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Show Memorial Day(j Gift J I 1 By MARY GRAHAM BONNER Richard Peckham was a veteran of the Civil war. He always marched In the Memorial day parade. The parade pa-rade was much larger than It had been for a number of years back. The men of the World war now marched, too. Richard had always been a very active ac-tive man, and he had taken part in many a celebration In the town. By day he sold cigars and cigarettes and fruit at the little stand in front of the small house where he and Mrs. Teck-ham Teck-ham had lived for so many years. But nt night, oh, so often, he would dress In his best fireman suit or In his Civil war uniform as special town constable. con-stable. Richard could remember so many years back. He could remember when they had no such fire department as they had now, for example. Now they had a splendid firehouse .too, above which was a clubroom for the firemen. fire-men. What a magnificent place that was. They subscribed to several magazines, always there were some papers lying about on the great shiny table they had bought for the center of the room-r-to make it cozy and clublike, club-like, they had said. How good it was to talk over the old days. There were some of the present men of the fire department who had remembered the old days. How they had pulled the hook and ladder up the great surrounding hills I "I remember one cold night," Richard Rich-ard Peckham would begin a tale of former days, and so the story would be continued, a story of fighting against great odds, mighty hills, frightful fright-ful cold and water that froze. They had motors now. The new hook and ladder was new. It was a handsome hook and ladder. Richard Peckham admired it. Now he was merely an honorary member There It Was. of the fire department, but a picture of him hung on the wall in the club and over it was the word "Hero." Oh, yes, Richard Peckham had had a splendid life; useful, brave, and the remembrance of it gave him great happiness. The past was not the past with him. It was the present, too. It was always al-ways along with him, nudging him, as It were, and saying: "Do you remember so and so?" And then Richard would smile at the thought. He was often smiling at his thoughts. But since there had been these great improvements In the fire department they decided that they had no room for the old hook and ladder. "We'll have to sell it to the junk man," they said. "He may give us ten dollars for it." Richard had missed that meeting. Wasn't that just like a lot of young men with no sentiment, no feeling? They would sell that splendid hook and ladder which had been pulled up many a hill and which had saved many a life! It was sacrilege, sheer sacrilege. "They're goin' to sell the old book and ladder," he told Mrs. Peckham tha next day. "Yes, ma, they're goin' to sell it. I wasn't at the meetln' last night, but I've heard how they've made all arrangements. If I only had room " he broke off ' then, and his eyes filled with tears. Mrs. Peckham knew what it meant to her husband. It was almost something alive to him. Sell it for junk? It would break his heart. Richard Peckham was getting dressed for the Memorial day parade. He was ready ahead of time. He knew that he would be. "Richard," she came toward him. "before you start for the parade I ' want you to take a look in the yard. I've a little Memorial day present there for you a real- Memorial day present." His heart was beating happily, joyously, joy-ously, as be hurried along. But no, she couldn't have meant that. No one really knew how he loved It except himself. And besides the yard was too small. He had thought of that himself. But there, in the yard, just nueez-Ing nueez-Ing in, as though It knew it was Jts only chance and had to do It, was the old hook and ladder. There it was and there it would be, not as Junk but as having found a home. "Oh. ma. ma," Richard cried, "I I I just can't sny what I feel!" OvyrrlEbt 1922, Wcilfr, Newspaper Union. |