The Grand Duke, one of the kindest and noblest types of manhood. Clara Barton.
See pages between [326]–7, decorations Nos. 2, 4, 5, 16, 17.
The literary exercises were over. The General had stepped down from the platform. There at the foot of the steps the General waited. The audience had remained sitting. In a few moments Clara Barton and her chivalric old Commander were in private conversation. As that great audience, composed principally of old soldiers, saw together the greatest hero and the greatest heroine of the Spanish-American War, reminiscing of common hardships and common dangers, as one man they rose to their feet, tumultuously cheering.
An old soldier at the top of his voice shouted:
“Three cheers for Clara Barton!”
The cheers given were uproarious, cheers continuing again and again. At a still higher pitch of voice another shouted: “Tiger!!”
Hardly had the echo of that voice died away when still another voice cried out: “No, Sweetheart!!”
Then shouts and tears were intermingled and little Clara, with a love as true to her “soldier boys” as that of her “soldier boys” to her, much embarrassed and speechless, could only smile back her love in return, and in tears smile and smile and smile.
XLIII
I have been shaking hands since nine o’clock this morning, and my right hand is almost paralyzed.