If I thought that people would believe it, I'd boldly state that I slept from C. to B., which would simplify matters immensely; but as I know they wouldn't, I'll confess that the head under the funereal coal-hod fermented with all manner of high thoughts and heroic purposes "to do or die,"—perhaps both; and the heart under the fuzzy brown coat felt very tender with the memory of the dear old lady, probably sobbing over her army socks and the loss of her topsy-turvy Trib.
At this juncture I took the veil, and what I did behind it is nobody's business; but I maintain that the soldier who cries when his mother says "Good by" is the boy to fight best, and die bravest, when the time comes, or go back to her better than he went.
ONLY SIXTEEN.
"When last seen, he was considerably intoxicated.... and was found dead in the highway."—Republican and Democrat of May 17.
O
NLY sixteen, so the papers say,
Yet there on the cold, stony ground he lay;
'Tis the same sad story we hear every day—