diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 34255-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 234019 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 34255-h/34255-h.htm | 1727 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 34255-h/images/img-016.jpg | bin | 0 -> 40756 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 34255-h/images/img-040.jpg | bin | 0 -> 53436 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 34255-h/images/img-cover.jpg | bin | 0 -> 52522 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 34255-h/images/img-front.jpg | bin | 0 -> 61639 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 34255.txt | 1282 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 34255.zip | bin | 0 -> 24054 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 |
11 files changed, 3025 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/34255-h.zip b/34255-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f671232 --- /dev/null +++ b/34255-h.zip diff --git a/34255-h/34255-h.htm b/34255-h/34255-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..03162c2 --- /dev/null +++ b/34255-h/34255-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1727 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<HTML> +<HEAD> + +<META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1"> + +<TITLE> +The Project Gutenberg E-text of Comrades, by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps +</TITLE> + +<STYLE TYPE="text/css"> +BODY { color: Black; + background: White; + margin-right: 10%; + margin-left: 10%; + font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; + text-align: justify } + +P {text-indent: 4% } + +P.noindent {text-indent: 0% } + +P.poem {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10%; } + +P.letter {text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 10% ; + margin-right: 10% } + +P.finis { font-size: larger ; + text-align: center ; + text-indent: 0% ; + margin-left: 0% ; + margin-right: 0% } + +H4.h4center { margin-left: 0; + margin-right: 0 ; + margin-bottom: .5% ; + margin-top: 0; + float: none ; + clear: both ; + text-align: center } + +IMG.imgcenter { margin-left: auto; + margin-bottom: 0; + margin-top: 1%; + margin-right: auto; } + +</STYLE> + +</HEAD> + +<BODY> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Comrades, by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Comrades + +Author: Elizabeth Stuart Phelps + +Illustrator: Howard E. Smith + +Release Date: November 8, 2010 [EBook #34255] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COMRADES *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-cover"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-cover.jpg" ALT="Cover art" BORDER="2" WIDTH="381" HEIGHT="619"> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="img-front"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-front.jpg" ALT=""We're All That's Left of the Charles Darlington Post." See page 19." BORDER="2" WIDTH="444" HEIGHT="685"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 444px"> +"We're All That's Left of the Charles Darlington Post."<BR> <A HREF="#p19">See page 19</A>. +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +COMRADES +</H1> + +<BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +BY +</H4> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS +</H3> + +<BR><BR> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATED BY +<BR> +HOWARD E. SMITH +</H4> + +<BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +HARPER & BROTHERS +<BR> +NEW YORK AND LONDON +<BR> +M . C . M . X . I +</H3> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H5 ALIGN="center"> +COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY HARPER & BROTHERS +<BR><BR> +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA +<BR> +PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER, 1911 +</H5> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +ILLUSTRATIONS +</H2> + +<H4 STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#img-front"> +"We're All That's Left of the Charles Darlington + Post" . . . . . . Frontispiece +</A> +</H4> + +<H4 STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#img-016"> +"Folks Don't Amount to Anything. It's You, Peter" +</A> +</H4> + +<H4 STYLE="margin-left: 10%"> +<A HREF="#img-040"> +She Thought of the Slow News of the Slaughtering Battles +</A> +</H4> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +COMRADES +</H2> + +<BR><BR> + +<P> +In the late May evening the soul of summer had gone suddenly incarnate, +but the old man, indifferent and petulant, thrashed upon his bed. He +was not used to being ill, and found no consolations in weather. +Flowers regarded him observantly—one might have said critically—from +the tables, the bureau, the window-sills: tulips, fleurs-de-lis, +pansies, peonies, and late lilacs, for he had a garden-loving wife who +made the most of "the dull season," after crocuses and daffodils, and +before roses. But he manifested no interest in flowers; less than +usual, it must be owned, in Patience, his wife. This was a marked +incident. They had lived together fifty years, and she had acquired +her share of the lessons of marriage, but not that ruder one given +chiefly to women to learn—she had never found herself a negligible +quantity in her husband's life. She had the profound maternal instinct +which is so large an element in the love of every experienced and +tender wife; and when Reuben thrashed profanely upon his pillows, +staring out of the window above the vase of jonquils, without looking +at her, clearly without thinking of her, she swallowed her surprise as +if it had been a blue-pill, and tolerantly thought: +</P> + +<P> +"Poor boy! To be a veteran and can't go!" +</P> + +<P> +Her poor boy, being one-and-eighty, and having always had health and +her, took his disappointment like a boy. He felt more outraged that he +could not march with the other boys to decorate the graves to-morrow +than he had been, or had felt that he was, by some of the important +troubles of his long and, on the whole, comfortable life. He took it +unreasonably; she could not deny that. But she went on saying "Poor +boy!" as she usually did when he was unreasonable. When he stopped +thrashing and swore no more she smiled at him brilliantly. He had not +said anything worse than damn! But he was a good Baptist, and the +lapse was memorable. +</P> + +<P> +"Peter?" he said. "Just h'ist the curtain a mite, won't you? I want +to see across over to the shop. Has young Jabez locked up everything? +Somebody's got to make sure." +</P> + +<P> +Behind the carpenter's shop the lush tobacco-fields of the Connecticut +valley were springing healthily. "There ain't as good a crop as there +gener'lly is," the old man fretted. +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think so?" replied Patience. "Everybody say it's better. +But you ought to know." +</P> + +<P> +In the youth and vigor of her no woman was ever more misnamed. Patient +she was not, nor gentle, nor adaptable to the teeth in the saw of life. +Like wincing wood, her nature had resented it, the whole biting thing. +All her gentleness was acquired, and acquired hard. She had fought +like a man to endure like a woman, to accept, not to writhe and rebel. +She had not learned easily how to count herself out. Something in the +sentimentality or even the piety of her name had always seemed to her +ridiculous; they both used to have their fun at its expense; for some +years he called her Impatience, degenerating into Imp if he felt like +it. When Reuben took to calling her Peter, she found it rather a +relief. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll have to go without me," he said, crossly. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd rather stay with you," she urged. "I'm not a veteran." +</P> + +<P> +"Who'd decorate Tommy, then?" demanded the old man. "You wouldn't give +Tommy the go-by, would you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I never did—did I?" returned the wife, slowly. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know's you did," replied Reuben Oak, after some difficult +reflection. +</P> + +<P> +Patience did not talk about Tommy. But she had lived Tommy, so she +felt, all her married life, ever since she took him, the year-old baby +of a year-dead first wife who had made Reuben artistically miserable; +not that Patience thought in this adjective; it was one foreign to her +vocabulary; she was accustomed to say of that other woman: "It was +better for Reuben. I'm not sorry she died." She added, "Lord forgive +me," because she was a good church member, and felt that she must. Oh, +she had "lived Tommy," God knew. Her own baby had died, and there were +never any more. But Tommy lived and clamored at her heart. She began +by trying to be a good stepmother. In the end she did not have to try. +Tommy never knew the difference; and his father had long since +forgotten it. She had made him so happy that he seldom remembered +anything unpleasant. He was accustomed to refer to his two conjugal +partners as "My wife and the other woman." +</P> + +<P> +But Tommy had the blood of a fighting father, and when the <I>Maine</I> went +down, and his chance came, he, too, took it. Tommy lay dead and +nameless in the trenches at San Juan. But his father had put up a +tall, gray slate-stone slab for him in the churchyard at home. This +was close to the baby's; the baby's was little and white. So the +veteran was used to "decorating Tommy" on Memorial Day. He did not +trouble himself about the little, white gravestone then. He had a +veteran's savage jealousy of the day that was sacred to the splendid +heroisms and sacrifices of the sixties. +</P> + +<P> +"What do they want to go decorating all their relations for?" he +argued. "Ain't there three hundred and sixty-four days in the year for +<I>them</I>?" +</P> + +<P> +He was militant on this point, and Patience did not contend. Sometimes +she took the baby's flowers over the day after. +</P> + +<P> +"If you can spare me just as well's not, I'll decorate Tommy +to-morrow," she suggested, gently. "We'll see how you feel along by +that." +</P> + +<P> +"Tommy's got to be decorated if I'm dead or livin'," retorted the +veteran. The soldier father struggled up from his pillow, as if he +would carry arms for his soldier son. Then he fell back weakly. "I +wisht I had my old dog here," he complained—"my dog Tramp. I never +did like a dog like that dog. But Tramp's dead, too. I don't believe +them boys are coming. They've forgotten me, Peter. You haven't," he +added, after some slow thought. "I don't know's you ever did, come to +think." +</P> + +<P> +Patience, in her blue shepherd-plaid gingham dress and white apron, was +standing by the window—a handsome woman, a dozen years younger than +her husband; her strong face was gentler than most strong faces are—in +women; peace and pain, power and subjection, were fused upon her aspect +like warring elements reconciled by a mystery. Her hair was not yet +entirely white, and her lips were warm and rich. She had a round +figure, not overgrown. There were times when she did not look over +thirty. Two or three late jonquils that had outlived their calendar in +a cold spot by a wall stood on the window-sill beside her; these +trembled in the slant, May afternoon light. She stroked them in their +vase, as if they had been frightened or hurt. She did not immediately +answer Reuben, and, when she did, it was to say, abruptly: +</P> + +<P> +"Here's the boys! They're coming—the whole of them!