FIT A H FilTDTPV 
 LJLJLri O.UUKLIL1
 
 " v
 
 My Soldier 
 Lady
 
 V 
 
 'My basket was soon full "
 
 My Soldier 
 Lady 
 
 BY 
 
 Ella Hamilton Durley 
 
 The C. M. Clark Publishing Company 
 
 Boston, Massachusetts 
 
 1908
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1908 
 
 BY 
 
 THE C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING Co. 
 
 BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS 
 
 u. s. A. 
 
 All Rights Reserved
 
 OOOO1
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 My basket was soon full . . Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The doctor came out to me with a handful 
 
 of letters 30 
 
 " I am at present engaged in looking about 
 
 for a first-class husband" . . 80 
 
 The pleasure we all got out of " The Betty" 
 
 was something we sha'n't soon forget . 101 
 
 She was the happiest "culled pusson" here- 
 abouts ...... 124 
 
 He then showed her a frog, and, in a moment, 
 
 her pain was gone .... 152 
 
 "I took you for a pickpocket" . . . 181 
 
 " It's answering all sorts of foolish questions " 206
 
 My Soldier Lady 
 
 The Beeches, August fourth, 
 
 Nineteen hundred and one. 
 My dearest Chum: 
 
 It's a thousand times easier to preach 
 than to practice. Here am I, who talked 
 myself into incipient bronchitis in my 
 efforts to keep your courage at the sticking 
 point; and now that the agony of separa- 
 tion has come and refuses to go, and every 
 day finds my only chum farther and 
 farther on her way to Japan, the fortitude 
 I was pluming myself upon has taken its 
 flight and I go about in a sort of waking 
 stupor. 
 
 The worst of it is, everybody seems to 
 blame it all on me and I am beginning to 
 censure myself for sending you to that 
 dreadful distance to battle alone with 
 homesickness and all those heart-wring-
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 ing memories. The least I can do is to 
 suffer in silence and do delightful penance 
 by making my letters to you big, satisfying 
 slices of Kentucky life the life you are so 
 sweetly giving up. 
 
 " We cain't never see her no more in dis 
 world," moaned poor old Chloe, whom I 
 found almost dissolved in tears on my 
 return from the train. You will have 
 some idea of the depth of her woe from 
 her resorting to the triple negative. The 
 double one usually serves every purpose, 
 you know. 
 
 "Hit aint no dream an' hit aint no 
 mebbe," she wailed; "dat deah chile 
 she's done gone an' left us an' she'll just 
 go an' marry some two-millionaire ober 
 in dat heathen country"; and up went the 
 apron again. 
 
 The first day was positively funereal, 
 and I saw that something had to be done 
 and done quickly to lift the household out 
 of its gloom ; so I called up Jack and asked 
 
 [2]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 him if he was free to come if I could suc- 
 ceed in bringing a few friends to The 
 Beeches for the week-end. I promised 
 him there should be nothing more taxing 
 than singing the old college songs, in 
 which he is past-master, telling stories, 
 and plenty of horseback riding, boating 
 and tennis. 
 
 The dear fellow has never failed me 
 and he didn't at this trying moment. 
 What a happy faculty he has, and no one 
 knows it better than you, of seeing to the 
 very heart of things and acting accord- 
 ingly. You begin to tell him something 
 in which you are deeply interested and for 
 which you wish to enlist his sympathy. 
 You expect to have to labor with him as 
 you do with others to win him to your side 
 and, behold, like a flash, he sees and 
 understands it all before you are half way 
 through with your story. I tell you it's 
 a joy to have such a friend! I think, too, 
 he's gifted with something of a woman's
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 intuition; and that reminds me of a droll 
 answer Uncle Caleb gave to Willie the 
 other day. 
 
 Willie asked his father what intuition 
 was. "Why," said Uncle Caleb, "that's 
 the thing, child, that makes your mother 
 sure that she is right, whether she is or 
 not." 
 
 To the ordinary observer it would seem 
 positively uncanny to arrange for a lark, 
 even a make-believe one, when our poor 
 wounded fledgling was leaving for four 
 long years at the ends of the earth; but 
 the case was desperate and Jack promised 
 to come, and I wrote notes at once to Bess, 
 and Frances, and Virginia. You know 
 that, next to you, they were the ring- 
 leaders in the fun that memorable summer 
 at the beach, and if they do not prove 
 gloom dispellers, I have missed my guess. 
 
 The sun was just peeping over the hills 
 the next morning as I, with basket and 
 shears, reached the terrace. The air was
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 deliciously pungent and refreshing with 
 the early morning fragrance from the 
 foliage and moist earth-mould. 
 
 I stood stock still for a few minutes 
 just to give my wayward thoughts time to 
 get into tune with the wondrous beauty 
 of old Mother Earth. A robin in the 
 lilac bushes poured out his liquid song in 
 an appealing sort of way and was 
 answered with a joyous note from his 
 mate at some distance over in the maples. 
 How delightful, I thought, the sense of 
 companionship ! 
 
 A saucy squirrel ran before my feet, 
 then whisked up the old beech tree by the 
 path and looked mockingly down at me. 
 An instant later it was followed by another 
 bushy-tail and the two flaunted their 
 happiness before my eyes. Alas! my 
 mate was beyond hailing sound. 
 
 But there is a sense of companionship in 
 the flowers, and I never realized it more 
 truly than at that moment. Each bios- 
 
 [5]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LADY 
 
 som seemed to speak to me in its own 
 way. There were the great clumps of 
 hollyhocks with the somber gray walls 
 of the old ice-house for a background. 
 They stand up like sentinels with such an 
 air of stateliness, dignity and self-reliance 
 that, in spite of the gorgeous colors they 
 don, you recognize them as representing 
 the substantial and genuine aristocracy 
 of the floral world. 
 
 At their feet is massed the blue of the 
 monk's-hood, and here again are sin- 
 cerity and loyalty true blue. 
 
 On the slope across the path the mari- 
 golds are now a blaze of glory. Rather 
 showy and pretentious, to be sure, yet 
 they serve their purpose. They are deco- 
 rative and that is about as much as can be 
 said of some people. 
 
 My basket was soon full and on my 
 way to the house I made a little detour 
 past the servants' quarters to ask Chloe, 
 whom I saw pottering about her tiny
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 cottage, how her "ole man's rheumatics" 
 were. She's a garrulous old soul, you 
 know, and likes nothing so much as to 
 talk about the various diseases to which 
 flesh is heir. 
 
 "O, honey, he's enjoyin' very bad 
 health. He has such a tumble misery in 
 de small o' his back, an' you knows he's 
 a-gettin' mighty ole, Missy." 
 
 "How old is Uncle Ben?" I asked. 
 
 " Why, lawsy, chile, you knows as well 
 as I; he's ha'r is as white as cotton, an' 
 he's bent near about double, an' he walks 
 wid two canes, an' I tells him he mus' 
 be near onto twenty-five; but he won't 
 'mit it," she said with a chuckle. 
 
 August tenth. 
 My dear Crusader: 
 
 Here are three cheers and a tiger for the 
 bravest, truest, most heroic soldier lady
 
 M Y SOLDIER LADY 
 
 that ever sallied forth to vanquish enemy 
 and win certain victory. This one has 
 youth and strength and high ideals; and, 
 though she sometimes wavers in the be- 
 lief in her own powers, which is essential 
 to successful warfare, yet in her moments 
 of sober reflection she must realize that her 
 resources are not of the ordinary sort, but 
 the best that a kind Providence vouch- 
 safes to His children here below a stout 
 heart, a mind in itself a kingdom, absolute 
 loyalty to friends and that genuineness 
 and sympathy characteristic of great souls. 
 And what if this crusader of mine has 
 suffered humiliation and bitterness of 
 spirit where she had the right to expect 
 joy and blessedness ? It matters not since 
 she has emerged from the battle carrying 
 her shield before her and with sunshine in 
 her heart. Her life stretches far out into 
 the future and she will find new meaning 
 in it during those years which she has 
 bravely set apart for work for others. 
 
 [8]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 On Thursday morning, the day before 
 our guests arrived, I had a long drive with 
 Jack, who was making a professional call 
 down on the Beaver road. 
 
 We were both amused at the work going 
 forward on a farm, the dimensions of 
 which hardly exceeded those of the smoke- 
 house roof. 
 
 "What rent do you pay for this 
 wretched little plot of stumpy land ?" we 
 called to Sambo, who was making much 
 ado over his work. 
 
 " I pays fifty dollars' worth of terbacker 
 for what Ian' I kin work wid a critter an* a 
 half; an' dis calf am de half critter," he 
 shouted back to us. 
 
 The whole "critter" was a scrawny 
 old mule with just the wisest, melanchol- 
 iest look out of his eyes you ever saw. 
 
 Our dear boy was more communicative 
 than usual. He said he was in honor 
 bound not to write to you and it would be 
 a breach of faith even to send messages 
 
 [9]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 through me, so mum's the word! I will 
 say, though, that he is loyal to the core 
 and I shall pray for his final reward. 
 Jacob's waiting seven years was child's 
 play compared with what he has endured 
 these seven years. And think of the 
 cruelty of heaping four more on top of that 
 mountain of love and patience ! 
 
 My hands were full, Friday morning, 
 seeing that everything was ship-shape, 
 for Frances and Virginia were expected at 
 four, and Bess had written that she and 
 her friend, Miss Charlotte Lingle from 
 Cincinnati, would arrive on the six o'clock 
 boat. The gentlemen of the party con- 
 sisted of our old friends, Bobby Hartley 
 and Edward Martin, Max Krieger and a 
 young physician, who is thinking of locat- 
 ing here. You know them all except Miss 
 Lingle, the young doctor and Mr. Krieger. 
 
 You should have seen the pantry 
 shelves laden with the good things mammy 
 had made ready. You would have sup- 
 
 [10]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 posed she was preparing to feed a regiment 
 and that the provisions were likely to be 
 exhausted within a day or two, so she 
 would get plenty while she was a-getting. 
 
 All our people were safely here in time 
 for a seven o'clock dinner and if I do say 
 it, it was a beautiful affair and by the time 
 it was finished everybody was feeling at 
 home. 
 
 Bess and Frances are just the same dear 
 girls as of old. You know we have not 
 seen so much of Virginia of late; and now 
 that she has added to her natural graces 
 the culture which four years at Wellesley 
 and a year of foreign travel give, she is 
 positively stunning, and when Miss King 
 enters the room, I assure you the men all 
 sit up and take notice. 
 
 Miss Lingle is clever and fascinating 
 and you w r ill be interested in knowing that 
 she conducts a free kindergarten at the 
 Roadside Settlement in Cincinnati, hav- 
 ing taken up this work from choice, soon
 
 M Y SOLDIER LADY 
 
 after her graduation from Smith. 
 
 Mr. Krieger is a German. He was 
 educated at Heidelberg, but, as he chose 
 newspaper work as a profession, he 
 thought best to come to this country, to 
 find a broader field. While he speaks 
 with an accent, his English is faultless. 
 
 What shall I say of the doctor? The 
 fact is I haven't quite made up my mind 
 whether I like him or not. He's a Yale 
 man but has been doing post-graduate 
 work at Berlin. One thing I do like 
 about him is that, although he has a 
 fortune, he goes in for a career. He is 
 tall and athletic, but I would call his face 
 strong rather than handsome. I am 
 afraid he is shocked at our frivolity; for 
 he seems to take life seriously. 
 
 August twenty-fifth. 
 I must tell you a little more about the 
 
 [12]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 young physician I mentioned in my last 
 letter. 
 
 From a word or two he let fall, I judge 
 it was while he was abroad that he first 
 became interested in the study of socio- 
 logical questions. I'm afraid the frisky 
 little microbe of reform has been getting 
 in its work on him. You know how 
 susceptible to its inroads these Northern- 
 ers are. One day it's capital and labor, 
 and the next, Heaven save the mark! 
 they propose to settle the race problem 
 for us, and so on to the end of the 
 chapter. 
 
 Now, do not think I'm hostile to this 
 big, athletic disciple of Esculapius. Far 
 from it; but, while he is studying us 
 volatile Southerners and probably dis- 
 secting us in his scientific way, I have him 
 impaled on the point of my needle and am 
 quietly looking into his peculiarities; and 
 I find the study mighty interesting, too. 
 
 Coming in from a walk, the doctor told 
 
 [13]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LADY 
 
 of having met old black Dan and stopping 
 to talk with him. It was the opportunity 
 of a lifetime for Dan. Scientific gentle- 
 men with a turn for original research are 
 not roaming our highways every day, and 
 Dan dwelt at length on some of his sup- 
 posed wrongs, ending each separate and 
 distinct grievance with, "An' I tells you, 
 that's the kind of equal-equality we has 
 here in ole Kaintuck!" 
 
 After a good laugh over the doctor's 
 encounter with poor old Dan, Cousin Nell 
 told him something of Jack's hospital 
 scheme for the benefit of incurable chil- 
 dren ; and it would have done you good to 
 see how his fertile mind took hold of it. 
 The best of it is, he regards the plan as 
 being entirely feasible. The conversation 
 drifted into a general discussion of phil- 
 anthropic work; and, with more feeling 
 than I had given him credit for possessing, 
 our visitor repeated those fine lines from 
 Lowell : 
 
 [14]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 ' They are slaves who fear to speak ^ 
 For the fallen and the weak ; 
 
 They are slaves who will not choose 
 
 Hatred, scoffing and abuse, 
 Rather than in silence shrink 
 From the truth they needs must think. 
 
 They are slaves who dare not be 
 
 In the right with two or three."/* 
 
 I tell you, the big fellow went up in my 
 opinion several notches, and I'm no re- 
 former, or if I am, I do my work by proxy. 
 
 We all expected the doctor to fall in 
 love, forthwith, with Miss Lingle, who, 
 in addition to being attractive in her 
 personality, is thoroughly imbued with 
 what our club women here delight in 
 calling the "altruistic spirit"; but Max 
 Krieger simply appropriated the young 
 woman from the first and evidently had 
 no intention of giving any one else a show. 
 On our jaunts, the doctor has usually had 
 to put up with your poor old chum, though 
 
 [15]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 I have tried my best to be generous and 
 pass him around. 
 
 It seems that Miss Lingle's family are 
 opposed to her occupying her time with 
 free kindergartens and the like. They 
 want her to stay at home and play the 
 role of the conventional young society girl. 
 
 " Lottie will be having her hair cut one 
 o' these days," said her big brother. 
 
 "No," said her father, "I shall draw 
 the line there; for she is doing too many 
 short-haired things already." 
 
 But she is thoroughly womanly and 
 sweet, and we all fell under her charm at 
 once. 
 
 The first evening we sat on the veranda 
 and spun yarns till the wee small hours; 
 so I have a regular budget of after- 
 dinner stories for you, though I groan in 
 spirit when I reflect that it will likely be 
 many a long day before you will have the 
 opportunity to shine as a dinner guest. 
 
 How will the story of a darkey funeral, 
 
 [16]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 as told by Bobby Hartley, do for me to 
 close with ? The minister with due solem- 
 nity rose at the opening of the service and 
 announced : 
 
 "We will now jine in singin* that 
 beautiful an' com-fortin' hymn, 'Hark! 
 from the Tombs a Doleful Soun',' which 
 was a favoreyte with the remains." 
 
 August thirtieth. 
 
 Your letter from Honolulu reached me 
 this morning and we've all been in a fever 
 of pleasurable excitement ever since. 
 
 We laughed till we were almost hyster- 
 ical over the story of the Dane ; and Uncle 
 Caleb proceeded to match it with what he 
 says was an actual occurrence here. You 
 know the extensive lumber yards of John 
 H. Quint. A large number of men are 
 employed there and one of these was 
 approached by an evangelist in some 
 
 [17]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 meetings recently held, who asked : 
 
 "Are you working for Christ, my 
 brother?" 
 
 "No," was the reply; "I works for 
 John H. Quint." 
 
 Now, chum of mine, I must tell you of 
 a little adventure of my own; and if it 
 doesn't convince you that I need a guard- 
 ian, I miss my guess. 
 
 While I was shopping in one of the big 
 downtown stores the other day, there came 
 up a drenching rain. I w r as very much 
 absorbed in my purchases, for I am get- 
 ting ready for a visit to the beach and a 
 possible run for a few days up to New 
 York. I had not noticed the sudden 
 shower until a lady came up to me and 
 said, " Pardon me, madam, but that is my 
 umbrella that you have in your hand." 
 
 I looked down and found, to my aston- 
 ishment, that in some way I had got hold 
 of the wrong umbrella. I, of course, gave 
 it up with many apologies, none of which 
 
 [18]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LADY 
 
 she accepted, as the sequel will show. 
 
 I had scarcely left the woman when my 
 attention was attracted by a display of 
 umbrellas, evidently brought out for the 
 occasion and marked down to suit the 
 humble purse. Now, I thought, is my 
 time. We never have enough umbrellas 
 at The Beeches, there is little use in buy- 
 ing expensive ones for ordinary family 
 purposes, since we lose them so easily, and 
 the result of my reasoning was the hasty 
 purchase of three. 
 
 As the rain continued, I decided to carry 
 them home with me so they would be 
 ready for immediate use. I came home 
 by the trolley. Judge of my feelings when 
 the lady of the umbrella reached across the 
 aisle and, glancing at my umbrellas, said 
 icily, "Permit me to congratulate you, 
 madam, on your successful morning's 
 work!" 
 
 My little party was voted a triumph and 
 a dream, and I modestly admit that dull- 
 
 [19]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 ness was not its chief characteristic. The 
 only credit due me was that of bringing 
 together the cleverest bunch of young peo- 
 ple to be found south of Mason and Dix- 
 on's line (wherever that may be). The 
 only trouble was that the parting of the 
 ways came too quickly. You know grand- 
 mother used to tell us to be sure and stop 
 eating while we still had a craving for 
 more. Well, our good time had to draw to 
 a close before we were half ready for it; 
 and, in looking about for some way to pro- 
 long it, we hit upon the happy thought of 
 a reunion at the seaside early in Septem- 
 ber. Aunt Ann will go along as chaper- 
 one. 
 
 Do not think, Missy, for a moment, that 
 you have exhausted my fund of stories, if 
 you have your own, in your efforts to en- 
 tertain Deutschy. 
 
 I have a new supply, strictly fresh and 
 warranted to make you laugh or your 
 money refunded. These I am willing to 
 
 [SO]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 dole out to you from time to time, the only 
 condition being that you use them with 
 your usual discretion and good taste. 
 
 At the Beach, September fifteenth. 
 Dear Missionary Lady: 
 
 The thought that you are on the oppo- 
 site side of the globe, bound fast to the 
 service of the almond-eyed maiden of the 
 Orient by cords that will not loosen for 
 four years, weighs heavily upon me this 
 morning. 
 
 The fact is, I am already wickedly jeal- 
 ous of those mellow-eyed Japanese maid- 
 ens with their pretty, purring ways. 
 How is that for a confession, and la" per- 
 fessor," as Chloe would say ? 
 
 I can just see those girls falling down 
 and worshipping "De beau'ful Amelican 
 lady. " Who can blame them ? And you 
 will give them love for love. But I am not 
 
 [21]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 quite despicable enough to wish it other- 
 wise. 
 
 It seems too good to be true that our 
 little crowd is all here together, that is, 
 all except Jack, who could not, or thought 
 he could not, leave the rector's little boy, 
 Benny, though I am hoping that he will 
 join us later, as he partly promised to do. 
 
 Aunt Ann is an ideal chaperone. I 
 actually found her sound asleep in the 
 hammock when we broke up our first 
 evening's seance. We had a good laugh 
 at her expense. 
 
 By the way, Max is a capital story tell- 
 er, and while half of the pleasure of the 
 story may lie in the telling, and the larger 
 half when Max tells it, I believe I will risk 
 passing on one second-hand to you. I 
 will give it as nearly as possible in his own 
 language, barring the accent, which adds 
 decidedly to the flavor. 
 
 MAX KRIEGER'S STORY. 
 
 Some three or four years ago, my 
 
 [22]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 mother and I went to Berlin for a few 
 weeks' sight seeing. We settled ourselves 
 comfortably at a Pension in the Lutzow 
 Strasse and spent our days visiting the 
 numerous places of interest, which that 
 splendid city affords, while the evenings 
 generally found us at either the theater or 
 the concert-hall. 
 
 Soon after our arrival, one of the large 
 and fashionable hotels of the city went 
 into bankruptcy. That would have at- 
 tracted little attention outside the busi- 
 ness world had not one of the creditors 
 proved to be a butcher, who put in a claim 
 of a thousand dollars for horse-meat fur- 
 nished the hotel. 
 
 It all came out in the newspapers, in 
 spite of the fact that the journals of con- 
 servative old Berlin did not play up the 
 "story" as we should do in this country, 
 probably accompanying the recital with a 
 picture of "Old Dobbin" or "Nancy 
 Hanks," thus showing the very animals 
 
 [23]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 that had furnished the juiciest and most 
 toothsome steaks. It proved a great sen- 
 sation and all Berlin laughed over it for 
 ten days. 
 
 It was disclosed that the city had no 
 fewer than forty-eight shops where horse- 
 meat was sold and that Dresden had 
 fifteen. 
 
 That particular hotel had been pat- 
 ronized extensively by the nobility and it 
 stirred their blue blood, to know that they 
 had been served horseflesh for days at a 
 time when they thought they had been 
 eating good, savory beef. The worst of it 
 was that the horse-meat cost only half as 
 much as beef. 
 
 The landlord was made so uncomfort- 
 able by the publicity of the whole thing, 
 that he came out with a statement to the 
 effect that the horse-meat had been used 
 solely for the dogs of his patrons. It was 
 the joke of the city. 
 
 Our landlady had a good deal to say 
 
 [24]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 about the matter, and talked freely about 
 how clean the horse was, compared with 
 swine or even cows. 
 
 One day my curiosity got the better of 
 me; so, after consulting my mother, I 
 asked our haus-frau to get a pound of the 
 best horseflesh and serve it at luncheon. 
 We planned a hard forenoon's work in the 
 museum, in order that we might return 
 with the best of appetites. 
 
 The luncheon was served in our private 
 apartments. First, there was brought in 
 a tempting bowl of soup. Mother looked 
 askance at it, since small pieces of meat 
 were visible in it, and insisted that I 
 should try it first, but I assured her that 
 politeness would never permit me to do so. 
 Finally, she tested it in a gingerly manner 
 but grew deathly sick, and excusing her- 
 self, hastily left the room. Seeing her 
 pallor proved too much for me; and, step- 
 ping to the big, tiled stove, I opened the 
 door and emptied both dishes in it. 
 
 [25]
 
 Presently mother returned, followed 
 by the haus-frau. The latter expressed 
 herself as more than pleased that we had 
 eaten the soup with evident relish, adding 
 that she had also prepared a regular steak 
 as a second course. This she brought in. 
 The steak, a fine thick one, and done to 
 perfection, served with delicious brown 
 potatoes and gravy, made a luncheon fit 
 for a Vanderbilt. Our appetites came 
 back again, as we discoursed on the su- 
 periority of the beefsteak over all other 
 meats. 
 
 When the good Jiaus-frau made her 
 appearance ready to clear up the table I 
 took occasion to thank her for her thought- 
 fulness in holding in reserve a beefsteak, 
 which she had prepared with so much 
 skill and served so beautifully. 
 
 She looked puzzled a moment, then 
 said: "Why, you didn't think that was 
 beefsteak, did you ? The soup was made 
 from beef, but the steak was horse-meat." 
 
 [26]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 At the Beach, 
 September twenty-second. 
 
 All the world loves a lover and that may 
 account for the flutter of wings in our 
 small dove-cote over Max's ardent wooing 
 of Lottie Lingle. The object of his 
 adoration is the only one that seems un- 
 conscious of it all, but I cannot think she 
 is indifferent. 
 
 There is a whisper from Cincinnati to 
 the effect that her people, who pride them- 
 selves on being real thoroughbreds and 
 rank among the exclusive of exclusives, 
 would never consent to their only daughter 
 wedding a mere newspaper man, however 
 brilliant his worldly prospects; but Lottie 
 has a mind of her own, as is shown by her 
 firmness in sticking to the free kinder- 
 garten idea ; and if she finds that she cares 
 for the stalwart German, there will be 
 something doing up the Ohio. 
 
 Bobby was twitting Max about his 
 matrimonial prospects when he wittily 
 
 [27]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 retorted: " O, that will have to be decided 
 by Lot." 
 
