760 
<lht RURAL NEW-YORKER 
May 28, 1021 
The last Grand Army mail in our town 
passed away last year, and with him went 
much of the old spirit and sentiment of 
Decoration Day. It is now given up 
almost entirely to sports and games. In 
the country, back among the hills, a few 
r aithful ones still meet at the cemeteries 
and honor the dead soldiers, but few of 
this generation know or seem to care 
what the great struggle of Civil War 60 
years ago meant. I think they do care, 
but youth has new ways of expressing its 
feelings, and the young cannot put them¬ 
selves exactly in the place of age. This 
idea of honoring our dead soldiers with 
a baseball bat or a golf stick seems 
strange to me. but it. is a part of youth. 
Perhaps our generation is responsible for 
not teaching our children just what 
Decoration Day represents. I think this 
sentiment is kept alive in the country far 
better than in the city. From earliest 
history the country, the farm, has been the 
place where national sentiment and strong 
love of country has been developed and 
retained. In the contest for the control 
of national life between hill and stream 
one hand and brick and stone on the 
other, the strong, solid and enduring 
things of life belong to the country. Men 
may go to town after ease and polish, but 
they go to the country for strength and 
solid endurance. 1 regret to see Decora¬ 
tion Day passing away from its original 
meaning. Perhaps i f would lie better to 
give up the holiday and make the last 
Sunday in May a memorial event. Vet 
there are a few old soldiers left who 
realize what the holiday stands for. l'ii- 
cle Nathan Johnson is one ot them. 
* # * * * 
lie is a very old man now, white-haired 
and feeble. His grandfather years ago 
went into the woods with only a wife, 
an ax and a yoke of cattle,” and gnawed 
a farm out of the thick woods. Nathan’s 
father smoothed the land, and when Lin¬ 
coln railed for men young Nathan volun¬ 
teered and fought through the war. Then 
he came back and drained the fields that 
his father had smoothed. And Nathan s 
boy followed in due time -a farmer: and 
John Henry, the leader of the next gen¬ 
eration. was to follow: but of him latei. 
Uncle Nathan is old and bent, His mind 
wanders at times: the only memories that 
seem clear to him now are those con¬ 
nected with Hie t’ivil War. Through some 
kindly dispensation the old man has for¬ 
gotten most of the troubles of bis life, 
and remembers only the army days, when 
life was intense and glorious. He has 
forgotten all his troubles but one, and 
that is but dimly framed in memory. 1 he 
Jirst time I ever saw Uncle Nathan was 
on a bright June day last year. He came 
out of the back door of the farmhouse, 
and. leaning on his stick, peered anxiously 
about him. His daughter was working 
in her (lower garden. The hired man was 
grinding a scythe in the shed. One ot 
the bovs was tinkering over the mowing 
machine. It was just such a scene as 
you have often pictured on a busy larm 
the green fields stretching away on every 
hand and the snn smiling over it all. 
* * * * * 
The old man looked about him. shaded 
his eyes with his hand and looked far 
down the shadv road. 1 lien he asked in 
a high, eager voice, addressing no one in 
particular: 
“Where's John Henry air ,, 
T like to hear people use that word "at 
to form the end of a sentence. It is a 
Southern localism. Vnele Nathan was in 
a Southern prison for a time, and he 
picked up that little word “at” from asso- 
ciating with his keepers. It is a snperilu- 
Oils word, but 1 like to hear it. No one 
paid any attention to the question. It 
was evidently a very old story. I hen the 
old man walked up to the hired man and 
pointed his stick as he asked again: 
“Where’s John Henry at? 1 saw him 
go down that road some time ago. Where 
is he at?” 
The hired man had taken tlm scvtlie 
from the grindstone and rail his thumb on 
the edge to test its cutting power. Then 
he answered as one who had grown tired 
of an oft-repeated question : 
“God knows. Uncle Nathan. I’m sure 
I don’t.” 
“You think lie does? If so. it is all 
right: but John Henry’s been gone a long 
time. Where is he at? You think’s he’s 
all right, Mary?” And he turned to his 
daughter. 
“Oh, father, I know he is. T wouldn’t 
worry about it. Come in and get your 
glass of milk.” 
There was a tear in Mary’s eye. though 
she smiled bravely as she led her father 
into the house. 
“Old man’s kinder broken,” said the 
hired man, as he fitted the blade to the 
snath. “John Henry’s the old man’s fa¬ 
vorite grandson. Had it all fixed for him 
to take the farm as the fifth generation 
on this land. Tb 1 Xopqplupteered when 
this country got* in to the senap with Ger¬ 
many. The old man stood at the gate and 
saw the boy walk down the road through 
the woods. That’s the last any <»f us ever 
saw of him. He was killed in one of 
those big battles, and they buried him in 
France. The old man # can’t realize it : 
keeps asking where, lie is. T get tired of 
his questions, ‘Where is he at?’ ‘God 
knows.’ says I.” 