—Jabez Trent, and +old Mr. Succor, and David Swing on his crutches. I'll go right out 'n' +let them all in." +</P> + +<P> +She spoke as if they had been a phalanx. Reuben panted upon his +pillows. Patience had shut the door, and it seemed to him as if it +would never open. He pulled at his gray flannel dressing-gown with +nervous fingers; they were carpenter's fingers—worn, but supple and +intelligent. He had on his old red nightcap, and he felt the +indignity, but he did not dare to take the cap off; there was too much +pain underneath it. +</P> + +<P> +When Patience opened the door she nodded at him girlishly. She had +preceded the visitors, who followed her without speaking. She looked +forty years younger than they did. She marshaled them as if she had +been their colonel. The woman herself had a certain military look. +</P> + +<P> +The veterans filed in slowly—three aged, disabled men. One was lame, +and one was palsied; one was blind, and all were deaf. +</P> + +<P> +"Here they are, Reuben," said Patience Oak. "They've all come to see +you. Here's the whole Post." +</P> + +<P> +Reuben's hand went to his red night-cap. He saluted gravely. +</P> + +<P> +</P> + +<P> +The veterans came in with dignity—David Swing, and Jabez Trent, and +old Mr. Succor. David was the one on crutches, but Jabez Trent, with +nodding head and swaying hand, led old Mr. Succor, who could not see. +</P> + +<P> +Reuben watched them with a species of grim triumph. "I ain't blind," +he thought, "and I hain't got the shakin' palsy. Nor I hain't come on +crutches, either." +</P> + +<P> +He welcomed his visitors with a distinctly patronizing air. He was +conscious of pitying them as much as a soldier can afford to pity +anything. They seemed to him very old men. +</P> + +<P> +"Give 'em chairs, Peter," he commanded. "Give 'em easy chairs. +Where's the cushions?" +</P> + +<P> +"I favor a hard cheer myself," replied the blind soldier, sitting solid +and straight upon the stiff bamboo chair into which he had been set +down by Jabez Trent. "I'm sorry to find you so low, Reuben Oak." +</P> + +<P> +"<I>Low!</I>" exploded the old soldier. "Why, nothing partikler ails <I>me</I>. +I hain't got a thing the matter with me but a spell of rheumatics. +I'll be spry as a kitten catchin' grasshoppers in a week. I can't +march to-morrow—that's all. It's darned hard luck. How's your +eyesight, Mr. Succor?" +</P> + +<P> +"Some consider'ble better, sir," retorted the blind man. "I calc'late +to get it back. My son's goin' to take me to a city eye-doctor. I +ain't only seventy-eight. I'm too young to be blind. 'Tain't as if I +was onto crutches, or I was down sick abed. How old are you, Reuben?" +</P> + +<P> +"Only eighty-one!" snapped Reuben. +</P> + +<P> +"He's eighty-one last March," interpolated his wife. +</P> + +<P> +"He's come to a time of life when folks do take to their beds," +returned David Swing. "Mebbe you could manage with crutches, Reuben, +in a few weeks. I've been on 'em three years, since I was +seventy-five. I've got to feel as if they was relations. Folks want +me to ride to-morrow," he added, contemptuously, "but I'll march on +them crutches to decorate them graves, or I won't march at all." +</P> + +<P> +Now Jabez Trent was the youngest of the veterans; he was indeed but +sixty-eight. He refrained from mentioning this fact. He felt that it +was indelicate to boast of it. His jerking hand moved over toward the +bed, and he laid it on Reuben's with a fine gesture. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll be round—you'll be round before you know it," he shouted. +</P> + +<P> +"I ain't deef," interrupted Reuben, "like the rest of you." But the +palsied man, hearing not at all, shouted on: +</P> + +<P> +"You always had grit, Reuben, more'n most of as. You stood more, you +was under fire more, you never was afraid of anything— What's +rheumatics? 'Tain't Antietam." +</P> + +<P> +"Nor it ain't Bull Run," rejoined Reuben. He lifted his red nightcap +from his head. "Let it ache!" he said. "It ain't Gettysburg." +</P> + +<P> +"It seems to me," suggested Jabez Trent, "that Reuben he's under fire +just about now. <I>He</I> ain't used to bein' disabled. It appears to me +he's fightin' this matter the way a soldier 'd oughter— Comrades, I +move he's entitled to promotion for military conduct. He'd rather than +sympathy—wouldn't you, Reuben?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't feel to deserve it," muttered Reuben. "I swore to-day. Ask +my wife." +</P> + +<P> +"No, he didn't!" blazed Patience Oak. "He never said a thing but damn. +He's getting tired, though," she added, under breath. "He ain't very +well." She delicately brushed the foot of Jabez Trent with the toe of +her slipper. +</P> + +<P> +"I guess we'd better not set any longer," observed Jabez Trent. The +three veterans rose like one soldier. Reuben felt that their visit had +not been what he expected. But he could not deny that he was tired +out; he wondered why. He beckoned to Jabez Trent, who, shaking and +coughing, bent over him. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll see the boys don't forget to decorate Tommy, won't you?" he +asked, eagerly. Jabez could not hear much of this, but he got the word +Tommy, and nodded. +</P> + +<P> +The three old men saluted silently, and when Reuben had put on his +nightcap he found that they had all gone. Only Patience was in the +room, standing by the jonquils, in her blue gingham dress and white +apron. +</P> + +<P> +"Tired?" she asked, comfortably. "I've mixed you up an egg-nog. Think +you could take it?" +</P> + +<P> +"They didn't stay long," complained the old man. "It don't seem to +amount to much, does it?" +</P> + +<P> +"You've punched your pillows all to pudding-stones," observed Patience +Oak. "Let me fix 'em a little." +</P> + +<P> +"I won't be fussed over!" cried Reuben, angrily. He gave one of his +pillows a pettish push, and it went half across the room. Patience +picked it up without remark. Reuben Oak held out a contrite hand. +</P> + +<P> +"Peter, come here!" he commanded. Patience, with her maternal smile, +obeyed. +</P> + +<P> +"You stay, Peter, anyhow. Folks don't amount to anything. It's <I>you</I>, +Peter." +</P> + +<A NAME="img-016"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-016.jpg" ALT=""Folks Don't Amount to Anything. It's <I>You</I>, Peter."" BORDER="2" WIDTH="512" HEIGHT="445"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 512px"> +"Folks Don't Amount to Anything. It's <I>You</I>, Peter." +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Patience's eyes filled. But she hid them on the pillow beside him—he +did not know why. She put up one hand and stroked his cheek. +</P> + +<P> +"Just as if I was a johnnyquil," said the old man. He laughed, and +grew quiet, and slept. But Patience did not move. She was afraid of +waking him. She sat crouched and crooked on the edge of the bed, +uncomfortable and happy. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Out on the street, between the house and the carpenter's shop, the +figures of the veterans bent against the perspective of young tobacco. +They walked feebly. Old Mr. Succor shook his head: +</P> + +<P> +"Looks like he'd never see another Decoration Day. He's some +considerable sick—an' he ain't young." +</P> + +<P> +"He's got grit, though," urged Jabez Trent. +</P> + +<P> +"He's pretty old," sighed David Swing. "He's consider'ble older'n we +be. He'd ought to be prepared for his summons any time at his age." +</P> + +<P> +"We'll be decorating <I>him</I>, I guess, come next year," insisted old Mr. +Succor. Jabez Trent opened his mouth to say something, but he coughed +too hard to speak. +</P> + +<P> +"I'd like to look at Reuben's crop as we go by," remarked the blind +man. "He's lucky to have the shop 'n' the crop too." +</P> + +<P> +The three turned aside to the field, where old Mr. Succor appraised the +immature tobacco leaves with seeing fingers. +</P> + +<P> +"Connecticut's a <I>great</I> State!" he cried. +</P> + +<P> +"And this here's a great town," echoed David Swing. "Look at the quota +we sent—nigh a full company. And we had a great colonel," he added, +proudly. "I calc'late he'd been major-general if it hadn't 'a' been +for that infernal shell." +</P> + +<A NAME="p19"></A> + +<P> +"Boys," said Jabez Trent, slowly, "Memorial Day's a great day. It's up +to us to keep it that way— Boys, we're all that's left of the Charles +Darlington Post." +</P> + +<P> +"That's a fact," observed the blind soldier, soberly. +</P> + +<P> +"That's so," said the lame one, softly. +</P> + +<P> +The three did not talk any more; they walked past the tobacco-field +thoughtfully. Many persons carrying flowers passed or met them. These +recognized the veterans with marked respect, and with some perplexity. +What! Only old blind Mr. Succor? Just David Swing on his crutches, +and Jabez Trent with the shaking palsy? Only those poor, familiar +persons whom one saw every day, and did not think much about on any +other day? Unregarded, unimportant, aging neighbors? These who had +ceased to be useful, ceased to be interesting, who were not any longer +of value to the town, or to the State, to their friends (if they had +any left), or to themselves? Heroes? These plain, obscure old +men?—Heroes? +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +So it befell that Patience Oak "decorated Tommy" for his father that +Memorial Day. The year was 1909. The incident of which we have to +tell occurred twelve months thereafter, in 1910. These, as I have +gathered them, are the facts: +</P> + +<P> +Time, to the old, takes an unnatural pace, and Reuben Oak felt that the +year had sprinted him down the race-track of life; he was inclined to +resent his eighty-second March birthday as a personal insult; but April +cried over him, and May laughed at him, and he had acquired a certain +grim reconciliation with the laws of fate by the time that the nation +was summoned to remember its dead defenders upon their latest +anniversary. This resignation was the easier because he found himself +unexpectedly called upon to fill an extraordinary part in the drama and +the pathos of the day. +</P> + +<P> +He slept brokenly the night before, and waked early; it was scarcely +five o'clock. But Patience, his wife, was already awake, lying quietly +upon her pillow, with straight, still arms stretched down beside him. +She was careful not to disturb him—she always was; she was so used to +effacing herself for his sake that he had ceased to notice whether she +did or not; he took her beautiful dedication to him as a matter of +course; most husbands would, if they had its counterpart. In point of +fact—and in saying this we express her altogether—Patience had the +genius of love. Charming women, noble women, unselfish women may spend +their lives in a man's company, making a tolerable success of marriage, +yet lack this supreme gift of Heaven to womanhood, and never know it. +Our defects we may recognize; our deficiencies we seldom do, and the +love deficiency is the most hopeless of human limitations. Patience +was endowed with love as a great poet is by song, or a musician by +harmony, or an artist by color or form. She loved supremely, but she +did not know that. She loved divinely, but her husband had never found +it out. They were two plain people—a carpenter and his wife, plodding +along the Connecticut valley industriously, with the ideals of their +kind; to be true to their marriage vows, to be faithful to their +children, to pay their debts, raise the tobacco, water the garden, +drive the nails straight, and preserve the quinces. There were times +when it occurred to Patience that she took more care of Reuben than +Reuben did of her; but she dismissed the matter with a phrase common in +her class, and covering for women most of the perplexity of married +life: "You know what men are." +</P> + +<P> +On the morning of which we speak, Reuben Oak had a blunt perception of +the fact that it was kind in his wife to take such pains not to wake +him till he got ready to begin the tremendous day before him; she +always was considerate if he did not sleep well. He put down his hand +and took hers with a sudden grasp, where it lay gentle and still beside +him. