“The very next thing, along come this excitement about war with Spain, and I seen Jaw-awn’s name among the volunteers. I knowed he wouldn’t ever get through the war. Sure enough, word come—. I telegraphed to have him sent here. I knowed the children’s grandpaw and grandmaw wouldn’t do it. And I sent them word, but they don’t want to excite the children, so none of that family will come.
“I don’t say nothing about the expense: I have some means. But when I think of them children that he was a father to—him being so wrapped up in his folks—and them slippin’ to the bars like they do to see if Jaw-awn is comin’ back and not even knowin’ that he lays a soldier in his coffin in that parlor—without any folks to drop a tear on him—I feel like as if things was wrong!”
Miss Lucy arose and entered the parlor. She rearranged the American and Cuban flags which draped the plain casket, and touched the flowers and a huge wreath bearing the initials G. A. R.
Her three guests followed her in silent awe. She had wiped her eyes and was ready to add,—
“The minister has took for his text, ‘He setteth the solitary in families.’ I hope everybody will turn out. The weather is nice. Some will come because he is the first soldier buried here from the Spanish war, and the Grand Army Post has took it up and will march and fire a salute over his grave. I don’t know as the dead care anything about it, but I’d kind of like to see Jaw-awn have as nice a funeral as if he had folks.”
ELECTROTYPED AND PRINTED
BY H. O. HOUGHTON AND CO.
The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE, MASS., U. S. A.
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.