Citcmnj. 
ANDERSONVILLE VIOLETS. 
Copyrighted by the Rural New-Yorker. 
All rights reserved. 
CHAPTER XI. 
breezetown's welcome. 
There were stirring times in old Breeze- 
town. It was a bright afternoon in May, and 
all Nature seemed to have put on a new 
dress in order to help out the celebration. The 
soldiers were eomiug home from the war. 
The long, cruel light was over at last, and the 
old ‘'town hoys” were coming back under the 
brave old elms—coming back heroes—with 
the tokens of a wonderful victory. The news 
had come in the morning, and by two o’clock 
the whole town had gathered on the green to 
welcome the boys. The stores were all closed, 
and every house in the town had sent its rep¬ 
resentative. Even the gray old farm houses 
clustered on the hills outside of the town had 
sent in their delegations. The old village 
flag, grown ragged in the cause of liberty, 
swung over the road in front of Bam Price’s 
hotel. 
The women and girls carried great bunches 
of flowers. Old Silas Plum and Eben Cobb, 
thin, white-haired soldiers of the war of 181.2, 
with drum and fife—honored by age and exe¬ 
cution—stood in front waiting for the signal 
to strike up with Yankee Doodle. They 
watched for tbs sign of the rising dust on the 
road far down under the trees. The men were 
gathered about the musicians, while a crowd of 
boys with tin horns could hardly be restrained 
from practicing their part of the greet¬ 
ing. To a boy, a celebration of any kind, can 
never bo complete without a hideous noise. 
As we grow older we learn the value of the 
silent, heart-felt greeting. The crowd stood 
in eager anticipation. No one could say that 
old Breezetown was not willing to do all she 
could to welcome back her brave sons. 
iShe had given her best and bravest—given 
them willingly. Forty-five men in all had 
gone from the old town. Home of them were 
dead they knew—there were sad hearts in 
that waiting crowd—sail hearts that looked 
down the long lines of elms where the boys 
had marched away. How many were dead 
—they could not say. The prison doors had 
swung bfiek at last, and all that lived were 
coming back. This was all they knew. 
Bix wagons bail been sent down to moet the 
train. These, with the stage would surely be 
enough to bring back the boys. So they 
stood waiting for the soldiers with a brave 
greeting for those who came, and a tear 
for those that death held back. 'There was 
no bitter fueling such as lay in the hearts of 
those who waited at the South for their boys 
to come home. Victory had been won, the 
glorious cause they knew to be right, had 
triumphed, and the glory so nobly won drew 
out for a moment the hitter stingv-hid for a 
moment the awful face of dlspair. 
A great cloud of dust surged up under the 
trees far down the road. The watchers on 
the hills saw it and came riding at full speed 
into town to prepare the way. The crowd 
formed in long lines along the street where 
the wagons might pass betweeu them. The 
Sunday school children—dressed all in white, 
stood with the bright flowers in their hands. 
The wives and mothers and sweethearts stood 
back of them, eager for a look at the well 
kuowu faces. The friends of those who can¬ 
not come from the grave, turn away with a 
choking feeling, that, they may not see how 
others are gla>L Such happiness would only 
make their grief harder to bear. They look 
up at the proudly waving Hag and the blow 
scums lighter. Their loved ones found victory 
at least—the country has been saved. 
The stage moves into view far down the 
shaded road. It, does not move as rapidly as 
they expected. The old musicians strike up 
their tune and the men take off their hats for 
the cheer. But a hush falLs over the crowd as 
one by one the wagons roll on through the 
dust. The eyes that strain for the first look 
at the dear ones can see that the wagons ure 
empty. Many u check pales and many a 
heart throbs as the empty seats tell their sad 
story. Many an eye is filled with tears that 
mercifully hide the sad procession. 
The stage halts in the crowd. The door 
opens and Uncle Nathan and .John Rockwell 
step out. They turn and tenderly lift from 
the seats two feeble men whose great hollow, 
death-like eyes fill with tears as the gentle 
arms of friends clasp them about. The boys 
have come home! 
The chour died uway on the lips of the 
crowd. Wus victory so precious then that 
such countless treasure must be paid for it? 
Did not the war “cost more than it came to?” 
The people fell back stupified by the cruel 
low. One. little girl brought her flowers and 
laid them in John’s band. Dear little girl, 
her father had died in Anilersonville praying 
to her mother’s face. 
The old men passed by in solemn procession 
to shake the soldiers’ hands. The women 
turned away with quivering lips—all but two. 