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, Peter," he said, kindly. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, dear," said Patience, instantly. "Feeling all right for to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Fine," returned Reuben. "I don't know when I've felt so spry. I'll +get right up 'n' dress." +</P> + +<P> +"Would you mind staying where you are till I get your coffee heated?" +asked Patience, eagerly. "You know how much stronger you always are if +you wait for it. I'll have it on the heater in no time." +</P> + +<P> +"I can't wait for coffee to-day," flashed Reuben. "I'm the best judge +of what I need." +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," said Patience, in a disappointed tone. For she had +learned the final lesson of married life—not to oppose an obstinate +man, for his own good. But she slipped into her wrapper and made the +coffee, nevertheless. When she came back with it, Reuben was lying on +the bed in his flannels, with a comforter over him; he looked pale, and +held out his hand impatiently for the coffee. +</P> + +<P> +His feverish eyes healed as he watched her moving about the room. He +thought how young and pretty her neck was when she splashed the water +on it. +</P> + +<P> +"Goin' to wear your black dress?" he asked. "That's right. I'm glad +you are. I'll get up pretty soon." +</P> + +<P> +"I'll bring you <I>all</I> your clothes," she said. "Don't you get a mite +tired. I'll move up everything for you. Your uniform's all cleaned +and pressed. Don't you do a thing!" +</P> + +<P> +She brushed her thick hair with upraised, girlish arms, and got out her +black serge dress and a white tie. He lay and watched her thoughtfully. +</P> + +<P> +"Peter," he said, unexpectedly, "how long is it since we was married?" +</P> + +<P> +"Forty-nine years," answered Patience, promptly. "Fifty, come next +September." +</P> + +<P> +"What a little creatur' you were, Peter—just a slip of a girl! And +how you did take hold—Tommy and everything." +</P> + +<P> +"I was 'most twenty," observed Patience, with dignity. +</P> + +<P> +"You made a powerful good stepmother all the same," mused Reuben. "You +did love Tommy, to beat all." +</P> + +<P> +"I was fond of Tommy," answered Patience, quietly. "He was a nice +little fellow." +</P> + +<P> +"And then there was the baby, Peter. Pity we lost the baby! I guess +you took that harder 'n I did, Peter." +</P> + +<P> +Patience made no reply. +</P> + +<P> +"She was so dreadful young, Peter. I can't seem to remember how she +looked. Can you? Pity she didn't live! You'd 'a' liked a daughter +round the house, wouldn't you, Peter? Say, Peter, we've gone through a +good deal, haven't we—you 'n' me? The war 'n' all that—and the two +children. But there's one thing, Peter—" +</P> + +<P> +Patience came over to him quietly, and sat down on the side of the bed. +She was half dressed, and her still beautiful arms went around him. +</P> + +<P> +"You'll tire yourself all out thinking, Reuben. You won't be able to +decorate anybody if you ain't careful." +</P> + +<P> +"What I was goin' to say was this," persisted Reuben. "I've always had +you, Peter. And you've had me. I don't count so much, but I'm +powerful fond of you, Peter. You're all I've got. Seems as if I +couldn't set enough by you, somehow or nuther." +</P> + +<P> +The old man hid his face upon her soft neck. +</P> + +<P> +"There, there, dear!" said Patience. +</P> + +<P> +"It must be kinder hard, Peter, not to <I>like</I> your wife. Or maybe she +mightn't like him. Sho! I don't think I could stand that.... Peter?" +</P> + +<P> +"Don't you think you'd better be getting dressed, Reuben? The +procession's going to start pretty early. Folks are moving up and down +the street. Everybody's got flowers—See?" +</P> + +<P> +Reuben looked out of the window and over the pansy-bed with brilliant, +dry eyes. His wife could see that he was keeping back the thing that +he thought most about. She had avoided and evaded the subject as long +as she could. She felt now that it must be met, and yet she parleyed +with it. She hurried his breakfast and brought the tray to him. He +ate because she asked him to, but his hands shook. It seemed as if he +clung wilfully to the old topic, escaping the new as long as he could, +to ramble on. +</P> + +<P> +"You've been a dreadfully amiable wife, Peter. I don't believe I could +have got along with any other kind of woman." +</P> + +<P> +"I didn't used to be amiable, Reuben. I wasn't born so. I used to +take things hard. Don't you remember?" +</P> + +<P> +But Reuben shook his head. +</P> + +<P> +"No, I don't. I can't seem to think of any time you wasn't that way. +Sho! How'd you get to be so, then, I'd like to know?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, just by loving, I guess," said Patience Oak. +</P> + +<P> +"We've marched along together a good while," answered the old man, +brokenly. +</P> + +<P> +Unexpectedly he held out his hand, and she grasped it; his was cold and +weak; but hers was warm and strong. In a dull way the divination came +to him—if one may speak of a dull divination—that she had always been +the strength and the warmth of his life. Suddenly it seemed to him a +very long life. Now it was as if he forced himself to speak, as he +would have charged at Fredericksburg. He felt as if he were climbing +against breastworks when he said: +</P> + +<P> +"I was the oldest of them all, Peter. And I was sickest, too. They +all expected to come an' decorate me to-day." Patience nodded, without +a word. She knew when her husband must do all the talking; she had +found that out early in their married life. "I wouldn't of believed +it, Peter; would you? Old Mr. Succor he had such good health. Who'd +thought he'd tumble down the cellar stairs? If Mis' Succor 'd be'n +like you, Peter, he wouldn't had the chance to tumble: I never would of +<I>thought</I> of David Swing's havin' pneumonia—would you, Peter? Why, in +'62 he slept onto the ground in peltin', drenchin' storms an' never +sneezed. He was powerful well 'n' tough, David was. And Jabez! Poor +old Jabez Trent! I liked him the best of the lot, Peter. Didn't you? +He was sorry for me when they come here that day an' I couldn't march +along of them.... And now, Peter, I've got to go an' decorate <I>them</I>. +</P> + +<P> +"I'm the last livin' survivor of the Charles Darlington Post," added +the veteran. "I'm going to apply to the Department Commander to let me +keep it up. I guess I can manage someways. <I>I won't be disbanded</I>. +Let 'em disband me if they can! I'd like to see 'em do it. Peter? +<I>Peter</I>!" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll help you into your uniform," said Patience. "It's all brushed +and nice for you." +</P> + +<P> +She got him to his swaying feet, and dressed him, and the two went to +the window that looked upon the flowers. The garden blurred yellow and +white and purple—a dash of blood-red among the late tulips. Patience +had plucked and picked for Memorial Day, she had gathered and given, +and yet she could not strip her garden. She looked at it lovingly. +She felt as if she stood in pansy lights and iris air. +</P> + +<P> +"Peter," said the veteran, hoarsely, "they're all gone, my girl. +Everybody's gone but you. You're the only comrade I've got left, +Peter.... And, Peter, I want to tell you—I seem to understand it this +morning. Peter, you're the best comrade of 'em all." +</P> + +<P> +"That's worth it," said Patience, in a strange tone—"that's worth +the—high cost of living." +</P> + +<P> +She lifted her head. She had an exalted look. The thoughtful pansies +seemed to turn their faces toward her. She felt that they understood +her. Did it matter whether Reuben understood her or not? It occurred +to her that it was not so important, after all, whether a man +understood his wife, if he only loved her. Women fussed too much, she +thought; they expected to cry away the everlasting differences between +the husband and the wife. If you loved a man you must take him as he +was—just man. You couldn't make him over. You must make up your mind +to that. Better, oh, better a hundred times to endure, to suffer—if +it came to suffering—to take your share (perhaps he had his—who +knew?) of the loneliness of living. Better any fate than to battle +with the man you love, for what he did not give or could not give. +Better anything than to stand in the pansy light, married fifty years, +and not have made your husband happy. +</P> + +<P> +"I 'most wisht you could march along of me," muttered Reuben Oak. "But +you ain't a veteran." