Show corll w 1 1 fc ti 8 sketch GOOD SHORT STORIES pon fonta T V VETERANS t the Vent esolat of old otherwise known as a the irrigate frigate constitution ution llor her services la in the WT war of lots when the th Beglin kent rained passed was din in the street tit there re na was rushing of feet at the hum anil and tho th thrum of a faraway drum every eye in the town watched a road winding down by ineido 9 0 of f alp e tn ning ins yei yellowing 1 wheat every being was filled with the b beat eat that had thrilled and whirred whirled as aa it stirred like the t wings of a bird the sunny air elear clear growing near nar anil and more near neap till all other sound in cratton was wag stil leill then swift came the gleam or a moun hajn side bide which quivered and grew crew like the th tarn stare like the dew like the sun eun a darting glance elance where little littie waves dance like a glittering river that wound from a olt oh it broadened and pread spread till a vibrating tread trad in Li vilmon beat through the dust duat to our festl feet oil oh it di diew ew every hue from rom the heaven elks 8 calm blue to the poppies red blood through tho th wheat hold then a plums plume floated white and they broke on our sight with a bugle note clear they drew near and a cl cheer eer durst buret from us then dumb at the roll of 0 the drum an A they reached ua tin and touched ki us 9 and dumb with ith delight we drew nigh we pressed sed nigh our hearts throbbing high oh the he tumult of joy in the heart hear t of 0 a boyl boy women about end and a flag floated out and we a uttered a shout that rana ran up to tile the seyl aye it rings for rne me letl etl can I 1 ever forget that thrill and that loy joy tit til the it heart eart of a boy then a barefooted bare footed tooted throng we vis marched proudly along knowing naught ot of farewells or of eyes that were wet hearing only the th beat of the drum and tile lie feet treading onward to war or growing faint growing far BOte seeing iric only the track dust an clouded whence back looked neer a man to that village ilow how we w lingered arout around it listening low for or a sound till the he thrum of tb the drum was a clover bee a hum I 1 how we marched a retreat through the still village street and follo followed aed the footprints which covered the ground I 1 and when neary ery at last how low we hap bap cast cant ourselves down in the wheat thinking not of defeat heading not the wild red rea where crushed popping were shed or the thunder and dread closing round closing last fast but in by the rim of our dim moun bains massel ine we gme eie them but glory and fame un surpassed med while for us u was the hour when the regiment passed 1 virginia W claud in youths youth e compan ion |