 Miss Lingle's kindergarten work has 
 brought her into touch with real life, and 
 her fund of anecdotes about children is in- 
 exhaustible. Last evening she enter- 
 tained us for an hour with her clever 
 stories. Some of the best of these were 
 about her two brothers. 
 
 Her little brother Jim had long wanted 
 a dog, but her mother has an idea that 
 there is constant danger from rabies. 
 Funny, isn't it ? Jim couldn't give up the 
 dog, though, and so resorted to prayer, in 
 which he had full faith. At any time of 
 day, he was likely to drop on his knees and 
 send up a petition for a dog. 
 
 One day her brother Curtis, who is a 
 little larger, coming into the house, stum- 
 bled over Jim, who was on his knees, pray- 
 ing fervently. 
 
 Curtis, in a fit of indignation called out, 
 "Mother, do come and make Jim quit 
 
 [88]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 pestering God about that dog!" 
 
 The boys seem to have more than the 
 usual devotional streak. One day when 
 playing together, it was proposed by 
 Curtis that they should play that one of 
 them was the Supreme Being. That 
 struck them as particularly fitting, and 
 the idea was hailed with delight, but they 
 soon got into a lively altercation as to 
 which one should assume that character. 
 After a spirited dispute, Jim gave up and 
 said with crushing superiority, " All right, 
 you may be God, and I'll be Otto Lyon," 
 naming the popular proprietor of the lead- 
 ing down-town toy store. 
 
 A little five-year-old girl, who was in 
 one of Miss Lingle's kindergartens, was 
 naughty one day, and was mildly reproved 
 by her teacher. When she went home, 
 she told her mother about it, and the lat- 
 ter said : 
 
 "Why, Helen, I should think that you 
 would have felt pretty cheap." 
 
 [29]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LADY 
 
 "Well," blubbered little Helen, "I 
 didn't feel very expensive." 
 
 Another of Miss Lingle's anecdotes was 
 about a family in which the father was not 
 at all religious. One day they were visited 
 by a clergyman, who was asked to say 
 grace at dinner. 
 
 The eyes of the little boy at the table 
 grew bigger and bigger as the minister 
 proceeded, and his mother knew that 
 something would be forthcoming, yet was 
 powerless to head it off. 
 
 No sooner was the grace concluded than 
 little David piped up : 
 
 " Papa, why don't you learn that piece, 
 and speak it, too ?" 
 
 Since I began this letter, sitting out 
 under a spreading oak, the doctor came 
 out to me with a handful of letters and I 
 fairly shouted with joy when I discovered 
 that one was from Japan. O, honey, I 
 can never tell you how rejoiced I was to 
 get that letter, and how strange it all 
 
 [30]
 
 The doctor came out to me with a handful of letters
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 seemed, that it should reach me at the 
 cottage by the sea, where we once had 
 such jolly times together. 
 
 Jack did not arrive until we were al- 
 most ready to turn our faces homeward, 
 but his coming was the signal for a jollifi- 
 cation. 
 
 Alohaoe, chum of mine, Alohaoe! 
 
 The Seaside, 
 September twenty-fifth. 
 
 Your letter with its budget of news 
 about your arrival followed closely on the 
 heels of your message from the sea. Two 
 letters within three days, and never were 
 letters more gratefully received, or more 
 greedily devoured. In this case, you 
 must understand, gratitude may be de- 
 fined as " a lively sense of favors to come." 
 
 So you're actually right down below me 
 in Japan ! It makes me dizzy to think of 
 
 [31]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 your standing with your feet pointed up 
 towards me, and that golden head of yours 
 reaching out into space in the opposite 
 direction. How do you manage to main- 
 tain your equilibrium? These laws of 
 gravitation are beyond my comprehension. 
 
 Now that you are over there, or down 
 there, everything Japanese is of absorb- 
 ing interest to me; and when we learned 
 that the Japanese consul and his family 
 from a neighboring city occupied a cottage 
 not a block away, Virginia King and I 
 dutifully went and called on the little 
 dark-haired Japanese lady, who dresses 
 in the most picturesque fashion imagin- 
 able. 
 
 Mr. Katasi, the consul, was at home 
 also, and if we had been foreign poten- 
 tates, becrowned and bejeweled, we could 
 not have been received with more defer- 
 ence. I hastened to explain, for I do not 
 like to sail under false colors, that my only 
 claim to distinction was that my con- 
 
 [32]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 secrated cousin had recently betaken her- 
 self to the land of the cherry blossom, or, 
 as some one has called it, the land of the 
 two g's the garden and the geisha. 
 This evidently made a deep impression 
 and they at once extended an invitation to 
 us and all our party to dine with them on 
 the following evening. 
 
 Before we made our adieus, Mrs. 
 Katasi left the room and soon returned 
 with some beautiful Japanese articles 
 which she begged us to accept. To Vir- 
 ginia she gave an elbow cushion made by 
 herself, a curious little affair, but much 
 in vogue in her own country, she ex- 
 plained. It is made of soft, crepe-like 
 Japanese cloth of various hues, cut so 
 that the cushion is round, the pieces con- 
 verging to a central point, and fastened 
 by small tassels of silk thread. They can 
 be carried by the tassels and, she says, are 
 much used by the ladies when reclining. 
 We intend to make a number of these so 
 
 [38]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 you can imagine us with our elbows buried 
 in rainbow-hued cushions. 
 
 Her gift to me was a delicate piece of 
 silk embroidery. We were quite over- 
 come by the unexpected kindness. 
 
 Mr. Katasi talked to me, on the side, 
 very entertainingly about his wife, who is 
 a Buddhist, while he professes Christian- 
 ity. He spoke of her religion with the ut- 
 most respect. He says he lets her have 
 her own belief on these matters but trusts 
 that the time will come when, as she be- 
 comes more of an American, she will also 
 become a believer in Christianity. At 
 present the worship of her ancestors is an 
 important part of her religious life. When 
 they have something extraordinarily good 
 for dinner she solemnly carries a plateful 
 of dainties up to her room for the delecta- 
 tion of her forebears. Just how the 
 ghostly visitors receive it and what dis- 
 position is made of the remnants was not 
 explained to us. 
 
 [34]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 We have not succeeded in leading the 
 simple life up here, as we had hoped to do. 
 The dinner given us by the Japanese con- 
 sul was the first of the festivities. It was 
 followed by our entertaining the Katasis 
 and a few friends at dinner and then others 
 followed suit, so that we are somewhat in 
 the position of the Western governor dur- 
 ing the Columbian Exposition. 
 
 There were banquets and dinners with- 
 out number, the story goes, and usually 
 after-dinner speeches were indulged in by 
 way of spice. On one of these occasions 
 the Governor's wife was called upon for a 
 few words. She rose and said that they 
 had been having the time of their lives and 
 that really the Governor had hardly had 
 his knife out of his mouth since they left 
 home! 
 
 The doctor has now fully decided to 
 come to Kentucky for the practice of his 
 profession, and, just between you and me 
 and the gate-post, I'm satisfied that it is 
 
 [35]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 his interest in the hospital plans that 
 brings him. It can hardly be otherwise; 
 for he has seen so much of the world and 
 is altogether so cosmopolitan in his ideas 
 that our little neck o' woods, however 
 pleasing to us who have lived there always, 
 could hardly attract him of itself. Since 
 he does choose to become one of us, we are 
 mighty glad of it. 
 
 * 
 
 The Beeches, 
 
 October fifteenth. 
 Dearest Chum: 
 
 The jaunt to New York, which seemed 
 altogether alluring from The Beeches, did 
 not appeal to me in anything like the same 
 way at the cottage. Why should I ex- 
 change the comfortable days at the beach 
 with wholesome out-door sports and con- 
 genial company thrown in, for a round of 
 wearisome shopping even if the latter did 
 
 [M]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 mean pretty clothes, a greater familiarity 
 with Dame Fashion's mandates and a 
 closer touch with this bustling old world ? 
 
 I had begun to look about for some 
 plausible excuse for a change of plans 
 when Aunt Ann, all unconsciously, came 
 to the rescue with an emphatic protest 
 against going up to the city at all. The 
 noise and the rush were more than her 
 nerves could endure, she declared; and I 
 well know that the dear woman is in a 
 state of semi-collapse from the moment of 
 landing at Jersey City Ferry till her re- 
 turn to that point. I yielded to her 
 wishes, all the more willingly since Bess is 
 to spend a few days in New York on her 
 return trip and offered to make some pur- 
 chases for me. 
 
 It is such a relief to know that you found 
 pleasure in those first days before you 
 went to work in that strange, picturesque 
 country. I can just see you, all smiles, 
 bobbing up and down in your quaint jin- 
 
 [37]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 rikisha and, best of all, I can see you for- 
 getting that you were ever an unhappy girl 
 wife and that you are now a young widow 
 with a perfect right to feel resigned. 
 
 Now, I must tell you something that 
 will make you laugh to counteract that 
 note of distress that I unwittingly sounded. 
 
 One of my friends and her husband 
 spent some time last summer up at the 
 Lake of Killarney in Ireland. One day 
 they were sitting chatting with a Catholic 
 priest when a rosy-cheeked young Irish 
 girl came along. The good Father greeted 
 her cordially. 
 
 "How do you do, Bridget?" he asked, 
 shaking her hand, "Where do you live 
 now?" 
 
 "O, Father," she answered, "I don't 
 live at all, at all, I'm married." 
 
 And that reminds me of another Irish 
 bull, that Max tells about. It was when 
 he was a young reporter and went to write 
 up the death of a prominent Irish citizen. 
 
 [38]
 
 "His last words were to me," said the 
 sister of the dead man sadly; "he said, 
 * The dearest friends must part.' ' 
 
 "No," said a relative who sat near, 
 "his last words were to me." 
 
 "And what were they ?" asked Max. 
 
 "Why, he just lay there so, and niver 
 utthered a syllable!" 
 
 November thirtieth. 
 It seems hardly possible that Thanks- 
 giving has come and gone! My heart 
 was away down in my boots when the day 
 dawned, but I took a brace when I thought 
 of the dear young person whose courage is 
 already the boast of the missionary jour- 
 nals and who by reason of her stout heart 
 is putting us all to shame. By the way, 
 why didn't you tell us about saving that 
 woman's life on the river bank the day you 
 disembarked? It was in all the papers 
 here. 
 
 [39]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 You know, it really and truly is our first 
 Thanksgiving without you. Even in your 
 dreariest days, when we all felt like throt- 
 tling somebody who shall be nameless, 
 you always stole away for an hour or two 
 and met us at the old homestead. 
 
 Well, the clans gathered as usual at the 
 big house on the old plantation, from Baby 
 Elizabeth to Uncle Caleb; and when the 
 dear child proposed that we should just 
 pretend that "auntie wath here with 
 uth," we fell right into the plan and gave 
 you the seat of honor at grandmother's 
 right. Little Elizabeth sat proudly at 
 her left, to the delight of both. You 
 should have seen her reaching over and 
 hugging grandmother, exclaiming: 
 
 "O, dear, what would I do if my great- 
 grandmother were living when my grand- 
 mother lovth me tho much ?" 
 
 We all laughed slyly but didn't tell her 
 she was at that very moment in the em- 
 brace of her great-grandmother! 
 
 [40]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 A serious turn had been given to the 
 conversation when Uncle Caleb asked 
 each one to tell what he was most thank- 
 ful for, but the gravity was dispelled when 
 little John piped up with: "I am thank- 
 ful for education and beds." 
 
 Some one remarked that the schools 
 were getting in their fatal work on that 
 youngster. 
 
 I had arranged the flowers on the table, 
 placing a fragrant tea rose at each place. 
 
 It took Baby Elizabeth's sharp eyes but 
 a moment to discover that grandmother 
 and "somebody else" had each two roses 
 and she demanded to know who had 
 brought the second ones, which were 
 choice American Beauties. The secret was 
 not disclosed, though we all had our ideas. 
 
 After dinner we gathered around the 
 glowing fireplace; for 
 
 "The frost is on the punkin', 
 And the fodder's in the shock." 
 
 [41]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 And again 
 
 "It's o-ho! for a blaze 
 To brighten our days." 
 
 How many glorious hours we have 
 spent before that old chimney-corner with 
 its dark red tiles, its shining fire-dogs and 
 its hospitable motto, "Our Hearthstone 
 is Yours." Surely the wish was father to 
 the thought when grandfather placed 
 those words over the broad hearth; and 
 many a stranger as well as friend has 
 claimed it as his own. There was a call 
 for somebody's latest letters, and though 
 we had all read them till we knew every 
 syllable, they were heard again with the 
 greatest relish. 
 
 Your encounter on the boat with the 
 handsome purser and dear old grandpa 
 proved an inspiration to Cousin Nell, with 
 the following result: 
 
 '* There once was a haughty young purser 
 Who hailed from the county of Mercer. 
 
 [42]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD F 
 
 And lest his affection 
 Should meet with rejection 
 He became a quite constant rehearser. 
 
 "He dreamed once that he was so lucky 
 As to win a fair girl from Kentucky, 
 But when he proposed, 
 It soon was disclosed, 
 He was not half so lucky as plucky. 
 
 " A rival appeared on the scene, 
 The sad eyes of the purser turned green ; 
 
 Papa was quite hoary 
 
 But, wonderful story, 
 He captured the maiden serene." 
 
 I had my kodak with me and got some 
 fairly good snap-shots of the familiar 
 nooks and corners as well as of the "sis- 
 ters and the cousins and the aunts" but 
 of this you will have an opportunity to 
 judge if I ever get my kodak book finished. 
 
 I must not forget the Thanksgiving 
 music! The doctor was with us and his 
 
 [43]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 splendid tenor voice is a decided acquisi- 
 tion for our circle, though I like nothing 
 in the way of singing quite so much as 
 Jack's. A baritone for me always. At 
 any rate we voted that nothing could sur- 
 pass his "Rocked in the Cradle of the 
 Deep," especially those deep lower notes 
 of his! 
 
 Can it be that Christmas will be here by 
 the time this reaches you? There's a 
 lump in my throat at the thought ! 
 
 With fondest Christmas greeting, dear 
 girlie, good-bye! 
 
 January fifth, 
 
 Nineteen hundred and two. 
 Dearest: 
 
 Well, you are a trump, to be sure. A 
 medal from the Emperor! How Jack will 
 enjoy that. He's out of town for a few r 
 days, and has not heard the joke, but I 
 
 [44]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 fancy I see him doubling up as he thinks 
 of the importance his innocent little gift of 
 a watch to a sixteen-year-old girl has 
 assumed. A matter of international con- 
 cern, I should say, when they mistake it 
 for a decoration from His Majesty. 
 
 Your Christmas box was a revelation. 
 Where did you find so many interesting 
 things, and each adapted so perfectly to 
 the one for whom it was intended ? 
 
 Nothing could have pleased me more, 
 than the exquisite lacquer box you sent 
 me. I have always wanted one; and 
 think of it with a lock and key, too; and 
 how interesting the Japanese wind-bell! 
 I hung it on the upper piazza and its gen- 
 tle tinkle can be heard night and day. 
 
 Grandmother wishes me to tell you 
 how much she liked the neckerchief. It 
 is so sheer and pretty, and she looks like 
 the queen more than ever when she gets it 
 on, as she did at the Christmas dinner. 
 
 Jack was quite overcpme with his gift, 
 
 [45]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 and seemed happier than I have seen him 
 for many a day. It was good of you to 
 remember him. 
 
 The Christmas dinner was at The 
 Beeches; and when I tell you that our old 
 cook quite outdid herself, you will be sur- 
 prised to know that thus far we have 
 escaped any serious consequences in the 
 way of indigestion. 
 
 As it was your first Christmas away and 
 we were naturally depressed, I decided to 
 make an extra effort to pass away the time 
 on Christmas Eve. 
 
 I'm sure you would never guess what 
 came into my mind. I visited the county 
 poor-farm where I happened to know that 
 there were a lot of old, decrepit, and sorely 
 afflicted negroes. Uncle Caleb had been 
 telling me of their melancholy condition. 
 They are now too feeble to be of use to 
 anybody; and because of their very help- 
 lessness, I knew they would be forgotten 
 amid the general merry-making. 
 
 [46]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 The pity of it is, that they were once 
 connected with the old, aristocratic fami- 
 lies, and, in those days befo' the war, none 
 were happier than they. Now they have 
 only memories. It had been their part 
 in the old days to do all the work of 
 preparation for the Christmas festivities. 
 You can imagine each one going about 
 with a broad grin on his shining face, con- 
 scious of how indispensable he was to 
 " ole marster and mistress." 
 
 But these old families are breaking up 
 one by one, and when master and mis- 
 tress go, the negroes are no longer able to 
 keep up the struggle, and the poorhouse, 
 with its gloom, is all that is left them. 
 
 No more plantation songs for them, no 
 more rollicking cake-walks, no more big 
 dinners, no more kind words from "de 
 folks." 
 
 The doctor went out with me. We 
 found things even worse than we had 
 expected. 
 
 [47]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 The poor old folks had been quite for- 
 gotten by outsiders, and apparently over- 
 looked by the care-takers. You should 
 have seen them brighten up when I pro- 
 posed that they should all come to The 
 Beeches on Christmas Eve to a kitchen 
 party; a real old-time party, with plenty 
 to eat and lots of fun. It was almost 
 beyond their comprehension. 
 
 We sent out a big plantation wagon and 
 gathered them in, the maimed and halt 
 and blind. 
 
 I'll never say again that the negroes 
 have lost their picturesqueness. Here 
 was the real thing once more. It would 
 take a readier pen than mine to describe 
 the old blacks as they filed into the base- 
 ment hall, limping, shaking, shuffling, 
 dressed in the remnants of by-gone glory. 
 
 Old black Jim, who once was a gentle- 
 man's body servant, appeared in a faded 
 buff satin vest and a buttonless swallow- 
 tail coat, with one of the tails missing. 
 
 [48]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 He wore an old stock of his dead master's, 
 and his head was thrown back at an angle 
 of forty-five degrees. 
 
 Aunt Jerushy, his wife that is, his 
 latest acquisition by matrimony was 
 gorgeous in a Dolly Varden polonaise. 
 She wore a moth-eaten wig, which was sur- 
 mounted by a bright red turban; and, 
 towering above this, was one of the sky- 
 scraper bonnets of the vintage of '60. It 
 was loaded with flowers of every color. 
 Every minute this wonderful headgear 
 seemed in danger of toppling off, but it 
 finally settled down on the left ear, whence 
 it arose in trembling splendor like Pisa's 
 leaning tower. 
 
 There had been a searching of garrets 
 for old crinoline and not one of the old 
 mammies appeared without a monstrous 
 hoop of some sort, flirting and tilting the 
 skirts in a way highly pleasing to the 
 wearer. 
 
 Old Mammy Sue, that we used to see at 
 
 [49]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 Colonel Fowler's, thought she could im- 
 prove her complexion by powder. She 
 begged enough money to buy three boxes 
 and sent for white, pink and flesh-colored, 
 which she carefully mixed and then used 
 freely. You can imagine the ghastly 
 effect. 
 
 The basement hall and kitchen were in 
 full holiday dress. There were festoons 
 of Southern moss, holly and mistletoe, 
 Christmas wreaths, and a dazzling tree 
 loaded with fruits and candies. The doc- 
 tor and I had spent most of the day in fix- 
 ing it up. 
 
 But the decorations hardly came in for 
 a passing glance. It was the long table 
 running through the center, brilliantly 
 lighted w r ith Christmas candles in the old 
 brass candlesticks and groaning with good 
 things, that took them off their feet. 
 
 There were platters piled high with tur- 
 key and cold ham, buns and crullers by 
 the bushel, baskets of oranges, nuts 
 
 150]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 and shining red apples, quantities of 
 striped peppermint candy and every other 
 good thing, not forgetting a great bowl of 
 steaming-hot lemonade with the fragrance 
 of the mint about it we thought best not 
 to indulge them in the hot toddy of the old 
 time they were too far from home. 
 
 "Praise de Lawd," and "Glory in de 
 highest," they shouted. "Now I's ready 
 to die an' go to Glory" and they em- 
 braced each other, rocking and swaying as 
 if drunken. Truly it was a picture ! 
 
 The doctor could compare the occasion 
 to nothing, he said, but a feast in the 
 medieval times in some old baronial 
 castle, with the colored folk thrown in. 
 
 After the feast there was nothing to do 
 but send for a fiddler and the hall rang to 
 the old tunes. Then all the "miseries" 
 were forgotten and a regular hoe-down 
 was indulged in, whirling and patting and 
 dancing to the almost forgotten plantation 
 melodies swinging partners, laughing to 
 
 [51]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 the point of giddiness, hugging each other, 
 shouting, chanting as they beat time, 
 finally throwing themselves down from 
 sheer exhaustion, but laughing, always 
 laughing. 
 
 It was in the wee sma' hours that the 
 plantation wagon was drawn up and 
 packed with tired old darkeys. 
 
 January sixteenth. 
 
 You are going just a little too far, my 
 missionary lady, in testing my credulity! 
 
 There's no trouble whatever in follow- 
 ing you as you whistle darkey tunes and 
 give hopping lessons with uplifted skirts; 
 or even in taking down your amber locks 
 to show the natives that we on this side 
 know a thing or two when it comes to 
 laying on colors; but I grieve to say that 
 imagination ceases to do its work when you 
 write about leading the devotions in chapel ! 
 
 [52]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 I'm like the little girl who, when asked 
 why she had two ears and one mouth, said 
 that it was so that what she heard might 
 go in at one ear and out at the other! 
 
 Confess, now, that it's a bit of fiction 
 you were giving me. At least, I should 
 like to know why it is necessary for you to 
 do all those things so long as we are 
 supporting regular missionaries in Japan. 
 Are they off on a vacation or down with 
 nervous prostration? 
 
 Now, I have a confession to make. We 
 on this side think we understand you fully 
 as well as you understand yourself, pos- 
 sibly a trifle better. 
 
 We should be more stupid than we are 
 if we did not see behind that assumed 
 flippancy of yours that you want to extend 
 those free kindergartens just a little more 
 than anything else. That is why we have 
 been getting ready to send you a little sum 
 of money for that express purpose. 
 
 In some way it crept out that we were 
 
 [53]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 doing this, and behold the Daughters of 
 the King heard of it. Walls still have ears 
 over here. It was the Stewart Circle, to 
 which you belonged; and before we were 
 any the wiser they had laid the most novel 
 plan for increasing the fund. 
 
 One of the girls had heard how, in a 
 hamlet in Pennsylvania, the people, who 
 had very little money, set about to build a 
 chapel. They did it by raising a mile of 
 pennies ! Wasn't that a unique thing ? 
 
 Now our King's Daughters are Sunday- 
 school workers and they organized a bri- 
 gade of children, pinning on the little frock 
 or jacket of each child a button with this 
 inscription: "This thing can be done." 
 Then they started the little folks out to get 
 a mile of pennies. The children entered 
 into the spirit of the thing as children only 
 can. 
 
 It soon became clear that there were 
 not pennies enough in town to supply the 
 demand. The banks sent for renewed 
 
 [64]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 supplies. In fact, the grown-ups became as 
 excited as the babies. Each child carried 
 a small canvas bag on which were the 
 words, "A mile of pennies." When a 
 certain number was secured the child 
 would report at headquarters. 
 
 To add to the interest one day was set 
 apart for a parade. There were banners 
 and flags and mottoes and row upon row 
 of smiling children. 
 
 Enthusiasm ran high and before the day 
 closed the blowing of the whistles pro- 
 claimed that a mile of pennies had been 
 secured, and this meant the handsome sum 
 of $844.80. 
 
 That is the way we do things in old 
 Kentucky ! 
 
 We gladly added the children's money 
 to our own, so that you will be able to start 
 a dozen kindergartens if you wish. Find 
 checks enclosed. All of which is respect- 
 fully submitted. 
 
 [55]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LADY 
 
 February tenth. 
 
 Cousin Nell has been giving some time 
 to clubs this winter. She has joined our 
 Browning Circle and her family has been 
 twitting her about entering the ranks of 
 the "new woman." Now they are able 
 to laugh at her, sure enough! It is all 
 because of Baby Elizabeth's precocious- 
 ness. That child is an " intellectual prog- 
 eny," as Peter would say. 
 
 The other day the child heaved a sigh 
 and said: 
 
 " Mamma, Baby thinkth there ought to 
 be two mammath all the time." 
 
 " Why, my child ?" said her mother. 
 
 "Becauth the one could go to clubth 
 and the other thtay at home with her little 
 girl." 
 
