Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1915-11-18

her. How'd you get your training as a
ther?"
Jason Redeemed. well, no: father
was a poor Methodist preacher. Mother
raised the money. though worked for
my board mostly"
Yes. how'd she raise the money!
Jason's lips We're stiff. Selling
things. Mr.. President"
"Wha did she sell?"
Fathers watch-the old silver tea
pot-the mahogany hat box-the ST.
bartholomew candlestick Old things
mostly; beyond use except in muse
umS."
Again silence in the room. while a
o OF contempt gathered in Abraham
Llncolns eyes that scared Jason's cool
young soul till 1T scorched within him
You poor fool" said Lincoln. You
poor. worm, Her household Treasures
one by one-for you. Useless things
fit for museuns.' Oh. you fool,'
Jason flushed angrily and bit his
lips. Suddenly the president rose and
pointed a long, bony finger at his desk.
Come here and sit down and write q
letter to your mother"
Jason stalked obediently over and
sat down in the presidents seat. Ans-
er and modification We're i'll nspira-
lions for letter writing, but under Lin
coins burning eyes Jason seized a pen
and wrote his mother a stilted note.
Lincoln paced the floor. pausing now
and again to look over Jason's should
er.
address it and give 1t to me-" said
h president. I'm see that it gets to
her. Then his stern voice rising
a little: And now, Jason Wilkins, as
long as you are in the army, you write
to your mother onec a week. If 1 have
reason TO correct you on the matter
again. I'll have you courtmartialed."
Jason rose n handed the letter to
the president, then stood, angry and
silent, awaiting further orders. Abra-
ham Lincoln took another turn or two
up and down the room. Then he paused
before the window and looked from it
a long. long time. Finally he turned
to Jason.
My boy" he aid gently. there is
no finer quality in the world than
gratitude. There is nothing a man can
have in his heart so mean, so low as in
gratitude. Even a dog appreciates a
kindness. never forgets a soft word. or
a bone. To my mind, the noblest holt.
day in the world is Thanksgiving. And,
next the Creator, there is no one the
holiday llould be dedicated to as much
as to mothers"
Again Lincoln paused, and looked
FROM the boyish face of the young sur
geon cut of the window at the bleak
November skies, and Lincoln said to
Jason, With God knows what tragedy Of
memory in his lonely heart:
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky;
Thou dost not bite so nigh
AS benefits forgot"
Another pause. "You may go, my
boy" And Lincoln shook hands with
Jason. who stumbled from the room,
his mind a chaos of resentment and
anper Ha t,ada hic WOW Inu,~ Do-,
sylvania avenue, pausing as two army
officers rode up to a hotel and dis
mounted. leaving their horses. Some
thing about the big gray that one Of
the officers o d seemed vaguely IA
miliar to the young doctor. The gray
turned his small, intelligent head to-
ware Jason, then with a sudden soft
whinny, laid his head on Jason's
shoulder and nuzZled his cheek gently.
Jason looked at the right fore shoulder.
A three-cornered scar was there. Jason
and Old Pilgrim never had met but
once, and yet-Jason was little more
than a boy. Suddenly he threw his
arms around Old Pilgrims neck, and
sobbed into the silky name. Passers-
by glanced curiously and then went on
Washington was full of tears those
days.
Pilgrim whinnied and waited pa
tiently. Finally Jason wiped his eyes.
TN buy you back from Captain Win
ston. Pilgrim. I'll get a furlough, il
I have to ask the president himself.
Well get home to mother for Thanks
giving, Pilgrim. We will, IL God will
let my unworthy hulk live that long"
And Pilgrim. with a scar on his right
fore shoulder, and Jason with the scar
on his soul that only remorse imprints
there, started that evening for Green
Valley.