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know about that," Patience shook her head, smiling, but it was +a sober smile. +</P> + +<P> +"Tommy can't march," added Reuben. "He ain't here; nor he ain't in the +graveyard either. He's a ghost—Tommy. He must be flying around the +Throne. There's only one other person I'd like to have go along of me. +That's my old dog—my dog Tramp. That dog thought a sight of me. The +United States army couldn't have kep' him away from me. But Tramp's +dead. He was a pretty old dog. I can't remember which died first, him +or the baby; can you? Lord! I suppose Tramp's a ghost, too, a dog +ghost, trottin' after—I don't know when I've thought of Tramp before. +Where's he buried, Peter? Oh yes, come to think, he's under the big +chestnut. Wonder we never decorated him, Peter." +</P> + +<P> +"I have," confessed Patience. "I've done it quite a number of times. +Reuben? Listen! I guess we've got to hurry. Seems to me I hear—" +</P> + +<P> +"You hear drums," interrupted the old soldier. Suddenly he flared like +lightwood on a camp-fire, and before his wife could speak again he had +blazed out of the house. +</P> + +<P> +The day had a certain unearthly beauty—most of our Memorial Days do +have. Sometimes they scorch a little, and the processions wilt and +lag. But this one, as we remember, had the climate of a happier world +and the temperature of a day created for marching men—old soldiers who +had left their youth and strength behind them, and who were feebler +than they knew. +</P> + +<P> +The Connecticut valley is not an emotional part of the map, but the +town was alight with a suppressed feeling, intense, and hitherto +unknown to the citizens. They were graver than they usually were on +the national anniversary which had come to mean remembrance for the old +and indifference for the young. There was no baseball in the village +that day. The boys joined the procession soberly. The crowd was large +but thoughtful. It had collected chiefly outside of the Post hall, +where four old soldiers had valiantly sustained their dying +organization for now two or three astonishing years. +</P> + +<P> +The band was outside, below the steps; it played the "Star-spangled +Banner" and "John Brown's Body" while it waited. For some reason there +was a delay in the ceremonies. It was rumored that the chaplain had +not come. Then it went about that he had been summoned to a funeral, +and would meet the procession at the churchyard. The chaplain was the +pastor of the Congregational Church. The regimental chaplain, he who +used to pray for the dying boys after battle, had joined the vanished +veterans long ago. The band struck up "My Country, 'tis of Thee." The +crowd began to press toward the steps of the Post hall and to sway to +and fro restlessly. +</P> + +<P> +Then slowly there emerged from the hall, and firmly descended the +steps, the Charles Darlington Post of the Grand Army of the Republic. +People held their breaths, and some sobbed. They were not all women, +either. +</P> + +<P> +Erect, with fiery eyes, with haughty head—shrunken in his old uniform, +but carrying it proudly—one old man walked out. The crowd parted for +him, and he looked neither to the right nor to the left, but fell into +the military step and began to march. In his aged arms he carried the +flags of the Post. The military band preceded him, softly playing +"Mine Eyes have Seen the Glory," while the crowd formed into procession +and followed him. From the whole countryside people had assembled, and +the throng was considerable. +</P> + +<P> +They came out into the street and turned toward the churchyard—the old +soldier marching alone. They had begged him to ride, though the +distance was small. But he had obstinately refused. +</P> + +<P> +"This Post has always marched," he had replied. +</P> + +<P> +Except for the military music and the sound of moving feet or wheels, +the street was perfectly still. No person spoke to any other. The +veteran marched with proud step. His gray head was high. Once he was +seen to put the flag of his company to his lips. A little behind him +the procession had instinctively fallen back and left a certain space. +One could not help the feeling that this was occupied. But they who +filled it, if such there had been, were invisible to the eye of the +body. And the eyes of the soul are not possessed by all men. +</P> + +<P> +Now, the distance, as we have said, was short, and the old soldier was +so exalted that it had not occurred to him that he could be fatigued. +It was an astonishing sensation to him when he found himself +unexpectedly faint. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Patience Oak, for some reasons of her own hardly clear to herself, did +not join the procession. She chose to walk abreast of it, at the side, +as near as possible, without offense to the ceremonies, to the solitary +figure of her husband. She was pacing through the grass, at the edge +of the sidewalk—falling as well as she could into the military step. +In her plain, old-fashioned black dress, with the fleck of white at her +throat, she had a statuesque, unmodern look. Her fine features were +charged with that emotion which any expression would have weakened. +Her arms were heaped with flowers—bouquets and baskets and sprays: +spiraea, lilacs, flowering almond, peonies, pansies, all the glory of +her garden that opening summer returned to her care and tenderness. +She was tender with everything—a man, a child, an animal, a flower. +Everything blossomed for her, and rested in her, and yearned toward +her. The emotion of the day and of the hour seemed incarnate in her. +She embodied in her strong and sweet personality all that blundering +man has wrought on tormented woman by the savagery of war. She +remembered what she had suffered—a young, incredulous creature, on the +margin of life, avid of happiness, believing in joy, and drowning in +her love for that one man, her husband. She thought of the slow news +after slaughtering battles—how she waited for the laggard paper in the +country town; she remembered that she dared not read the head-lines +when she got them, but dropped, choking and praying God to spare her, +before she glanced. Even now she could feel the wet paper against her +raining cheek. Then her heart leaped back, and she thought of the day +when he marched away—his arms, his lips, his groans. She remembered +what the dregs of desolation were, and mortal fear of unknown fate; the +rack of the imagination; and inquisition of the nerve—the pangs that +no man-soldier of them all could understand. "It comes on women—war," +she thought. +</P> + +<A NAME="img-040"></A> +<CENTER> +<IMG CLASS="imgcenter" SRC="images/img-040.jpg" ALT="She Thought of the Slow News After Slaughtering Battles" BORDER="2" WIDTH="447" HEIGHT="679"> +<H4 CLASS="h4center" STYLE="width: 447px"> +She Thought of the Slow News After Slaughtering Battles +</H4> +</CENTER> + +<P> +Now, as she was stepping aside to avoid crushing some young white +clover-blossoms in the grass where she was walking, she looked up and +wondered if she were going blind, or if her mind were giving way. +</P> + +<P> +The vacant space behind the solitary veteran trembled and palpitated +before her vision, as if it had been peopled. By what? By whom? +Patience was no occultist. She had never seen an apparition in her +life. She felt that if she had not lacked a mysterious, unknown gift, +she should have seen spirits, as men marching, now. But she did not +see them. She was aware of a tremulous, nebulous struggle in the empty +air, as of figures that did not form, or of sights from which her eyes +were holden. Ah—what? She gasped for the wonder of it. Who was it, +that followed the veteran, with the dumb, delighted fidelity that one +race only knows of all created? For a wild instant this sane and +sensible woman could have taken oath that Reuben Oak was accompanied on +his march by his old dog, his dead dog, Tramp. If it had been Tommy— +Or if it had been Jabez Trent— And where were they who had gone into +the throat of death with him at Antietam, at Bull Run, at Fair Oaks, at +Malvern Hill? But there limped along behind Reuben only an old, +forgotten dog. +</P> + +<P> +This quaint delusion (if delusion we must call it) aroused her +attention, which had wavered from her husband, and concentrated it upon +him afresh. Suddenly she saw him stagger. +</P> + +<P> +A dozen persons started, but the wife sprang and reached him first. As +she did this, the ghost dog vanished from before her. Only Reuben was +there, marching alone, with the unpeopled space between him and the +procession. +</P> + +<P> +"Leave go of me!" he gasped. Patience quietly grasped him by the arm, +and fell into step beside him. In her heart she was terrified. She +was something of a reader in her way, and she thought of magazine +stories where the veterans died upon Memorial Day. +</P> + +<P> +"I'll march to decorate the Post—and Tommy—if I drop dead for it!" +panted Reuben Oak. +</P> + +<P> +"Then I shall march beside you," answered Patience. +</P> + +<P> +"What 'll folks say?" cried the old soldier, in real anguish. +</P> + +<P> +"They'll say I'm where I belong. Reuben! Reuben! <I>I've earned the +right to</I>." +</P> + +<P> +He contended no more, but yielded to her—in fact, gladly, for he felt +too weak to stand alone. Inspiring him, and supporting him, and yet +seeming (such was the sweet womanliness of her) to lean on him, +Patience marched with him before the people; and these saw her through +blurred eyes, and their hearts saluted her. With every step she felt +that he strengthened. She was conscious of endowing him with her own +vitality, as she sometimes did, in her own way—the love way, the wife +way, powerfully and mysteriously. +</P> + +<P> +So the veteran and his wife came on together to the cemetery, with the +flags and the flowers. Nor was there a man or a woman in the throng +who would have separated these comrades. +</P> + +<P> +In the churchyard it was pleasant and expectant. The morning was cool, +and the sun climbed gently. Not a flower had wilted; they looked as if +they had been planted and were growing on the graves. When they had +come to these, Patience Oak held back. She would not take from the old +soldier his precious right. She did not offer to help him "decorate" +anybody. His trembling mechanic's fingers clutched at the flowers as +if he had been handling shot or nails. His breath came short. She +watched him anxiously; she was still thinking of those stories she had +read. +</P> + +<P> +"Hadn't you better sit down on some monument and rest?" she whispered. +But he paid no attention to her, and crawled from mound to mound. She +perceived that it was his will to leave the new-made graves until the +others had been remembered. Then he tottered across the cemetery with +the flowers that he had saved for David Swing and old Mr. Succor and +Jabez Trent, and the cheeks of the Charles Darlington Post were wet. +Last of all he "decorated Tommy." +</P> + +<P> +The air ached with the military dirge, and the voice of the chaplain +faltered when he prayed. The veteran was aware that some persons in +the crowd were sobbing. But his own eyes had now grown dry, and burned +deep in their sunken sockets. As his sacred task drew to its end he +grew remote, elate, and solemn. It was as if he were transfigured +before his neighbors into something strange and holy. A village +carpenter? A Connecticut tobacco-planter? Rather, say, the glory of +the nation, the guardian of a great trust, proudly carried and honored +to its end. +</P> + +<P> +Taps were sounding over the old graves and the new, when the veteran +slowly sank to one knee and toppled over. Patience, when she got her +arms about him, saw that he had fallen across the mound where he had +decorated Tommy with her white lilacs. Beyond lay the baby, small and +still. The wife sat down on the little grave and drew the old man's +head upon her lap. She thought of those Memorial Day stories with a +deadly sinking at her heart. But it was a strong heart, all woman and +all love. +</P> + +<P> +"You <I>shall not</I> die!" she said. +</P> + +<P> +She gathered him and poured her powerful being upon him—breath, +warmth, will, prayer, who could say what it was? She felt as if she +took hold of tremendous, unseen forces and moved them by unknown powers. +</P> + +<P> +"Live!" she whispered. "<I>Live!