 "Well, whom would you like to have 
 for your other mother? Cousin Jane?" 
 
 ** No, I think Couthin Jane would go to 
 clubth, too, I gueth I'd take grandmother." 
 
 The other day we heard the children 
 
 [56]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 play that little John was a doctor while 
 Elizabeth's doll had the diphtheria. It 
 was a bad case. She petted and coddled 
 the dolly in comical imitation of her 
 mother, then turned anxiously to the doc- 
 tor, who entered very briskly, setting down 
 his medicine case with a thump as he 
 turned to examine dolly. 
 
 "O, can you help my baby, doctor?" 
 said Elizabeth. "She hath the diph- 
 theria," making a brave stagger over the 
 long word. 
 
 "O, yes, certainly," said the doctor, "I 
 can put up a big yellow card on the house." 
 
 We smiled rather sadly as we thought 
 that w r as about as much, after all, as many 
 of the physicians can do. 
 
 Today Cousin Nell telephoned me Baby 
 Elizabeth's latest. 
 
 She had tucked her into her little bed, 
 telling her she must not be afraid, as God 
 was everywhere. He was there in the 
 room with her and caring for her every 
 
 [57]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LADY 
 
 minute. Then she kissed her and went 
 down stairs, where for the next half hour 
 they had a lively time in the sitting room. 
 Presently they heard Elizabeth calling : 
 
 "Mamma, mamma, come up here and 
 thtay with God and let me come down to 
 the thitting room a while." 
 
 A long letter from Lottie Lingle and 
 what do you think? She announces her 
 engagement to Max! I have been tre- 
 mendously excited over it for you know 
 they first met at The Beeches and the 
 affair has been so romantic throughout. 
 I really think the attraction was mutual 
 from the first, though Lottie is not one 
 of the sort to carry her heart on her sleeve. 
 
 Max's wooing was ardent. He was 
 not the least bit discouraged, not he, when 
 he found such pronounced opposition in 
 her family that he had to discontinue his 
 visits. 
 
 They met regularly at the Settlement 
 House and his associates began to joke 
 
 [58]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 him about starting a Toynbee Hall in that 
 locality. Lottie writes that her father 
 withdrew all opposition when he found 
 that they were determined ; and now every- 
 thing is serene, and the wedding is set for 
 June. She writes gayly, 
 
 " Marry when June roses blow 
 Over land and sea you'll go." 
 
 Both Max and Lottie are fond of the 
 country and they are to begin life together 
 on a pretty five-acre tract on an interurban 
 line, a piece of ground her father is giving 
 them. They have all kinds of plans for 
 making it a lovely home and their enthu- 
 siasm is so infectious that we have all 
 caught it. I'll tell you more about it in 
 my next. Au revoir. 
 
 February twentieth. 
 That postmark " Nagasaki," standing 
 out in bold relief, backed by the hospital 
 
 [59]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 stationery, proved almost too much for 
 me. Fortunately, though, I'm not of the 
 fainting sisterhood; and I soon read 
 enough to discover that all was well with 
 my particular heart's desire. 
 
 In my own mind I had set you down so 
 good and hard at that blessed school that 
 nothing short of an earthquake of the vio- 
 lent kind was supposed to be able to budge 
 you. 
 
 Fortunately, somebody else was more 
 merciful and sent you away for a change. 
 There's not a doubt in my mind that you 
 were chosen to go because it was plain 
 that that splendid zeal of yours which 
 sweeps everything before it was wearing 
 you to a shadow. 
 
 Well, thank Heaven ! you are still young 
 and foolish like the rest of us. The first 
 week of your vacation made that clear 
 enough. There's hope for a foreign evan- 
 gelist who still enjoys wearing evening 
 dress and doing after-dinner stunts 
 
 [60]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 in the way of songs. 
 
 I fully agree with Uncle Caleb, who says 
 he believes he will have ten times more 
 fun in Heaven than he has ever had on 
 earth. He even goes so far as to say that 
 he has no doubt that God enjoys a good, 
 hearty laugh, now and then. 
 
 At our look of incredulity he said, 
 "Why, don't you suppose He laughed 
 when He made a monkey?" And, of 
 course, we knew He couldn't very well 
 have helped it. 
 
 We have begun to plan a box of clothes 
 and things for you and I'm just afraid if 
 the Nagasaki incident had not been re- 
 ported with its dash of gaiety and color we 
 should have been away off in your outfit. 
 No, a neat black silk trimmed with fringe 
 for best with a grey wool for second and a 
 jersey or two thrown in will hardly do my 
 lady with admiring naval officers at her 
 feet! 
 
 ^Vhite is being worn more than ever 
 
 [61]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 this season and, if I have anything to say 
 in the premises, there will be for one thing 
 a white tailored suit with hat and plumes 
 to match ! 
 
 I am longing to know what use you are 
 able to make of the mile of pennies. 
 
 March eleventh. 
 My poor Chum: 
 
 Who would ever have dreamed that I 
 could let three weeks slip by without writ- 
 ing to you ? I shall have one of those nice 
 little mottoes, "Do it now,*' framed at 
 once, and hung up above my desk, so that 
 it shall not happen again. 
 
 The way of it is that I have been giving 
 a good deal of time to that little plan 
 for Max and Lottie, hinted about in my 
 last. 
 
 Did you ever hear of a Friendship Gar- 
 den ? The idea did not originate with me, 
 
 [62]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 but there are a few deserving things that 
 did not. I first heard of it last summer 
 up in Massachusetts, where it had been 
 carried out beautifully in the case of a 
 young couple who tired of city life and 
 went to the country. 
 
 Their friends conceived the idea of 
 contributing to their little garden patch 
 in such a way that it would be a perpetual 
 memory box. Each was to give some 
 growing thing, a favorite shrub, tree or 
 flowering plant, or, perhaps, a package of 
 rare seeds. 
 
 It proved a joy to the family, even in the 
 first year; and you can imagine how the 
 delight will increase as the years go by. 
 The friends, too, got a lot of pleasure out 
 of it when visiting them, and never grew 
 tired of browsing around in favorite walks, 
 looking up this or that particular plant 
 and its history, for there's some romantic 
 association or story or bit of sentiment 
 attached to every blessed thing, from the 
 
 [63]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 bed of mint to the proud magnolia. 
 
 Well, by this time you've guessed that 
 it'sa Friendship Garden we' re planning for 
 Max and Lottie. Yes, and we want you 
 to send along something, possibly a half- 
 dozen of your flowering cherry trees, that 
 dazzle the eyes with their splendor, though 
 I am told that if the government did its 
 duty, it would issue a fraud order against 
 them as they never fulfill their promises of 
 fruit. 
 
 We spent most of our long, lazy morn- 
 ings at the beach in reading your letters 
 and talking about you; and Max declares 
 he would know you if he were to meet you 
 on the planet Mars, or any other old place, 
 while Lottie says she feels as if she had 
 loved you always. 
 
 So, send along your cherry trees, or if 
 there's a law forbidding such proceeding, 
 smuggle over some choice "chrystyan- 
 thems," as old Chloe calls them. 
 
 We beguiled Max into giving us a list 
 
 [64]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 of his university friends at Heidelberg, 
 " Alt Heidelberg,du Feine" and there is to 
 be an ivy from the ruins of the old castle, 
 sent by a former classmate. His brother 
 Fritz is to ship, in a few days, a little of 
 everything the family garden contains. 
 There are roses and honeysuckles, and 
 mignonette, besides corn-flowers, the orig- 
 inal stalk of which was given his grand- 
 father many years ago by Emperor Wil- 
 liam the First. You know r the corn- 
 flower was the old Emperor's favorite 
 blossom; and to this day it is worn by all 
 loyal Germans on holidays and national 
 fete days. 
 
 All the old crowd are bestirring them- 
 selves ; and as we want to have the garden 
 a harmonious whole, it requires no end 
 of letter writing on my part, as I am in 
 charge, in a way. 
 
 So far as possible, we want each one to 
 give a favorite flower. Bess is to be repre- 
 sented by a bed of pansies, and she is 
 
 [65]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 determined that it shall be the best ever, 
 and is looking the country over for fine 
 specimens. 
 
 Virginia is having a hedge of purple 
 lilacs put in similar to that at the old Long- 
 fellow home at Cambridge. 
 
 Frances's old fondness for the Jacque- 
 minot rose is cropping out, and it's that or 
 nothing with her. 
 
 Jack says that, with an eye to future 
 business, he will choose the apple blos- 
 som; and he engages a reserved seat with 
 an electric fan attachment under the big- 
 gest and fullest tree when the fruit begins 
 to fall. 
 
 We are expecting something out of the 
 usual order from the doctor. He has an 
 intimate friend in the Department of 
 Agriculture at Washington w r ho writes 
 him that he has but to choose and he will 
 see that he gets it; but we haven't the 
 faintest idea yet just what he has chosen. 
 
 We already have a landscape gardener 
 
 [66]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 at work, and the next two months will be 
 full of business. 
 
 By the way, Lottie wants us to name 
 the place! Please send on some sugges- 
 tions. 
 
 May tenth. 
 
 That outburst of enthusiasm over the 
 proposed new kindergartens, and your 
 saucy declaration that you wouldn't come 
 home now if you could, lifted a weight 
 from my heart. It came nearer convinc- 
 ing me than anything else has that it was 
 right for you to go. 
 
 How glorious it was that we could join 
 hands across the Pacific and boost those 
 kindergartens! That's just as near as I 
 shall ever come to doing anything heroic, 
 and I intend to make the most of it. 
 
 But my greatest pleasure, after all, was 
 in seeing the good it did Jack. Jack is a 
 
 [67]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 trump! Send that money over without 
 letting him know anything about it? 
 Why, we had our hands full not to send 
 him along as a special messenger ! 
 
 You will be interested to know that 
 we've been having a kind of musical 
 festival at The Beeches the past few days. 
 The doctor was given a surprise last week 
 by the unexpected arrival of his uncle, 
 who was passing through on his way from 
 the South. It was something of a ques- 
 tion where the doctor could entertain him 
 just as he wished to, and we urged that 
 they should both come out here. 
 
 The uncle is uncommonly fine looking, 
 probably nearly fifty. He is a successful 
 business man although his fondness for 
 music in his youth led to his taking a 
 thorough musical education, the piano 
 being his specialty. He has had the dis- 
 tinction in his day of being a pupil of Liszt 
 and also, for a short time, of Clara Schu- 
 mann, and though he didn't make music 
 
 [68]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 his profession he has kept it up so that he 
 is still a performer of much more than 
 ordinary skill. 
 
 Every evening found us in the music 
 room with our guest at the piano and me 
 singing all the old songs, of which he is 
 very fond. 
 
 We shouldn't have known when to stop, 
 but father said it must be promptly at ten 
 o'clock as he didn't allow even the mos- 
 quitoes to sing after that hour. Now, 
 what do you think of that ? 
 
 The uncle talked entertainingly of Liszt. 
 He has stories enough about the great 
 master to make a book. One little exper- 
 ience we thought especially interesting, 
 as showing Liszt's passionate nature. 
 
 A favorite pupil was to leave the city 
 and Liszt said he would see her to the 
 train. That was the signal for all the 
 rest of his pupils to go and there were 
 about thirty in the party. 
 
 The train was late and, as the day was 
 
 [69]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 hot, seats were carried out from the wait- 
 ing room and placed on the broad plat- 
 form which surrounded the station. 
 
 Presently a bustling, important-looking 
 official appeared upon the scene. He or- 
 dered the seats taken back augenblick- 
 lich. 
 
 Liszt sprang up. " Do you know whom 
 you are addressing ?" he asked hotly. " I 
 am Franz Liszt." 
 
 " I don't care. If you were the Lord Al- 
 mighty," was the irreverent reply, "you 
 would have to take those seats back." 
 
 The day was spoiled for Liszt. He 
 returned in a gloomy frame of mind and 
 there were no more lessons that day. 
 
 The next morning our friend was sur- 
 prised to receive an elegant note of invita- 
 tion, to the effect that the grand duke of 
 Weimar and Franz Liszt desired his pres- 
 ence that afternoon at three at the railway 
 station. 
 
 Five hundred of these invitations had 
 
 [70]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 been sent out to the prominent people of 
 Weimar. Of course, all dressed in their 
 best and went to the station. There they 
 found the entire platform under an awn- 
 ing, while handsome rugs covered the 
 floor. In one corner was a raised dais 
 upon which was a concert grand piano. 
 Liszt gave a recital and demonstrated his 
 power even over the surly railway official. 
 
 We were all glad to learn something 
 more than we had known about Clara 
 Schumann. It was away back in '81, 
 when she was sixty-three years of age, 
 that the doctor's uncle studied with her. 
 He says she was then disabled at 
 times from rheumatism, and yet there 
 was no doubt whatever that she im- 
 proved in her technique after she was 
 sixty. 
 
 Clara Wieck's love story was told by 
 our guest with much zest. She was, he 
 says, generally acknowledged to be the 
 greatest woman pianist in the world when 
 
 [71]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 she was twenty-one years of age. 
 
 She was her father's favorite pupil and 
 no queen was treated with more considera- 
 tion than this young girl. 
 
 Robert Schumann was also a pupil of 
 Wieck but he was poor and unknown. 
 Nevertheless his poverty did not prevent 
 his falling madly in love with the beautiful 
 Clara, who returned his affection. 
 
 Herr Wieck was horrified when one day 
 young Schumann asked him for the hand 
 of his daughter, the gifted daughter who 
 was his idol. He told him to go and never 
 return. 
 
 Then the young man made one more 
 appeal to the daughter, this time in music. 
 It was entitled " Warum ?" -" Why ?" 
 He sent it to Fraulein Wieck. She was 
 deeply impressed with it and showed it to 
 her father. He recognized the hand of 
 genius in the composition and gave his 
 consent to the marriage, and Clara Wieck 
 lived to see the day that she was prouder 
 
 [72]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 of being Schumann's wife than of being 
 Wieck's daughter. 
 
 June fifteenth. 
 Dear old Chum: 
 
 I am deeply interested in everything 
 concerning those queer little people of 
 Japan, especially in their gracious man- 
 ners and pretty, complimentary remarks. 
 
 We shall have to begin practicing pretty 
 speeches long before your return in order 
 to do full justice to your honorable eyes 
 and ears, and your adorable mouth. 
 
 Of this you may be sure, chum of mine; 
 if we ever fail in minor details, such as the 
 polite expression or the suave bow or 
 smile, we shall not do so from lack of 
 heartfelt affection. That you have had 
 from all of us, all through what you are 
 pleased to call your checkered career, and 
 that you will continue to have, always and 
 always. 
 
 [73]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 We laughed heartily the other day over 
 an anecdote told by the doctor illustrative 
 of German politeness. 
 
 It was in Dresden that an American 
 was passing along the street looking for 
 the Thomas Kirche. Not knowing its 
 whereabouts, he stopped a Dresdener and 
 asked him. 
 
 The latter regretted exceedingly that 
 he was unable to give him the required 
 address. 
 
 The stranger thanked him and pro- 
 ceeded. After he had gone several blocks 
 the Dresdener came running up after him 
 all out of breath. 
 
 "You asked me," he said, "where you 
 would find the Thomas Kirche. I was 
 extremely sorry that I could not tell you. 
 Since then I have met my brother and 
 asked him and it vexes me beyond meas- 
 ure to have to tell you that he does not 
 know the required address, either." 
 
 You will be glad to know that the 
 
 [74]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 "Friendship Garden" is coming on finely. 
 Even old Chloe begs to be allowed to have 
 a bed of scarlet poppies in it. Their 
 dazzling splendor appeals strongly to her 
 love of color. 
 
 "I'm jes' sorry, honey," she deplores, 
 "thet I cain't w'ar 'em; dey's mighty 
 purty, but dey jes' throws my complexion 
 into de shade." 
 
 Baby Elizabeth has, after much baby 
 deliberation, picked on bluebells as her 
 flower, some one having told her that her 
 eyes are just that shade. 
 
 June twentieth. 
 
 What do I think of Vladivostok ? Why, 
 barring the spelling and the pronuncia- 
 tion, I think it's fine; and neither of these 
 objections will stand in the w r ay of your 
 going there for the summer. But if there's 
 war in the air, as there seems to be, you 
 cannot maintain a too strictly neutral 
 
 [75]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LADY 
 
 attitude, for you know that the Russian 
 government has an uncomfortable way of 
 sending people to that famous resort, the 
 remote plains of Siberia, and also of keep- 
 ing tab on the sayings and doings of 
 everybody in the world, with respect to 
 Russia. I understand the coasting and 
 toboganning are fine, and the sleighing 
 tip-top and you would have plenty of good 
 company; but rumor has it that they're 
 short on desirable lodgings and that the 
 meals are not all they might be and the 
 service poor. So be on your guard 
 against that trip, even if your expenses are 
 paid. 
 
 The talk about war between the 
 doughty little Japs and big, blustering 
 Russia has reached us, too. At first 
 people said that Russia would push the 
 Island Kingdom clear off the map in short 
 order, but as the cleverness of the Japs 
 has become more apparent and the 
 blundering propensities of the Russians 
 
 [76]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 have come to light people are not so sure 
 about it. 
 
 The general impression at the first 
 seemed to be that America would side 
 with Russia if it should come to the worst. 
 That country was our friend 'way back 
 in the days of the Civil War. But a pref- 
 erence for what our new President calls 
 "the square deal" is a characteristic of 
 the American people, and no amount of 
 ancient history can offset the fact that 
 Russia is reaching out to clutch that to 
 which she has no just claim, and that's 
 the reason our people are ready to line up 
 with Japan. 
 
 We all hope that it will come to nothing 
 so dreadful as war. If it does, you must 
 make your way out of the country at once 
 if you have to bring your kindergartens 
 and naval retinue all with you. 
 
 It's peace, universal peace, we all hope 
 for; and I suppose Japan has determined 
 to have it if she has to fight for it. 
 
 [77]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LADY 
 
 June twenty-fifth. 
 
 And now our bewitching Lottie Lingle, 
 who carried off honors at Smith and went 
 in for a career as a bachelor maid, is to be 
 known henceforth as plain Mrs. Max 
 Krieger. Her doting husband would not 
 hesitate to address her as queen of the 
 universe, without even naming the post 
 office, and he'd be dead sure it would 
 reach her too. 
 
 It really looks as if we college girls are 
 after all no surer of ourselves than some 
 others. And what a slam on those gloomy 
 old owls that are going about the country 
 gathering statistics to prove that the 
 woman collegiate is a cold, abnormal 
 creature whose chief distinction is her 
 aversion to everything masculine. What 
 a transformation in the ewig weibliche 
 those few years at college are supposed to 
 effect! 
 
 And so you think, O brother of the 
 statistics, that we prefer sitting in " maiden 
 
 [78]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 meditation, fancy free?" How different 
 your field of observation from mine ! 
 
 No one, I'll venture, can ever accuse 
 me of indifference on this score. I have 
 always liked men, the good, clean, sen- 
 sible variety men like father and Uncle 
 Caleb for instance ; and I always shall like 
 them, whether I ever find one I want to 
 marry or not. 
 
 I wonder if every girl isn't just a little 
 in the frame of mind our old friend Mattie 
 Lockhart declared she was. You remem- 
 ber her, don't you, when she was a stu- 
 dent at the Agricultural College ? She was 
 such a brilliant, dashing sort of a girl, 
 quick as a flash in repartee and always up 
 to the eyes in fun. 
 
 In her senior year Miss Lockhart went 
 with a party of college friends to a nearby 
 city to attend a woman suffrage lecture. 
 A reception, in honor of the speaker, fol- 
 lowed at one of the elegant homes of the 
 city and the college crowd, of course, 
 
 [79]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 attended and were duly presented. 
 
 Mattie's animated face and distin- 
 guished bearing attracted the attention of 
 the speaker, who, raising her voice to a 
 high pitch, said: 
 
 "Young woman, may I ask to what you, 
 as a college student, are looking forward 
 as an object in life ?" 
 
 Mattie was equal to the emergency. 
 Tossing her head, she replied with equal 
 distinctness : 
 
 "I am at present engaged in looking 
 about for a first-class husband, and every- 
 thing will have to depend on how I suc- 
 ceed in that." 
 
 Maybe the college girls expect a little 
 too much, as husbands of a high order are 
 not supposed to grow on every bush. 
 You remember the lines Bobby used to 
 quote, 
 
 "So the woman who is mated 
 To a man who may be rated 
 
 [80]
 
 am at present engaged in looking about for a 
 first-class husband."
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 As * pretty fair,' should cherish him 
 
 Forever and a day, 
 For the real angelic creature, 
 Perfect quite in every feature, 
 He has never been discovered, and he 
 won't be, 
 
 So they say." 
 
 By the way, Uncle Caleb received a 
 message of a somewhat startling nature 
 from an old friend in Washington and as it 
 bears on this very important subject of 
 love and marriage, I must tell you. 
 
 This friend suffered a disappointment 
 in her own marriage (I've always sus- 
 pected that she and Uncle Caleb had an 
 early affair of the heart). At any rate, 
 she determined to bring up her only daugh- 
 ter, Elizabeth, in such a way that she 
 should never know any man. In order 
 to make sure about this she herself, with 
 her little girl, became a member of a 
 woman's colony. It is called "The 
 
 [81]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 Woman's Commonwealth." In this col- 
 ony, marriage is the unpardonable sin. 
 
 There the mother reared the daughter, 
 and the latter at the age of twenty-nine 
 had never made the acquaintance of a 
 man, when, in some mysterious way, she 
 was introduced to a young Pennsylvanian 
 a mere man, and in a very short time 
 married him. 
 
 The unhappy mother has written Uncle 
 Caleb all about it. It gives her some 
 comfort, poor thing, that five of the ten 
 girls of the original colony have gone and 
 done the same thing. 
 
 But this letter was not intended as a 
 homily on matrimony, however interesting 
 that may be to a maiden fair who has naval 
 officers hovering near. 
 
 The wedding was a dream and we were 
 all there. It was my third appearance as 
 a maid of honor Jack being best man 
 and I was reminded more than once that 
 three is as many times as any girl is en- 
 
 [82]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 titled to the distinction; that next time I 
 must occupy first place. But I'm in no 
 hurry. 
 
 After the ceremony and a wedding 
 dinner, the bridal party went out to dedi- 
 cate the new home. 
 
 I have told you about the "Friendship 
 Garden" that has been occupying us in 
 such a delightful way almost day and 
 night for weeks. To make it a complete 
 surprise, we were obliged to keep Max and 
 Lottie from going out there for a couple of 
 weeks at the last. They were under the 
 impression that little was being done on 
 the place except in the house; and when 
 the beautiful garden came into view, and 
 the whole wonderful plan revealed itself, 
 and it dawned upon them that all this had 
 been done by their friends, their surprise 
 and pleasure were beyond expression. 
 
 The work had all been under the super- 
 vision of a landscape gardener, to whom 
 everything had been sent, and so in a way 
 
 [83]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 it was something of a surprise to each of 
 us. 
 
 Not a soul except the supervisor and 
 myself knew what the doctor had in store 
 for us. Through his friend of the Depart- 
 ment of Agriculture he was able to procure 
 a large number of plants ; and his contribu- 
 tion was a representation in miniature of 
 the city of Jena, Germany, Max's birth- 
 place, all done in living green. 
 
 It is the most unique piece of landscape 
 gardening in a small way, I fancy, that 
 this country has yet seen. Something of 
 the kind was contemplated at the World's 
 Columbian Exposition for one of the 
 cities of Iowa, but for some reason it was 
 not carried out. The most important 
 public buildings, as the university, the 
 city hall and the public museum, are all 
 shown in this beautiful city of plants. We 
 all had to take off our hats to the one who 
 devised a thing so wonderful and so 
 artistic. 
 
 [84]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 Another surprise that brought much joy 
 with it was the arrival of Max's favorite 
 brother, Fritz, who dropped down as if 
 from the skies, on the evening before the 
 wedding ! 
 
 Max and Lottie both declared that there 
 should be no christening of the home until 
 we should hear from you. 
 
 July fifteenth. 
 
 To know that you were ill, perhaps 
 much worse than your associates cared to 
 say, gave us grief enough, I assure you. 
 The only crumb of comfort was Uncle 
 Caleb's confident assurance that if you 
 were not better you were very likely worse 
 by the time the letter had reached us, in 
 which case they would have cabled us. 
 
 In my cooler moments I'm not sure 
 about Uncle Caleb's logic, but I do know 
 that it is splendid to have some one around 
 
 [85]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 who has wit enough to look a situation 
 calmly in the face and figure out just what 
 people on the other side of the globe are 
 sure to do under given circumstances. 
 
