11. fought on!” A MEMORIAL DAY FANCY.‘ fury them under flowers, with wreaths at the feet and head. To these of the dead all honors, for they a1e - the nation’s dead, Who sleep with the swords long rusted aside of the palsied hands In a world where no word is spoken that man of us understands. Though 110w and then there’s a rustle seems moving among the leaves, A gust of wind in the tree tops or a forest of branches heav es, And, standing here in the shade of shafts of marble and of stone, We start, for our heart is beating, and we know we are not alone— Alonc where our dead . are lying, alone with a thousand dead, Alone, and these graves around us, each with it pillowed head! . There are no dead forever where faith in the dead remains; The blood that has sealed the nation is blood of our living veins. So keep the tryst unbroken that; comes as the year rolls round And bring your springtime tribute for God' 3 prisoners underground Who peer from the graves to book 011 and pluck at our gal ment’ 3 hem. They need us, but, ah, more sorely the nation is needing them! _ How often have I fancied, an idle whim, may- be, But the image is often pictured, and I close my eyes and see Battalions grave and spectral in march and countermarch, ‘ And never a word is spoken under the sky’ s black arch, But, with the old maneuvers, with the old precision, tco, March till the dawning shimmers the souls of the white review; A common camp in the moonlight, with never a thought to slay [11 the hearts of the loyal legion or in thoée of the rebel gray. The fiery souls of the southland who drew the sword with Lee, ' / The men of that day’ s Ulysses and those who marched to the sea, From their unsealed graves in the moonlight in the trappings of war come forth, The boys of the cotton country and those of the loyal north, And some who are weak and wounded, who faint in the toilsome w ay, Seem happy to lean on the helping arm of ei- ther the blue or gray, And the angel of peace is smiling, all passion~ less and white. 0n the souls of our heroes camping under the stars tonight! ~Joseph Dana Miller in New York Sun. i 01113111111 or Q i 1.111: INVINCIBLES I 'o_oo—o'o-oo—oo-uo-o “ 'Tis the star. spangled banner! 0h, long may it wa- -ave!" Sang the shorter of the two men to the music in the distance, and he threw his cigar and into the grate. In through the open windows of the hotel, along with the sunshine and the sweet, warm air, came the undertone of a multitude, while the overtone was struck‘ by the military band at the head of the procession which was coming down Fifth avenue. “Well,” said the Georgian, “if any one had told me in 1861 that I should be ever sitting here in, New York listening to that tune and content, mind you, I’d have knocked him down. ” And he gave a. jolly laugh and stretched himself as he began to look for his hat through the disorder Of the room. “All things come round to him who will but wait.” “I don’t know about that, Walt,” said the taller and handsomer man in a grave, musing tone. “Time hasn’t given me back my past yet. ” His friend laid his hand on his shoulder with a caressing touch and looked re- proachfully into the upturned face. “Don’t, old man; for heaven’s sake, don’t! You’ll be having one of your bad times again. What do you want with any more past than you’ve got? There isn’t a man in Georgia more honored than you, and as to family—why, I’ve shared mine with you. You’re Uncle Jim to Nelly’s children just as much ‘ as I’m Uncle Wal- ton. I—I’ve tried to make it up to you, old fellow; you know I have. " And the strong voice broke a little. The older man sprang to his feet; and caught his friend by the shoulders. “ Gwin- nett, I’m a selfish beast! Made it up to me? Indeed you have, if any one could. Only it comes over me at times with a great wave. I reckon it’s the music, the drums and the flags that have done it to- day. It’s hard, knowing a fellow was a soldier and yet not knowing which side he “Jim Smith, stop that rot! You know what that Paris specialist told you. Put your hat on and come out on the balcony. They’re almost here. ” The two men picked up their hats and were about to step upon the little balcony before their windows when the door was burst open and a panting, rosy boy in a white serge sailor suit raced in. “Hello!” cried the intruder. you doing here?” “We thought we were in our own rooms,” said Mr. Gwinnett, with mock humility, “but perhaps we’re mistaken.” The boy—he was about 10 years old— had been looking about him in bewilder- ment. Then he burst; into a merry laugh. “What are "I beg your pardon. I must have come up ' one flight too many. I raced ahead