Uncle Nathan’s wife threw her arms about 
her husband’s neck and clung to him. A tear 
stole down the face of the stern old man as he 
kissed her. He thought of (he three bravo 
boys who could never come back to their 
mother. A little woman dressed in black, 
with a face as white as snow, and her bright 
curls brushed back from her foreuead, came 
timidly out from the crowd and put her two 
little hands into one of John’s. And as John 
looked down into Nellie’s eyes something told 
him that Archie hail told her the story while 
he was crossing the dead line. 
The people slowly fell away at last, and 
John and Nellie Iollowed Uncle Nathan and 
Aunt Susan to the wugon. The people went 
back to their homes. The celebration was 
over; but what of those whose friends came 
not? The Union was saved, the flag was 
whole once more, the victory had been won. 
But the aching hearts made answer—It cost 
too much; of wlmt use is the Union when its 
life is the death of those we love? There 
could bo no answer—only the flag rippled 
proudly in the air above them. 
Unde Nathan’s horse and wugoncame back¬ 
ing out of one of the sheds—at the rear of the 
meeting house—as they approached. The 
exit was slow ami laborious, for old Whitcy, 
who supplied the motive power, had seen his 
best days. Uncle Nathan patted the old beast 
affectionately, aud was much gratified to see 
that the horse appeared to know him. The 
wagon seemed like an old friend, and ho ex¬ 
amined it with a critical eye. Ho shook one 
of the wheels and whistled softly. 
“Flow long sense ye greased them wheels, 
Reuben?” he asked of the boy who had backed 
old Whitey out of the shed. This boy had 
doue his best to do “chores” aud take care of 
the “wimmon folks.” Reuben felt, hurt at 
this question. He seemed to consider this as 
an insinuation against his agricultural care¬ 
fulness. He felt that he had done his best as a 
home defender to keep the fighting members 
of the family at the front. He did not pro¬ 
pose that the value of the services of the home 
guard should be underestimated. 
“1 greased ’em this mornin’, an’ I’ve done 
jest as well as I could to keep things up 
straight. Just look at that boss, will ye? I'll 
leave it to Aunt Busan if 1 ain’t gone over an’ 
above my stent.” 
“So lie has, Nathan,” urged Aunt Susan at 
this juncture. “Reuben’s ben a good boy, au’ 
be ain’t done no complainin’.” 
Good old Uncle Nathan hastened to set 
matters right again. He had seen this boy’s 
father die like a a brave man, and he thought 
—it is only a boy after all. So he said nothing 
about a great scratch on the wagon, and he 
struigbtoned a trace that had been twisted, 
and buckled a dangling strap, without a word. 
“ 1 know yu done yer best Reuben, an’ 1 
stan’ ready ter give yo full credit for it. Old 
Whitey there looks as slick an’clean as can be, 
an’ I hear good reports of ye from nil sides. 
Ye wanter be a good boy now, an’ alluz mind 
what’s told ye, cause yer Pa, lie said to me 
jest afore he died that he set gret store by ye. 
But ye miisn’t cry now, that won’t do ye no 
good, ye know.” 
The bov at the mention of his father’s name, 
had dropped the look of pride that Uncle 
Nathan’s words had aroused. His mouth 
twitched with a great sob, and he laid his head 
on old Whitey’s shoulder. Wlmt was the 
victory to him? Old Whitey could sympathize 
with him at least. They had had many a 
quiet cry out, in the barn. The old horse 
turned his head and rubbed his nose affection¬ 
ately against the boy’s shoulder. Aunt Busan 
too, soothed t he poor little home soldier. 
“ Ye musn’tnry now Reuben—you’re gonter 
lie our boy now, ye kuow, an’ we’ll do by ye 
jest as wo would by one of our own.” 
Her voice trembled a little us she spoke, 
aud Uncle Nathan hid behind old Whitey’s 
face. At last they induced the coat-sleeve to 
leave the overflowing eyes, and the boy, with 
many a sob, and choke, recovered his self- 
control. Uncle Na than was bound to make 
the recovery as complete as poasible. He 
pulled aten-eent script from his pocket, and 
gave it to Reuben. 
“You’ve ben such a good boy that I’m gonter 
make ye a present. You’re pretty spry-legged, 
au’ I guess ye can run home, an’ then ugiu we’ll 
pretty nigh All up the wagon. Git ye some 
candy if ye wanter, only remember,” he added, 
cautiously, “be sorter careful what kind of a 
bargain yo make, cause money don’t grow on 
every bush, an’ it has ter be handled keorful 
to make anything out on’t.” 