 A week later came your feeble little 
 scrawl and your pitiful wail that you were 
 tired of being good and then I knew that 
 it was all right. 
 
 Now you are in Russia, no doubt, and 
 if you don't have a jolly good time and 
 sing and dance and be frivolous generally 
 and forget that you were ever the advance 
 agent of Kingdom Come, I'll not forgive 
 you. 
 
 Dinner had just been announced last 
 evening when Uncle Caleb and his old 
 crony, Dr. Stockham of the Agricultural 
 College, drove up. They had been out 
 all afternoon looking up certain horses 
 that are booked for the coming races, and 
 you may imagine the appetites they 
 brought to Charity's chicken pie and sun- 
 dry other good things were most gratifying 
 
 [86]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 to that sable functionary. The unex- 
 pected guest is what fills her cup to the 
 full. 
 
 After dinner we had some of the college 
 songs of a generation ago; and when the 
 doctor dropped in you would have vowed 
 they were all boys together, and merry 
 ones at that. 
 
 Dr. Stockham can tell a story to the 
 queen's taste; and Uncle Caleb knows 
 exactly how to draw him out, as he did 
 when he got him to relate a conversation 
 which they had heard between two farm- 
 ers during their drive. 
 
 "Wai, neighbor, how about those per- 
 taties of yours? Do you get as good 
 satisfaction out o' them as I do out o' that 
 new variety of mine ?" 
 
 " Naw, I reckon not; naw, they're not as 
 good a pertater as them o' yourn." 
 
 "How about the yield? I suppose 
 they're mighty good perducers ?" 
 
 " Not by no means, neighbor," said the 
 
 [87]
 
 other, digging away all the time and 
 throwing an occasional tuber over into a 
 scanty pile. 
 
 " How do they keep ? You can depend 
 on them right smart for winter use, I 
 reckon ?" 
 
 "Wai, I should say not. Do you see 
 that there pertaty ? It's got dry rot a'ready. 
 Naw, they're not much on the keep." 
 
 "Are they anything particular for eat- 
 ing?" 
 
 "La, sakes, neighbor, we never think 
 of such a thing as teching these pertaters." 
 
 " O, you raise them for sale ?" 
 
 "For sale? Now you're foolin'. I 
 reckon they couldn't fetch much of a figger 
 in the market." 
 
 "But why on earth do you go on a- 
 raising of them ?" 
 
 " O, I jus' raise 'em for seed, that's all. 
 They're a mighty good pertater for seed." 
 
 The story finished, Uncle insisted on 
 Dr. Stockham repeating a limerick writ- 
 
 [88]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 ten in his salad days, on a challenge to 
 produce a rhyme to Chicago. Here it is : 
 
 " A lazy boy lived in Chicago, 
 Too lazy to make the wood saw go ; 
 
 He preferred a lickin' 
 
 To gettin' a stick in, 
 And so he let his poor ma go." 
 
 A letter now and then from Russia 
 would be uncommonly acceptable. 
 
 July thirtieth. 
 My own Chum: 
 
 You and I might have lived here a 
 thousand years and never gone to a darkey 
 camp-meeting, but that's no reason you 
 should fall over when I tell you that I have 
 been there. I also survive to tell the tale, 
 which is stranger yet. 
 
 Yes, I will have to plead guilty to going 
 with the doctor, who pokes into all kind 
 
 [89]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 of queer places in his study of primitive 
 race conditions and tendencies. He is 
 writing a book on " The Two Races in the 
 South"; solemn and scientific to the last 
 degree, I've no doubt, and we are almost 
 as much carried away with what he calls 
 "certain racial phenomena" as he is him- 
 self. I don't know but we are in the posi- 
 tion of aiding, abetting and giving com- 
 fort to the enemy, for his conclusions may 
 not be such as we Southerners like. 
 
 It's a Baptist congregation that gathers 
 at the camp-ground, which is in a pictur- 
 esque spot down on the lower Courtney 
 Mill road, but the "cullud folks" come 
 from miles around, walking or astride 
 some ancient, slab-sided mule, or piled into 
 a rickety old wagon. The main thing is 
 that they "gets there and enjoys their- 
 selves." 
 
 Such cheering mottoes as "Turn or 
 burn," " This day may be yo' last," hang 
 upon the trees. 
 
 [90]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 The preacher was a big black fellow, 
 who doubtless was led to his calling by his 
 voice, a voice compared with which a fog- 
 horn on an ocean steamer would sink into 
 insignificance, or a modern steam calliope 
 hide its head in shame. 
 
 His tongue was one of those patent 
 adjustable ones which might easily be set 
 a-going and its owner go off for an hour or 
 two and come back and find it still wag- 
 ging, but he stays right by and sees to 
 keeping it oiled and running. 
 
 The opening prayer was in broken sen- 
 tences, each of which called forth a deep 
 groan from every one present. 
 
 Warming up, he threw back his woolly 
 head, and, raising his voice to the highest 
 pitch, called out in tones of command : 
 
 "O, Lawd, you have been dis way 
 befo', come by dis yere camp tonight, 
 s-t-i-r-r up yo' chillens. Come right by 
 dis yere pulpit, so clost that I can tech ye. 
 
 "Ho, Daniel, in de lions' den! Ho, 
 
 [91]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 Gabriel, come by dis yere camp-meeting! 
 Somebody's dying. Somebody's going to 
 de lower regions. Bring balm from Gil- 
 ead. Come clean up to dis yere camp- 
 ground, right alongside dis yere pulpit. 
 
 " Some of we-uns is comin' here for de 
 las' time. O, Lawd, we wants to stan' 
 upon de golden flo'. We wants to dance 
 upon de golden streets. We do want hit. 
 Ho, from on high!" 
 
 Closing the prayer, he continued: "We 
 will now proceed to take up de usual col- 
 lection and we wants to take it in two 
 pieces. We asks everybody to be prompt. 
 We've got no time to lose. I give my 
 dollah today. I give a dollah, I want you 
 to understand, would a give mo' if I 
 could a foun' it. 
 
 ' I saw some sisters give their halfs. 
 
 " What we wants is dollahs,half dollahs, 
 and quatahs." 
 
 Then lowering his voice to be more im- 
 pressive, he said: 
 
 [92]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 " Now, bruddern an' sistern, Fs gettin' 
 plumb tired ob dis here strugglin' along 
 on corn pone an* no sign ob possum or 
 coon gravy or chicken or anything that 
 makes a ministah's life worf livin'. Dis 
 yere salary ob mine's liberal, I must 'mit 
 dat. A hun'ed dollahs a yea' is big money 
 ef you gits it: but Fs got to de point 
 what I prefers three dollahs in de han' to 
 fo'ty in de pockets ob dis highly 'spectable 
 congregation. An' so Fs just fitted up a 
 patent double-back-action collectah fo' dis 
 yere 'casion. It's 'ranged so dat a quatah 
 or a dollah falls into it like feathahs on 
 velvet. A nickel put into dat collectah 
 will ring a bell, sure's you bo'n. An' I 
 has to wa'n yo' dat an ole button or a slug 
 or any sinful deception like dat, will fire 
 a pistol. An' dat aint de wust ob it, 
 bruddern and sistern. Nuffen at all put 
 into dat box will jes' strike off er stick er 
 dynamite and blow every las' niggah in 
 dis yere pahsimonious congregation plumb 
 
 [93]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 into de day of jedgment." 
 
 This spirited exhortation over, the " per- 
 fesser" who was furnishing the two-piece 
 feature, that is, two songs, which multi- 
 plied into many times two, made a plea: 
 
 " Come right up, you sistah a-settin' an' 
 a-groanin' over yander, an' put down yo' 
 money. God expects it an' we expect 
 it. 
 
 " You wants me to sing some mo' but 
 hit'll cost you money if I does. I haven' 
 got no cheap pieces. Give liberally, 
 largely, readily. Take out God's money. 
 He aint no tight wad. You may have to 
 give it to the doctor tomorrow. Let me 
 see a move on yo'." 
 
 One song that all seemed to enjoy es- 
 pecially had a refrain "A wheel in de 
 middle o' de wheel," each singer outlining 
 the wheel as he chanted. 
 
 " O, Ezekiel saw de wheel o' time, 
 A wheel in de middle o' de wheel, 
 
 [94]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 And every spoke was a human kind, 
 A wheel in de middle o' de wheel. 
 
 Old Satan he don't like me (Sing sisters !) 
 A wheel in de middle o' de wheel, 
 
 Sometimes death is a-rollin' down, 
 A wheel in de middle o' de wheel." 
 
 Then the sermon began, -" Separate 
 yo'self from sin; separate yo'self from dat 
 rusty ole beer pail. Say amen, say amen, 
 brederen. Yo' say yo' pore ole stomach 
 needs bitters. The doctor says so, too, 
 but I don't see nary root nor bark in it. 
 
 "Get down on yo' knees. Get ac- 
 quainted wid de knee route, brederen. I 
 knows ye too well, yo' pore little consump- 
 tive Christian. 
 
 "Yo pick out an ole dwarfed hyper- 
 crite an' say, * I'm jes' as good as he is.' 
 
 "The trouble is, brederen, yo' haven't 
 been borned again, nor he either, say 
 amen, say amen. 
 
 " We haven't got no sort o' use for these 
 
 [95]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 crack-sided, bandy-shanked hypercrites. 
 Religion is gettin' cold and sin is gettin' 
 bold. 
 
 " Have you been borned again ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes," was shouted back to him. 
 
 " Have yo' been borned again, suah ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, suah." 
 
 "Have yo' got yo' ticket to heaven? 
 Did yo' get it at de gate o' Zion ?" 
 
 "Yes, we've got our tickets." 
 
 When the preacher was the most 
 severe old black Dinah kept shaking her 
 turbaned head and muttering : 
 
 " Betta' not say too much about dis yere 
 nigga'. Betta' not go too far." 
 
 The doctor, who went in the even- 
 ing, reported a stirring sermon on the 
 text, 
 
 "Ho, every one that thirsteth." The 
 preacher told of the awful sin of idleness; 
 concluding with, "Ho, every one, yes an' 
 rake an' plough an' mow an' reap, every 
 one that thirsteth." 
 
 [96]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 September twelfth. 
 
 Your last letter left you suspended in 
 mid-air, awaiting the action of the high 
 mucky-mucks of Tokyo in the matter of 
 your passport to Russia. 
 
 As we have heard of no serious foreign 
 entanglements, you were doubtless per- 
 mitted to pass on your peaceful way and 
 the Triple Alliance America, Russia 
 and Japan is still intact. You certainly 
 were entitled to the booby prize if failure 
 to impart information is what wins it. 
 But my sympathy went out to poor Wood- 
 en-head, whose wits must have been sadly 
 befuddled by your density. 
 
 We have decided now that you belong 
 in the class with Cousin Sam, who made 
 up his mind not long ago to try the Chau- 
 tauqua examination. He says he thought 
 he owed it to his family to do something 
 in an intellectual way, especially since I 
 had joined the Browning Circle and he 
 had every reason to believe the doctor was 
 
 [97]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 on the waiting list. 
 
 We worried him a good deal about how 
 he got along in the examination. At last 
 he declared he was more than pleased 
 with the result, as there had been fifty 
 questions and he had answered all but 
 forty-six. What saved him, he says, was 
 the dash he made in the homestretch, the 
 last four questions being, " State name, 
 age, place of birth and present residence." 
 
 You see my humble efforts to be great 
 as well as good are not altogether appre- 
 ciated. If it weren't the Browning Club 
 it would be something else, so it's all right; 
 and I confess that some of us in our new- 
 found zeal for what we call the "hidden 
 depths" of meaning, the "deep wells of 
 thought," etc., make ourselves a trifle 
 ridiculous. They tell the story of two 
 friends in the club, one of whom is an 
 enthusiast and the other rather slow in her 
 appreciation. The latter liked to take 
 difficult passages and call on the enthus- 
 
 [98]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 iast to explain them, which she never 
 failed to do to her own satisfaction. One 
 day she read the passage backward and 
 said, "Now, Lucy, that's perfectly clear," 
 and she gave what she was pleased to call 
 her interpretation of the exquisite mean- 
 ing of the lines. 
 
 It's that sort of thing that gets on one's 
 nerves. Some one has defined cant as the 
 thing said in company which one would 
 never think of saying in the bosom of one's 
 family, and we have a lot of it in our clubs. 
 
 Now, I do enjoy Browning immensely 
 when Jack comes in of an evening and we 
 can draw him into repeating his favorite 
 passages, and I believe he has it all in that 
 wonderful memory of his. 
 
 I have a plan, which I hope to carry 
 through, of opening the circle to men and 
 holding the meetings in the evening. 
 
 A Buffalo lady that I met at a reception 
 yesterday told me an excruciatingly good 
 Browning story. One day the club she 
 
 [99]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 belongs to met at the home of one of the 
 ladies, and, arriving late, she found over 
 the door-bell a card with the words: 
 "Please do not ring this bell, or knock, 
 or otherwise make any disturbance, as the 
 Browning Club is now in session." How 
 is that as a method of creating an atmos- 
 phere ? 
 
 I hardly know whether to laugh or cry 
 when I think that this is near the end of 
 our second summer without you. It's 
 like being in the middle of a long tunnel 
 and the train stopped ; will it ever end ? 
 
 There was only one week at the seaside 
 this year, but we crowded lots of fun into it. 
 
 First came the christening of the pretty 
 new sailboat, the most graceful little 
 water-craft that ever sailed the blue. 
 Max and Lottie did not arrive until the 
 day of the ceremonies, for, of course, we 
 had to have ceremonies. 
 
 There was only one name thought of 
 and Virginia King never looked prettier 
 
 .[100]
 
 The pleasure we all got out of "The Betty" was something 
 we shan't soon forget
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 than when, in a natty tailor-made suit of 
 cadet blue, she, with due solemnity, pro- 
 nounced the words, " I christen thee, The 
 Betty." Then there were cheers and 
 cheers and there was at least one of the 
 party that felt too much like choking 
 down a sob to be altogether gay, but she 
 made the best stagger she could at it. 
 
 Then Jack entertained us all at lunch- 
 eon and I never saw him in better spirits, 
 though I fancy sometimes that he is get- 
 ting a little too thin to be in the best of 
 health. I tell him he's overworking, but 
 he won't listen to that. One thing is 
 settled, he has to go South with Cousin 
 Nell and me and get away from work. It 
 was a joy, though, to have him with us the 
 whole week and the pleasure we all got 
 out of "The Betty" was something we 
 sha'n't soon forget. 
 
 If there is anything in telepathy you 
 must have shared our good times, for you 
 were in our minds every minute. 
 
 [101]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 October twentieth. 
 
 Our town is all puffed up over several of 
 its possessions, as you know. Of recent 
 years I think we're almost as much set up 
 over our lecturers as about our horses, if 
 such a thing is possible. Perhaps that's 
 putting it a little too strong since we're 
 Kentuckians, but we do point with pride, 
 as our orators say, to our platform speak- 
 ers. 
 
 I'm glad to say our old friend, Dr. Wil- 
 liams, still heads the procession when it 
 comes to a lecture, and the way the grand 
 old man gets about the country to meet 
 engagements is great. 
 
 I wish you could have heard him telling 
 us about one of his recent experiences. 
 We were almost in convulsions and yet, at 
 the time, it was anything but a laughing 
 matter to the poor man. He was to 
 lecture in Chicago on a certain evening 
 and so had to leave home very early in the 
 morning. His wife insisted that he should 
 
 [102]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 have breakfast before starting, but, no, 
 he wouldn't consent to that at all, saying 
 he would stop for an early luncheon at a 
 certain place en route, and would be all 
 the better for the fast of a few hours. 
 
 But when the train reached the town it 
 was a full hour behind time and a delay 
 for a trifling thing like luncheon was not 
 to be thought of, so extra steam was 
 promised and the run for Chicago begun, 
 the hungry travellers consoling each other 
 with the thought of an early dinner when 
 that city was reached. 
 
 All things come to him who waits and at 
 last the big city on the lake came in sight, 
 but the train was long overdue. A car- 
 riage and an impatient committee were all 
 that awaited the good doctor and he was 
 driven like mad to the lecture hall where 
 three thousand people were doing their 
 best to look serene and undisturbed by the 
 delay. 
 
 Dr. Williams was introduced in a flow- 
 
 [103]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LADY 
 
 ery little speech and then related his day's 
 experiences, adding, with an expressive 
 gesture, that they now saw before them a 
 fitting representative of the State which 
 had a great Mammoth Cave in its center! 
 
 Baby Elizabeth is engaged in making 
 paper dolls, all of which are to be sent to 
 "Auntie and her itty girls." The child 
 grows more cunning every day. One day 
 last week she became interested in a flock 
 of little chickens in a neighbor's yard. 
 She followed them about, talking to them, 
 when the lady said to her: 
 
 " Baby, dear, I don't know what Char- 
 ley would say about your chasing his 
 little chickens." 
 
 " O," said Elizabeth, " I don't expect to 
 be here when Charley geth home." 
 
 Presently she started home and on the 
 way met her mother. "Why mamma," 
 she cried out, "are you looking for me? 
 I wasth just looking for you!" 
 
 Old Chloe shakes her head dolefully 
 
 [104]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 when she hears us talking about the dear 
 child and says : 
 
 " Pon my soul, dat chile she's too bright 
 for dis yere worP, she is." 
 
 November twentieth. 
 Chum of Mine: 
 
 One evening last summer during our 
 stay at the beach, Virginia King, who has 
 a way of running across the strangest ex- 
 periences, told us at some length of one 
 of them. I insisted she should write it 
 down, that I might send it to you. She 
 has finally done so and I send you the 
 story in her own handwriting, hoping it 
 will interest you as it did me. 
 
 VIRGINIA'S EXPERIENCE. 
 
 Aunt Carrie and I had just settled our- 
 selves for a little vacation sojourn at one 
 of the big hotels near Excelsior Springs. 
 It was a day or two after our arrival that 
 
 [105]
 
 a gentleman whom I knew slightly ap- 
 proached the corner of the piazza where I 
 had snuggled down with a magazine, and 
 asked me if I did not speak German. I 
 replied that I did, whereupon he told me 
 there was a young foreigner at the other 
 end of the hotel who seemed to be in great 
 distress, and as he spoke but little Eng- 
 lish, they had tried in vain to find out what 
 his trouble was. He asked me if I would 
 come and talk with him, as he was evi- 
 dently a German. 
 
 The young fellow, a youth of not more 
 than eighteen, interested me deeply from 
 the first. He was a handsome boy with 
 a Jewish cast of features, slight of build, 
 and clad in a suit of the finest material, 
 though of a marked foreign cut. On the 
 third finger of his left hand he wore a 
 solitaire diamond ring that would attract 
 attention anywhere, not alone by reason of 
 the brilliancy of the stone but more es- 
 pecially because of the quaintness of the 
 
 [106]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 setting. His dress and general refine- 
 ment seemed out of keeping with his 
 occupation, as he was using the hose in 
 watering the lawn. 
 
 I never saw any one so hopelessly 
 melancholy. All my efforts to engage him 
 in conversation resulted in nothing more 
 than a sigh or a moan, and the exclama- 
 tion that not one in thousands had suffered 
 as he had and that nothing could improve 
 his condition. 
 
 After much effort I succeeded in exact- 
 ing a promise from him that he would tell 
 me his story that evening after dinner. 
 He did so and it was such a series of mis- 
 fortunes that if he had not verified every 
 statement by letters, photographs and 
 in other ways, I could never have believed 
 that one so young had gone through so 
 much. 
 
 His name was Kaspar von Biedermann 
 and he belonged to an old and noble 
 family of southern Germany. He was 
 
 [107]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 the youngest son of his father, whose 
 immense wealth, philanthropic enter- 
 prises and distinguished lineage had given 
 him an enviable reputation throughout 
 Europe. The boy had been reared as a 
 prince, enjoying every advantage that 
 money and high station could command. 
 But there came a day of misfortune. 
 Graf von Biedermann's fortune lay in a 
 group of factories; and a fire, believed to 
 be of incendiary origin, swept over them 
 and left every building in ashes. Two 
 of Kaspar's older brothers perished in the 
 flames. His mother was so stricken with 
 grief that she died in a few r weeks. Added 
 to all this was the fact that an employee 
 in the business had mysteriously dis- 
 appeared at the time of the fire and with 
 him had gone the papers that established 
 Herr von Biedermann in his property 
 rights. He was reduced from affluence to 
 penury, and he was already well along in 
 years. 
 
 [108]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 There seemed but one thing for Kaspar 
 to do. He would come to America, a 
 land where money was easily made, seek 
 employment, and from his earnings send 
 back enough from month to month to 
 keep his father from want and from the 
 humiliation of accepting help from strang- 
 ers. The father had inherited the pride 
 of centuries. 
 
 It was not so easy as he had hoped to 
 find work in the great city of New York, 
 and Kaspar's first experience was un- 
 fortunate. He was employed where there 
 was machinery ; and during his first month 
 he had the misfortune to have his right 
 index finger caught and crushed, so that 
 it had to be amputated. 
 
 When Kaspar found himself able again 
 to work he was obliged to take a place at 
 low wages in a large clothing store. In 
 order to send the usual amount to his 
 father he lived in the humblest way. 
 
 It was his aim to do his work so faith- 
 
 [109]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 fully that he would be singled out for 
 an early increase of salary. 
 
 One evening the young proprietor re- 
 mained until all the employees except 
 Kaspar had gone. The latter was busy- 
 ing himself putting everything to rights. 
 
 " How is it that you have interest enough 
 in your work to stay after hours to finish 
 up?" asked the proprietor, coming over 
 to where Kaspar was engaged. : 'You 
 are the first to come, I notice, and the last 
 to go." 
 
 "O, I wish nothing so much as to do 
 my work well." 
 
 "But why are you so interested, my 
 boy?" 
 
 Thus pressed, he told Mr. Israel that 
 he had an aged father to support and that 
 it was a matter of urgent necessity that he 
 should make his services valuable and 
 thus in time earn more money. 
 
 The earnestness of the boy appealed to 
 Mr. Israel. He discovered that he was 
 
 [110]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 able, though but sixteen years of age, to 
 speak several languages; that he was 
 skilled in music, and that his manners and 
 bearing were of the best. 
 
 The result of the interview was an 
 invitation to the boy to go with him that 
 evening to his suburban home, where he 
 arranged for him to give language lessons, 
 after business hours, to his young sisters. 
 
 Soon Kaspar was installed as a member 
 of the family. His gentle ways and 
 unselfish nature made him at once a 
 favorite. He was especially happy in the 
 warm friendship which sprang up between 
 him and Mr. Israel, who made him a com- 
 panion of his walks and drives and treated 
 him as a younger brother. He even re- 
 vealed to him that he had been con- 
 verted to Christianity, though he did not 
 dare let his family know this, as he be- 
 lieved it would kill his mother, whose re- 
 ligion was of the orthodox Jewish type. 
 
 Kaspar was happy, too, because he 
 
 [in]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LADY 
 
 was able to send a larger sum each month 
 to his father. 
 
 One day, as Mr. Israel and Kaspar 
 were walking down Fifth Avenue, they 
 met the old employee, Rosenthal, who 
 had disappeared at the time of the fire. 
 
 Recognition was mutual, and Rosen- 
 thai stopped to speak to Kaspar, address- 
 ing him as the young "Herr Graf." It 
 was the first intimation Mr. Israel had 
 that Kaspar belonged to the nobility. 
 Not a word had he let fall to that effect. 
 
 Rosenthal sought a further interview 
 with Kaspar and his employer, in which 
 he acknowledged that he had acted dis- 
 honorably. He was now, he said, in 
 business in Victoria, British Columbia, 
 and would soon be in a position to restore 
 to Kaspar's father much of what he had 
 wrongfully taken from him. He urged 
 strongly that Kaspar should go home with 
 him, saying that he would give him em- 
 ployment at a good salary and his father 
 
 [112]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 would soon be restored to his own. 
 
 It was hard to leave Mr. Israel and the 
 family that had become so dear to him, 
 but it seemed the best thing to do. 
 
 The long journey to Victoria was begun. 
 Rosenthal treated Kaspar with kindness 
 in the early days and he began to feel sure 
 that happier and more prosperous times 
 were once more before his dear old father. 
 
 One morning Kaspar awoke in his berth 
 to find that something terrible had be- 
 fallen him. He had been severely injured 
 in the back of the neck. A bloody hand- 
 kerchief covered the wound. Rosenthal 
 was gone! 
 
