Richmond Palladium (Daily), Volume 43, Number 188, 19 June 1918 — Page 2

?AGE two

THE RICHMOND' PALLADIUM AND 5UN-TELEGBAMr WEDNESDAY,- JUNE 19, 191S.

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y Story, of Ideals and Patriotic Inspiration Answer

ing the Query or

Millions i iUWhat Can lVo

to Help My

Country ( hy PORTER, EMERSON BROWNE Co Turn viaiLAurssX

NE would scarcely expect to find patriotism in an or

phan asylum. Yet little Joan felt it. It tingled and

surged and swelled through her from the tips of her worn shoes to the crown of her small head. And a lump would come in her throat and tears in her eyes every time she would sec the flag and the soldiers. " " ' She saw them often, the soldiers and. their flag.. For the orphan asylum was near the great camp at Plattsburg, where the boys of America were training to be officers in the big new army that Uncle Sam was getting ready to send to France 'way off across the water, on the other side of Lake Champlain. .' . .

Joan loved the soldiers. hs loved the camp. And many a beating came to her hungry little body because in her devotion to them she forgot all the many hard and grievous tasks given tier in and about the asylum by the superintendent and the housekeeper. For Joan, the oldest orphan of all, had boon long at the asylum, and most of the heavier work fell to her bitter lot ... So long had she been there that sha had forgotten any other home. Only at times In the haven ef refuge that she had made for herself In the cellar of the drab, hopeless looking building, right under the superintendent's oftlM, would there come to her faint recollections of a very beautiful lady, and of herself, a little girl (oh, a very little girl!) bein taken from that beautiful lady's lifeleas arms. . . . Relatives could have told her that the beautiful lady was her ir.other; that her mother had had money that they coveted. Which was why Joan had been placed la the asylum, leaving them free to take the money for themselves. But relatives don't tell things like that about themselves. And mo'.'iers who are dead cannot ... It had always been ha; i at the

asylum. It Is strange that little things like children seem to canker tome erown people so. And then, bye and bye. It became worse. That was when the new superintendent came. It was about the time that Joan first heard people talking about the war. Only In those days she didn't even know what a war was. . . . She asked the farmer who brought them skim milk for the children. He told her war was hell. Which shocked and horrified her very much. But another much nicer man, with raggedy shot's and a red nose, told her all about it one day at the back door, while partaking of two slices of bread and a glass of the skim milk left by one of the children who didn't feel well. Joan had been washing dishes at the time and no one had been there to Interfere. And from this man she gleaned that the Germans were bad men, who were killing women and children In France and Belgium and that war meant that everybody was fighting them to make them stop. ... That night she couldn't sleep for thinking of the poor women and children that the Germans were killing In Belgium and France. She almost cried because at the time she was so excited that she forgot to

ask where Belgium and France were. . . . But, after all, what difference did it make where they were? Women and children are the same all the world over ... She wondered why none of the men in the neighborhood were going to stop the Germans from killing women and children. The very next afternoon she went out to the highway and stopped several to ask them. But they only laughed. ... Why did they laugh? There was. nothing funny about the killing of women and children! How she wished that she were a man! She would go! Nothing on earth- could stop her! , But she was only a little girl, who had no money wHo didn't even know where Belgium and France werel . . . And there was eo much work to be done, washing and cooking and scrubbing and dusting. And always one or more of the children had something the matter with it and wanted fairy stories told to it nights when it couldn't sleep. ... Of course, she was punished when she was caught. . . . But It did please the children so ! And then the soldiers came! Great trains brought loads of them, laughing, bright, eager, boyish men, in trim brown uniforms. They moved into the long, low, unpainted houses that had been built.' And from then on It was like a never ending circus fascinating, wonderful. Marching men, .drilling men, men exercising.