of Aunt Grace, who waited for the elevator. Oh, dear! There’s the procession, and I may miss father after all!” “Come out on our balcony. I’ll send a hellboy to your mother and tell her where you are,” said Mr. Gwinnett cordially. Before he had finished speaking the boy was outside waving his white cap and shouting to some one below. “There they are, the floor below, two balconies along.” Then, “I’m all right, grandma,” he called out to one of the group of three ladies who were gazing up at him in astonishment. The gentleman lifted their hats, the ladies seemed to ac- cept the situation, and they all settled flown to reviewing the parade. “I say,” said the boy, “I’m glad I made the mistake, for you can see better up here—that is,” with a polite afterthought, "if I do not trouble you.” “Just you wait till the New Haven In— vincibles come along, then you’ll see marching. I’ll bet they beat the Seventh! Father’s the captain of Company A. That’s the first; company. I’ m going to join when I giow up. '1 her’c 5 been a Trumbull in the Imlnc1blc for over 100 years. My grandfather was a captain too, and he got; killed in the war. Ah, there’s a battle- flag. Hurrah, hu1rah! “I love to sec the old, tattered flags, only it makes grandma cry. You see, it re- 111inds_her of grandpa. That’s my grand- mother in the black dress, and that’s Aunt Grace in the bound; with the poppies. We’ve just been down to Tiffany’s to get my dog collar. It wouldn’t lOck. And that’s mother with the blue flowers in her belt. They’ re for Yale, you know. ” The splendid Seventh had just swung into Madison square past the reviewing , stand to the sound of a mighty cheer, which had encompassed them down Fifth avenue. ‘ Behind them came the guests of the day. the New Haven Invincibles, a military organization almost as old as the days of John Davenport. The , blue and buff of colonial times, the bearskin shakes, the pure white facings of th elaborate uni- forms, all made them too mark for the eyes of the multitude. Their alignment was perfect. “There’ s father,” said the lad, “at the head of that company. See? The tall mah with the plain face. 011, I tell you he’s 11 dandy!” He had sunk back in his chair, his fair face all aglow, and he looked up at the older man with a friendly confidence charming to see. “I’m sure of it,” said Mr. Smith heartily. “Suppose you tell me your name new? Mine is James Smith.” “Francis Trumbull,” said the boy proudly. “I’ in the third of that name. Have you got a little boy?” There was a perceptible pause, which made the boy curious, before the man said “That’sa pity, ’ said Francis compas- sionately. “It’s a great thing for a man to have a little boy. I don’t. know what they’d do without me. ” He was so sure of his own importance, so serene in it, that it touched the lonely man beside him. Had he ever been of so much account? “Have you got a little girl?” went on the boy. “I have no one in the whole world be- longing to me. That gentleman, Mr. Gwinnett, is my friend, and we old bache- lors live together in Atlanta.” There was a pause of a'full minute be- fore the next shot fell. “Were you in the war?” For answer Mr. Smith pushed back his gray hair from his forehead and showed a. ugly scar that ran up into the scalp.- long, The boy gave a low whistle. “Cracky! That must have hurt! You were on the southern side?” ' “I don’t'know,” said the man. And he smiled, though his eyes were grave. “Don’t know?” said the boy; “don’t know which side you were on? Oh, come now, you’re feeling!” “No,” said the man, “I don’t know, and I’ve been 30 years trying to find out}. I’ vg been to tl1eube§§ doctors in Europe and this country, but they cannot help me. Do you think you can?” . The boy hitched his chair nearer, forget- ting the parade, and laid his hand—it Was a long, shapely little hand-Lon the man’s knee, while he gazed at him with his clear blue eyes, full of amazeinenti " “I qu Wounded at: the battle of Atlanta _ in the chest and on the head. Mr. Gwin- nett, who was on the southern side, found me unconscious and nearly dead on the field, where the cavalry had been charging .back and forth. It is supposed a'horse stepped on me. At any rate, when I came to in the negro cabin where Mr. Gwinnett had left me I could remember nothing. I had no past. In a few weeks, as soon as I was able, I was moved to Mr. Gwinnett’s mother’s home in Atlanta. I was a long time getting well, but I never were out their goodness. My memory never came back, and I had to begin an over again— learn my A B C’s even.” “But,” said the boy, “there was your uniforn: ‘9” “Some one had stripped me of that, thinking me dead. Well, I