 The train was approaching Victoria and 
 Kaspar was hurried to a hospital in that 
 city. 
 
 There the poor boy lay for weeks, most 
 of the time raving in delirium. 
 
 His peculiar case attracted wide-spread 
 attention and an account of it appeared 
 in the Victoria newspapers. 
 
 [113]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 The only clue to the young foreigner's 
 identity, the reports said, was the fact that 
 in his delirium he called constantly the 
 name "David Hitte." This account at- 
 tracted the attention of a young clergy- 
 man of Tacoma, a Mr. Armentrout, who, 
 a few years previous, had visited the part 
 of Germany where Kaspar lived. He 
 had been shown through the factories by a 
 man called David Hitte, who was private 
 tutor to the young son of the wealthy 
 owner. The boy, who seemed very fond 
 of his tutor, was cantering about on his 
 pony and joined them from time to time. 
 
 Mr. Armentrout felt sure that, in some 
 way, the young fellow at the Victoria 
 hospital was none other than the German 
 lad, though he could not conceive how 
 he could be in his present situation. He 
 determined to go to Victoria and see for 
 himself. 
 
 His surmise was correct. His sym- 
 pathies were enlisted and, though the 
 
 [114]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 mystery of the boy's present situation was 
 unexplained, he determined to stay near 
 him until he had recovered sufficiently to 
 accompany him home. The physicians 
 in charge feared that his injuries had been 
 such that he would never recover fully his 
 powers of mind, or that, if he did, he 
 would be subject to life-long attacks of 
 mental hallucination. 
 
 Again, better days dawned. Kaspar 
 had regained his health in a measure and 
 was taken to the Armentrout family, which 
 consisted of the father and mother, the 
 young man, who had recently finished his 
 theological course and had been installed 
 as rector in a small suburban church, and 
 two young daughters, whose education 
 was a matter of the highest concern to 
 their parents. 
 
 It was a home of wealth and culture 
 and they were happy to take to their 
 hearts one who could contribute so much 
 to their daughters* advancement. 
 
 [115]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 He gave lessons to the girls in French 
 and German and also on the violin, and 
 there was no longer any trouble about the 
 regular monthly remittance to his father, 
 which was always his first concern. 
 
 There was that in the boy which awak- 
 ened the sincerest affection. He was 
 refined, thoughtful for others, and of a 
 winning disposition, giving a wealth of 
 love in return for every manifestation of 
 interest in himself. 
 
 One evening, after some months, the 
 young rector had gone out to deliver a 
 lecture, and on his return Kasper insisted 
 on going down to the dining room and 
 bringing him some refreshment. 
 
 He was busy performing this service 
 when his old enemy, Rosenthal, sprang 
 upon him, and threatened him with vio- 
 lence if he would not immediately give him 
 certain papers which he believed Kaspar 
 to have in his possession, which would 
 incriminate him. 
 
 [116]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 More dead than alive, Kaspar fled up 
 stairs, but the fright brought on one of his 
 attacks from which he did not recover for 
 weeks. 
 
 About this time a letter came from Mr. 
 Israel which stated that he had decided to 
 start branch stores at Council Bluffs and 
 New Orleans, placing his junior partner 
 in charge of the latter. 
 
 He said that he himself would go to 
 Iowa and stay there until things were 
 going nicely. Possibly he would remain 
 there permanently. He closed his letter 
 by saying that nothing would please him 
 better than to have Kaspar come on to the 
 Iowa town and help him. He enclosed a 
 check for the expense of the trip if he 
 should decide to come. 
 
 A family council was held, and, fearing 
 that Kaspar would be in constant terror 
 of Rosenthal, it was thought best that he 
 should go on and join his old employer and 
 friend. 
 
 [117]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 It was a bright day in early June when 
 he arrived in Council Bluffs, happy in the 
 thought of an early reunion with one he 
 loved so much. 
 
 But he was destined to receive a blow 
 which seemed crushing beyond any he 
 had yet sustained. 
 
 Mr. Israel had suddenly died, three 
 weeks before. 
 
 The shock proved too much for Kaspar 
 and again he found himself in a hospital. 
 
 When he had gained the mastery of 
 himself sufficiently to look his situation in 
 the face, his resolution was in some way 
 to get to New Orleans. 
 
 He found that he had justmoneyenough 
 to take him to Kansas City and he made 
 that his first objective point. 
 
 The one thought that was uppermost 
 in his mind on his arrival there was how 
 to get the next instalment for his father. 
 It was maddening to think of his honored 
 parent needing money. In his despera- 
 
 [118]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 tion he decided to pawn his trunk. It was 
 filled with good clothes and other valuable 
 articles he had brought with him from his 
 better days in the old country. Among 
 his treasures was a fine old violin, a 
 Stradivarius, left him by his grandfather. 
 This, with the diamond ring, which had 
 never left his finger since being placed 
 there by the grandfather during his last 
 illness, was his most treasured possession. 
 Both were valued, however, not for the 
 money they represented but because they 
 were heirlooms in the family, for family 
 counted for everything with this proud 
 scion of a noble German house. Many a 
 time he had vowed that he would die be- 
 fore parting with his ring or violin. 
 
 And now the worst had come! He 
 realized thirty dollars on the trunk and 
 its contents and all but a small amount of 
 this was sent to his father. 
 
 The strain was too great. He started 
 out for a walk and was found by a 
 
 [119]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 gentleman in front of his residence, lying 
 in a faint. He was taken in and cared for 
 and then was sent to Excelsior Springs, 
 where it was learned that temporary 
 employment might be given him. This 
 was his painful story. 
 
 Again and again he repeated that he 
 was beyond human help. With the mea- 
 ger sum that he was able to earn at labor 
 such as he now had he could send nothing 
 to his father, nor could he ever get enough 
 ahead to redeem his trunk and go on to 
 New Orleans. He was in terror also lest 
 he should, when under one of his nervous 
 attacks, be sent to an asylum for the 
 insane. 
 
 My first step was to get him into a less 
 melancholy state by assuring him that 
 my aunt and I would do everything in our 
 power to help him and that he must look 
 upon us as friends. 
 
 As curiosity was rife as to what I had 
 learned of the strange boy's history, I 
 
 [120]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 thought best to tell something of his tragic 
 experience, hoping thus to awaken general 
 sympathy in his behalf. My plan, which 
 was seconded by Aunt Carrie, was to raise 
 sufficient money among the guests of the 
 hotel to redeem his trunk and send him on 
 to New Orleans. 
 
 Some were eager to assist, while others 
 scoffed at his story, saying they found 
 plenty to do with their money without 
 giving it to young foreigners who sported 
 diamond rings. 
 
 Fortunately, among the later arrivals 
 was a business man who corroborated the 
 statement made by Kaspar as to the death 
 of Mr. Israel. This had been a disputed 
 point; and the tide now turned in the boy's 
 favor. 
 
 We soon had the money raised and my 
 aunt and I returned to Kansas City, Kas- 
 par going with us. 
 
 Our next step was to seek out the be- 
 nevolent gentleman who had found him 
 
 [121]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 in a faint and sent him to Excelsior 
 Springs. 
 
 We then went together and released the 
 trunk from the grasp of the close-fisted 
 pawn-broker, who could not conceal his 
 vexation at letting it go. 
 
 Kaspar insisted on opening the trunk 
 and showing us his precious Stradivarius, 
 at the sight of which he shed tears of joy. 
 He had many beautiful things upon which 
 he might have realized money; and we 
 warned him never again to part with his 
 entire outfit at once. 
 
 In a day or two we started him on his 
 journey to the Southern city. Once more 
 he had hope in his heart. He reached 
 his destination safely and wrote us a joy- 
 ful letter, as did his friend, both expressing 
 heartfelt thanks for our interest in a 
 stranger. 
 
 [122]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 December twenty-first. 
 
 It's hard to believe that the holidays are 
 here the second you have spent in far- 
 away Japan and I find myself tolling off 
 the months until you return, like the beads 
 on a rosary, just as Baby Bess is dili- 
 gently counting the nights till Santa Claus 
 comes. 
 
 O, it will be divine when you are home 
 again, safe in the family fold, with nothing 
 in the world to do but rest on your laurels. 
 
 But pardon me, Madam Crusader, 
 maybe it's the lecture field you'll be after 
 entering! I notice they all do it. Do 
 you remember the summer we spent down 
 in the country? Of course you do, but 
 do you recall our fellow boarder, the 
 " lecturer in high elocution," as he called 
 himself, who invited us one evening to go 
 to the little schoolhouse to hear his lec- 
 ture, "Rome as I Seen It" ? Now, if you 
 can hit on some such catchy title, your 
 fortune's made. 
 
 [123]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 I wonder we've never thought of it 
 before. Why, everything points to the 
 lecture field. And what novel features 
 you'll be able to introduce, such as your 
 waltzing exercise, to relieve the usual 
 monotony; for you will agree with me that 
 a missionary address is usually tedious. 
 
 For the last month or more Aunt Chloe's 
 Dinah has been talking, every time she 
 could get any one to listen, of nothing but 
 the wedding of her friend Polly, over on 
 the Colonel Fowler plantation. She was 
 all worked up about what she was to wear, 
 and of course Aunt Ann and I had to help 
 her out by getting her a new pink frock 
 and some slippers and things, while the 
 cook was told to fix her up a basket of 
 good things for the wedding feast. She 
 was the happiest "cullud pusson" here- 
 abouts when she started off with young 
 Pete, she mounted on a lank old mule, and 
 he ambling along beside her, dressed in 
 his best Sunday jeans. 
 
 [124]
 
 She was the happiest "cullud pusson" hereabouts
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 I was somewhat curious to know how 
 it all went off, and asked Dinah the first 
 time I saw her. "Lawsy, Missy," she 
 said, "dat was de elegantest weddin' dis 
 yere niggah ever witnessed, 'deed it was. 
 Why, honey, ef we didn't dance till plumb 
 mawnin', and then some mo', and de 
 suppa', I tell yo', was a daisy, wid a boun- 
 ful supply of good things." 
 
 "How was the bride dressed?" I 
 asked. 
 
 "O, she was jes' as purty as a bride 
 allus is, wid a white polonay an' a yaller 
 skirt, cut gorn, shlonwise o' the breanth 
 and jes' the cutes' red slippers." 
 
 " But how about the groom ? How did 
 he look?" 
 
 "Why, Missy, now wot do yo' think? 
 Dat wuthless niggah, he nevah showed up 
 at all! Dat is wot I calls a downright 
 mean trick." 
 
 If it only didn't take your letters so 
 
 [125]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 long to reach us! I want to know how 
 you are this blessed minute. 
 
 All send love and a thousand Christ- 
 mas greetings. 
 
 January twenty-eighth, 
 Nineteen hundred and three. 
 
 The old house amid the beech trees has 
 assumed once more its natural air of 
 repose. We had a gay holiday time with 
 Virginia King and the Kriegers as guests 
 for the week. It was disappointing that 
 Bess and Frances were unable to come; 
 and I have told them plainly that I hold 
 them responsible for the absence of Bobby 
 Hartley and Edward Martin, who were 
 sure they could be here when we parted 
 from them at the beach. 
 
 The doctor had a visit from an old 
 college friend a Mr. Metcalf and there 
 were several interesting young Southern 
 
 [126]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 people visiting at Colonel Harper's, and, 
 naturally, we saw a good deal of them. 
 
 We gave a dinner one evening and, 
 besides, had them all over for a "fagot 
 party" which they declared was the event 
 of their lives. I told them they liked it 
 because of the opportunity it gave each to 
 shine as a wit and really there were sev- 
 eral brilliant story tellers in the crowd 
 that gathered around the big log fire. 
 Each told a story while his fagot burned. 
 
 We had a new housemaid a young 
 Irish girl that we took on trial, chiefly 
 because we thought she could be of ser- 
 vice to our guests, some of whom were 
 unused to colored servants. She was a 
 neat little thing, and I had made up my 
 mind that we had found the pink of per- 
 fection, when she came up to my room to 
 remonstrate against our entertaining so 
 much. What do you think of that, and 
 in a Southern home, too ? 
 
 "I loikes yez," she said, "but we can't 
 
 [127]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 have no more company because it don't 
 give me no chance to go to no parties at 
 all, at all, meself." 
 
 We decided it was best to part, and 
 that left me with rather more to do than 
 usual, and for the first time in my life I 
 felt dead tired that is, after it was all 
 over. 
 
 Baby Bess says she wishes it was Christ- 
 mas every day but I don't. Am I 
 growing old ? 
 
 February fourteenth. 
 
 A winter landscape with the gleam of 
 ice among the trees and a patch of snow 
 here and there along the hedgerows, has 
 always had a fascination for me. I like 
 gnarled and rusty old oaks and fine old 
 beeches when there's nothing to conceal 
 their giant strength and rugged grace. 
 
 I've just been out for a long country 
 
 [128]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 drive with Jack. He had a call from 
 down near Kimball's Corners and pro- 
 posed that I should go with him. I 
 jumped at the chance; for it seemed an 
 age since I'd had an old-time, heart-to- 
 heart talk with him, though I see him 
 almost daily. 
 
 His friends all think he ought to cut out 
 the country practice. He's driven to 
 death with it, but you know Jack. As 
 I've remarked once or twice before, he's 
 the victim of a too acute conscience. 
 
 I tell him he ought to take a good long 
 vacation and visit the Orient, but he only 
 smiles, and tells me I would be consign- 
 ing him to capital punishment. 
 
 It was his little favorite, Catharine, that 
 had suffered all night long with the ear- 
 ache, but by the time we reached there 
 she was quite over it, and ready to have a 
 good romp w r ith "Uncle Jack." 
 
 Her eyes sparkled as she told him about 
 the pain, adding that she believed the 
 
 [129]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 ear-ache was just about as bad as a dis- 
 ease. She's been attending Sunday- 
 school and is up on certain ailments. 
 
 "Uncle Jack," she said, "I know an 
 awful bad disease and you can't guess it. 
 Do you know what I'm thinking about? 
 It's leprosy." And her eyes grew bigger. 
 "Everything drops off when you have 
 leprosy. Your arms fall off, and your legs, 
 and your cheeks, and I don't see how you 
 can even have a funeral, for there's just 
 some pieces left," she added meditatively. 
 
 Rather solemn subject for a chick of 
 "half-past-five," as she puts it. 
 
 Noticing my watch, little Catharine 
 turned to me and in a lowered voice asked : 
 " Are you going to take anything with you 
 to heaven ?" 
 
 I acknowledged that I expected to go 
 empty handed. 
 
 "Mamma says," she chattered on, 
 " that it's so buful up there that we don't 
 need to take anything, but I'm going to 
 
 [130]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 take my watch, an' I won't tell God." 
 
 Her mother explained that she had a 
 watch left her by her grandmother, and 
 the thought of ever parting from it was a 
 severe trial to her religious faith. 
 
 The drive home was delicious. I had 
 never seen the world more beautiful, it 
 seemed to me, nor felt the air so exhila- 
 rating. 
 
 Jack and I laughed and talked like two 
 magpies ! 
 
 In passing a big house near the road- 
 side, I fell to criticising the figure of a dog 
 on the lawn. " Now, if I should try to do 
 anything of that kind," I said, " I should 
 make some attempt to follow nature. 
 Just see how all out of proportion those 
 forelegs are. Who could the sculptor 
 have been ?" 
 
 Just at that moment the supposed 
 statue came dashing out at us, barking 
 furiously; and my remarks on art ended 
 in a laugh at my expense. Next time I'll 
 
 [131]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 make sure it's not a "living picture" I'm 
 analyzing so ruthlessly. 
 
 March seventeenth. 
 
 I can't understand old Dr. Johnson. 
 You know Boswell reports him as groan- 
 ing over his letters, and impatiently 
 throwing them aside with : 
 
 "An odd thought that, when I'm dead, 
 I'll get no letters." Why, truly, I'd be 
 dead without letters ! 
 
 I had a delightful ten-page letter from 
 Virginia this morning. She is spending 
 a month or two at Washington; and, as 
 she has friends that are away up in poli- 
 tics, is seeing a good deal of official society. 
 She will be a favorite wherever she is and 
 she has a perfect genius for adventure. 
 She wrote to tell me of her last one. 
 
 She was walking down Pennsylvania 
 Avenue on the day after her arrival when 
 
 [132]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 a handsome victoria drawn by a team of 
 spirited greys drew up at the curbing and 
 an elderly gentleman was about to alight, 
 when the horses, suddenly frightened at 
 a little boy's toy balloon, started on a run 
 and the gentleman was thrown to the 
 pavement. He was not hurt enough to 
 attract the crowd, but seemed a good deal 
 dazed, and Virginia saw that he needed 
 assistance. She spoke to him and sug- 
 gested getting a carriage. He expressed 
 his gratitude, saying that he did not wish 
 to detain her as he would be all right, he 
 felt sure, in a few moments. 
 
 The carriage was soon there, however, 
 and Virginia, seeing his weakness, insisted 
 on going with him to his home, which 
 proved to be one of the handsome resi- 
 dences on DuPont Circle. 
 
 Before they parted, the old gentleman 
 asked for her name and address and she 
 gave him her card, though she made no 
 effort to find out who he was. The next 
 
 [133]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 day she was surprised to receive a large 
 bouquet of American Beauty roses with 
 the card of one of the justices of the Su- 
 preme Court attached! She at first in- 
 sisted that there was some mistake, but a 
 second look showed that it was sent from 
 the stately home to which she had driven. 
 
 On the following day the cards of the 
 wife and daughters of the Justice were 
 brought in to Virginia and she had a 
 delightful call, they inviting her to a family 
 dinner one evening that week. 
 
 It's just that sort of thing that befalls 
 Virginia wherever she goes. 
 
 Not a word from you since your Christ- 
 mas letter. We held a family pow-wow 
 over that one, reading it over and over. 
 Then I put it under my pillow and dreamed 
 all night about little almond-eyed maidens 
 who were weaving garlands of cherry- 
 blossoms for a very severe missionary 
 lady who sat on a throne. 
 
 [134]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 May ninth. 
 My dear Chum: 
 
 Our Browning Circle has federated. 
 If that has no special meaning to you, if 
 it does not thrill you and set your nerves 
 a-tingling and your blood a-palpitating, 
 it is because you are living in heathen 
 darkness, my poor girl. The gospel of 
 federation must and shall be carried to 
 you. 
 
 Of course, you know all about the club 
 movement, designated by the unbelieving 
 as the "club fad." You know how every 
 rural district and every village has its club 
 of women, and how the towns and cities 
 have become hotbeds of culture, and all 
 because of the clubs. 
 
 A club woman is reported as saying 
 that before this glorious day women 
 could talk about nothing beyond the three 
 D's Dress, Domestics and Disease. 
 
 Well, now we do not talk at all. We 
 converse. We read learned papers. We 
 
 [135]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 solve problems. We hold conferences. 
 We take up all kinds of altruistic work. 
 We become prominent by leaps and 
 bounds. 
 
 The little daughter of one of our club 
 women was in class the other day when 
 the teacher was seeking to get to the bot- 
 tom of some mischief that had been done. 
 
 " Children," she said sternly, " what 
 shall we do about this ?" 
 
 Little Dorothy's hand went up timidly. 
 
 " Well, Dorothy, what do you propose ?" 
 
 "Why, I think you ought to appoint a 
 tommittee," she said. 
 
 You see the leaven is spreading. 
 
 A few years ago club women found 
 themselves in the situation of little Robert. 
 
 His grandmother had been telling him it 
 was possible for little boys to grow better 
 and better all the time. Robert listened 
 with bated breath. Finally he said: 
 "Grandmother, when a little boy gets 
 j-u-s-t as good as he can get then what ?" 
 
 [136]
 
 That was practically the question be- 
 fore the club women, when some one 
 cleverer than the rest said, "We must 
 federate or we must perish." No time 
 was lost and a big national federation 
 was formed. It was found to be delight- 
 fully exhilarating; just the kind of an out- 
 let that was needed for bottled-up enthu- 
 siasm. 
 
 If a national federation is such a good 
 thing, "What's the matter with State 
 federations?" some one called out, and 
 the women, figuratively speaking, an- 
 swered back from a score of States, 
 'They're all right," and one State after 
 another organized. Then the contagion 
 spread like wild-fire and the clubs of the 
 cities formed federations. It's great fun, 
 especially for the younger fry, from whom 
 but little is expected. 
 
 But seriously, sweetheart, the federa- 
 tion of clubs is doing a lot for women and 
 so is the individual club. The kinship 
 
 [137]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 broadens women and makes them far 
 more tolerant of others' views and vastly 
 more sympathetic toward mankind in 
 general. 
 
 Aunt Ann says that the club has worked 
 a wonderful change in the women them- 
 selves right here. It has created a sort 
 of universal sisterhood and wiped out the 
 artificial lines which kept women so far 
 apart socially. This is a service of which 
 any club may be proud. 
 
 Well, as I remarked, our Browning 
 Circle joined the State federation and, 
 greatly to my surprise, chose me a dele- 
 gate to the biennial meeting, which was 
 only three weeks away. About the same 
 time, a note came to me from the chair- 
 man of the program committee, asking me 
 to tell in three minutes just how I had 
 aroused so great an interest in foreign 
 missions that even the children of the 
 town had set to work and had raised a 
 mile of money ! 
 
 [138]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 There was never anything more absurd 
 than that I should speak before a great 
 State federation, unless it was your writ- 
 ing for the missionary paper. 
 
 Of course, I wrote back, what was 
 strictly true, that I had had nothing what- 
 ever to do with that picturesque campaign 
 for money; that it was for the support 
 of a system of Free Mission Kindergar- 
 tens to be conducted by a cousin of mine, 
 but that all credit was due to the Daugh- 
 ters of the King. 
 
 I supposed that this would let me off, 
 but no, a second note informed me that 
 my name had been placed on the program, 
 and I must tell the story, even if I had not 
 been the star performer. Just think of 
 your poor little cousin scheduled for a 
 speech ! 
 
 One of the first things to be thought of 
 was clothes. And right there is one of the 
 benefits of these State federations. They 
 do keep one up to the mark in dress. I 
 
 [139]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 call that a real service to womankind, too. 
 There's no place for a dowdy, ill-dressed 
 woman in the modern scheme of things. 
 I'm so glad you're not letting down in that 
 respect. You'll have ten-fold more influ- 
 ence as a young woman with pretty 
 clothes than you could otherwise. Merely 
 as a business proposition it pays to wear 
 stylish clothes. 
 
 The club woman knows her Emerson 
 well enough to realize with him that " the 
 sense of being perfectly well-dressed gives 
 a feeling of inward tranquillity which 
 religion is powerless to bestow." 
 
 Ours was a jolly party of twenty that 
 went from here and as we had previously 
 engaged apartments at headquarters we 
 had a thoroughly good time. 
 
 On the way down a Chinaman with an 
 immense queue sat in front of me for some 
 distance. His skin was wrinkled and 
 creased, and his flesh withered like a 
 mummy's. We began speculating as to 
 
 [140]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 how old he probably was. Some of the 
 ladies grew actually curious about it and 
 suggested that I should ask him. At 
 length I drew him into conversation which 
 I led up as delicately as possible to the 
 crucial question, which, after all, sounded 
 rather blunt. He answered blandly, 
 "Lady, I am thirty-eight. How muchee 
 oldee are you?" It served me right, 
 didn't it ? 
 
 I had idealized those women of the 
 Federation so much that, I confess, I felt 
 a little as I fancy Lincoln did when he 
 went to Washington for the first time. 
 He wrote back to a friend that he was 
 very much disappointed in things at 
 Washington. The houses were a great 
 deal larger than he had expected to see, 
 but the men were not nearly so large. 
 
 But, if I was disappointed for a mo- 
 ment, that feeling disappeared when I 
 heard the earnest, forceful addresses and 
 realized that, as a delegate, I was a part of 
 
 [141]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 this great representative body of women 
 that was working in many ways for better 
 conditions throughout our State. 
 
 We were all bubbling over with enthu- 
 siasm and sometimes almost forgot to go 
 to bed, there was so much to talk over. 
 
 Just imagine me wildly excited over 
 the problem of child labor, the wrongs of 
 the sweat-shop and the establishment of 
 play-grounds for poor children ! 
 
 It can never be said that our Kentucky 
 women do not talk well. Why, they are 
 too fluent, if that is possible. Their 
 fluency sometimes gave one the impression 
 that they had prepared just a little too 
 thoroughly, and suggested the question 
 whether the speaker was the most elo- 
 quent of women or a mere phonograph. 
 
