Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 34, Number 78, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 30 May 1902 — THE HEART OF MEMORIAL DAY. [ARTICLE]

THE HEART OF MEMORIAL DAY.

“I really wisb,” said Mrs. MaxweH to her daughter Belle, “that you would be more polite to Mr. Curry.” “I suppose, mother,” replied Belle, with the independence of a true American fill. “ that I could be polite tb a horse or a cow, if there was anything in particular to be gained by it. ■ Now please tell me why I should try to be polite to that sarcastic, cold, heartless creature, Leander Curry.” “Why, Belle, you ought to know, lie la worth a quarter of a million.” "Indeed! I’m glad, then, that he's got Mie “recommendation. I don’t know of another.” The widow sighed and looked rather distressfully at her handsome but plainspoken daughter. “Belle Maxwell.” she said, "more nnd more every day do you grow like your poor father. He was just so proud-spir-ited —just so independent.” “I'm glad to hear it, ma! I hope I may always deserve to be spoken of in that way. To be the daughter of one of the heroes who fell at Chickamauga, fighting for the Union and the old ilag, and to resemble him as I grow up—l think that is glory enough for a poor girl like me. Poor, dear father! —how well I remember how fine he looked in his major's uniform when he took me up and kissed me, as he went back from hl* leave of absence, just before that battle! I was only a little thing; but the recollection will never be blotted out from my memory.” Buch a reminiscence as this very naturally set good Mrs. Maxwell crying, and for a moment the subject of their conversation was forgotten. It was brought up again by the ring of the door bell, “That’s his ring," said Mrs. Maxwell, hurriedly d vying her eyes. “Now do try and treat him well. Just think what a chance it would be for you, Belle! I know he likfrs you.” This was rather more than the widow bad said yet to her daughter on the subject. She was a good-hearted woman, but the prospect of haring Mr. Curry for a eon-in-law had rather upset her usually level bead. She had made a great many plans in secret, based on that deuirable event. The death of her husband in the war had left her poor, with nothing to rely on but her daughter’s musical abilities, the exercise of .which now gave the two a very comfortable support. Belle was a good girl, as well as handsome and clever, and cheerfully labored for her mother and herself. ’ She was probably as happy in her independence and in the love of her work and her home as any girl in the eity. Some rears having passed since the fall of Major Maxwell among the country's heroes, the widow's grief had become blunted, and she, too, was enjoying a certain happiness. That is. she bad been, until the advent of Mr. Curry and his marked attentions to her daughter threw the good woman into a flutter of excitement and anticipation. Nothing is so disturbing to the average person as a remote and ascertain prospect of wealth; and the truth is in this case that Mrs. Maxwell lay awake the'greater portion of several Mfbta, speculating about what would