Uncle Nathan was in good spirits when 
he came from the house again. He had 
put on bis blue Grand Army coat, and 
Mary had brushed bis black hat with the 
gold braid. He stood more erect than 
before, and trudged off to the little mound 
in the hill pasture where the family ceme¬ 
tery was located. Johnnie, one of the 
small boys, went along as bodyguard, and 
I joined the escort, for these old family 
burying grounds always interest me. With 
what loving reverence they are selected 
and started! Few of us in this age can 
understand how the pioneer feeds about 
his farm. It lias meant all that bis life 
can hold to him. It is no wonder that 
lie longs to sleep within its bosom after 
death. It is a merciful thing that these 
old pioneers could not realize how a gen¬ 
eration is to come with no reverence or 
respect for these old cemeteries. It is 
sad to think that such a spot, venerated 
by one generation, should he only in tin* 
way of another. One day a ear had 
stopped at the farm for water to cool the 
motor. One young woman stood up and 
looked about her. 
"If I owned this,” she said. “I would 
build my house on that little hill. I 
would blow out these white stones and 
pull down that stone wall to build the 
lower part of the house !” 
$ * * * * 
Uncle Nathan toiled lip the hill and 
entered the gate. The little enclosure was 
not very neat, and some of the stones were 
sagging and frost-thrown. The old man 
walked to the highest noint, where two 
graves were neatly trimmed. He sat 
down on a rustic bench and looked off 
over the rolling country. I noticed a 
little flag at the head of one grave. John¬ 
nie acted as guide and interpreter. 
“One’s grandma’s grave and the other 
is Old Dick, the hired man. He was in 
the war with grandpa, and when lie came 
hack he lived here. Ua says he. was no 
good, but grandpa had him buried right 
here. Say. mister, will you watch grand¬ 
pa half an hour? There’s a woodchuck 
in that, wall over yonder, and me and 
Spot can get him.” 
I accepted the trust, and Johnnie and 
his little dog started after the woodchuck. 
Uncle Nathan sat on the rustic seat, si¬ 
lent for a while, and then suddenly raised 
bis stick and pointed off across the coun¬ 
try to a distant, hill. 
“The battlefield of Gettysburg,” be 
said, “is much like tTiis country. On the 
last day of the battle my regiment was 
held in reserve just behind the lop of the 
hill back of our batteries. For hours the 
cannon kept pounding on both sides. Then 
the noise died away and the boys at the 
top of the hill yelled down to us: “Here 
they come !’’ The officers tried to hold us 
back, but we worked our way to the top of 
the hill, where we could see. ’Way off at 
the upper side of that valley we saw them 
coining. It seemed like three thin waves 
of gray curving like snakes and moving 
fast up to our breastworks. Then our 
cannon opened up on them, and we could 
see the shells bursting above those gray 
lines. There would be a puff of smoke, 
and when it drifted away there was a 
hole in the line and half a dozen gray 
specks on the ground behind it. 
"What were you thinking about Uncle 
Nathan, as you saw them coming?” 
“Well, sir. it’s strange, but I was just 
wondering how father and the boys right 
up on this farm were getting along with 
the haying. When that first line struck 
our breastworks, wo wanted to run down 
and help, but the officers said: ‘Not yet. 
Keep in reserve.’ For half an hour or so 
nothing but flame and smoke hung over 
that stone wall on the hillside where the 
Vermont boys were holding the line. Then 
we saw a column of gray-colored uniforms 
inarching up to us. 
“ Boys, they’ve broken through. Get 
ready for them,” yelled the colonel, and 
we were ready. As they came nearer we 
saw some of our own men running out 
in front and holding up their hands. 
These gray coats were prisoners. Our 
boys were marching them to the rear. 
The charge had failed. Thank God, our 
country was safe!” 
The old man had risen from his seat 
and raised his stick far above his head as 
he told his story. I wish that my chil¬ 
dren could see him as he stood there with 
the fire and spirit of youth hack for a 
moment in the body of age. I wish they 
could grasp the thought of it. 
* * * * * 
The old man’s ecstasy was short-lived. 
Soon the feeble arm trembled and the 
stick fell to the ground, lie sat down on 
the rustic bench once more, strangely 
silent. There was no sound save Spot’s 
distant bark at the woodchuck’s hole. 
“Where'8 John Henry at?" 
The old man came back to his great 
question, peering at me eagerly as once 
more he shaded his eyes from the sun. 
Unconsciously, I know not why, I found 
myself repeating the hired man’s answer: 
“God knows!” 
“It’s strange about John Henry,” 
mused the old man. “He went off once 
and then he came back for a few days. 
My memory may not be so good as it was, 
but I think be had on a uniform about 
like the color of brown overalls. He 
couldn’t have been a soldier, because they 
wear blue. I can just remember how the 
night before he went off the second time 
lie came up here with Mary and. me and 
we sat and listened to him. lie said 
something like this: 
“Mother. I’ve seen a little of the world 
now, and I begin to see what ails farm¬ 
ing. For a hundred years or more our 
people in this valley have been working 
their lives out faithfully and willingly in 
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“There’s a Reason 
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made instantly in the cup by adding hot water. 
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