Omaha daily bee., 1915-09-26

though my grandfather was a Kentuckan),
but in old Iowa November 10, 1862 am
rube of the rubes. I hayseed OF the
hayseeds and the maladors Of the barnyard
are on yet and beats Pinaud and Colgate, too.
have creased my hair with goose grease and
BACKED my boots with stove blacking. 1 have
wiped my old proboscs with gunny sack towel
have drunk coffee out of my saucer, and have
eaten with my knife; have said done it, when
should have said did IT." and have saw when
should have "seen," and 1 expect to go to heaven
inst the same. 1 have crept and crawled out OF
the university of poverty and hard knocks and
have taken post graduate courses. M
My father, william Sunday, went to the
four months before was born, in Company E,
Twenty-third Iowa. have butted and fought and
struggled since was 6 years old. That's
son why I wear that little red, white and blue
/hutton. know all about the dark and seamy side
OF life, and If ever man fought hard l have
fought hard for everything have ever gained.
The wolf scratched at the cabin door, and
finally mother said Boys, going to send
you to the Soldiers Orphans Home!" At Ames,
Ia, we had to wait for erain and went to
little hotel, and they about 1 o'clock and
said Get ready for the train"
looked into my mothers face. Her eyes were
red her hair disheveled l said, Whats the
matter, mother?" All the time ED" and slept
she put one arm about me and the other about
Ed" and sobbed as if her heart would break. Peo-
pie walked by and looked at us, but they didn't
say word. Why? They didn't know, and If they
had they probably wouldn't have cared. Mother
knew. She knew that for years she wouldn't
ker boys. We got into the train and said, Good
bye, mother" as the train pulled out.
We reached Council Bluffs. 1t was cold and
we turned up our coats and shvered We saw
bOta nd and sked fha for
thing to eat. She said, What's your name?"
MY name is William Sunday, and this is my
brother, Ed q"
Where you going?"
Going to the Soldiers Home at Glenwood."
She wiped her tears and said, my husband
was a soldier and came back. He wouldn't
turn anyone away and l wouldn't turn you boys
away" She drew her about and said.
Come in" She gave our breakfast and din
rer, too. There wasn't any train going out the
q" until afternoon We freight train stand
ing there so climbed into the caboose
The conductor along and said Where's
your money ticket?"
"Ain't got any"
IN have to put you off,"
We commenced to cry. My brother handed him
a letter of introduction to the superintendent of
the Orphans Home. The conductor read it and
handed 1t back as the tears rolled down his cheeks
Then he said. Just sit still. boys. 1t won't cost
cent to ride on my train"
It's only twenty miles from Council Bluffs to
Glenwood, and as we rounded the the con-
ductor said, There it is. the hill"
want to tell you that one of the brightest pic
tures that hangs upon the walls Of my memory is
the recollection OF the days when as little boy,
out in the log cabin the frontier of Iowa knet
by mothers side.
went back to the old farm some years ago.
he scenes had changed about the place. Faces
had known and loved had long since turned to
dust. Fingers that used to turn the pages of the
Eibe we're obliterated and the old trees beneath
which we boys used to play and swing had been
felled by the woodman's 1 stood and thought
Once more with my gun my shoulder and
my favorite dog trailing at my heels 1 walked
/. through the painless wood and sat on the old
familiar logs and stumps and I sat and listened
to the wild, weird harmonies of nature, vision OF