happen when Belle would become the rich Mrs. Curry. The young lady herself was not in the least disturbed by any such prospect. The man was positively disagreeable to her. He was gentlemanly in his ways, cold and unemotional; one to whom generous impulses were strangers. He was devoted to-the care of the large fortune that had been left him by his late uncle, a great war contractor, and was constantly looking out for chances to swell it by speculation. This was the last man that might naturally be expected to fall iu love. But “beauty-draws us by a single hair,” and the first sight of Belle Maxwell effectually did the business for Leander Curry. He had been prevailed upon, against his custom, to buy a ticket for a charity concert, in which “home talent” was largely to be represented. The gem of the evening proved to be a song by Miss Belle Maxwell, which was heartily applauded and encored. The grace and beauty, as Well as the pure, sweet voice of the singer, made a deep- impression upon the vast audience, and they actually struck some sparks from Mr. Curry's flinty heart. He came, saw, heard—and was conquered. He became a frequent caller at the humble Maxwell home; and this condition of things had been in progress for some months at the time that our sketch opens. All this time we have left Mr. Curry standing at the door, while our necessary explanation has been made. He might still be standing there, for all Miss Maxwell would do to admit him; and the widow, seeing .Belle’s perfect indifference, answered the ring herself, in a great state of vexation. She presently returned with the caller, who saluted the young lady, receiving a distant return. Mr. Curry was practical, at least, and never wasted time. The particular object of. his call was made known before he had taken a seat. “Miss Maxwell. I have lately bought a pair of fine trotters, and have not yet had them out on a long ride. I am going over to Ridgford to-morrow, and I should be pleased to have you accompany me. It is a business trip, but I think it will be a pleasant one. It will, of course, take all day.” The widow’s heart leaped. Things were getting on admirably. For her daughter to be seen riding Curry behind those trotters was almost as good as an engagement of marriage. She had never heard of his taking a lady out tp drive. The next instant Belle made a reply that gave her mother a chill. “I am greatly obliged to you, sir; but it would be impossible for me to go tomorrow. I have promised to sing at the public Memorial Day exercises in the square.” “You should not decline on that account,” the mother eagerly put in. “You can get them to excuse you. There are "Others that can sing. Go with Mr. Curry, by all means.” The girl looked at both her mother and the gentleman with quiet but severe dignity. She was a dutiful child; but there are occasions when a mild reproof from child to patent is the correct thing; and it was so now. “I shall sing at the exercises, as 1 promised,” she said, decidedly. “Ever since the-war closed, from the time I was a little girl, I have taken part in the observance of this day, and I shall do so as long as I live. You surely can’t mean to advise me against it, mother?” “No, Belle, you know I would not; but this is an unusual invitation ’’ “It must be declined,” was the firm interruption. Mr. Curry was very much vexed, and was indiscreet enough to show it. He was also foolish enough to say some things in his vexation, which, while correctly representing his own narrow views, were very impolitic things to say in this house. “I am much disappointed, Miss Maxwell, at your refusal.” She did not thiuk it necessary to say that she too was sorry; for she was not sorry, and this was the last man on earth that she would tell a white lie to, for the sake of mere politeness. “And I am rather surprised,” he pursued, “that you should prefer such a meaningless show to a pleasant ride in the country at this charming season.” Meaningless show! The blood of her heroic sire flushed up tn the girl's cheek at the words; bnt she kept back her temper, and kept silence. "It has always seemed to me to be a very silly parade of false sentiment,” the doomed man went on. “Thevoldiers enlisted as n mere matter of business; they were paid for their work; those that did took that risk at the start; the account .was closed some years ago. For sensible people to get up these observances every year, to alng, and pray, and palaver, and have a great fuss with flowers over a pack of dead soldiers seems to me the very foam of folly. I wish ” Ha never had the opportunity to express his wish. Belle Maxwell bounded from her chair with flashing eyes and burning face.

“Mr. Curry, such sentiments are disgraceful!” she cried. “I won’t sit here and listen to them. Mother, if you get any pleasure from this man’s company you may stay here and enjoy it; I must be excused.” She abruptly withdrew to her own room. On the following day Mr. Curry drove his splendid trotters over to Ridgford alone, thinking along the way a great deal about bis investments and alternating these reflections with others about the curious nature of girls. Belle Maxwell participated in the tender and touching ceremonies of the day; and many remarked that her voice had never sounded so sweet as when she sang “They Sleep the Sweet Sleep of the Brave.” A tall young veteran walked by her side as they went to the adjoining cemetery to witness the ceremony. There was much talk between the two, in the course of which she observed that he had not called upon her lately. “No,” he said; “and I believe no man has but Mr. Curry.” “If you mention that odious man’s name to me again. I’ll never speak to you,” she said. -The tall young veteran was very glad to hear this, and he governed himself accordingly. And he conducted himself generally in such a way toward Belle Maxwell that before another Memorial Day the two were married. Y’ears have elapsed since then. Nothing in our country is more common than a sudden reverse of fortune; yet such examples are always surprising. It will not astonish the reader to learn that the tall young veteran became an inventor and accumulated a great fortune by his patents; but it may occasion a mild surprise when it is stated that Mr. Curry lost every dollar in speculation, and is now earning ten dollars a week in the employ of Belle’s husband. And old Mrs. Maxwell, sitting by the happy fireside of her daughter, with her grandchildren about her, has often confessed to herself that Belle’s way was the best.