Momence High School - Monesse Yearbook (Momence, IL)

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JUNIOR YEAR BOOK. way you remember mother? You don’t know anything about what you can do till you try. But mother is coming. Straighten yourself up now.” So saying, he left the room. Mrs. Ross had wiped away all traces of tears, and, as her eyes met Davie’s, she smiled bravely. Crossing the room to his side, she said: “So my son is to be a soldier.” “Yes.” Davie felt a little hurt that she should take it so lightly. He did not yet know his mother as well as he might. If he had turned around, he would have seen how hard it was for her to keep her voice steady as she said: “Your country needs you, and you will be fighting in a noble cause.” Then fearing he would think her cold and unfeeling, she continued, “It will be hard to give up both my boys, but if they are willing to go, I must do my part as bravely as I can.” This unmanned Davie, and turning around, he exclaimed impetuously, “Mother, what is the use of our saying all those things and trying to hide it? You know that I do not want to go, and you know just as well as I do that I won’t be worth any more than a dish rag upon a battlefield.” Then, as he saw the look of pain on her face, he realized, with an almost overwhelming sense of shame, what he was saying. He forgot himself in his love for her, and said, “Forgive me, mother. I was cruel to talk to you like that. I will want to go, for your sake, and for our country’s sake; and I will do my best to make you proud of me.” “There, that is the way to talk.” Mrs. Ross was well aware of what a struggle was in store for Davie, and her heart ached for him; but she did not dare to let him know what she felt, for fear it would completely unnerve him. But it was hard, so hard, to have to give up both her boys, and, of the two, it was by far the hardest to let Davie go. He, gentle and affectionate, had always been the petted darling. She had sometimes wished he had been a girl, and oh! how she wished it now! The next afternoon they stood upon the platform at the dingy little station in Kauka. Maxwell, tall and erect, his black eyes flashing, looking every inch a soldier; Davie, his lithe form as straight as a pine, his face pale, his lips pressed into a mere line, and his jaws firmly set, looking as if he were already fighting a fiercer battle than any encountered on the battle-field. Tearful little Mrs. Ross hovered around them, with many parting injunctions. The train came in with a rush and a roar. Then the last hurried good-byes were spoken. Davie lingered for a moment behind Max, and, as his mother clung to his hand, he felt her pressing something into it, and, as a dream, he heard her saying, “Be true to the one for the sake of the other, Davie.” The conductor yelled, “All aboard,” there was the final rush, and before Davie knew it, he was standing on the rear platform, watching a rapidly fading figure waving a handkerchief. When he could no longer see it, he looked in his hand for an explanation of her last words. There was her likeness, wrapped in a tiny silken flag. Thrusting it hastily into his pocket, he went into the car, and sinking into the nearest seat, bowed his head upon his hand, and did not look up or speak up until they reached Odin, whfere they changed cars, taking the Ohio and Mississippi for St. Louis. At Odin a college friend of Maxwell’s boarded the train, and the two boys seated themselves together. Davie sought a corner by himself as before. He could hear the boys talking, but paid no attention until he heard the words: “Taking the baby along too, Max? What is that for? Much good will come of it.” Davie flushed and ground his teeth, then he heard Maxwell’s voice, low with suppressed anger, saying, “Don’t you talk that way, Dick, if you want room in this

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JUNIOR YEAR BOOK. £n ’ 61 . First Prize Story— by Sadie Crosby. “Little mother, I have something to tell you which you will think is bad news.” “Max,—what?” The tall, handsome young man put his arm around his mother before he answered gently: “Your two sons are to wear the blue.” “Do you mean that you and Davie are drafted?” The last word was said hesitatingly, as one picks up a bomb. “Yes, that is just it.” Does Davie know?” “Yes.” Then he read the question in her eyes. “He didn’t say a word, mother, but his face got as pale as death. It’s going to be hard for him. I don’t mind for myself. I want to go and help, but I wish you could keep Davie with you.” “Oh! I don’t see how I can let him go, Max. It’s dif¬ ferent with you. You are so brave,—almost too brave. But Davie was never meant for anything like that. He will have a great deal more to struggle against than you will. He will have,—that—and all the rest, too. Oh! my poor boy!” she sobbed, covering her face with her hands. Davie’s weakness was always spoken of as “that’’ by his mother and brother. His father had been a coward, and Davie was the unfortunate victim of it. When a child, he was terrified by Fourth of July fireworks, and now, a young man, he was just as terrified by those larger fire-works which work so much havoc with human life. His mother had early recognized his cowardice, and, trying to counter¬ balance it, she had taught him to reverence the flag, and had made a true patriot of him. Now, his head bowed low upon his chest, he was coming dejectedly up the walk, in pitiable contrast to his usual happy, erect carriage. Max caught sight of him thru the window. “He’s coming, mother,’’ he warned. “You mustn’t let him see you like that.” Mrs. Ross ran hastily from the room, and Max turned to meet his brother. Davie kept his face averted, and crossing the room to a window, stood looking gloomily out. With two great strides, Max was by his side, and, clapping his hand on his shoulder, said: “Don’t take it so hard old boy. It won’t be half so bad as you think. Why, man, there isn’t a truer patriot in this wide land than you, and when you get there, and know you are fighting for your country, you will be as brave as the best. And besides,” he added softly, “You must bear up for mother’s sake, Davie.” Davie turned and gripped his hand. “You are a good fellow, Max, and I will remember what you said about mother. But it is different with you, and you don’t un¬ derstand. You will do something for your country and make mother proud of you, while I will do nothing but disgrace myself and make her ashamed of me. Oh you needn’t say anything! You know how it always has been with me, a—a miserable coward, afraid of a fire-cracker! How under the sun do you think I am going to stand up there, with flying bullets and dead and dying men all around me, and deliberately shoot down my fellow men? It will kill me, and I hope it will, the very first day. That will save me from disgracing you all. I don’t see why I needed to be so cursed.” “Davie Ross! Do you know what you are saying? I am ashamed of you! More than I will be if you run in every battle. Is that the way a patxfiot talks? Is that the

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INTERIOR OF BAPTIST CHURCH