</I>" +</P> + +<P> +Some one called for a doctor, and she assented. But to her own soul +she said: +</P> + +<P> +"What's a doctor?" +</P> + +<P> +The flags had fallen from his arms at last; he had clung to them till +now. The chaplain reverently lifted them and laid them at his feet. +</P> + +<P> +Once his white lips moved, and the people hushed to hear what outburst +of patriotism would issue from them—what tribute to the cause that he +had fought for, what final apostrophe to his country or his flag. +</P> + +<P> +"Peter?" he called, feebly. "<I>Peter!</I>" +</P> + +<P> +But Patience had said he should not die. And Patience knew. Had not +she always known what he should do, or what he could? He lay upon his +bed peacefully when, with tears and smiles, in reverence and in wonder, +they had brought him home—and the flags of the Post, too. By a +gesture he had asked to have these hung upon the foot-board of his bed. +</P> + +<P> +He turned his head upon his pillow and watched his wife with wide, +reflecting eyes. It was a long time before she would let him talk; in +fact, the May afternoon was slanting to dusk before he tried to cross +her tender will about that matter. When he did, it was to say only +this: +</P> + +<P> +"Peter? I was goin' to decorate the baby. I meant to when I took that +turn." +</P> + +<P> +Patience nodded. +</P> + +<P> +"It's all done, Reuben." +</P> + +<P> +"And, Peter? I've had the queerest notions about my old dog Tramp +to-day. I wonder if there's a johnnyquil left to decorate him?" +</P> + +<P> +"I'll go and see," said Patience. But when she had come back he had +forgotten Tramp and the johnnyquil. +</P> + +<P> +"Peter," he muttered, "<I>this has been a great day</I>." He gazed solemnly +at the flags. +</P> + +<P> +Patience regarded him poignantly. With a stricture at the heart she +thought: +</P> + +<P> +"He has grown old fast since yesterday." Then joyously the elderly +wife cried out upon herself: "But I am young! He shall have all my +youth. I've got enough for two—and strength!" +</P> + +<P> +She crept beside him and laid her warm cheek to his. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<P CLASS="finis"> +THE END +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Comrades, by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COMRADES *** + +***** This file should be named 34255-h.htm or 34255-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/5/34255/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + + +</pre> + +</BODY> + +</HTML> + diff --git a/34255-h/images/img-016.jpg b/34255-h/images/img-016.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..6885023 --- /dev/null +++ b/34255-h/images/img-016.jpg diff --git a/34255-h/images/img-040.jpg b/34255-h/images/img-040.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..3335d2a --- /dev/null +++ b/34255-h/images/img-040.jpg diff --git a/34255-h/images/img-cover.jpg b/34255-h/images/img-cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8573407 --- /dev/null +++ b/34255-h/images/img-cover.jpg diff --git a/34255-h/images/img-front.jpg b/34255-h/images/img-front.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c7163f0 --- /dev/null +++ b/34255-h/images/img-front.jpg diff --git a/34255.txt b/34255.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1754788 --- /dev/null +++ b/34255.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1282 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Comrades, by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Comrades + +Author: Elizabeth Stuart Phelps + +Illustrator: Howard E. Smith + +Release Date: November 8, 2010 [EBook #34255] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COMRADES *** + + + + +Produced by Al Haines + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Cover art] + + + + + +[Frontispiece: "We're All That's Left of the Charles Darlington Post." +See page 19.] + + + + + +COMRADES + + +BY + +ELIZABETH STUART PHELPS + + + +ILLUSTRATED BY + +HOWARD E. SMITH + + + + +HARPER & BROTHERS + +NEW YORK AND LONDON + +M . C . M . X . I + + + + +COPYRIGHT, 1911, BY HARPER & BROTHERS + + +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA + +PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER, 1911 + + + + +ILLUSTRATIONS + + +"We're All That's Left of the Charles Darlington + Post" . . . . . . Frontispiece + +"Folks Don't Amount to Anything. It's You, Peter" + +She Thought of the Slow News of the Slaughtering Battles + + + + +COMRADES + + +In the late May evening the soul of summer had gone suddenly incarnate, +but the old man, indifferent and petulant, thrashed upon his bed. He +was not used to being ill, and found no consolations in weather. +Flowers regarded him observantly--one might have said critically--from +the tables, the bureau, the window-sills: tulips, fleurs-de-lis, +pansies, peonies, and late lilacs, for he had a garden-loving wife who +made the most of "the dull season," after crocuses and daffodils, and +before roses. But he manifested no interest in flowers; less than +usual, it must be owned, in Patience, his wife. This was a marked +incident. They had lived together fifty years, and she had acquired +her share of the lessons of marriage, but not that ruder one given +chiefly to women to learn--she had never found herself a negligible +quantity in her husband's life. She had the profound maternal instinct +which is so large an element in the love of every experienced and +tender wife; and when Reuben thrashed profanely upon his pillows, +staring out of the window above the vase of jonquils, without looking +at her, clearly without thinking of her, she swallowed her surprise as +if it had been a blue-pill, and tolerantly thought: + +"Poor boy! To be a veteran and can't go!" + +Her poor boy, being one-and-eighty, and having always had health and +her, took his disappointment like a boy. He felt more outraged that he +could not march with the other boys to decorate the graves to-morrow +than he had been, or had felt that he was, by some of the important +troubles of his long and, on the whole, comfortable life. He took it +unreasonably; she could not deny that. But she went on saying "Poor +boy!" as she usually did when he was unreasonable. When he stopped +thrashing and swore no more she smiled at him brilliantly. He had not +said anything worse than damn! But he was a good Baptist, and the +lapse was memorable. + +"Peter?" he said. "Just h'ist the curtain a mite, won't you? I want +to see across over to the shop. Has young Jabez locked up everything? +Somebody's got to make sure." + +Behind the carpenter's shop the lush tobacco-fields of the Connecticut +valley were springing healthily. "There ain't as good a crop as there +gener'lly is," the old man fretted. + +"Don't you think so?" replied Patience. "Everybody say it's better. +But you ought to know." + +In the youth and vigor of her no woman was ever more misnamed. Patient +she was not, nor gentle, nor adaptable to the teeth in the saw of life. +Like wincing wood, her nature had resented it, the whole biting thing. +All her gentleness was acquired, and acquired hard. She had fought +like a man to endure like a woman, to accept, not to writhe and rebel. +She had not learned easily how to count herself out. Something in the +sentimentality or even the piety of her name had always seemed to her +ridiculous; they both used to have their fun at its expense; for some +years he called her Impatience, degenerating into Imp if he felt like +it. When Reuben took to calling her Peter, she found it rather a +relief. + +"You'll have to go without me," he said, crossly. + +"I'd rather stay with you," she urged. "I'm not a veteran." + +"Who'd decorate Tommy, then?" demanded the old man. "You wouldn't give +Tommy the go-by, would you?" + +"I never did--did I?" returned the wife, slowly. + +"I don't know's you did," replied Reuben Oak, after some difficult +reflection. + +Patience did not talk about Tommy. But she had lived Tommy, so she +felt, all her married life, ever since she took him, the year-old baby +of a year-dead first wife who had made Reuben artistically miserable; +not that Patience thought in this adjective; it was one foreign to her +vocabulary; she was accustomed to say of that other woman: "It was +better for Reuben. I'm not sorry she died." She added, "Lord forgive +me," because she was a good church member, and felt that she must. Oh, +she had "lived Tommy," God knew. Her own baby had died, and there were +never any more. But Tommy lived and clamored at her heart. She began +by trying to be a good stepmother. In the end she did not have to try. +Tommy never knew the difference; and his father had long since +forgotten it. She had made him so happy that he seldom remembered +anything unpleasant. He was accustomed to refer to his two conjugal +partners as "My wife and the other woman." + +But Tommy had the blood of a fighting father, and when the _Maine_ went +down, and his chance came, he, too, took it. Tommy lay dead and +nameless in the trenches at San Juan. But his father had put up a +tall, gray slate-stone slab for him in the churchyard at home. This +was close to the baby's; the baby's was little and white. So the +veteran was used to "decorating Tommy" on Memorial Day. He did not +trouble himself about the little, white gravestone then. He had a +veteran's savage jealousy of the day that was sacred to the splendid +heroisms and sacrifices of the sixties. + +"What do they want to go decorating all their relations for?" he +argued. "Ain't there three hundred and sixty-four days in the year for +_them_?" + +He was militant on this point, and Patience did not contend. Sometimes +she took the baby's flowers over the day after. + +"If you can spare me just as well's not, I'll decorate Tommy +to-morrow," she suggested, gently. "We'll see how you feel along by +that." + +"Tommy's got to be decorated if I'm dead or livin'," retorted the +veteran. The soldier father struggled up from his pillow, as if he +would carry arms for his soldier son. Then he fell back weakly. "I +wisht I had my old dog here," he complained--"my dog Tramp. I never +did like a dog like that dog. But Tramp's dead, too. I don't believe +them boys are coming. They've forgotten me, Peter. You haven't," he +added, after some slow thought. "I don't know's you ever did, come to +think." + +Patience, in her blue shepherd-plaid gingham dress and white apron, was +standing by the window--a handsome woman, a dozen years younger than +her husband; her strong face was gentler than most strong faces are--in +women; peace and pain, power and subjection, were fused upon her aspect +like warring elements reconciled by a mystery. Her hair was not yet +entirely white, and her lips were warm and rich. She had a round +figure, not overgrown. There were times when she did not look over +thirty. Two or three late jonquils that had outlived their calendar in +a cold spot by a wall stood on the window-sill beside her; these +trembled in the slant, May afternoon light. She stroked them in their +vase, as if they had been frightened or hurt. She did not immediately +answer Reuben, and, when she did, it was to say, abruptly: + +"Here's the boys! They're coming--the whole of them!