 It was surprising how smoothly the 
 machinery ran, so much so that I thought 
 a little friction now and then would have 
 proved mighty enlivening by creating the 
 impression of spontaneity. 
 
 [142]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 I was reminded of the French Minister 
 of Public Instruction who boasted that he 
 could at any moment take out his watch 
 and tell the precise question that was being 
 asked in any school under his jurisdiction. 
 
 The first day was a beautiful one, 
 breezeless and sunny, both of which con- 
 ditions were favorable to the wearing of 
 new hats. They are so large this season 
 that if there had been any breeze I'm 
 sure there would have been several bal- 
 loon ascensions. 
 
 I will send you the papers with the full 
 federation proceedings. 
 
 P. S. Would you believe, girlie, that I 
 had my picture in the paper? It came 
 about through that dreadful three-minute 
 speech. The editor, or some of his min- 
 ions, had written down to the home 
 photographer and had it all ready. I'm 
 hoping that they will not find it out at 
 home, for you know father always main- 
 tained that there were only three occasions 
 
 [143]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 on which a lady's name should appear in 
 print, when she was born, when she was 
 married and at her death. 
 
 July thirteenth. 
 
 I think I've not written you about the 
 visit we made with Max and Lottie at 
 their first wedding anniversary. I went 
 up a few days in advance, and, would you 
 believe it? I took little Beth with me. 
 Wasn't that a capital idea? They all 
 declared they'd rise up and call me 
 blessed for ever thinking of it. 
 
 Our two doctors ran over for a three 
 days' stay. Virginia came all the way 
 from a little mountain resort up in Mary- 
 land and that was all of the old crowd that 
 we could bring together, though every one 
 reported by letter, even Bobby Hartley, 
 and you know we can seldom get a line on 
 him! 
 
 [144]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 I wish with all my heart that I could 
 picture Lottie's home so that you could 
 see it as it is. It has individuality, char- 
 acter, repose; and it has, besides, so hos- 
 pitable an atmosphere that you feel it 
 the moment you enter. On the door is 
 an inscription which I liked because it is 
 so true! 
 
 " Be it lofty palace or humble cot, 
 'Tis never a home where love is not, 
 But all who enter this portal dear, 
 Will find true home; for love rules here." 
 
 It's that homey feeling that we all en- 
 joyed so much not a bit of stiffness or 
 formality, no effort on the part of the 
 hostess to entertain one every minute. 
 The doctor found the freedom of the place 
 so agreeable that when we came to talking 
 about a name for the home, that import- 
 ant matter having been postponed last 
 year, he proposed "Liberty Hall," which 
 we promptly voted down because it 
 
 [145]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 recalled too vividly certain youthful strug- 
 gles with American history. 
 
 There was a lively skirmish for the 
 honor of naming the place. We became 
 really excited over it and finally decided 
 to post all the names offered and then take 
 a secret ballot, requiring Max and Lottie 
 to vote. 
 
 Virginia insisted that it must be a flower 
 name, as the Friendship Garden was at 
 the height of its beauty. Her choice was 
 "Larkspur Lodge," which she was will- 
 ing, if we preferred, to change to "Lilac 
 Terrace." Bobby wrote that it should 
 be "The Purple Dragon," because of the 
 long sweep of the lilac hedge. Jack, 
 mindful of its alluring restfulness, thought 
 it should be "Sans Souci," or rather its 
 German equivalent, "Ohne Sorge," and 
 as we had not heard from you on the sub- 
 ject, he offered this name for you rather 
 than himself. There's nothing that Jack 
 forgets. 
 
 [146]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 Frances wrote that she had thought it 
 over till she was dizzy, but nothing 
 came to her but "Friendship Cottage," 
 and Bess's preference was for "The 
 Larches." 
 
 I suggested the name "The Anchor- 
 age," in w r hich case I hoped they might 
 make use of my favorite motto: "In this 
 Safe Anchorage find Welcome and Good 
 Cheer." 
 
 Jack's name, "Ohne Sorge," was the 
 one chosen, as of course it would be, and 
 we were all glad of it. Max says that my 
 motto shall find a place on the beam over 
 the library entrance, as he wouldn't think 
 of keeping house any longer without it, 
 while Lottie insists that for a companion 
 piece on the opposite wall she will have 
 ' The Ornament of a Home is the Friends 
 who frequent it." 
 
 Several who had no name to suggest 
 for the little farm sent mottoes for the 
 house. Uncle Caleb's was, 
 
 [147]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 " Stay, stay at home, my heart, and rest, 
 Home-keeping hearts are happiest." 
 
 Aunt Ann sent, characteristically, some- 
 thing of the same, 
 
 " Now happiness for us at our own hearth- 
 stone, 
 And a good word for the absent." 
 
 Lottie says they'll have house mottoes 
 enough to supply all their friends, so if 
 you need one do not hesitate to apply. I 
 hope you will. 
 
 One thing we enjoyed very much was 
 installing a sun-dial in the garden. It 
 was a real old affair that had had its 
 place originally in the terrace of the old 
 grandfather's home in Germany. Fritz 
 said when he was here that it was one of 
 their most valued heirlooms, but as this 
 garden would never be complete without 
 it, he promised to send it. We had a gray 
 stone pedestal made for it and it adds im- 
 mensely to the interest of the surroundings. 
 
 [148]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 Baby Elizabeth was a darling. She 
 never forgot to pray for you and one night 
 she added to her usual petition: " O, God, 
 please take care of auntie till she cometh 
 home, then you won't have to any more!" 
 
 * > 
 
 September eleventh. 
 
 Can it be that this is your second visit 
 up in Vladivostok? Time is rushing 
 along at a mad rate. Sometimes I grow 
 fairly giddy at the speed with which I'm 
 whirling past the familiar landmarks. 
 Now, there are the birthdays, for instance. 
 They insist on coming, whether welcome 
 or not, and what's one to do about it ? 
 
 Your experience at the inspection office 
 will do to laugh over now that it's past 
 at least one may as well laugh as cry; but 
 I sometimes feel like going out and bump- 
 ing my head against a stone wall, good and 
 hard, just to even up things a little between 
 you and me. 
 
 [149]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 If I didn't have absolute faith in a 
 Higher Power and feel, deep down in my 
 heart, that something very good was held 
 in reserve for you just a little beyond, I 
 could never bear to see you wrestling so 
 bravely with heartsickness and homesick- 
 ness. It's a long lane that has no turn, 
 and the turn is in store for you and I'm 
 positive it will take you into flowery 
 places. 
 
 One of my friends has just returned 
 from a summer resort in Maine. While 
 there she was present at some kind of a 
 religious service in which the people were 
 fairly carried off their feet by enthusiasm 
 for foreign missions. 
 
 Within a short time seventy thousand 
 dollars was raised for that purpose. I 
 wish they'd put every dollar of it at your 
 disposal. Several of those present, men 
 and women, actually rose and pledged 
 every dollar that they had in the world. 
 
 The climax was reached when it was 
 
 [150]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 proposed to exchange gold ornaments for 
 iron; and within a few minutes forty gold 
 watches were exchanged for iron ones, 
 which bore the inscription, " Gold for iron 
 for Humanity's sake." 
 
 My friend was greatly impressed with 
 the exchange of gold for iron and felt sure 
 that it must have some historical basis, 
 though she couldn't remember in what 
 connection. 
 
 On looking up the matter she found 
 that Frederick the Great made such an 
 appeal to the loyalty of the women of the 
 German Fatherland, asking them to give 
 up their jewels to help the country in its 
 time of need. 
 
 The true-hearted German women 
 gladly took off their gold ornaments, sub- 
 scribing under the words, " I give gold for 
 iron for the sake of the Fatherland." 
 
 And so history repeats itself in a way, 
 and women are always ready to do their 
 part. 
 
 [151]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 One of the present-day fads in this 
 country is the study of mental healing. 
 Yesterday a returned medical missionary 
 was calling upon Aunt Ann and told her 
 that he made great use of that very thing 
 in his practice among the natives of south- 
 ern India. 
 
 One day a woman came to him suffer- 
 ing great agony, the cause of her trouble, 
 as she thought, being a frog in her 
 stomach. 
 
 He put her on his operating table, 
 covered her face and used the stomach 
 pump. He then showed her a frog that 
 he had preserved in alcohol, and, in a 
 moment, her pain was gone. 
 
 We are all so glad you were pleased 
 with the things in the box, especially with 
 the hat, for we were afraid you might think 
 it too large. It's becoming, you say, and 
 so it's all right. 
 
 The sleeves are going up, too, as you 
 
 [152]
 
 He then showed her a frog and in a 
 moment her pain was gone
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 see by the frock we sent you. I was feel- 
 ing particularly fine in a new street gown 
 which I was wearing for the first time, 
 when I heard a boy say, " That lady seems 
 to be wearing bloomers on her arms." 
 
 I hope you won't object to wearing the 
 crepe de chine. I think it will be becom- 
 ing to you, but I look a fright in it. 
 
 September thirtieth. 
 
 You say you're afraid you'll be a back 
 number when you come home. That 
 would be a calamity, sure enough, but 
 there are worse things. Now, if you dare 
 to come back without that indescribable 
 air of distinction which foreign residence 
 is supposed to impart, not to mention the 
 stylishness you always exemplified before 
 you went away, we will send you back. 
 There's to be no fooling on that score ! 
 
 No one can deny that we travel at a 
 
 [153]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 pretty rapid pace on this side the water. 
 The truth is, you have either to run or be 
 dragged. Yet, while one may soon fall 
 behind the procession, it's the easiest 
 matter in the world to pull up to the front 
 again, because of the eternal change that 
 is going forward. 
 
 I spoke in my last of the prevailing 
 study of mental healing. I don't think 
 anything new is being advanced on the 
 subject, but some very old hobbies are 
 being ridden to the limit. The doctor was 
 saying only the other day that physicians 
 have always made use of this influence 
 which is being brought forward as a mod- 
 ern discovery. 
 
 I heard of two ladies who were accus- 
 tomed to spend their afternoons together 
 reading on the subject of mental influence. 
 They were enthusiastic, and wished for 
 nothing more than some one on whom to 
 test their newly acquired power. One 
 day they observed a man passing down the 
 
 [154]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 street on crutches. Here was their op- 
 portunity! They resolved to use all their 
 strength of mind to help him overcome 
 this difficulty. The poor man should 
 know nothing of it, but they would do him 
 good just the same. 
 
 The second day they were deeply grati- 
 fied to see that he used but one crutch. 
 It was highly encouraging. They could 
 hardly wait for his appearance on the 
 third day, and when he did come, they 
 were very, very happy. He used only a 
 cane. 
 
 Their next thought was that they should 
 not allow such a manifestation of power to 
 pass unnoticed. 
 
 They, therefore, resolved to tell the 
 man. He ought to know to whom he 
 owed his remarkable recovery. The man 
 listened in silence, then told them that he 
 was sorry to disappoint them, but the fact 
 was that he had just put on a new arti- 
 ficial leg. He felt uncertain about it at 
 
 [155]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 first and so used the crutches, and as his 
 confidence grew, he had dropped them. 
 
 You may require a little coaching on 
 our latest isms, when you come back, but 
 at the end of a six-month we'll all be after 
 something new. 
 
 I must confess that by no stretch of the 
 imagination can I think of you as doing 
 anything so foolish as going to the moun- 
 tains to see the sun rise or going without 
 your evening meal to see it set. What has 
 come over the spirit of your dreams, any- 
 way? I can't believe you're love-sick, 
 though it looks like it. Where is our 
 friend, Deutschy? 
 
 November thirtieth. 
 
 A little story which the doctor told us 
 of his old-world experiences seemed worth 
 setting down for you in his own language, 
 
 [156]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 since you were always fond of fairy tales 
 and traditions, and Christmas is so near: 
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE HOLY THORN. 
 
 I wonder if any of you have ever heard 
 of the Holy Thorn. I had not until I 
 found myself two years ago wandering 
 along the pleasant by-ways of the Somer- 
 set Valley in southwestern England. It's 
 as lovely a bit of English country as you 
 could wish to see. One evening I stopped 
 at a little thatched cottage to get a mug of 
 milk, and sitting on a bench in the shade 
 of a gnarled old apple tree, my hostess 
 told me about the thorn, which she de- 
 clared blooms always at Christmas time, 
 "mindful of our Lord." 
 
 " Yes, many's the time," she continued, 
 "I've gathered blossoms, which burst 
 from its branches on Christmas night 
 the Christmas of the old style. It makes 
 no difference how cold and frosty and icy 
 it is, out come the blossoms and the leaves 
 are a beautiful green. 
 
 [157]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 "In the old time the branches and 
 blossoms were always gathered to deco- 
 rate the King's apartments for the Christ- 
 mas festival. Nothing else would do, but 
 people had more respect for religion in 
 those good old days than they do now," 
 and she shook her head sadly. 
 
 The tradition is that Joseph of Arima- 
 thea, in his day, made his way to Britain 
 with eleven disciples. They landed on 
 "Weary All Hill," which my old lady 
 pointed out with pride, for it's but a few 
 steps from her cottage. 
 
 The natives of the place had no wel- 
 come for the strangers. They ordered 
 them to leave and to win them to his faith 
 Joseph is supposed to have performed a 
 miracle. 
 
 He thrust his staff, the staff that he had 
 carried all the way from Jerusalem, into 
 the earth and made the sign of the cross 
 above it, bidding it bud and blossom. 
 
 It was at Christmas time but branches 
 
 [158]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 shot forth and presently they were white 
 with blossoms, and the air was full of 
 fragrance. The staff was from the tree 
 from which the crown of thorns had been 
 taken. 
 
 The people were convinced and the 
 King gave them land upon which to build 
 a chapel. 
 
 The original tree flourished till Crom- 
 well's time, when an unbeliever is sup- 
 posed to have cut it down. "And he was 
 pricked by a thorn and bled till he died," 
 added my voluble hostess, with evident 
 satisfaction. 
 
 A clump of trees sprang up from the 
 roots and it is from one of these my aged 
 friend declared she had so often gathered 
 Christmas blossoms. 
 
 When I was ready to go, I sauntered 
 over to " Weary All Hill" and there found 
 thorn trees in abundance, as well as a 
 delightful view for miles around. 
 
 The story seemed to me fanciful rather 
 
 [159]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 than true; and unfortunately I was not 
 there at Christmas to put it to the test. 
 
 As if in proof of the old saw that the 
 ridiculous is never very far from the sub- 
 lime, my eye ran across this "notis" on 
 my way back to the village: "If any 
 man's or woman's cows get into these here 
 otes his or her tail will be cut off as the 
 case may be." 
 
 March fourth, 
 Nineteen hundred and four. 
 Now that it has come to the worst and 
 war has actually broken out over there, 
 we are wildly excited on this side, and 
 nothing but the last battle is talked about. 
 Every man, woman and child feels in duty 
 bound to take sides one way or the other, 
 and I am so glad to be able to tell you that, 
 with hardly an exception, we are on the 
 side of brave little Japan. Isn't that 
 
 [160]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 great? I should feel like leaving the 
 country were it otherwise. 
 
 Really, I've only heard of one lone 
 individual who has espoused the side of 
 Russia. It's our old friend, Colonel R. 
 H. Byerly; and he can hardly be expected 
 to look at things with American eyes, for 
 you know that much of his life has been 
 spent abroad in the diplomatic service. 
 I dare say he has worthy personal grounds 
 for his devotion to Russia. 
 
 Everybody says that our warm partisan- 
 ship of the Japanese cause comes from 
 no hostility to Russia. When, some years 
 ago, Russia suffered a terrible famine, the 
 Americans worked like beavers to send 
 speedy relief, and I'm sure we would do 
 the same thing again, and gladly, too. 
 
 I was a little girl at the time, but I can 
 remember something of the way people 
 worked to send money and food to the 
 Russians. Aunt Cynthia was living at 
 that time out in Iowa, the great corn State, 
 
 [161]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 where, as she says, the people are as 
 generous as the prairies are broad and 
 inviting. She was appointed by the gov- 
 ernor a member of a commission of women 
 to raise money quickly, with which to buy 
 corn for the starving. The men previous- 
 ly appointed had worked too slowly, and 
 every day the situation became more 
 distressing. 
 
 It was said at that time that two dollars 
 would save a human life, and this word 
 was passed breathlessly from lip to lip, 
 "Two dollars will save a life." 
 
 How that cry did go right to the hearts 
 of the people ! Who so poor that he could 
 not save some poor starving creature ? 
 
 One night after Aunt Cynthia had gone 
 to bed a poor man came to the house and 
 knocked loud and long. He was a 
 gardener, dependent on a little patch of 
 ground for the support of his family. He 
 said that he had heard that two dollars 
 would save a Russian peasant's life and 
 
 [162]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 he and his wife had been living on pota- 
 toes for several days, that they might give 
 this money and thus save one life. He 
 felt as if the money must be dispatched 
 that very night. 
 
 How those women did work! Up and 
 down the streets they went, soliciting 
 money. The school children helped with 
 their penny collections. The young peo- 
 ple danced and gave the proceeds of the 
 ball to swell the fund. Sermons were 
 preached, lectures were given. Nothing 
 was left undone. The most active cam- 
 paign was crowded into three weeks. It 
 was corn or money that was given and 
 the money was speedily converted into 
 corn, which was rushed with lightning 
 speed to the coast and hurried on to a big 
 boat held for the purpose. There was no 
 charge for transportation, either by land 
 or sea, for great corporations, like indi- 
 viduals, have hearts, and, two dollars 
 would save a human life ! 
 
 [163]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 Aunt Cynthia used to tell how, after it 
 was all closed, little children would stop 
 her on the street to offer her a penny to 
 send to Russia ! 
 
 That does not look as if we were hostile 
 to Russia, does it ? 
 
 But now Japan is having her inning, 
 and we are with her heart and soul. 
 
 Just to get Jack away for a little rest 
 we made up a farm party and spent last 
 week in the country. The time was too 
 short, but we enjoyed every minute of our 
 stay. I lured Jack into going to help me 
 look after daddy, who had not been very 
 well. 
 
 We took daily tramps in the woods and 
 then how we did enjoy the evenings 
 around our big log fires ! 
 
 But I must run, for the doctor is at the 
 door with his runabout and beckoning me 
 to come for a spin across country. His 
 automobile is a little beauty. By the way, 
 Uncle Caleb says the automobile has 
 
 [164]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 divided all humanity into two classes, the 
 quick and the dead ! 
 
 July seventh. 
 
 Now please take a deep breath, little 
 girl, for I'm about to 'sprise you, as Baby 
 Beth says. Are you ready? Well, we 
 are all down at an old farmhouse in the 
 Cumberland foot-hills in Tennessee, and 
 what's more, we are here to stay a full 
 month! Our little farm party just whet- 
 ted our appetites for the country. We've 
 talked of this outing in a general way for 
 an age ; but, as it was to be taken chiefly on 
 Jack's account, we had to wait till he 
 could come, of course. No play with 
 Hamlet left out, if you please. 
 
 When Jack finally named the day, we 
 lost no time in engaging quarters and 
 getting our traps together and here we 
 have been for a week, the doctor taking 
 
 [165]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 observations on human nature, and the 
 rest of us fishing, botanizing, reading and 
 vegetating. 
 
 It was one of the conditions of the trip, 
 solemnly agreed to by all, in family con- 
 clave, that we should go to the very 
 borders of civilization we have, in fact, 
 stepped across the line and we are cheer- 
 fully to lead the simple life conforming 
 as nearly as we know how to the ways of 
 the native inhabitants. 
 
 It was Uncle Caleb's idea, seconded 
 with a right good will by the doctor. The 
 novelty of it all struck us about right. 
 What's the use, we said, in doing the same 
 tiresome thing in the same tiresome old 
 way each summer? No, we refuse to be 
 anything if not original. 
 
 And so we have got down to first prin- 
 ciples; and you have no idea how much 
 enjoyment we are getting out of it. 
 There's no use of my telling you to imagine 
 yourself in our places, for even your 
 
 [166]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 imagination with its propensity for soar- 
 ing could not conjure up a situation like 
 this. 
 
 Picture us, if you can, as boarders at a 
 rambling old house whose one virtue is 
 that it affords shelter from the elements; 
 that is, if they're not too turbulent. It 
 was once a dignified mansion but the 
 ravages of war were too much for it. The 
 old family's gone many a year ago, and 
 the place is in the hands of Joshua Winters 
 and his wife, or Uncle Joshua and 
 Aunt Hannah, as everybody calls them. 
 They have two grown sons, whose only 
 distinction is that they have never set foot 
 beyond the borders of the county and are 
 proud of it, and a young daughter, Jane, 
 who rather puzzles us by her engaging, 
 innocent ways. We call her the "little 
 wood-violet," and even the doctor cannot 
 discover a resemblance to the parent stalk. 
 Joshua is a sturdy son of Tennessee soil 
 who is in great danger of being translated 
 
 [167]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 because of his superior endowments. He 
 is looked upon with a good deal of awe 
 by his neighbors for he has that wonderful 
 thing, " book-larnin" ; and he uses it to 
 some purpose, for he has discovered that 
 this old world of ours is flat like a pancake 
 and that "if you jes' went fur enough 
 you'd step off, kerplunk." 
 
 We are hoping we'll get to hear Uncle 
 Joshua lecture on this subject w r hile we're 
 here we're not quite satisfied with the 
 private explanations of his theory though 
 he gives them very freely and he does 
 lecture, he tells us. 
 
 Aunt Hannah's specialty is the use of 
 language. For picturesque speech I've 
 not seen her equal. She has, too, an 
 overweening pride of family and never 
 wearies of telling about her "relation." 
 
 "Now my relation is celestically eddi- 
 cated an' that's higher as college eddica- 
 tion, they do say," is a favorite reflection 
 of hers. 
 
 [168]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 One of her relatives she recently lost by 
 death, and though she grieves over the 
 loss, her sorrow is greatly lightened by the 
 thought that "she died a.pintin' toward 
 heaven; and she got a great long adver- 
 tisement in the paper." 
 
 One of her nephews she has decided 
 would be a suitable match for me. It's 
 high time some one was beginning to take 
 some interest in my future! 
 
 In Aunt Hannah's eyes, for a girl to get 
 along into the twenties without a husband 
 of some sort is enough to make her kin- 
 folk hang their heads with shame. It's 
 pure kindness on her part to be willing 
 to marry me to her nephew, for she looks 
 upon my eight- and-twenty years as a good 
 deal of a barrier to my matrimonial 
 prospects. 
 
 I've not had the pleasure of seeing my 
 intended fiance as yet, though I'm sure 
 he's all that could be desired. 
 
 "He's jes' orful proud," says Aunt 
 
 [169]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 Hannah, "an* oh! how he can dress his- 
 self; why his hands are plumb stiff with 
 kid gloves." 
 
 The schoolmaster of this "deestrick" 
 is a boarder here, though his school closed 
 last Friday. It looks as if the attraction 
 of our "little wood- violet" was too much 
 to permit his getting very far away, and 
 so he's staying around and doing chores, 
 incidentally, while his chief occupation is 
 casting sheep' s-eyes at pretty Jane. 
 
 On the morning after our arrival every- 
 body was excited over the closing of the 
 school. There were to be exercises, and 
 of course we had to go. The school- 
 master modestly assured us that we'd find 
 it mighty interesting, for his scholars 
 could " speak to beat the band." 
 
 We agreed with him that we might 
 never again have such a chance and the 
 doctor and I, who are foolishly if not 
 fatally amiable, took in the show. 
 
 It was great fun; in fact, it was a whole 
 
 [170]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 circus. If I was ever wickedly indifferent 
 as to whether the curfew should or should 
 not ring to-night, I shall never be so again 
 after witnessing the agony of that youth 
 who made up his mind that it should not! 
 
 It was explained by the teacher that he 
 liked to train the boys and girls to think 
 for themselves as well as to express their 
 thoughts. Several were to have original 
 essays, he said. 
 
 A timid young girl was then introduced 
 as belonging to this class of original 
 thinkers. Everything ran along smoothly 
 until we found ourselves addressed every 
 few sentences as, "And now, my dear little 
 readers of the Advocate," which was al- 
 most too much for us ! 
 
