Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1926-11-17
The Pacifst
Leader
Bv JEANNE KIRKLAND
"a, 1925. western Newspaper Uniop.)


place, before removing from his old
home. It was early June, and the
Memorial day flowers. still fresh, add
ed business OF color. Suddenly, round
ing a hedge, he paused one incredu-
lous moment and caught himself In
time not to say: Il didn't know Lin
coin was buried here"
The stranger was swept out OF his
bitterness, Just as in the past, he had
been thrilled by the flag. It had been
the long procession, the memory Of
what the flag meant to his fathers,
the flag and the war music-particu-
larry the music-that had swept him
into the midst Of war. Against his
will, too; theoretically, he did not be-
f1eve in war. He was pacifist. What
Of 1t? Something latent in his being
just got him-he enlisted.
Scornfully, he voiced his thought:
"Dead!" he said. with a. half ges-
ture toward the unknown graves.
"A slight movement drew his atten-
ton to an old man, seated quietly on
q bench. The old soldier would well
know the meaning Of the half-e1-
pressed mood; he doubtless had seen
other disillusioned patriots"
Heroes the stranger said aloud,
challenging the old man, "but-they
are dead"
The old soldier nodded in sad agree
ment and recrossed his thin legs.
$50 you were in the Civil war;
the young man asked. Ibid you come
out Of your war bitter? Knowing the
real meaning Of music and the fagT
II was bitter" the old man said.
"You mean you're not bitter now?"
cried the stranger.
"No-it's because Of my boy. He
came while I was away at war. My
wife was young and strong. I left
her when they called for volunteers
and when came back, found him,
my son. My wife was gone"
"Well," doomed the stranger
sweeping, despite himself into the COM
monplace view-"it was bully you had
the boy. My boy is all that keeps me
going"
EYES," admitted the veteran, Il had
him. But-what for?" he broke of
resentfully.
The stranger would visualize the
coming of the World war, the sacrifice
demanded a second time.
$50 your son was killedT
mo v'-old eyes looked into his.
HE came back. He has no voice-no
strength. At times he goes from door
to door-makes spectacle Of himself
that people may not forget-with a
little magazine for sale. It's just
what IL went on, l brought him up,
for that"
Exactly! !" cried the stranger, land
I, glorying in my son, may be prepar-
ing him"
Il wonder" said the old man quiet
~. He looked wistfully across the
cemetery, lovingly at the green grass
and shrubbery, at the deshes of color,
at the big statue Of the great man
towering there among the low trees,
guarding his dead.
IT wonder" he repeated. men are
made by stress--look at him-at Lin
coln!"
The stranger smiled; he did not say
that the making of another American
hero was hardly worth war. IF it
made Lincoln" he said, "his talent
was not tried out in the trenches"
1--WE can't choose" the old voice re-
minded him; then, with seeming ir-
relevancy, cts his voice-my sons
voice-that gets people. It's that he
can't talk-he must whisper, now. he
can't make all understand, then he
laughs with them good-naturedly It's
as If all the world were deaf. You
should hear him trying to make them
think he's cheerful And his son,
won't be a better American because
of thatY'
The young man turned from him
passionately, not to be swayed by
such sweet optimism. That was ages
surrender, but the young man had a
life to live-a life Of revolt
Suddenly he was ashamed, when the
old man rose quietly and walked slow
ly away He himself was fool !!
Clinging to his conflict, to his twisted
soul, taking 1t through life unsettled ;
pretending to be a thinker, a radical,
denying the gift Of his people :.
those who had gone before of his
Inheritance He who had led the
pacifist movement! then the first
to volunteer-inconsiste wasn't the
name! Impulsively he had done
what seemed right. How could
he help being made as he was, be-
coming within himself the characteris-
tics of the line Of dead patriots be-
hind him?
He had thought with the old man.
He had seen the triumph Of the race
had thrilled to it. Suddenly, he was
swept with the belief that this was the
better side of him-this thing he had
fought Slowly he crossed the turf to
the base of the Lincoln statue, his
hat in his hand, to give simple thanks
for his sOn 0s he knott In the shadow