--Jabez Trent, and +old Mr. Succor, and David Swing on his crutches. I'll go right out 'n' +let them all in." + +She spoke as if they had been a phalanx. Reuben panted upon his +pillows. Patience had shut the door, and it seemed to him as if it +would never open. He pulled at his gray flannel dressing-gown with +nervous fingers; they were carpenter's fingers--worn, but supple and +intelligent. He had on his old red nightcap, and he felt the +indignity, but he did not dare to take the cap off; there was too much +pain underneath it. + +When Patience opened the door she nodded at him girlishly. She had +preceded the visitors, who followed her without speaking. She looked +forty years younger than they did. She marshaled them as if she had +been their colonel. The woman herself had a certain military look. + +The veterans filed in slowly--three aged, disabled men. One was lame, +and one was palsied; one was blind, and all were deaf. + +"Here they are, Reuben," said Patience Oak. "They've all come to see +you. Here's the whole Post." + +Reuben's hand went to his red night-cap. He saluted gravely. + + +The veterans came in with dignity--David Swing, and Jabez Trent, and +old Mr. Succor. David was the one on crutches, but Jabez Trent, with +nodding head and swaying hand, led old Mr. Succor, who could not see. + +Reuben watched them with a species of grim triumph. "I ain't blind," +he thought, "and I hain't got the shakin' palsy. Nor I hain't come on +crutches, either." + +He welcomed his visitors with a distinctly patronizing air. He was +conscious of pitying them as much as a soldier can afford to pity +anything. They seemed to him very old men. + +"Give 'em chairs, Peter," he commanded. "Give 'em easy chairs. +Where's the cushions?" + +"I favor a hard cheer myself," replied the blind soldier, sitting solid +and straight upon the stiff bamboo chair into which he had been set +down by Jabez Trent. "I'm sorry to find you so low, Reuben Oak." + +"_Low!_" exploded the old soldier. "Why, nothing partikler ails _me_. +I hain't got a thing the matter with me but a spell of rheumatics. +I'll be spry as a kitten catchin' grasshoppers in a week. I can't +march to-morrow--that's all. It's darned hard luck. How's your +eyesight, Mr. Succor?" + +"Some consider'ble better, sir," retorted the blind man. "I calc'late +to get it back. My son's goin' to take me to a city eye-doctor. I +ain't only seventy-eight. I'm too young to be blind. 'Tain't as if I +was onto crutches, or I was down sick abed. How old are you, Reuben?" + +"Only eighty-one!" snapped Reuben. + +"He's eighty-one last March," interpolated his wife. + +"He's come to a time of life when folks do take to their beds," +returned David Swing. "Mebbe you could manage with crutches, Reuben, +in a few weeks. I've been on 'em three years, since I was +seventy-five. I've got to feel as if they was relations. Folks want +me to ride to-morrow," he added, contemptuously, "but I'll march on +them crutches to decorate them graves, or I won't march at all." + +Now Jabez Trent was the youngest of the veterans; he was indeed but +sixty-eight. He refrained from mentioning this fact. He felt that it +was indelicate to boast of it. His jerking hand moved over toward the +bed, and he laid it on Reuben's with a fine gesture. + +"You'll be round--you'll be round before you know it," he shouted. + +"I ain't deef," interrupted Reuben, "like the rest of you." But the +palsied man, hearing not at all, shouted on: + +"You always had grit, Reuben, more'n most of as. You stood more, you +was under fire more, you never was afraid of anything-- What's +rheumatics? 'Tain't Antietam." + +"Nor it ain't Bull Run," rejoined Reuben. He lifted his red nightcap +from his head. "Let it ache!" he said. "It ain't Gettysburg." + +"It seems to me," suggested Jabez Trent, "that Reuben he's under fire +just about now. _He_ ain't used to bein' disabled. It appears to me +he's fightin' this matter the way a soldier 'd oughter-- Comrades, I +move he's entitled to promotion for military conduct. He'd rather than +sympathy--wouldn't you, Reuben?" + +"I don't feel to deserve it," muttered Reuben. "I swore to-day. Ask +my wife." + +"No, he didn't!" blazed Patience Oak. "He never said a thing but damn. +He's getting tired, though," she added, under breath. "He ain't very +well." She delicately brushed the foot of Jabez Trent with the toe of +her slipper. + +"I guess we'd better not set any longer," observed Jabez Trent. The +three veterans rose like one soldier. Reuben felt that their visit had +not been what he expected. But he could not deny that he was tired +out; he wondered why. He beckoned to Jabez Trent, who, shaking and +coughing, bent over him. + +"You'll see the boys don't forget to decorate Tommy, won't you?" he +asked, eagerly. Jabez could not hear much of this, but he got the word +Tommy, and nodded. + +The three old men saluted silently, and when Reuben had put on his +nightcap he found that they had all gone. Only Patience was in the +room, standing by the jonquils, in her blue gingham dress and white +apron. + +"Tired?" she asked, comfortably. "I've mixed you up an egg-nog. Think +you could take it?" + +"They didn't stay long," complained the old man. "It don't seem to +amount to much, does it?" + +"You've punched your pillows all to pudding-stones," observed Patience +Oak. "Let me fix 'em a little." + +"I won't be fussed over!" cried Reuben, angrily. He gave one of his +pillows a pettish push, and it went half across the room. Patience +picked it up without remark. Reuben Oak held out a contrite hand. + +"Peter, come here!" he commanded. Patience, with her maternal smile, +obeyed. + +"You stay, Peter, anyhow. Folks don't amount to anything. It's _you_, +Peter." + +[Illustration: "Folks Don't Amount to Anything. It's _You_, Peter."] + +Patience's eyes filled. But she hid them on the pillow beside him--he +did not know why. She put up one hand and stroked his cheek. + +"Just as if I was a johnnyquil," said the old man. He laughed, and +grew quiet, and slept. But Patience did not move. She was afraid of +waking him. She sat crouched and crooked on the edge of the bed, +uncomfortable and happy. + + +Out on the street, between the house and the carpenter's shop, the +figures of the veterans bent against the perspective of young tobacco. +They walked feebly. Old Mr. Succor shook his head: + +"Looks like he'd never see another Decoration Day. He's some +considerable sick--an' he ain't young." + +"He's got grit, though," urged Jabez Trent. + +"He's pretty old," sighed David Swing. "He's consider'ble older'n we +be. He'd ought to be prepared for his summons any time at his age." + +"We'll be decorating _him_, I guess, come next year," insisted old Mr. +Succor. Jabez Trent opened his mouth to say something, but he coughed +too hard to speak. + +"I'd like to look at Reuben's crop as we go by," remarked the blind +man. "He's lucky to have the shop 'n' the crop too." + +The three turned aside to the field, where old Mr. Succor appraised the +immature tobacco leaves with seeing fingers. + +"Connecticut's a _great_ State!" he cried. + +"And this here's a great town," echoed David Swing. "Look at the quota +we sent--nigh a full company. And we had a great colonel," he added, +proudly. "I calc'late he'd been major-general if it hadn't 'a' been +for that infernal shell." + +"Boys," said Jabez Trent, slowly, "Memorial Day's a great day. It's up +to us to keep it that way-- Boys, we're all that's left of the Charles +Darlington Post." + +"That's a fact," observed the blind soldier, soberly. + +"That's so," said the lame one, softly. + +The three did not talk any more; they walked past the tobacco-field +thoughtfully. Many persons carrying flowers passed or met them. These +recognized the veterans with marked respect, and with some perplexity. +What! Only old blind Mr. Succor? Just David Swing on his crutches, +and Jabez Trent with the shaking palsy? Only those poor, familiar +persons whom one saw every day, and did not think much about on any +other day? Unregarded, unimportant, aging neighbors? These who had +ceased to be useful, ceased to be interesting, who were not any longer +of value to the town, or to the State, to their friends (if they had +any left), or to themselves? Heroes? These plain, obscure old +men?--Heroes? + + +So it befell that Patience Oak "decorated Tommy" for his father that +Memorial Day. The year was 1909. The incident of which we have to +tell occurred twelve months thereafter, in 1910. These, as I have +gathered them, are the facts: + +Time, to the old, takes an unnatural pace, and Reuben Oak felt that the +year had sprinted him down the race-track of life; he was inclined to +resent his eighty-second March birthday as a personal insult; but April +cried over him, and May laughed at him, and he had acquired a certain +grim reconciliation with the laws of fate by the time that the nation +was summoned to remember its dead defenders upon their latest +anniversary. This resignation was the easier because he found himself +unexpectedly called upon to fill an extraordinary part in the drama and +the pathos of the day. + +He slept brokenly the night before, and waked early; it was scarcely +five o'clock. But Patience, his wife, was already awake, lying quietly +upon her pillow, with straight, still arms stretched down beside him. +She was careful not to disturb him--she always was; she was so used to +effacing herself for his sake that he had ceased to notice whether she +did or not; he took her beautiful dedication to him as a matter of +course; most husbands would, if they had its counterpart. In point of +fact--and in saying this we express her altogether--Patience had the +genius of love. Charming women, noble women, unselfish women may spend +their lives in a man's company, making a tolerable success of marriage, +yet lack this supreme gift of Heaven to womanhood, and never know it. +Our defects we may recognize; our deficiencies we seldom do, and the +love deficiency is the most hopeless of human limitations. Patience +was endowed with love as a great poet is by song, or a musician by +harmony, or an artist by color or form. She loved supremely, but she +did not know that. She loved divinely, but her husband had never found +it out. They were two plain people--a carpenter and his wife, plodding +along the Connecticut valley industriously, with the ideals of their +kind; to be true to their marriage vows, to be faithful to their +children, to pay their debts, raise the tobacco, water the garden, +drive the nails straight, and preserve the quinces. There were times +when it occurred to Patience that she took more care of Reuben than +Reuben did of her; but she dismissed the matter with a phrase common in +her class, and covering for women most of the perplexity of married +life: "You know what men are." + +On the morning of which we speak, Reuben Oak had a blunt perception of +the fact that it was kind in his wife to take such pains not to wake +him till he got ready to begin the tremendous day before him; she +always was considerate if he did not sleep