University of Michigan - Michiganensian Yearbook (Ann Arbor, MI)

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U ' ell you see, Mr. Editor, John is a soldier, and oh ! he is such a brave sol- dier too. He is my brother, and when I was downstairs with Mrs. Wallace I heard a man say that you would know all about the soldiers up here, so when Mrs. Wal- lace left me in the store for a little while I just came up to see. Now honestly, do you know, Mr. Editor? Please tell me about John, for mamma will be so glad to know. The editor found it hard to keep back a tear as he listened to the earnest inquiry of this wee little maiden as to her soldier brother ' s safety. He took her into his arms and as he looked into her soft blue eyes, he was reminded of his own little girl who had been taken from him years ago. What is your brother ' s name little dear? he said to her in a low gentle voice. Why, don ' t you know, Mr. Editor? she said, It ' s John Campbell, and he ' s a Rough Rider. For a moment the editor could not trust, himself to speak. The words of the message, on the block-house at San Juan came back to him. He thought, too, of the little girl ' s mother who was sick in a tenement house, and perhaps wait- ing for her soldier boy to return. Then he pressed her to his breast and said so quietly and gently that she could scarcely hear him, My brave little girl, I am quite sure that John is out of all danger now, God bless you ! R. P. A Soldier ' s Death. HE wind had died down, and within an hours time I ' d be on sentinel duty Phil had grown much weaker that afternoon and his flushed face told of his extreme suffering. He tossed restlessly on his gray blanket and at times, in his delerium talked of Mac and Shep and our other college chums. I sat by his side heartsore and anxious, and regretting more than I can say that I had persuaded him into enlistment. Finally he lay still and opened his eyes. Ah ! It ' s you Jim, he said, half smiling, then added, Been any more firing to-day? I shook my head. Jim, it ' s all up with me. I ' m done for. I could not keep back the tears. He noticed this. There old fellow, never mind about me. There ' s many another of us will stay on this island, and mother ' s and - He closed his eyes for a dozen minutes. I could see by the trembling movement of his lips that he was praying.

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Here Clem, he said to the office boy, take this down to Davis and have it posted on the bulletins at once. Doubtless there will be many such reports before the day is over, he said to himself as he turned again to his work. The words of that message to plant the flag on the block-house at San Juan, kept passing through his mind. He even permitted himself for a moment, in spite of the busy hour to picture in his mind the scene of that memorable charge. He saw the gallant Rough Riders, far in advance of the firing line, go dashing up the hill. A galling fire from the block-house cut down many a brave fellow, but on they went up to the very walls of the fortification. A tall sergeant, flag in hand, appeared on the wall. It was Sergeant Campbell. As he turned to his comrades, with a shout of victory, a cruel Mauser cut him down and he fell back into the arms Please sir, are you the newspaper man ? said a childish voice at his side that brought him to the realization that he was not at Santi- ago with the Rough Riders, but in fact in the office of the Evening Post, and a very busy man at that. He wheeled about in his chair and saw there, standing before him in a half-timid, half-inquiring attitude, a little girl. She was just a little tot, with big blue, expressive eyes, that were not bold, but seemed to tell him that she had a purpose in so bravely venturing into the crowded office of a newspaper at such a time. Her cheeks were not rosy like those of most children of her age. Indeed there seemed to be a care- worn expression about the face of this little visitor that was not natural in one so young. She was so small that no one had noticed her as she wandered into the room that seemed so new and strange to her. At first she had walked over to the city editor ' s desk and was about to present herself there, but he seemed so busy and looked so fierce that she turned again and her eyes rested on the kind face of the managing editor. So she stepped up and put the question that brought him from his reverie. I ' m the very person you are looking for, no doubt, my little lady, said the editor in a cheerful tone as he took her by the hand and drew her near him. And what is it that such a little girl can want with a newspaper man ? Well, you see, Mr. Newspaper-man, she said, encouraged by the kind words and manner of the editor, my home, I think, is way over that way. She looked out the window and pointed toward the location of the tenement district over on the North Side, and mamma is so sick she couldn ' t come, but you musn ' t tell her for she would be worried if she knew I had left Mrs. Wallace. And who is Mrs. Wallace? interrupted the editor. Why, don ' t you know Mrs. Wallace? She is mamma ' s best friend and when she came over this morning she wanted to take me up town with her, for I hadn ' t been out of the house since mamma has been sick. I ' m very sorry that mamma is ill, but why did you come here ? inquired the editor, who was now deeply interested.

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When he again opened his eyes tears were in them. Jim, he said in husky voice, Jim I ' m going before long. When you go back to the boys at college, tell them I I I . He faltered here and after a short space The chimes Jim I hear the chimes God God is kind, Jim r Another pause. Oh will you you hurry, Jim ! Only three minutes left and and I won ' t bolt. I can ' t bolt I But then an angel in Heaven took pity and came down, and angel and hero left me there alone. And so passed the life of a Michigan student soldier at the foot of El Caney. The Bachelor ' s Reason. i. J ikwjjOU ask me for a story of the war. Really, Joe you could not t bear with me if I should repeat incidents with which you are B familiar. Why, you know almost every inch of ground in H Cuba, for oft have I portrayed my war experience to you. Let me H k tell you tlio ' . two stories that I heard last night. I was at the Club H B as usual a crony with the cronies. The smoke was as thick as a B F Cuban fog, and how well can I see that choking vapor as it settled HF over the boys back in ' 98 when our regiment was camping around VVLw Siboney. The smoke, as I said, hung thickly; but just as the double B doors at the far end of the room swung to and fro a space was Jr fl cleared, and through the curling wreaths a black face appeared. It f } L was the face of Ebony, the veteran porter of the club. Stories had gone the rounds and now a cry arose, Eb ! A story of the war from Eb. Well sah, gemmen, Ah clean doan ' know what to tell. It am so long ago. But dare am de ole familah face ob Mistah Seby, and aldo it am wrinkled now, an ' his hair am grey, Ah can see him many, many years ago at Siboney, hey-ah-ah! Well sah Ah ' ll neber foahget de time when Ah cooked foah him an ' de company, an when he done doctered de rice. One day we had rice; Mistah Seby he have a frien ' who mess wif him, and he say to me, ' Eb, Ah want to play a joke on Fred an ' besides Ah want all de rice foah Ah am shore hungry. ' Says he ' Ma stomach am strong so jus ' yo ' drap a liza ' d in de pot. : Ma Lord ! I couldn ' t spoil de rice so Eb says to hisself, ' humph, umph, dis niggah won ' spoil no rice, ' so I jus ' took de top ob a boot an ' cut a liza ' d out