Reuben ran away lo invest bis capital, and 
Uucle Natliau aud John helped the women 
into the wagon. It is safe to say t hat Reuben 
'PtettUatwattsi 
Chronic 
Cannot he cured hy local applicat ions. Tt la a consti¬ 
tutional disease and requires a constitutional remedy 
like Hood’s Sarsaparilla, which, working through Ihc 
blood, eradicates the Impurity which causes and pro¬ 
motes the disease, ami soon c(Teels a permanent cure. , 
At the same lime Hood’s Sarsaparilla builds up the 
whole system and makes you fool renewed In strength I 
and health. 
"Hood's Sarsaparilla has helped mo more for cat¬ 
arrh ami Impure blood than anything else 1 ever 
used.”—A Ball, Syracuse, N. Y. 
Catarrh 
**I have been troubled with Mint annoying disease, 
nasal catarrh, and have taken all kinds of blood puri¬ 
fiers, but never found relief till I used Hood's Sarsapa¬ 
rilla, which I am confident will do all that Is claimed. 
Hurrah for Hood's Sarsaparilla!**-.!. L. Routt, Marks- 
burg, Ky. 
Hood’s Sarsaparilla 
Sold by all druggists. $1; six for $r>. Prepared only 
hy C. 1. HOOD it CO., Apothecaries. Lowell. Mass. 
IOO Doses One Dollar 
went homo sweeter at mouth and lighter at 
pocket. Candy is to the average country boy 
what whiskey is to the drinking man. Not a 
country boy but will board up his pennies and 
leave the wholesome home sweets to purchase 
the uncertain mixture of sweets and disease 
found at the country store. 
“We want you to go home with us, John, 
an’ wo won’t take ‘no’ fer no answer,” said 
Uucle Nathan, as he climbed over the wheel. 
John had not the least thought of saying 
“no” when Nellie looked at him as she did. 
Without a word he climbed into the wagon 
and took his place on the frout seat. Uncle 
Nathan picked up the reins and clucked to old 
Whitey as an intimation that they were all 
ready to proceed. The patient horse bad 
grown old and stiff during the years of war, 
nttd under the doubtful training of the “wim- 
ntin folks” and Reuben be bad gained 
remarkably fast in laziness It was only ufter 
several sharp applications of the stick that he 
could bo induced to develop a rate of speed in 
any way satisfactory to the soldier. In thus 
forciby starting the current of Old Whitey’s 
being. Uncle Nnthau did not wish to be un¬ 
necessarily cruel. He selected a place on Old 
Whitey’s tough hide where the blows could 
be heard rather than felt. The old horse un¬ 
derstood matters at once. They drove through 
the town, Old Whitey keeping up his stumb¬ 
ling trot of his own accord as if proud of his 
burden, and desirous of showing it off to t.ho 
best advantage. The crowd had scattered 
unit the green was deserted. The people had 
gone home to the gray old farm houses to take 
up the dull life again and try to forget that 
under the joy of victory there crouched the 
the agony of despair. A few loungers were 
gathered about the l’ost (JHice and the seats in 
front of the store were all occupied. Uncle 
Nathan pulled in his steed at the Dost Office as 
was his wont to do. It seemed to him that he 
had just returned from a visit. 
“Jest bring me my mail will ye Deacon 
Bniitb. I kinder hate to leave the boss 
alone.” 
No one took nn exception to this very flimsy 
reason for asking Deacon Binith to bring the 
mail. John and the “wimniiu folks” did not 
feel iu the least insulted. Deacon Smith and 
the rest of the spectators knew that it was 
the delight of Old Whitey’s life to be left alone 
in such a condition. The entire company un¬ 
derstood the matter so there was nothing to 
be said. Deacon Binith disappeared in (lie of¬ 
fice aud presently returned with a paper in 
his hand. 11c brought it out. to the wagon and 
handed to Uncle Nathan. IIo glanced over 
hifl spectacles at the two soldiers as he ner¬ 
vously brushed the dust away from the wheel. 
“Didn’t see nothin o’ my boy did ye Na¬ 
than?” said Deacon Smith. “We aint heard 
a word fruin him sense you was took pris’uor. 
1 wuz kinder in hopes you might have ben 
there when he died sa’sfc wo could know 
whether he died in peace or not. ’Twould be 
a great coinfort to us to kuow how ’twas- 
His mother aint beu well sense the news 
come. Gittin sorter childish, ’pears ter me, 
an’ I dunno as I wonder at it much.” 