men waving little flags, men on horseback, men drilling with huge cannon. And always The Flag flying' above them. . .'."Perhaps here at last were men who were going over there to stop the Germans from killing the poor women, the little children! Before she thought, eagerly . she asked the superintendent Little piglike eyej flashed from his fat face. Muttering some strange sounding words he struck her cruelly In the face '.''.. But later meeting a group of soldiers she asked them. They told her that she could bet her sweet life they were! In her happiness she quite forgot the pain of the blow. And evenings after all the work wal done and the children all asleep, tired though she was she wou'.d go through the woods to the edge of the camp and sit watching the thousand blinking eyes of Its windows. ... Then in her haven of refuge In the cellar under the superintendent's office she would say a little prayer that the r

soldiers might get- there quickly before all the women and children had been killed. . . Several times she almost bumped into a strange man coming out from the side door of the superintendent's office. Like all children, Joan's soul was entirely above doors when open windows were handier. It was through the window that ahe went one day to clean the superintendent's office. As she dusted her cloth caught on a little metal ornament on the top of the superintendent's ink stand. It came off. And at that the top of the Ink stand began to bob uncannily. Frightened, she drew away, upsetting her (bucket. And then, from where she hadn't the faintest idea, as he certainly hadn't been in the room when che entered, the superintendent

with flashing eyes descended upon her. Terrified, she leaped through the window and fled. And be in hot pursuit. Down the drive they tore.- Out upon the road. Joan fled blindly. Of a sudden there were frightened cries; the screeching of brakes. ' She had no time to look ere the superintendent's hand closed upon her arm, crushing It. She burled her head la the crook of her other elbow. . Suddenly she was free. And In place of the superintendent was standing the most splendid officer she had ever seen. And a kindly old man was looking down at her from the tonneau of a great automobile. It was that that had almost hit her. The superintendent, softly caressing - his jaw, stood at the roadside. . This was her meeting with .Major

H'

ERE is a story that will put the brakes on insidious German propaganda in

America. It is a faith and courage builder; an answer to those sly and secret tongues that are striking at the morale of the American people. The spirit

of "Joan of Plattsburg" is for the women of America. Men may react to false rumors; their efficency may be reduced through enemy propaganda, but the faith of women is enduring and constitutes an impregnable fortress in times of national trial. Every girl, as well as every boy and every man and woman, has asked herself or will ask herself: "What can I do for my country?" The answer is provided in "Joan of Plattsburg": that the girls and ;. .omen of America can uphold, by glorious spiritual service, the faith of their men; that their country love and belief in the invincibility of the nation will confound the enemief within who are striking at its heart.

Lane. That hevlosti a pin which she)

hac?

found, and which, oif course, she

to return to him, brought her to him

before his tea'

with a took upon (nJkneea, It

I i a most beyootlfnT-TDOk,- with the most wonderful pletureis! Joan's quickeyes saw-that at s glance. He, smiling, wsitched her as she!

Be saw-iqulckly how muc

it seemed to meant to hdr this story' i of Joan of Arc ' Solemnlyhe showed! herthe pictures. Hungrily she looked Hungrily she. listened, as he told bssj the wondrous, simple .story of tbej

Maid of Orleans ana otxhe voices that

she heard voices irom ucc .

That nighty morpotgnanllr-than

ever, did Joan. longln her heart -to da

something-lor hercwmitry h'

try that was gettlnfclts soldiers read

to- save th womeaandk -chQdrsa eg Belgium and of - the France of the very Joan .JierselfV IfXhetoo.? could butsheajrwoloesr' ' Suddenly- -4ronv- above -ber1iead4 she knelt? there In herhaTn,ta the)

soundl

cellar she ' heard Strang

I m 9 And than ) What, was. thatt ' Che started' Aicraelfttnsi crash, resound od tgromabova JisRg.aBjsi then volcest;

Dazed she-was at first -JLwadJ

frightened,, bewildered. What ' did

all meant Sho-trled to col lect her c scattered senses. -Vf

Suddenly .But :mof Xt could' Ml be! It was too wonderful t Voices! She, too. Ilk that -otter Joan, was hearing- voices, s Bhe' : listened, tensely. fearftffly; every serve, every muscle flexed and rigid. " And the words, area theugh'sho'dll

not understand thorn, fell i

mlnA am unon m. aansftlrefOm. -

And in her soul the wfefJ

the fine fires ef faith and of sorrleoj

To her, at last. It, had been gl

help her country!.

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