well. He put down his hand +and took hers with a sudden grasp, where it lay gentle and still beside +him. + +"Well, Peter," he said, kindly. + +"Yes, dear," said Patience, instantly. "Feeling all right for to-day?" + +"Fine," returned Reuben. "I don't know when I've felt so spry. I'll +get right up 'n' dress." + +"Would you mind staying where you are till I get your coffee heated?" +asked Patience, eagerly. "You know how much stronger you always are if +you wait for it. I'll have it on the heater in no time." + +"I can't wait for coffee to-day," flashed Reuben. "I'm the best judge +of what I need." + +"Very well," said Patience, in a disappointed tone. For she had +learned the final lesson of married life--not to oppose an obstinate +man, for his own good. But she slipped into her wrapper and made the +coffee, nevertheless. When she came back with it, Reuben was lying on +the bed in his flannels, with a comforter over him; he looked pale, and +held out his hand impatiently for the coffee. + +His feverish eyes healed as he watched her moving about the room. He +thought how young and pretty her neck was when she splashed the water +on it. + +"Goin' to wear your black dress?" he asked. "That's right. I'm glad +you are. I'll get up pretty soon." + +"I'll bring you _all_ your clothes," she said. "Don't you get a mite +tired. I'll move up everything for you. Your uniform's all cleaned +and pressed. Don't you do a thing!" + +She brushed her thick hair with upraised, girlish arms, and got out her +black serge dress and a white tie. He lay and watched her thoughtfully. + +"Peter," he said, unexpectedly, "how long is it since we was married?" + +"Forty-nine years," answered Patience, promptly. "Fifty, come next +September." + +"What a little creatur' you were, Peter--just a slip of a girl! And +how you did take hold--Tommy and everything." + +"I was 'most twenty," observed Patience, with dignity. + +"You made a powerful good stepmother all the same," mused Reuben. "You +did love Tommy, to beat all." + +"I was fond of Tommy," answered Patience, quietly. "He was a nice +little fellow." + +"And then there was the baby, Peter. Pity we lost the baby! I guess +you took that harder 'n I did, Peter." + +Patience made no reply. + +"She was so dreadful young, Peter. I can't seem to remember how she +looked. Can you? Pity she didn't live! You'd 'a' liked a daughter +round the house, wouldn't you, Peter? Say, Peter, we've gone through a +good deal, haven't we--you 'n' me? The war 'n' all that--and the two +children. But there's one thing, Peter--" + +Patience came over to him quietly, and sat down on the side of the bed. +She was half dressed, and her still beautiful arms went around him. + +"You'll tire yourself all out thinking, Reuben. You won't be able to +decorate anybody if you ain't careful." + +"What I was goin' to say was this," persisted Reuben. "I've always had +you, Peter. And you've had me. I don't count so much, but I'm +powerful fond of you, Peter. You're all I've got. Seems as if I +couldn't set enough by you, somehow or nuther." + +The old man hid his face upon her soft neck. + +"There, there, dear!" said Patience. + +"It must be kinder hard, Peter, not to _like_ your wife. Or maybe she +mightn't like him. Sho! I don't think I could stand that.... Peter?" + +"Don't you think you'd better be getting dressed, Reuben? The +procession's going to start pretty early. Folks are moving up and down +the street. Everybody's got flowers--See?" + +Reuben looked out of the window and over the pansy-bed with brilliant, +dry eyes. His wife could see that he was keeping back the thing that +he thought most about. She had avoided and evaded the subject as long +as she could. She felt now that it must be met, and yet she parleyed +with it. She hurried his breakfast and brought the tray to him. He +ate because she asked him to, but his hands shook. It seemed as if he +clung wilfully to the old topic, escaping the new as long as he could, +to ramble on. + +"You've been a dreadfully amiable wife, Peter. I don't believe I could +have got along with any other kind of woman." + +"I didn't used to be amiable, Reuben. I wasn't born so. I used to +take things hard. Don't you remember?" + +But Reuben shook his head. + +"No, I don't. I can't seem to think of any time you wasn't that way. +Sho! How'd you get to be so, then, I'd like to know?" + +"Oh, just by loving, I guess," said Patience Oak. + +"We've marched along together a good while," answered the old man, +brokenly. + +Unexpectedly he held out his hand, and she grasped it; his was cold and +weak; but hers was warm and strong. In a dull way the divination came +to him--if one may speak of a dull divination--that she had always been +the strength and the warmth of his life. Suddenly it seemed to him a +very long life. Now it was as if he forced himself to speak, as he +would have charged at Fredericksburg. He felt as if he were climbing +against breastworks when he said: + +"I was the oldest of them all, Peter. And I was sickest, too. They +all expected to come an' decorate me to-day." Patience nodded, without +a word. She knew when her husband must do all the talking; she had +found that out early in their married life. "I wouldn't of believed +it, Peter; would you? Old Mr. Succor he had such good health. Who'd +thought he'd tumble down the cellar stairs? If Mis' Succor 'd be'n +like you, Peter, he wouldn't had the chance to tumble: I never would of +_thought_ of David Swing's havin' pneumonia--would you, Peter? Why, in +'62 he slept onto the ground in peltin', drenchin' storms an' never +sneezed. He was powerful well 'n' tough, David was. And Jabez! Poor +old Jabez Trent! I liked him the best of the lot, Peter. Didn't you? +He was sorry for me when they come here that day an' I couldn't march +along of them.... And now, Peter, I've got to go an' decorate _them_. + +"I'm the last livin' survivor of the Charles Darlington Post," added +the veteran. "I'm going to apply to the Department Commander to let me +keep it up. I guess I can manage someways. _I won't be disbanded_. +Let 'em disband me if they can! I'd like to see 'em do it. Peter? +_Peter_!" + +"I'll help you into your uniform," said Patience. "It's all brushed +and nice for you." + +She got him to his swaying feet, and dressed him, and the two went to +the window that looked upon the flowers. The garden blurred yellow and +white and purple--a dash of blood-red among the late tulips. Patience +had plucked and picked for Memorial Day, she had gathered and given, +and yet she could not strip her garden. She looked at it lovingly. +She felt as if she stood in pansy lights and iris air. + +"Peter," said the veteran, hoarsely, "they're all gone, my girl. +Everybody's gone but you. You're the only comrade I've got left, +Peter.... And, Peter, I want to tell you--I seem to understand it this +morning. Peter, you're the best comrade of 'em all." + +"That's worth it," said Patience, in a strange tone--"that's worth +the--high cost of living." + +She lifted her head. She had an exalted look. The thoughtful pansies +seemed to turn their faces toward her. She felt that they understood +her. Did it matter whether Reuben understood her or not? It occurred +to her that it was not so important, after all, whether a man +understood his wife, if he only loved her. Women fussed too much, she +thought; they expected to cry away the everlasting differences between +the husband and the wife. If you loved a man you must take him as he +was--just man. You couldn't make him over. You must make up your mind +to that. Better, oh, better a hundred times to endure, to suffer--if +it came to suffering--to take your share (perhaps he had his--who +knew?) of the loneliness of living. Better any fate than to battle +with the man you love, for what he did not give or could not give. +Better anything than to stand in the pansy light, married fifty years, +and not have made your husband happy. + +"I 'most wisht you could march along of me," muttered Reuben Oak. "But +you ain't a veteran." + +"I don't know about that," Patience shook her head, smiling, but it was +a sober smile. + +"Tommy can't march," added Reuben. "He ain't here; nor he ain't in the +graveyard either. He's a ghost--Tommy. He must be flying around the +Throne. There's only one other person I'd like to have go along of me. +That's my old dog--my dog Tramp. That dog thought a sight of me. The +United States army couldn't have kep' him away from me. But Tramp's +dead. He was a pretty old dog. I can't remember which died first, him +or the baby; can you? Lord! I suppose Tramp's a ghost, too, a dog +ghost, trottin' after--I don't know when I've thought of Tramp before. +Where's he buried, Peter? Oh yes, come to think, he's under the big +chestnut. Wonder we never decorated him, Peter." + +"I have," confessed Patience. "I've done it quite a number of times. +Reuben? Listen! I guess we've got to hurry. Seems to me I hear--" + +"You hear drums," interrupted the old soldier. Suddenly he flared like +lightwood on a camp-fire, and before his wife could speak again he had +blazed out of the house. + +The day had a certain unearthly beauty--most of our Memorial Days do +have. Sometimes they scorch a little, and the processions wilt and +lag. But this one, as we remember, had the climate of a happier world +and the temperature of a day created for marching men--old soldiers who +had left their youth and strength behind them, and who were feebler +than they knew. + +The Connecticut valley is not an emotional part of the map, but the +town was alight with a suppressed feeling, intense, and hitherto +unknown to the citizens. They were graver than they usually were on +the national anniversary which had come to mean remembrance for the old +and indifference for the young. There was no baseball in the village +that day. The boys joined the procession soberly. The crowd was large +but thoughtful. It had collected chiefly outside of the Post hall, +where four old soldiers had valiantly sustained their dying +organization for now two or three astonishing years. + +The band was outside, below the steps; it played the "Star-spangled +Banner" and "John Brown's Body" while it waited. For some reason there +was a delay in the ceremonies. It was rumored that the chaplain had +not come. Then it went about that he had been summoned to a funeral, +and would meet the procession at the churchyard. The chaplain was the +pastor of the Congregational Church. The regimental chaplain, he who +used to pray for the dying boys after battle, had joined the vanished +veterans long ago. The band struck up "My Country, 'tis of Thee." The +crowd began to press toward the steps of the Post hall and to sway to +and fro restlessly. + +Then slowly there emerged from the hall, and firmly descended the +steps, the Charles Darlington Post of the Grand Army of the Republic. +People held their breaths, and some sobbed. They were not all women, +either. + +Erect, with fiery eyes, with haughty head--shrunken in his old uniform, +but carrying it proudly--one old man walked out. The crowd parted for +him, and he looked neither to the right nor to the left, but fell into +the military step and began to