Evening star., 1924-04-27


immortal-you might possibly be in
ferested in bit of quotation:
That night my father told me to
he ready at daybreak to make our
second attempt a running the block
ade. There We're no false starts on
this trip. the cars making schedule
time. There had been raid on this
line the day before also, and the air
was foggy with smoke from ruins
that had once boen Aomes. As we
passed Ashland some of the houses
were still burning.
Late in the morning as we were
leaving the train we met the body of
Stonewall Jackson being carried to
Richmond to be laid in state. Grief
seemed intense and personal among
the people and the men told us it had
been all along the line.
After this we changed our mode
OF travel, the men going on foot and
| in something that had once been
y buggy. For three days we made
that journey on dusty, yellow roads
along neglected farmlands, with al
ways gray-coated picket to lead the
way. Suddenly there was the tramp
Of horSeS-we knew what would hap
pen to us if the Union cavalry should
come down on us-and, like the Sc
"ret service men, l watched the CLOUD
of onrushing dust until the riders
galloped into view. Then a shout of
joy went up, for the horsemen were
a division of Maryland cavalry. sent
10 protect us along the road of the
previous day hghting.
At dusk we reached a cabin on the
Potomac'S edge, where we could dis
tinguish the smokestacks of federal
Gunboats blockading the river.
We stayed at the cabin all night.
and at dawn / had to pick up my
way over sleeping soldiers sprawled
on the floor. So fresh was the blood
on them from yesterdays fight that it
made clotted stains on the planks."
Neither the runners nor the secret
service men wanted to be bothered
with a woman, but President Davis
had given the order, and all the boat
men could do was to threaten to
throw me overheard if | screamed
Shots from a gunboat furrowed the
water about us, but the night was
black, the oars muffied and-I knew
enough not to scream"
X x = !;
DASSING by: Not every soldier
wears a medal on his breast. You
see others marching along the great
road-men and women, who face the
tragedies Of everyday life and make no
sign-hiding their heartaches under
cover as that Spartan boy carried his
fox
If, say, crosses and stars and laurel
Wreaths We're awarded for bravery in
suffering, small woman in cheerful
black, with friendly eyes, who just
walked down a certain corridor where
her husband had spent all the decades
OF his lifework and glimpsed his old
desk and chair with another man in
charge, ought to be in line for the best
in decorations.
Those two had loved each other And
he was gone. And there was a big,
lonely house-and memories-but the
only comment she made to a sympa-
thizer she met on the way was:
we never know what we can bear
until the trial comes. If any one had
told me that he was to go like that
in fiash-I would have said 1 could not
stand it, but-a great sorrow brings its
own strange courage-so strange to
me that can't help believing that he is
still with me, and, somehow, is help
ing me to>tide over my shock and grief.
II Git wasn't for the lonely silence of
the nights
If you know about the silence of
lonely night and have ever felt that
same strange courage in the loss of one
whose going makes the earth an empty
place, you will understand.
1t Is mystery something that hap
piness can never know.
x = x
a WOMAN was looking at the price
list on a menu card. The man
with her drummed on the tablecloth
with restless fingers. Both were
waiting for the order to be served.
When the waiter came the man helped
TO place the dishes, and after a
quick-lunch fashion, as if
You needn't be hurrying like that
we've got all evening before u.s."
'Oh, say, old girl, you know 1 want
to get off to the game-all the fellows
are going to see what old Walter is
going to do
She interrupted with a sniffy up
turn of nose that wasn't handsome
enough for such a stunt and her voice
was of the snippiness of cracked ice:
You are going home with me-.
Maybe he was an extra obliging
man. Maybe, again, the money was
on her side of the house, but, any
du1led into submission, and he opened
his afternoon paper to read until she
was through. One one page a comic
strip started him to chuckling.
don't see how you can read that
fool thing-I don't believe half of that
Mutt and Jeff stuff is true. myself
She was a spick-Span woman who
gave token of a spick-span home. She
was doubtless a fine manager and a
good mother to her children, if she
had any, but
Think of having to live and live
base ball fan than any boss on his office
boy-and who doesn't know joke
stuff when she sees it; or even when
her husband sees It,
Then again. on the principle that
turn about is fair play it may be
band to have to pay good and plenty
for the wufless ones that everybody
knows about
Only, as the two got up and the
husband paid the cashier, he didn't
look as If he enjoyed the job of scape-
goat.