The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1917-10-13
Taking it Standing.

She had had letter from her only
son that morning. 1t was the sort of
letter which ought to make any moth
er's heart leap with pride. But it was
such startling news that pride was
instantly overcome by fear.
Mother Dear:
Il want to enlist. l know you were
glad I wasn't called in this first con-
scription-and l thought 1 was glad.
Somehow, after little, 1 wasn't. I've
been going round feeling like a sneak.
Every time anybody congratulates me
on having escaped wish to heavens
hadn't But now-Tm glad did, so j
can do the thing mself.
Il hope his won't break you all up
You don't want me to go on feeling
like q sneak, do you? | don't think
it's good for a fellow to feel that way
Maybe it's not good for his country
either. Please write at once and tell
me how you feel. Lots of love,
"Tom."
The first letter she wrote In answer
| to this began in this way:
Dearest Tom:
I certainly want you to do what is
| right-but am not at all sure that it
Is rlght-in your case. You have new
er been remarkably strong, though ]
think perhaps you are as well as the
average young man who spends his
hours behind an office desk.-Then, /
remember how, as a boy, you dreaded
the sound of a gun. Do you think
you could bear it to kill men-you,
who cried your heart out over a dead
bird? oh, do think twice about this
thing
Then she remembered that he must
have thought twice-ten times-a
hundred times-before he came to
and began another.
Il don't know what to say to you.
or course 1 want you TO do what is
right. I wish your father were alive
the responsibility is too heavy for me
If you should enlist, do you suppose
you could get position where you
wouldn't have to go to the actual
front? Just as useful a position, but
where 1 needn't feel that your life was
in danger every hour. I don't know
how I could bear that l.
But she didn't like the look of it.
After long thought she started another
sheet.
Il have tried to write to you in a
way that would influence you against
enlisting, but 1 am afraid thai 1 ought
not to do that. I have hoped I might
escape the awful sacrifice of seeing
you go to war. But if you feel that
it is surely your duty, know 1 must
bear my part. You can little imagine
what it is to me-"
At this point she broke down and
cried-of course. One can't write
about ones awful sacrifices without
feeling much worse the moment one
sees the words upon paper. That's a
fixed psychological law. But by and
by she wiped her eyes. She wasn't q
coward, and she felt that the words
were cowardly. She tried again.
II think it is very brave of you to
want to enlist, when you still might
escape the draft. 1 want you to do
your duty. OF course 1 shall be very
anxious and lonely, but know I must
do my part. 1 don't want you to feel
like a sneak-though 1 do think there
are Others-great strong fellows whose
mothers are not widows-who could |
go much better than you. But if you
feel that you must go, 1 shall not hold |
you back"
And still it wouldn't do Her heart
was aching desperately, but suddenly
she began to think about Toms feel
ings when he should read her letter.
Those wailing words about her lone
liness-and her anXiety-and her re-
luctant Willingness to do her duty
was that the way to send her boy off,
with his heart heavy with fear for
her, that she couldn't bear It? Just
because she was Il woman must she
pull on a man?-make him feel as
badly as she could make him won
der if he should be doing right if he
left her? Why couldn't she put spir-
IL into him, since he had so much OF
his own? If she wrote with a fine
courage, if she said nothing about