 It is really shocking to have you ask 
 who " the doctor " is. With all my talk- 
 ing about him, have I failed to mention 
 anything about his family? Only a few 
 evenings ago he talked very confidentially 
 to me, telling me about his boyhood, spent 
 
 [171]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 in New York City, his college days at Old 
 Yale, his travels abroad and finally of the 
 death of his mother, whom he idolized. ' 
 
 When I see this side of the man, I feel 
 guilty, for at first I secretly criticised him. 
 As if to heap coals of fire on my unworthy 
 head he now tells me that I have re- 
 minded him of his mother from the first 
 moment he saw me! 
 
 He says he recalls having met you once 
 years and years ago, and remembers you 
 as a "blue-eyed bunch of mischief." He 
 is deeply interested in your work and says 
 we must devise ways of helping you at this 
 end of the line. What shall it be ? 
 
 August fourteenth. 
 My dear Chum: 
 
 You'll think that I've taken leave of my 
 senses when I tell you that I'm out under 
 the trees and writing before six o'clock in 
 
 [172]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 the morning. Such is the privilege of 
 rural life. It's not because I want to 
 catch the early worm that I'm up with 
 the lark to meet the sun, but because I 
 have a personal longing to catch and 
 wring the neck of an early fowl that does 
 business at that unseemly hour at a stand 
 just opposite my chamber window. 
 
 He's surely an eye-opener. Thus far 
 he has escaped my cruel hand, but I shall 
 certainly point him out to Aunt Hannah 
 as a fit subject for a stew. 
 
 I've found out something about our 
 "little wood-violet." The child spent 
 two years with an aunt in the city, where 
 she attended school and diligently took on 
 pretty ways, as young country maidens 
 will when opportunity offers. It is whis- 
 pered that this aunt has wealth and is fond 
 of Jane, who was given her name, and 
 that she wishes nothing so much as to lift 
 her out of her present unattractive en- 
 vironment and give her the advantages of 
 
 [173]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 education and travel. To this plea, the 
 father and mother have not yielded con- 
 sent. Meanwhile, our modern Ichabod 
 Crane is pressing his suit with such ardor 
 as he can command, to Uncle Lige's evi- 
 dent satisfaction. The query in my mind 
 is, are we likely to meet our pretty Jane 
 some day as a lady of wealth and fashion, 
 or is she to become the bride of the school- 
 master is it " the lady or the tiger" ? 
 Really, I feel like taking a hand myself. 
 
 The doctor finds the colored contingent 
 fully as interesting here as at home. He 
 attended a darkey funeral Sunday even- 
 ing, where the preacher spoke eloquently 
 of the departed and closed his remarks by 
 saying, " Bredern, dis funeral am remark- 
 able, chiefly by being de only one where 
 de preacher, de spirichel songs, de coffin, 
 de bearers, an* everything were selected 
 by de corpse." 
 
 Of course, we are regular church-goers 
 here, everybody is. Even the children 
 
 [174]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 tell of their religious experiences. A little 
 girl of eight made a confidant of Uncle 
 Caleb the other day, saying somewhat 
 boastingly, "I was convicted, converted 
 and sanctified at the protracted meeting 
 last winter, but Mary Louise has only 
 been convicted and converted." 
 
 How we wish you could spend our clos- 
 ing week with us ! 
 
 August thirtieth. 
 
 We are almost ready to return to well- 
 worn paths. Vacation days are coming 
 to a close and that means heavy work 
 again for Jack. I'm glad to say he's 
 better for the rest, though he has all along 
 refused to consider his health in the matter. 
 
 This field is clover for our scientific 
 friend, the doctor. His voluminous note- 
 books are pressed down and running over. 
 He is happy as a clam wherever he finds a 
 
 [175]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 curious specimen of the genus homo, and 
 there's a whole menagerie here inviting 
 inspection. 
 
 Much of the time he has tramped off 
 alone to any kind of a " meetin' ' ' of 
 which he could get word. Twice he 
 listened to the same sermon in different 
 places, of course, but delivered by the 
 same preacher, a man who had received 
 a call to preach without getting any cor- 
 responding notice to prepare for his high 
 calling. 
 
 As the minister could not read, he began 
 his remarks on all occasions with a little 
 set speech : " The words from which I shall 
 talk to you at this time, my bredern, are 
 to be found somer's betwext the two leds 
 of the Bible." On that particular even- 
 ing his text read "suthin* as follers: 
 * Behold, the bed is too short an* the kivers 
 too narrer.' ' 
 
 When the doctor reported it to us we 
 were curious to discover the text, if there 
 
 [176]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 was anything so unheard-of in the way of a 
 text. It was at that crisis that Uncle 
 Caleb distinguished himself by turning to 
 the passage without the least hesitancy 
 in the twenty-eighth chapter of Isaiah 
 and read : " For a bed is shorter than that 
 a man can stretch himself on it; and the 
 covering narrower than that he can wrap 
 himself in it." 
 
 Another of these backwoods exhorters 
 excused his failure to read his text by say- 
 ing it was a little too dark for him to see, 
 as there was "no winder present behind 
 him." This preacher seemed to have a 
 gift for getting himself out of a tight place. 
 One day he was officiating at the funeral 
 of a woman who had left a husband and 
 several children. In his prayer he said: 
 "And now, O Lord, we pray thee to raise 
 up some one who shall take the dear sis- 
 ter's place to her husband and in the 
 family circle." 
 
 A look of dismay spread over the faces 
 
 [177]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 of different ones and they moved uneasily. 
 The preacher realized his error in time to 
 catch himself and added "Ahem, that 
 is to say, raise up some one who shall take 
 this dear woman's place in the commun- 
 ity and in the church." 
 
 It is among these simple-minded folk 
 that we get down to the real ego, as our 
 teacher in mental philosophy used to say. 
 They have not learned to conceal and 
 cover up and dissimulate. Isn't it strange 
 that all this comes with what we are 
 pleased to call the higher civilization ? 
 
 I heard of an elderly man who lost his 
 wife and married a widow who lived near. 
 Each, in time, decided to put up a monu- 
 ment to the departed and so they went to 
 town to look up the matter. The wife 
 was puzzled about a suitable epitaph but 
 finally thought she would like : 
 
 " A dear one now from earth is gone, 
 A voice we loved is still, 
 
 [178]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 An aching void is in our hearts 
 Which no one else can fill." 
 
 "I'll take that," said the wife, relieved 
 from the severe strain of choosing. 
 
 The husband's face grew very long and 
 he shook his head in a melancholy way, 
 then suddenly brightening up, exclaimed: 
 
 " Why, what on airth's the matter with 
 that for mine, too ?" 
 
 We are sorry, in a way, that we are 
 leaving these queer by-ways of life. We've 
 had our "trials and tribulations," as 
 Uncle Lige says some of which have 
 come in the way of saleratus biscuits and 
 super-abundance of bacon but we have 
 also learned a few y things. 
 
 Saint Louis, 
 September eighth. 
 You'll be surprised to know that, at the 
 
 [179]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 last moment, we decided to make a detour, 
 bag and baggage, servants and all 
 except Pete, whom we left in charge 
 of the grounds, and Chloe, who couldn't 
 be coaxed away from the old place 
 and take in the big exposition. We 
 made a formidable assemblage ourselves 
 and, no doubt, could easily divide honors 
 with the main attraction should we decide 
 to set up a side-show. 
 
 There was a good deal of commotion 
 when we arrived at the big Inside Inn, 
 and we realized that there were others 
 when we saw a pile of suit-cases reaching 
 to the ceiling and looking as much alike 
 as peas from the same pod. How people 
 ever discriminate in favor of their own 
 in the matter of suit-cases puzzles me. 
 
 The Inn itself seemed about as interest- 
 ing a sight as we were likely to find, 
 and we reluctantly turned to the exhibits. 
 It seemed miles from the office to one's 
 room. 
 
 [180]
 
 "I took you for a pickpocket "
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 You remember what great times we 
 youngsters used to have at the big Chicago 
 fair and how we begrudged every minute 
 that we had to spend trailing after the 
 grown-ups at the art galleries? I am 
 pleased to report a change of heart in 
 that direction and really no part of the 
 show has the attraction for me that I 
 find in the halls of painting and sculpture. 
 The whole exposition is an inspiration. 
 
 We have a little joke on Aunt Ann. 
 She was standing amid the sculpture, 
 a quaint little figure, I've no doubt, in 
 the eyes of those outside the family, when 
 a man laid his hand on her shoulder. 
 
 "What do you mean, sir?" she asked 
 excitedly. 
 
 "O, I beg your pardon," said the 
 man, " I took you for a piece of statuary." 
 
 "And I beg your pardon," said Aunt 
 Ann with freezing dignity, "I took you 
 for a pick-pocket." 
 
 I hastened over to the American group 
 
 [181]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 of paintings to see if I could find the 
 one picture that held us spellbound in 
 those early days " Breaking Home Ties" 
 by Hovenden. It was not there, though 
 this artist was represented by one picture, 
 " Bringing Home the Bride." Aunt Ann 
 reminded me that the poor fellow who 
 painted family scenes with such a touch 
 of pathos sacrificed his life a few years 
 ago in an effort to rescue a little girl who 
 ran before a locomotive! 
 
 It is significant that only vacant space 
 meets the eye where Russian displays 
 were intended to be placed. That 
 country refused to send its exhibits, it 
 is said, on account of our attitude in the 
 war. 
 
 On the other hand, Japan has very 
 complete and interesting exhibits and I 
 find myself strangely attracted and held 
 by them. They seem to bring me closer 
 to you and the work you are doing. A 
 people who have such fine execution 
 
 [182]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 must also have the intelligence to ap- 
 preciate such devotion and strength of 
 purpose as you are showing in their 
 behalf. 
 
 But the people, ah, the people! It's 
 they who are the most interesting, after all. 
 
 Uncle Caleb reported seeing a Missouri 
 family of eleven children with their 
 parents and, as he laughingly said, "They 
 were all boys but ten." 
 
 Jack found one of his classmates at 
 the Medical College and brought him 
 to take dinner with us. How strong 
 these college ties become, and how much 
 any one loses who goes through life 
 without forming them! 
 
 Jack's friend talked entertainingly on 
 the demand, particularly in the medical 
 profession, for people who do not make 
 blunders, and he spoke of the untold 
 danger, both in medicine and surgery, 
 from inaccuracy. 
 
 This point he illustrated by telling 
 
 [183]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 about a student in the Medical Depart- 
 ment who with the rest of the class was 
 called before one of the instructors, who 
 was to give each some practical questions. 
 
 This particular young man came out 
 from the room smiling with satisfaction. 
 "Boys, you haven't anything to dread," 
 he said. "He's dead easy. Why, all he 
 asked me was how much quinine to give 
 a child in case of fever." 
 
 The others shrugged their shoulders 
 dubiously. As the examination pro- 
 gressed, the young fellow who had been 
 so well satisfied got to thinking he might 
 have blundered as to the amount of 
 quinine to be given. 
 
 Hastening in, he said, "Doctor, I 
 believe I made a mistake as to the amount 
 of quinine I would give." 
 
 "Never mind, sir, it makes no differ- 
 ence whatever now," said the doctor, 
 "the child died some time ago." 
 
 Our visitor was very much interested 
 
 [184]
 
 M Y SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 in Baby Elizabeth, who confided to him 
 the fact that she had three fathers, God, 
 and George Washington and papa! 
 
 October ninth. 
 
 You'll agree with me, I'm sure, that 
 the South is the last place in all the 
 world where you'd expect a temperance 
 revival. We've been accused so long of 
 being pokey and conservative and down- 
 right old-fashioned that we feel in duty 
 bound to act the part. 
 
 Just what has set the temperance ball 
 a-rolling in Georgia, I can't say, but all 
 at once there seems to be a whirlwind 
 of sentiment down there in favor of cold 
 water, and people are falling over each 
 other to get into the water-wagon. 
 
 It's bound to spread to Kentucky, 
 Uncle Caleb tells us, and we're right 
 glad of it, because one can see with half 
 
 [185]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 an eye that it's drink that's at the bottom 
 of most of our troubles, especially with 
 the negroes. 
 
 I thought I'd warn you that by the 
 time you get home you'll probably find 
 our town in the temperance camp, high 
 and dry, particularly dry. 
 
 Grandmother has been telling us about 
 how the temperance wave struck them 
 up in the old Keystone State in her child- 
 hood days. I thought it might interest 
 you, so I took it down just as she told it. 
 
 GRANDMOTHER'S TEMPERANCE STORY. 
 
 When I was a little girl of eight, and 
 that was away back in the thirties, we 
 lived on a big farm in eastern Pennsyl- 
 vania. My father had been reared a 
 Quaker of the orthodox type and was 
 still a believer in that faith, but had 
 fallen in love and married outside the 
 church, and in consequence, had been 
 turned out of the fold because he was 
 unwilling to say he was sorry. 
 
 [186]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 When they called him to account for 
 his misdeed, he acknowledged that he 
 regretted he had found it necessary to 
 violate the rules of the church, but he 
 couldn't say he was sorry he'd married 
 the girl he did, for that would not be the 
 truth. That was not enough and he 
 was dismissed. 
 
 That was the way we came to go to 
 the Presbyterian church. One day, I 
 remember it very well, the minister had 
 just returned from a visit to New England, 
 and told how, up there, they couldn't 
 even buy a quart of cider except to make 
 apple-butter, and that the harvesting 
 was all done with nothing stronger to 
 drink than cold water. 
 
 In those days and for many years we 
 all looked to New England for example 
 as well as precept. The average New 
 Englander, father was accustomed to 
 say, was not satisfied with being a mere 
 reformer, he wanted to be an evangelist. 
 
 [187]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 As we drove home from church father 
 turned to mother and told her that he 
 intended to get up his harvest without 
 serving anything in the field but water. 
 He had to depend on the neighbors for 
 help and with most of them the big demi- 
 john was a powerful incentive to labor. 
 
 Mother thought a moment and then 
 told him that such a thing could not 
 be done, and that if he undertook it 
 he would simply lose the harvest. She 
 thought he'd better think twice before 
 undertaking so radical an innovation. 
 
 Father was firm. He went out Monday 
 morning to engage his harvest hands to 
 begin work a week from that day. The 
 first man he met said he always expected 
 to help neighbor Stroud, and he could 
 count on him. 
 
 "I don't intend to have any liquor 
 this year," said father quietly. 
 
 "Why, are you crazy?" said the man, 
 "I can't work without it." 
 
 [188]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 This was the reply he received every- 
 where. In all cases father told them to 
 think it over, and do as they thought 
 best, but he added that he would look 
 for them on the following Monday morn- 
 ing, and would pay them a shilling a 
 day extra to prove that he wasn't doing it 
 to save the money. 
 
 The week passed with a good deal of 
 anxiety at our house. Everything de- 
 pended on our getting up the harvest, 
 and it couldn't be done without the men 
 and would they come? 
 
 Monday morning arrived and with it 
 the harvesters in full force. If it had 
 been a wedding feast mother could not 
 have made more careful preparation. 
 There was to be no failure in the good 
 things of the table, and lunches were 
 served often in the field. 
 
 The water jug hung on the limb of a 
 tree and a boy ran back and forward to 
 replenish it from the cool spring. There 
 
 [189]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 was a good deal of joking about it, but 
 there was no complaint. 
 
 One day the constable passed along 
 the highway and the men called to him 
 and pointed out the jug hanging on the 
 limb. He dismounted, hunted quite a 
 bit along the stone fence for a place to 
 tie his horse and hurried over to the tree, 
 only to get a draught of cold water. He 
 was angry for a moment but soon joined 
 in the general laugh. 
 
 When the harvest was up the men all 
 declared they had never enjoyed a week 
 more and all refused to take the extra pay. 
 
 Old Davy Lloyd, who had been for 
 years a slave to the drink habit, and 
 whose wife supported the family by doing 
 our washing and rough work, signed the 
 pledge and never drank again. His wife 
 blessed father as long as she lived. 
 
 That was the first time such an experi- 
 ment had ever been tried in the harvest 
 fields of Pennsylvania, but the word went 
 
 [190]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 out and others tried it, and, little by 
 little, it became the popular thing and 
 it was regarded as a discredit to the man 
 who offered the liquid fire to his helpers. 
 Now, they have strict temperance laws 
 in many of those states. We'll come to 
 it in the South, just give us a little time. 
 
 I'm following every move that is made 
 in that dreadful war. We are all wonder- 
 ing what you'll be finding to do next. 
 And we are prouder than ever of you, 
 for we know that you've been a comfort 
 and a joy to those poor wounded men 
 at the hospitals. The associated press 
 reports last week named you as the 
 heroine of the war. 
 
 Every now and then the word breaks 
 out that this country will be drawn into 
 it yet in some way. I heard of a village 
 up North where, because of this war, they 
 have resumed military drill with a zeal. 
 There are only ten men in the entire 
 
 [191]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 township. One was chosen captain, two 
 others first and second lieutenants, three 
 sergeants, and three corporals. Nine out 
 of the ten held offices and the remaining 
 man had to be the company. 
 
 The poor fellow was in a quandary 
 sometimes. He said he could march all 
 right, he could halt, could about-face, 
 and march in platoon, but when it came 
 to forming a hollow square, he didn't 
 know how to manage it. 
 
 We were never so eager for letters from 
 you as at this time of distress and danger. 
 
 November tenth. 
 
 Never, no never, have I longed for you 
 as I do at this moment. If you were 
 only here at my side with my arm about 
 you and your dear eyes looking into 
 mine, I'm sure, quite sure, that I could 
 tell you something which I simply cannot
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 put down coldly in black and white. 
 
 As it is, I can only say that I am happy 
 beyond words to express and yet I cannot 
 give you, my dearest friend, an inkling 
 of what fills me with rapture. You 
 mustn't even guess it. You couldn't 
 guess it if you were to try and so I beg of 
 you not to try. 
 
 This much I want you to know, I have 
 a new interest in life that is the deepest 
 and most wonderful experience I have 
 ever known. If I could tell any one in 
 all the world it would be you you who 
 have given me your confidence so freely 
 but not yet, not just yet, dear. 
 
 The old place never was half so beauti- 
 ful as it is since our return from the 
 exposition. The glory of the sun itself 
 is in the foliage of the old beech trees: 
 and the maples have never taken on such 
 brilliant crimson and gold since I can 
 remember. 
 
 Even the flower beds are outdoing all 
 
 [193]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 their former efforts at brilliancy this fall. 
 The asters and nasturtiums and lark- 
 spurs are a-bloom as if it were midsum- 
 mer. How lovely this old world is! 
 
 Old Chloe was wildly excited when 
 our carriage rolled up the driveway. 
 You should have heard her talk. If 
 she wasn't "inebriated in the exuberance 
 of her own verbosity" at least the rest 
 of us became slightly giddy. 
 
 January sixteenth, 
 Nineteen hundred and five. 
 
 We are really greatly concerned about 
 you. I have felt for months that the 
 dreadful scenes of war were likely to 
 prove too much even for your heroic soul. 
 
 There's the daily news of the battles 
 a strain upon nerves, however strong 
 and that is followed by the pitiful sights 
 in the hospitals, soldiers wounded and 
 
 [194]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 dying, and behind it all the poor, sad 
 mothers and their heart-breaking griefs. 
 You've borne up like an angel under it 
 all, but I can see that the care and 
 anxiety are too much, and the only thing 
 for you to do is to come home at once and 
 let us coddle you and love you until you 
 are your own dear self again. 
 
 I was selfish enough last month to 
 write you of my own happiness, as if 
 happiness were to be spoken of at such a 
 time. You probably felt that I needed 
 a reproof for such thoughtlessness, and 
 so I did, but, indeed, your silence is more 
 than I can bear and I do want a letter 
 from you saying that you forgive me for 
 intruding my little personal affairs upon 
 you when you have no mind or heart 
 for anything but the bigger concerns of 
 life. 
 
 Cousin Nell has been quite lame from 
 a fall over a paint keg that was standing 
 near the back door. 
 
 [195]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 Yesterday little John played that he 
 was a doctor, a favorite occupation, since 
 he is very fond of Jack and the doctor. 
 He likes to imagine himself as big as 
 they and actually imitates their every 
 motion, which I tell them is the sincerest 
 flattery. 
 
 "Well, doctor," said Aunt Ann, "is 
 there much sickness now?" 
 
 " O, yes, a great deal of sickness." 
 " What seems to be the matter ?" 
 "Why, they seem to be falling over 
 paint kegs mostly," said the little lad 
 with great solemnity. 
 
 You couldn't guess whom I ran across 
 two days ago in the public library. It 
 was none other than little Jane from 
 down in the country, who, it seems, 
 followed pretty close on our heels when 
 we came back to the city. Her aunt, 
 who is a rather showy, pretentious woman 
 of wealth, was with her, so it seems that 
 in some way she has come out victorious 
 
 [196]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 in the skirmish for the "little wood- 
 violet," as possession is nine points of 
 the law. 
 
 All that I could learn from my talk 
 with her was that she has entered for 
 another year in the city schools and is 
 working with a will. The child never 
 looked prettier than in her stylish new 
 clothes, though she is not altogether at 
 ease with them. 
 
 I'm afraid it's an exploded theory that 
 "beauty unadorned is most adorned." 
 
 Don't forget what I've said about your 
 need for a change and for complete rest. 
 Come home, dear, we want you. 
 
 March twelfth. 
 
 I have been asking myself over and 
 over again what blundering expression 
 I must have let fall, that led you to 
 think for an instant that Jack was any- 
 
 [197]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 thing more to me, or I to him, than a very 
 good friend. 
 
 We are fond of each other, of course, 
 and I have been particularly happy 
 because he has singled me out as one, 
 perhaps the only one, to whom he could 
 talk freely in these dreary years of your 
 absence. 
 
 It's an honor that any one might crave 
 to be the confidante of such a man 
 an henor I shall appreciate the longest 
 day I live. He's so true, so loyal, not 
 one bit of alloy one of the noblest and 
 best men that God in His goodness ever 
 sent into this needy old world. 
 
 He's as staunch as the perpetual hills, 
 and you'll perhaps remember, on second 
 thought, that I am not the one upon 
 whom his affection has been fixed. 'Tis 
 true, 'tis pity, and pity 'tis, 'tis true." 
 
 No, my dear girl, you'll have to do a 
 little cleverer guessing, or, like the Irish- 
 man's hare, you'll never get there. You 
 
 [198]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 remember, he was carrying a hare to a 
 sick man when it escaped from its basket 
 and ran away. He made no effort to 
 catch it, saying only, "Ye may run, and 
 run, and run, but ye can't get there for 
 ye haven't the address." 
 
 I'm surprised that you, of all people, 
 should think of even a shadow of fickle- 
 ness in connection with Jack. Such a 
 thing is unthinkable. No, Jack chooses 
 his wife as he does his friends, for all time. 
 
 And now for the correct address. I 
 wonder, if, from all that I have written, 
 you feel that you know the doctor. You 
 met him years ago and remember him 
 vaguely, you say, but he is one of those 
 men who cannot stand still a moment. 
 He is progressive to the tips of his fingers. 
 He has a remarkable mind and the 
 kindest heart in the world. He's a 
 student, and what pleases me more than 
 anything else is the fact that the aim of all 
 his research is the good of humanity. 
 
 [199]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 And so your mental picture of him 
 dancing a cotillion as a senior at Yale 
 is not likely to fit him altogether in his 
 splendid and serious manhood, for he is 
 very much in earnest. 
 
 At first, I am afraid I was a little 
 prejudiced against him, myself. He has 
 such a way of going to the bottom of 
 things and I trembled for some of our 
 pet Southern institutions and ideas, for 
 he isn't the one to handle them with 
 gloves. But I soon came to know him 
 and to value him at his true worth, if 
 that is possible. 
 
 One thing we liked so much, from the 
 first, was his interest in the hospital 
 scheme. He thinks it grand and says 
 it will be a privilege to help in it with 
 both money and professional services. 
 There's but one condition that he insists 
 upon and that is that Jack must take a 
 long rest before finally plunging into 
 this work. We intend to see that this 
 
 [200]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 part of the program is carried out to the 
 letter. 
 
 And now, do you guess it all at last, 
 or shall I tell you something that I have 
 as yet told to no one outside my own 
 family that there's to be a wedding 
 at The Beeches before many moons, a 
 quiet home wedding, as the society 
 reporters say, and moreover, the "high 
 contracting parties" do not include Dr. 
 Jack, but "the doctor" will be prominent 
 in the ceremony, which will doubtless 
 be "simple and impressive" and all that 
 a faithful recorder of social events may 
 desire. 
 
 New York, April sixth. 
 
 You'll know without my telling you 
 
 that it's on shopping I'm bent. There 
 
 are some things the feminine mind grasps 
 
 intuitively, and my presence in New 
 
 [201 ]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 York, I've no doubt, will speak for itself. 
 
