a blue
uniform. 1t did not take the little
bronze button in the lapel OF his coat
to label him as an old soldier. He
was stamped with it from the erect
carriage Of his head and shoulders to
the glance Of his keen gray eye.
***MM%%%%%%*
"You have been through the build.
ing?" he asked suddenly. And upon
being told that 1t was the writer's first
visit, he politely offered his services
as guide They We're accepted prompt.
ly. The little man in blue pointed out
the old Hessian drum and sword, the
first musket captured from the British,
and the one that fired the shot at Lex
ington. He knew stories of the fam
GUS portraits on the walls, and after
having examined the old senate and
council chamber he led the visitor
down to the great octagon-shaped ro-
tunda, where, behind their plates Of
glass, artfully grouped and festooned,
were the battle flags Of the Massachu-
setts regiments nothing but the bare
of bunting hanging in pathetic fes-
toons, only few with the colors in
tact, pierced here and there with bull
let holes. Stopping before the first
corner he began in his low, well-modu-
lated voice to explain about them.
There were two shafts. shattered and
roughly spliced few inches below the
gilded spear-heads.
"Those two flags" he began, were
given tc the regiment by two sisters,
who were engaged to be married to
two officers; one captain, the other
a lieutenant. AS you see, the flags
were both hit in almost identically
the same spot, and under them both
officers were killed" Pointing to an
other flag he said, Beneath this flag
seven men were killed and four were
wounded. 1t was decorated with
medal of honor" So 1t went on.
There was a story to almost every one
OF the timeworn relics Of the battle
fields. At last the guide came to the
case in the northwest corner of the
hall Immediately in front was sill
ken banner across whose faded red
and white strips was big blotch OF
brown. 1t needed no second glance
to tell what the blotch meant.
***&****
"There Is a story here" remarked
the visitor. and the little man in blue
looked at him keenly.
"Yes, sir, there is," he replied.
"Three men were killed carrying that
flag at the battle Of Appomattox; as
one would fall another would snatch 1t
up. and still they carried 1t forward.
AS they went on, in the charge, shell
exploded over the head Of the last
man who had caught it, and frag-
ment struck him in the arm, between
shoulder and elbow, cutting 1t off as
by surgeons knife. He clasped the
flag to his breast with the bloody
stump and staggered on. At last, as
he felt himself weakening, he turned
about and, seeing near him man in
his company who came from the same
town, he cried, For Gods sake, take
1t, Frank, can't carry it any longer"
The visitor was breathless. "Well,"
he said, "and then"
"There is a strange ending to that"
returned the guide. II was telling this
to some visitor only the other day,
and had got as far as what I am tell
ing you when a tall man with gray
hair, who was standing about where
you are now, spoke up. 'Comrade,' he
said, you're right! I was Frank"
A few minutes later, as they went
down the corridor, the visitor asked
another question.
"And what was the name Of the SER
geant whose blood we see there?" he
asked.
"His name was Plunkett," was the
answer "There he Isl"
A soldierly looking man In the blue
uniform of a messenger of the senate
came walking down the corridor. The
magazine writer and his guide turned
toward him. Across his breast WAS
pinned an empty sleeve.-J. B. in Har.
rer's Weekly.