Uncle Nathan reached down and shook the 
Deacon’s band. That warm hand-clasp told 
more than his words ever could toll. 
“We left him in that prison when we come 
out. Deacon. He’d ben low then for quite a 
spell, an’ I don’t s’pose be over gut up at all. 
We all set great store by him. He was one of 
the best boys in the whole company. He 
never shirked nothin’ an’ done his duty ull 
the time—without a word.” 
“I’m glad to hear that—I declare 1 bo. 
His mother’ll bo glad to hear it. I’m glad lie 
done his duty—but ’pears to me sometimes 
jest as if I’d a gin all the world el’ l cud only 
see that boy agin. ’Pears ter me I’d feel 
better if be wus buried here. It don’t seem 
jest right somehow—I s’pose it Is though.” 
He glanced again over the spectacles, and 
still brushed the dust, from the wheel, 
“Ye niusn’t feel that wuy about it” said 
Unelo Nathan bravely. “1 know jest how 
’tis myself; but ye wnntcr remember what’s 
ben done—what’s ben gained by the war. 
The Deacon’s head sank lower as he turned 
away. “Mebby so—1 s’pose yer right—I 
wist I could think so—” lie snid as he walked 
back to the sidewalk, and Uncle Nathan 
started the horse again. 
(To be continued.) 
Our $15 Shot Gun now $10. 
“ $15 Breechloader" $9.00 
All kludfl GnuaRiinrtini : llowcr than 
Olucwhor?. Hi’iul iiiui'P IlliuitraUhl 
POWELL ci CLEMENT, 
1 SO Main St., Cincinnati. Ohio. 
CHICAGO $>» 
VETERINARY COLLEGE 
INCORPORATED 1883. 
Facilities for teaching nnd eUnitial advantages 
unsurpassed. Regular winter session lor 1837- 
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further Information uddrosH the Secretary, 
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CREOSOTE WOOD STAINS. 
For Outbuildings, Shingles, Fences, etc. Durable, 
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Send for Circular. 70 KI LBV ST., BOSTON. 
JL» EARHON’8 
AT BOTTOM PRICKS. 
SOLD FOR CASH DIRECTLY TO CONSUMERS. 
Save ugents’ on lilts, and secure Reliable and Lasting 
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THE BEST CATTLE FASTENING! 
BM1TH’8 
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An unusually One lot of Thoroughbred BIOS; active, 
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lo a Jay, 8arnplos worth m,6li, KRF.K Lines 
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THOROUGHBRED 
from the heal strains. Bred for llenllli. Aleut aud 
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juisn urn, I'Ot.Axn-ruixA, 
< liiMpr HIiUp, llurLtliirf A York¬ 
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>m«1 Oxford ttawn Sheep bim! l amb* 
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W.ATLK1I lil'RrKE A CU.Fiiila-Pm 
TANDARD 
GALVANIZED WIRE NETTING. 
Hop Poultry Fenolng. 
1 OF ONK CENT FOU 2 IXl'H MESH No. Ill W1RK 
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Send for Circular. Itrooltner il: Evans, 
•ys VKHKY STREET, N. Y. CITY 
PRESSEY'S BROODER !X?!S'W 
and 
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W. rKESSEV, llfinunontoiu N* 
till* I! I . 
IWt ill tut rated foul 
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each- BetidSp kutnp for xamplo copy and premium list. 
T 
HE POULTRY RAISER. 
PERFECT HATCHER 
AND 
PERFECT BROODER, 
The leading machines or the world for Artificial 
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This beats all records of hens or machines. Don t buy 
an Incubator until you see our clrcula 
AUTOMATIC teLKCTttlC CO., LIMITKD, 
KLMIKA, N. Y. 
POULTRY SUPPLIES. 
Fresh Ground Beef Scraps, Granulated Bono and 
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Send fur Clri-alars anil Samples. 
<3. A. 11.1 ItTLKTT. Worcester, Mums. 
I have twenty varieties ol 
ttut.-brc-Upoultry which • "'di 
le t out la Inti Of ioor more on 
.hare. to any direful person 
iv location In thcU. S. One-hulfoflnerwwc iclven for 
doe#. No ili-posii required. 1 xprvss charges prepaid. 
I locts. tor Illustrations and jMirtii ulnrs.‘ References ex* 
god. Address HENRY GRIFFITH, Zanesville. 0, 
NSHARES 