 Fortunately, father had business calling 
 him to this big, elongated city, and I was 
 glad enough to be permitted to accompany 
 him. I always liked a trip with him 
 above all things. He made it clear in 
 advance that there was to be no shopping 
 for him. As if I would think for a 
 moment of dragging dear old daddy 
 around with me! Punishment of that 
 sort I would not mete out to even "my 
 dearest foe." 
 
 The beauty about New York is that 
 it meets every situation. You simply 
 press the button and the hotel people do 
 the rest. If it's a chaperone you desire, 
 she appears on the scene forthwith, 
 neatly bonneted and gloved, and ready 
 to do her duty to the extent of shaking 
 her umbrella, if need be, at any over- 
 officious youth who may look your way. 
 
 A shopping companion was all that I 
 required and I found the lady they sent 
 
 [202]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 me so agreeable and efficient, in a general 
 way, that I engaged her for all sorts of 
 services. 
 
 One afternoon, upon the invitation of 
 an old friend, I attended a session of the 
 Women's Press Club. You should have 
 seen us women of brains, moulders of 
 public opinion, sweeping down "Peacock 
 Alley," the suggestive name given to the 
 main corridor leading to the club gallery. 
 
 There was no dropping of plumage 
 as the press women in groups of two or 
 three their picture hats bedecked with 
 long nodding plumes, their princess frocks 
 adorned with a cascade of lace or a sweep 
 of ermine, here and there passed be- 
 neath the scrutiny of the curious eyes 
 on either side of "Peacock Alley." 
 
 I pinched myself to be sure that I was 
 not in a dream, and, on the first oppor- 
 tunity, asked my friend if the newspaper 
 women of New York were all of the 
 millionaire class and doing their work 
 
 [203]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 from a desire to lift the press from the 
 mire of sensationalism, or from some 
 equally lofty motive. 
 
 She replied that a club of this kind 
 attracted a sort of bright women of a 
 literary turn and afforded both amusement 
 and work for women of wealth and 
 fashion. It also gave opportunity to 
 others who like to be in the limelight. 
 The modern woman seeks to be amused 
 and also likes to have something to do, 
 she said; and there was some good work 
 in the club, so that its existence was 
 justified on that score. I thought so, too, 
 before the afternoon was over. 
 
 The program was brilliant. Mrs. Ever- 
 ett Thurston Seaman, who, you know, 
 responds on occasions to the call of the 
 wild, demonstrated that she is a skillful 
 lion tamer, her lions, this time, being a 
 renowned sculptor, a celebrated artist, 
 a social economist and others of note, all 
 of whom she put through their paces in 
 
 [204]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 fine style. It was a treat to see how 
 beautifully she did it. 
 
 I was especially interested in a talk 
 by the daughter of a famous American 
 astronomer, who has taken up her dead 
 father's work. She described a total 
 eclipse in the Land of the " Midnight 
 Sun," closing with Jean Paul Richter's 
 finely descriptive words," The heart acheth 
 with infinity." 
 
 One sees all kinds of people at the hotel 
 and father and I are having our own fun 
 in studying human nature. Last evening 
 as we were going down in the elevator 
 a motherly old lady asked the boy who 
 was running it if he got very tired. He 
 frankly confessed that he did, when she 
 instantly wanted to know what made 
 him tired. 
 
 "Is it the sight of so many people?" 
 she asked. 
 
 "Oh, no," said the boy, with a mis- 
 chievous look in his eye. 
 
 [205]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 " Perhaps it's standing all day long, "she 
 said. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind that a little bit," 
 he said gayly. 
 
 "Is it the motion, do you think? I'm 
 sure I couldn't stand that." 
 
 "No, madam, it isn't the motion." 
 
 "Well, what is it then, that makes you 
 so tired?" 
 
 "Why," he said, looking her wickedly 
 in the eye, "it's answering all kinds of 
 foolish questions." 
 
 I have drawn out my letter to the point 
 of weariness, I'm afraid, and not a word 
 about the shows and the lovely things in 
 the shop windows. That will have to 
 await my next. 
 
 New York, April twenty-fourth. 
 Dear old Chum: 
 
 The days in New York are lengthening 
 out much against my will. Alas, the 
 
 [206]
 
 
 'It's answering all kinds of foolish questions"
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 problem of clothes is more vexing by far 
 than I could have imagined, and yet I'm 
 bent on having things as simple as 
 possible. 
 
 "Ah, yes, mademoiselle, zees beautiful 
 seemplicity it is not so easy to attain," 
 says the French modiste who holds my 
 destiny in her hands, and I conclude she 
 is right. 
 
 Meantime we are seeing a good deal 
 of this big, buzzing, overcrowded bee- 
 hive, where the king bees crowd out the 
 little fellows so relentlessly and insist 
 on having all the sweets. 
 
 We were passing one of the big hotels 
 on Fifth Avenue, father and I, when a 
 richly dressed lady came tripping down 
 the steps to enter the motor-car awaiting 
 her. She was carrying her poodle, a 
 pampered little pet with diamond brace- 
 lets on its forelegs. We supposed they 
 were only paste, but the effect was just 
 the same, 
 
 [207]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 That same day we drove through one 
 of the squalid quarters of the city and 
 noticed a group of poor children playing 
 out in the bare street their sole play- 
 thing an empty spool and a cotton string. 
 
 How I did ache to get hold of those 
 little human plants that are prematurely 
 seared and blighted because the streams 
 of affection have never been turned their 
 way. Wouldn't they revive under the 
 sunlight of love such love, for example, 
 as is given to a poodle by my lady of 
 fashion ? 
 
 Your experiences have been deepening 
 your character, I can see it all the time. 
 You were always all that I could wish, 
 sweet and patient and thoughtful for 
 others, and yet I know that you will 
 come home to us with something that you 
 never had before. Every letter shows 
 me this. 
 
 It would be a grief to me if I couldn't 
 report a little bit of progress, too. The 
 
 [208]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 doctor, generous to a fault, and helpful 
 always, has been an inspiration to me. 
 It's a new and beautiful world that he 
 has opened up for me and I thank God 
 for it. 
 
 I've been shopping the greater part 
 of each day. Daddy tells me to go right 
 ahead and get what I want; that every 
 girl is entitled to her fling at the one 
 important event of her life. But I have 
 chosen moderation for my watchword 
 and am indulging in no wild extrava- 
 gances. It was hats to-day, and they're 
 always a trial. They're growing in size 
 all the time, too, which gives the funny 
 man of the newspapers a suggestion. 
 Here's a clever little squib on the girl and 
 her hat, which I cut out of a paper to-day : 
 
 "Push up the clouds to let her stand 
 
 Erect upon the ground, 
 And shove the wide horizon back 
 To let her turn around." 
 
 [209]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 There are a few things I always have to 
 do in New York. I'm just democratic 
 enough to crave a drive up Fifth Avenue 
 on the roof of one of those rattling, 
 banging, quivering old omnibuses. It 
 gives me my only chance in life to look 
 down on some of the plutocrats whose 
 homes line that aristocratic thoroughfare. 
 Do I envy them ? Not a bit of it. Why, 
 there's not one of them I'd change places 
 with ; but I try to be humble about it. 
 
 Then, I'm never satisfied until I spend 
 a quiet hour within the walls of dear old 
 St. Paul's chapel with bustling, noisy 
 Broadway shut out. The peace that 
 steals over one within those walls is a 
 sweet foretaste of heaven, and every 
 thought is a prayer, or a song of praise. 
 
 The world is big, but not so big but 
 that one runs across old friends every- 
 where. We were dining one evening 
 when we noticed a gentleman sitting near 
 who seemed to watch daddy rather closely. 
 
 [210]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 At the close of the meal he came and 
 spoke to us. It proved to be father's 
 old friend, Colonel Shane of Shumway, 
 Missouri, whom he had not seen for years. 
 
 The colonel prides himself on never 
 forgetting a face. What a faculty it is 
 to be able to place a person, no matter 
 when or where you meet him! Later in 
 the evening we three chatted in the 
 library and, apropos of his memory for 
 faces, Colonel Shane told us an exciting 
 little story, a story with the flavor of old 
 Missouri in it. 
 
 COLONEL SHANE'S STORY. 
 
 Three or four years ago, when I was 
 editing the Chronicle in our little town, 
 a man who was a stranger to me came 
 into my office one day. In the course 
 of our conversation he mentioned a 
 train robbery that had taken place near 
 our town a night or two before. 
 
 I asked him how he came to know 
 
 [211]
 
 MY SOLDIER LADY 
 
 about this robbery, he having arrived 
 only the night before. He replied that 
 he had read of it in the Chronicle of the 
 evening previous. 
 
 I told him at once that that could not 
 be, as, owing to a breakdown in the 
 machinery, no paper had been issued the 
 evening before. He seemed much con- 
 fused when I said this, and, making some 
 excuse, hurried away. 
 
 There was something about his hasty 
 exit that aroused my suspicion and, like 
 a flash, came the conviction that he him- 
 self was the train robber. That was the 
 way he knew of it. 
 
 I hurriedly called up the authorities 
 and gave a minute description of the 
 man and in a short time the officers were 
 in hot pursuit of him, but it became 
 evident before many hours that he had 
 left town and probably made his escape 
 altogether. 
 
 I felt more than ever convinced that 
 
 [212]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 he was the guilty man and the thought 
 that he had escaped from under my very 
 eyes was a source of mortification to me. 
 
 Three months later I chanced to be in 
 another part of the state, and, just as 
 I was leaving the train at a small station, 
 my eye fell on the very man who had 
 been in my thoughts so much. 
 
 There was no time to lose; and, pulling 
 out my revolver, I shoved it under his 
 nose, ordering him to hold up his hands. 
 
 To-day he is in our state prison paying 
 the penalty of his crime, which was 
 easily proved against him. He laugh- 
 ingly admitted to me, after his conviction, 
 that he had given himself away by that 
 story about seeing the report of the 
 robbery in the Chronicle. He had been 
 just fishing for information. 
 
 It was a strange series of events that 
 resulted in his conviction, but I attribute 
 it chiefly to my never failing to recognize 
 a man whose face I have once seen. 
 
 [213]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 To-morrow we shall leave for the 
 South. How glad I am that the time is 
 almost here. There will be some letters 
 awaiting me, I'm sure. 
 
 P. S. We were here for Easter, of 
 course. The sky on that day absolutely 
 refused to be blue, leaving the entire 
 quantity of that hue for my lady's heart, 
 since there was a pouring rain just at the 
 church hour. My every-day hat wor- 
 shipped at the "little church around the 
 corner." In the afternoon father dragged 
 me down to the big mission school on 
 East Sixth Street. We thought of you 
 as we watched those three thousand 
 wriggling, twisting little waifs, and were 
 complete converts to your mission of 
 soap for the domestic as well as the 
 foreign field. 
 
 I was glad I had sent you six instead of 
 the coveted two bottles of perfume. You'll 
 have enough to rival the blest odors of 
 Araby. 
 
 [214]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 We are enjoying the subway. It saves 
 so much time. We went out to call at 
 Cousin Nan's, seven miles distant, in 
 twelve minutes. Daddy says we've spent 
 so much time in the subway he won't 
 half mind being buried. It's a wonderful 
 city this, builded upon a rock, perched 
 here on the upper lip of old ocean; but 
 if Neptune should conclude to lick his 
 chops some day, Wall Street might not 
 have time to put on her immunity bathing 
 suit. 
 
 By the way, Mary Phillips, of your 
 class, lives here the wife of a high 
 school man. I have seen quite a little 
 of her. 
 
 When she asked me if I was still heart- 
 whole and fancy-free, for the first time 
 in my life I felt myself blushing at being 
 quizzed on this tender subject. My lips 
 framed a hasty denial, but the warmth 
 in my face doubtless led her to question 
 if I could possibly be guilty of a well, 
 
 [215]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 you know what old Chloe asks every 
 Monday morning "Whar am dat con- 
 secrated lye?" 
 
 And, now, Nice Boy, don't write those 
 lovely things about me again. It is such 
 a hard thump to fall from the pedestal 
 where you place me. It is you, dear, 
 who are teaching us all lessons of courage, 
 you who are fighting the good fight. 
 The captain salutes you as general. 
 
 The Beeches, 
 April twenty-ninth. 
 
 I'm back from dear, noisy old New 
 York, and wildly joyful to be able once 
 again to pitch my tent and set my foot 
 on the soft, yielding turf beneath the 
 beeches. The first morning at home I 
 felt as if I must run like mad to our 
 favorite spot, the slope beyond the old 
 ice-house, and roll down the hill, bumpety- 
 
 [216]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 bump, then turn a hand-spring or two 
 and finish up by taking a race on stilts. 
 If you'd been here, we'd have done it. 
 
 That was our old program, you know, 
 when something great happened. Do 
 you remember our wild outburst when 
 we were elected to go to the lakes that 
 first trip? We could never get up quite 
 so much steam again. It's the first time 
 that counts. You gather the cream then, 
 and after that it's likely to be skimmed 
 milk. 
 
 But there really is no place like home, 
 and no home like Kentucky. 
 
 Come to think of it, it would be strange 
 indeed if no one had ever sung his heart 
 out about the old Kentucky home. Why, 
 if you'd stick a quill into the hands of 
 a man carved from wood and set him 
 down among our beeches and maples on 
 a May morning, he'd burst into poetry 
 or he'd deserve the torch. 
 
 The doctor met us at Pittsburg, where 
 
 [217]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 we were to spend a day in looking up an 
 old acquaintance of father's. It hurts 
 daddy if any friend of his ever sets foot 
 on Kentucky soil and doesn't make a 
 pilgrimage to The Beeches; and he's 
 frightfully conscientious, when traveling, 
 about hunting up his old associates. I 
 tell him he'd never do for a globe-trotter, 
 for he would have to stop at every hamlet 
 to renew old acquaintance. We wound 
 up our day at Pittsburg by a drive out 
 to the Zoo, and a peep at the animals. 
 There were lots of children playing about, 
 and, as usual, the monkeys were a 
 drawing card. A dimpled little tot, aged 
 two, who had never seen a monkey 
 before, looked at the grinning creature 
 as if deeply puzzled. 
 
 "Is it a bow-wow?" asked his mother. 
 
 " No, no," said the baby, still gazing. 
 
 At length he looked up and smiled 
 brightly. 
 
 "A bow-wow-man," he said. 
 
 [218]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 His classification amused us immensely. 
 
 And here we are at home, and father's 
 just about as foolish and giddy as I am. 
 He's a Kentuckian from the ground up, 
 you know. 
 
 I have a request to make, and I believe 
 it will give you pleasure to grant it. 
 There's a young missionary going over 
 in June to China by way of Japan, and 
 I am wondering if you cannot go up to 
 Yokohama early in July and possibly 
 take this young person, who will be a 
 stranger in a strange land, home with 
 you for a few days. It would be a 
 gracious thing to do, and I'm sure the 
 courtesy would be greatly appreciated. 
 You'll do this, I know, and I'll tell my 
 friend to count on it. 
 
 June eighth. 
 
 And now, dearest, the secret is out, 
 or will be before this reaches you. Let 
 
 [319]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 me see just twenty-four hours, fifty- 
 three minutes and twenty-nine seconds 
 since our missionary turned his face 
 Japan wards. I promised to wait a full 
 day before writing you; the minutes and 
 seconds are thrown in for good measure. 
 
 And so the lonely traveler, with his 
 badge upon his arm, has come to you. 
 Yes, and he has seen and conquered as 
 well as come. Of this I'm sure. You'll 
 forgive us for sending a stalwart medicine 
 man, won't you, dear? You'll pardon 
 the surprise, too. I didn't dare cable 
 you that he was coming. 
 
 The last thing Jack did before leaving 
 was to send me a note. I've been so 
 happy in reading it with the doctor I 
 want to share it with you. Here it is: 
 
 Everything is done at last. Uncle 
 Tobey has just called me up to say that 
 my trunk and bags have gone. Dr. 
 Brainard is duly installed at the office 
 
 [220]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 and is fitting into the place like a nickel 
 in a slot. Othello's occupation's gone, 
 and the old fellow hasn't a regret in the 
 world. 
 
 Hereafter I'm ready to swear by the 
 French proverb that it's the unexpected 
 that happens. Who would have believed 
 that from the wretched tangle in which 
 the threads of my life found themselves a 
 few days ago, twisted and knotted and 
 snarled, the kindly Fates would fashion 
 a web, smooth and flawless, and of their 
 own free will pass it over to me? What 
 have I done to deserve such considera- 
 tion? Well, to say the least, I'm deeply 
 grateful to the amiable trio who preside 
 over our destinies. 
 
 I tried last evening to tell you some- 
 thing of my feelings because of this 
 blessed culmination of affairs. I failed 
 utterly and I shall fail again, no doubt. 
 Can you imagine how it might seem to 
 be suddenly transported from a cave of 
 
 [221]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 the earth Stygian darkness, gloom im- 
 penetrable on every hand to the glorious 
 mountain-top with God's refulgent blue 
 above and beauty and sunlight and color 
 as far as the eye can reach ? 
 
 But for you, Elsie, it would never have 
 come about. I now see that I made a 
 miserable mistake to acquiesce in Betty's 
 plan of complete silence between us. 
 
 The dear girl has needed every friend 
 she had and only God knows how I 
 longed for her love and sympathy. 
 
 You have done everything in your 
 power to brighten and sweeten these 
 long years of her work in Japan, as 
 well as to help me bear the awful burden 
 of separation. I can never tell you how 
 I appreciate it all and, most of all, the 
 goodness of heart that led you to say 
 the word that brought us together. 
 
 The portals of heaven opened wide to 
 me that day you came and in your own 
 beautiful and tactful way told me that
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 you knew beyond a doubt that there 
 was in store for me the best gift that 
 heaven holds for any man the love and 
 loyalty of a noble woman. And such a 
 woman as Betty! 
 
 How well I recall the first time I saw 
 her! It was one evening at your Uncle 
 Caleb's. She was only a bit of a girl, 
 scarcely more than a child a radiant, 
 joyous creature and yet with a womanly 
 sweetness, grace and dignity that spoke 
 of a fine reserve force. I adored her on 
 the spot. How could I help it? Yet I 
 had very little hope of ever winning her. 
 I have loved her ever since, sometimes 
 hopelessly and sorrowfully and even with 
 upbraiding, but always fervently. The 
 splendid womanhood of which her girl- 
 hood gave promise has been richly ful- 
 filled and let me say right here that I 
 value more than I can say the spiritual 
 growth and beauty which have come to 
 her increasingly with every year of her
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 work over there. Her unselfish devotion 
 has the real spirit of Christianity in it 
 and because of it religion has taken on 
 a new meaning for me. 
 
 In a few hours I shall be on my way. 
 The journey will be tedious and I shall 
 be impatient, but I shall have many 
 happy reflections, not the least among 
 which will be the thought that my friend- 
 ship for you and the doctor is something 
 that can never grow cold. 
 
 Jack simply took things into his own 
 hands. We might have known that he 
 would the minute I gave him a hint of 
 the real situation. I could no more hold 
 him back than I could stem the flow of 
 Niagara. I'm free to confess that I 
 made no efforts to do so. 
 
 There wasn't the slightest necessity 
 of sounding the dear man as to whether 
 he felt exactly as he did four years ago. 
 There's never been a moment that he 
 
 [224]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 didn't worship you, and I have known 
 it all the time. But there was the pledge 
 of silence, which he felt in honor bound 
 to observe. You must remember, too, 
 that you never gave him the remotest 
 hook upon which to hang his hopes. 
 
 I tell you, it went to my heart many a 
 time to see how the loneliness, hopeless- 
 ness and weariness were killing him. 
 He plunged into his work with an energy 
 born of despair, taking a fresh start 
 from time to time, going night and day, 
 writing papers for the medical journals, 
 delivering addresses before the state so- 
 cieties, but finding his only real con- 
 solation, his one crumb of joy, in planning 
 for his hospital for children. It was that 
 alone which kept him from despair. 
 
 When the chance came to me to really 
 do something to help matters along, I 
 tell you I leaped into the breach. I'd 
 been praying all along that things would 
 right themselves, but, somehow, I felt 
 
 [225]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 like the little girl on her way to school. 
 There were two of them, you know, and 
 they were afraid they'd be tardy. One 
 little girl said, "Let's kneel down and 
 pray that we'll not be tardy." "Oh, 
 no," said the other, "we'll hike on to 
 school and pray while we're hikin'." 
 
 I have faith in prayer, myself, when 
 backed by works, and I was never happier 
 in my life than when I went to Jack and 
 gave him to understand, very delicately, 
 of course, that you had found out your 
 own heart. 
 
 The doctor was delighted, too, for the 
 two have grown to be the greatest cronies, 
 inseparable, in fact. 
 
 Jack declared there were a thousand 
 little things that I could tell you better 
 than he, and asked me to send a letter 
 to Yokohama, explaining everything. 
 The letter should reach you, he said, 
 before you would start on your long 
 voyage homeward. 
 
 [226]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 On the evening before Jack left us, 
 he and the doctor and I talked it all over, 
 his plans and ours, and if there was a 
 more ecstatic trio in America it has not 
 been heard from at the present writing. 
 
 Jack's plan was, in general, that you 
 and he should be married immediately, 
 so that he should have the undisputed 
 right to take care of you from the hour 
 of his arrival. He hoped then to prevail 
 on you to take a leisurely trip on around 
 to Paris. 
 
 I am positive this plan will be carried 
 out, in spite of any arrangement you may 
 have entered into about the school. I 
 have every confidence in our medicine 
 man. The dear fellow said the school 
 was all right in its place, he wished it 
 well, but it would have to step back now; 
 and that nothing could quite make up for 
 his sacrifice in waiting for you these long 
 four years, now that he knows you have 
 cared for him all the time. 
 
 [227]
 
 MY SOLDIER LAD Y 
 
 Jack will tell you the rest how the 
 doctor and I are to be married late in 
 June, and leave the same day for Paris, 
 where you will meet us, but he can never 
 tell of the joy that fills my soul, for it is 
 unspeakable. 
 
 P. S. We'd better meet at No. 1, 
 Place de 1'Opera, hadn't we? We are 
 to get our mail there. 
 
 [228]
 
 LITTLE GOLDIE 
 GOLDENROD 
 
 EVERY little reader of this story will surely want 
 to know more about Little Goldie. Watch for 
 the third volume in " The Garden Series " to be 
 entitled "LITTLE GOLDIE GOLDENROD AND 
 HER FRIENDS." 
 
 In the next story we shall visit Little Goldie's home 
 at the edge of the fresh, green woods. 
 
 There we shall meet a delightful troupe of new flower 
 friends, as well as the Bee, Grasshopper, Ant, Cricket 
 and Squirrel families, all Little Goldie's neighbors. 
 
 These little folks will be found just as amusing and 
 delightful as Billy Bullfrog, Topsy Thistle and others 
 of Little Polly's friends. 
 
 DON'T MISS THE CHANCE to spend a day with 
 Little Goldie Goldenrod. She has some delightful 
 surprises in store for her guests. 
 
 Ready early next year. Cloth, Colored Illustrations. 
 Price 75 cents. 
 
 At all Booksellers or sent postpaid by 
 
 THE C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO. 
 211 Tremont Street, Boston, Massachusetts
 
 THE GARDEN 
 SERIES 
 
 By CARRO FRANCES WARREN 
 
 WHEN completed will comprise SIX of the most 
 fascinating, and at the same time uplifting and 
 instructive stories for children ever written. 
 The titles are : 
 
 (1) LITTLE BETTY MARIGOLD AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 (2) LITTLE POLLY PRIMROSE AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 (3) LITTLE GOLDIE GOLDENROD AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 (4) LITTLE TOPSY THISTLE AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 (5) LITTLE PETER PANSY. 
 
 (6) LITTLE DANNY DANDELION. 
 
 Of these the first two have already been issued, and 
 numbers 3 and 4 will be published in 1909. 
 
 Each volume will contain a page showing all the 
 flowers mentioned in the story, in all the beauty of 
 their natural colors. These Nature studies will be of 
 great interest and value to every child reader. 
 
 The many colored illustrations and handsome bind- 
 ing will make any or all of these volumes most attrac- 
 tive gift books for children. They will be sold at a 
 uniform price of 75 cents each. 
 
 At all Booksellers, or sent postpaid by 
 
 THE C. M. CLARK PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 211 Tremont Street, Boston, Massachusetts