march. In his aged arms he carried the +flags of the Post. The military band preceded him, softly playing +"Mine Eyes have Seen the Glory," while the crowd formed into procession +and followed him. From the whole countryside people had assembled, and +the throng was considerable. + +They came out into the street and turned toward the churchyard--the old +soldier marching alone. They had begged him to ride, though the +distance was small. But he had obstinately refused. + +"This Post has always marched," he had replied. + +Except for the military music and the sound of moving feet or wheels, +the street was perfectly still. No person spoke to any other. The +veteran marched with proud step. His gray head was high. Once he was +seen to put the flag of his company to his lips. A little behind him +the procession had instinctively fallen back and left a certain space. +One could not help the feeling that this was occupied. But they who +filled it, if such there had been, were invisible to the eye of the +body. And the eyes of the soul are not possessed by all men. + +Now, the distance, as we have said, was short, and the old soldier was +so exalted that it had not occurred to him that he could be fatigued. +It was an astonishing sensation to him when he found himself +unexpectedly faint. + + +Patience Oak, for some reasons of her own hardly clear to herself, did +not join the procession. She chose to walk abreast of it, at the side, +as near as possible, without offense to the ceremonies, to the solitary +figure of her husband. She was pacing through the grass, at the edge +of the sidewalk--falling as well as she could into the military step. +In her plain, old-fashioned black dress, with the fleck of white at her +throat, she had a statuesque, unmodern look. Her fine features were +charged with that emotion which any expression would have weakened. +Her arms were heaped with flowers--bouquets and baskets and sprays: +spiraea, lilacs, flowering almond, peonies, pansies, all the glory of +her garden that opening summer returned to her care and tenderness. +She was tender with everything--a man, a child, an animal, a flower. +Everything blossomed for her, and rested in her, and yearned toward +her. The emotion of the day and of the hour seemed incarnate in her. +She embodied in her strong and sweet personality all that blundering +man has wrought on tormented woman by the savagery of war. She +remembered what she had suffered--a young, incredulous creature, on the +margin of life, avid of happiness, believing in joy, and drowning in +her love for that one man, her husband. She thought of the slow news +after slaughtering battles--how she waited for the laggard paper in the +country town; she remembered that she dared not read the head-lines +when she got them, but dropped, choking and praying God to spare her, +before she glanced. Even now she could feel the wet paper against her +raining cheek. Then her heart leaped back, and she thought of the day +when he marched away--his arms, his lips, his groans. She remembered +what the dregs of desolation were, and mortal fear of unknown fate; the +rack of the imagination; and inquisition of the nerve--the pangs that +no man-soldier of them all could understand. "It comes on women--war," +she thought. + +[Illustration: She Thought of the Slow News After Slaughtering Battles] + +Now, as she was stepping aside to avoid crushing some young white +clover-blossoms in the grass where she was walking, she looked up and +wondered if she were going blind, or if her mind were giving way. + +The vacant space behind the solitary veteran trembled and palpitated +before her vision, as if it had been peopled. By what? By whom? +Patience was no occultist. She had never seen an apparition in her +life. She felt that if she had not lacked a mysterious, unknown gift, +she should have seen spirits, as men marching, now. But she did not +see them. She was aware of a tremulous, nebulous struggle in the empty +air, as of figures that did not form, or of sights from which her eyes +were holden. Ah--what? She gasped for the wonder of it. Who was it, +that followed the veteran, with the dumb, delighted fidelity that one +race only knows of all created? For a wild instant this sane and +sensible woman could have taken oath that Reuben Oak was accompanied on +his march by his old dog, his dead dog, Tramp. If it had been Tommy-- +Or if it had been Jabez Trent-- And where were they who had gone into +the throat of death with him at Antietam, at Bull Run, at Fair Oaks, at +Malvern Hill? But there limped along behind Reuben only an old, +forgotten dog. + +This quaint delusion (if delusion we must call it) aroused her +attention, which had wavered from her husband, and concentrated it upon +him afresh. Suddenly she saw him stagger. + +A dozen persons started, but the wife sprang and reached him first. As +she did this, the ghost dog vanished from before her. Only Reuben was +there, marching alone, with the unpeopled space between him and the +procession. + +"Leave go of me!" he gasped. Patience quietly grasped him by the arm, +and fell into step beside him. In her heart she was terrified. She +was something of a reader in her way, and she thought of magazine +stories where the veterans died upon Memorial Day. + +"I'll march to decorate the Post--and Tommy--if I drop dead for it!" +panted Reuben Oak. + +"Then I shall march beside you," answered Patience. + +"What 'll folks say?" cried the old soldier, in real anguish. + +"They'll say I'm where I belong. Reuben! Reuben! _I've earned the +right to_." + +He contended no more, but yielded to her--in fact, gladly, for he felt +too weak to stand alone. Inspiring him, and supporting him, and yet +seeming (such was the sweet womanliness of her) to lean on him, +Patience marched with him before the people; and these saw her through +blurred eyes, and their hearts saluted her. With every step she felt +that he strengthened. She was conscious of endowing him with her own +vitality, as she sometimes did, in her own way--the love way, the wife +way, powerfully and mysteriously. + +So the veteran and his wife came on together to the cemetery, with the +flags and the flowers. Nor was there a man or a woman in the throng +who would have separated these comrades. + +In the churchyard it was pleasant and expectant. The morning was cool, +and the sun climbed gently. Not a flower had wilted; they looked as if +they had been planted and were growing on the graves. When they had +come to these, Patience Oak held back. She would not take from the old +soldier his precious right. She did not offer to help him "decorate" +anybody. His trembling mechanic's fingers clutched at the flowers as +if he had been handling shot or nails. His breath came short. She +watched him anxiously; she was still thinking of those stories she had +read. + +"Hadn't you better sit down on some monument and rest?" she whispered. +But he paid no attention to her, and crawled from mound to mound. She +perceived that it was his will to leave the new-made graves until the +others had been remembered. Then he tottered across the cemetery with +the flowers that he had saved for David Swing and old Mr. Succor and +Jabez Trent, and the cheeks of the Charles Darlington Post were wet. +Last of all he "decorated Tommy." + +The air ached with the military dirge, and the voice of the chaplain +faltered when he prayed. The veteran was aware that some persons in +the crowd were sobbing. But his own eyes had now grown dry, and burned +deep in their sunken sockets. As his sacred task drew to its end he +grew remote, elate, and solemn. It was as if he were transfigured +before his neighbors into something strange and holy. A village +carpenter? A Connecticut tobacco-planter? Rather, say, the glory of +the nation, the guardian of a great trust, proudly carried and honored +to its end. + +Taps were sounding over the old graves and the new, when the veteran +slowly sank to one knee and toppled over. Patience, when she got her +arms about him, saw that he had fallen across the mound where he had +decorated Tommy with her white lilacs. Beyond lay the baby, small and +still. The wife sat down on the little grave and drew the old man's +head upon her lap. She thought of those Memorial Day stories with a +deadly sinking at her heart. But it was a strong heart, all woman and +all love. + +"You _shall not_ die!" she said. + +She gathered him and poured her powerful being upon him--breath, +warmth, will, prayer, who could say what it was? She felt as if she +took hold of tremendous, unseen forces and moved them by unknown powers. + +"Live!" she whispered. "_Live!_" + +Some one called for a doctor, and she assented. But to her own soul +she said: + +"What's a doctor?" + +The flags had fallen from his arms at last; he had clung to them till +now. The chaplain reverently lifted them and laid them at his feet. + +Once his white lips moved, and the people hushed to hear what outburst +of patriotism would issue from them--what tribute to the cause that he +had fought for, what final apostrophe to his country or his flag. + +"Peter?" he called, feebly. "_Peter!_" + +But Patience had said he should not die. And Patience knew. Had not +she always known what he should do, or what he could? He lay upon his +bed peacefully when, with tears and smiles, in reverence and in wonder, +they had brought him home--and the flags of the Post, too. By a +gesture he had asked to have these hung upon the foot-board of his bed. + +He turned his head upon his pillow and watched his wife with wide, +reflecting eyes. It was a long time before she would let him talk; in +fact, the May afternoon was slanting to dusk before he tried to cross +her tender will about that matter. When he did, it was to say only +this: + +"Peter? I was goin' to decorate the baby. I meant to when I took that +turn." + +Patience nodded. + +"It's all done, Reuben." + +"And, Peter? I've had the queerest notions about my old dog Tramp +to-day. I wonder if there's a johnnyquil left to decorate him?" + +"I'll go and see," said Patience. But when she had come back he had +forgotten Tramp and the johnnyquil. + +"Peter," he muttered, "_this has been a great day_." He gazed solemnly +at the flags. + +Patience regarded him poignantly. With a stricture at the heart she +thought: + +"He has grown old fast since yesterday." Then joyously the elderly +wife cried out upon herself: "But I am young! He shall have all my +youth. I've got enough for two--and strength!" + +She crept beside him and laid her warm cheek to his. + + + + +THE END + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Comrades, by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK COMRADES *** + +***** This file should be named 34255.txt or 34255.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/4/2/5/34255/ + +Produced by Al Haines + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/34255.zip b/34255.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..61cd59f --- /dev/null +++ b/34255.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2955a42 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #34255 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/34255) |