took the name of James Smith and started life over again. I don’t know what I have lost. I know I gained the best friend God ever gave a man.” There was something in his face as he looked at his friend, who was watching the soldiers, that made the boy swallow quickly. . ‘ “I say,” said the boy, and there was a little quiver around his sensitive mouth, “that was rough on you.” And he slipped his hand into the man’s and gave it a hard squeeze. The boy’s face was very grave as he said, “Goodby,” and he ran back to throw himself on Mr. Smith and Whisper, “It’ll come back some day‘,‘see if it don’t.” “Good little chap,” said Mr. Smith as: he'stood listening to thesound of his feet as he ran noisily down the stairs. “Yes, he’s a regular hey; no cherub business about-him. But, Jim, you look tiredi” “My head feels thick,” said the other. a “It’s this confounded procession. I wish ' we hadn’t waited over. I don’t know why you insisted. ” And his friend kicked his heels petulantly against the table on which he was sitting. “Walt, I wanted to try another experi- ment to see if it would suggest anything. I thought perhaps if I had been anorthern man and I saw the old flags and all that it might bring something back, but it has not. ” “Of course it hasn’t, for you’re south- ern fast enough. See here, Jim, suppose you got your past back—and it might; be a past you would not choose now—«have you ever thought that the chances are you’d lose the interim? That the last 30 years would go—all your manhood—and -—and I along with it?” He spoke with an angry vehemence. He was afraid and jealous of those unknown years “I don’t want my past without you, Walt, ” said his friend simply. U I t O O U C It was evening. Mr. Gwinnett had gone to the theater, leaving his friend to recover from his headache. He sat in the dusk, though his room was full of reflected‘ light from the street below. All day long he had been in a singular . state of anticipa- tion, behind which there was lurking ap- prehension. His head threbbcd, he had hadturnsof dizziness and a flashing Of red before his eyes. His idea trains were bro- ken and incoherent. “I’d better pack,” he thought, glad of any physical effort, and he went into Gwinnctt’ s room—the connecting door stood open—to collect his things. He turned on the light and began smting the numerous parcels thrown on the table. There was a pasteboard box, with Tiffany’s name upon it. He‘ opened it and took out a large silver dog cellar. Gwinnett had not bought it, and it was not his. Why, it must belong to that boy. He held it idly a moment, and then his eye caught a spray of mistletoe beaten in the silver. “The name, ‘Baldur,’ is 011 the other sides” he thought. He turned it around. Yes, there it was. God in heaven, how did he know? He trembled so he fell into the nearest chair. His heart beat against his ribs, the cold sweat stood upon his brow as he asked himself the question. Then from under- neath came the answer as the dead ’self , rose from its grave and God said, “Loose him and let; him go.” Baldur was his dog, and this was Bal- dur’s collar. He had had it made in Swe- ‘ den, in Lun’d. The quaint old pcaken roof shop, the silversmitlY and the some one who was with him. Some one who was 'young and beautiful and who loved him. His bride, Barbara! A rending groan . burst from him, and his head fell forward THE EVENING GAZETTE » . ' ’ on the table, but his hand still clutched the collar. One after another the mist curtains rolled aw .y, little by little the lost years came back. Thanks beto God, there were no awful guilt spots Upon this risen self of his in this his day of judgment. He saw a happy. sheltered childhood, flowing into the enthusiasm of youth, and the steady purpose of manhood. He saw himself responding gladly to his country’s call, though Barbara and the baby clung about him. Then the long list of battles burned their way through his memory, ending with Atlanta. Some one opened the door quietly and came in. “Jim, are you sick?” called Gwinnett anxiously. The face that was raised to his was so distorted by anguish that it was al- most the face of a madman. “Walton, Walton, I know who I am! It has all come back! I am Francis Trum- bull Of New Haven. For God’s sake‘bring my wife, quick!” He rose to his feet, took one reeling step, then fell his full length upon the floor. 3 t t O t O O “I don’t like the looks of things at all,” said the hotel doctor a few hours later. " We’ll get a nurse here in the morning, and I’d like to consult with a specialist. His fever’ s high, and his heart’ snot right. It’ s an unusual case, you see.’ “You don’t suppose there’s any truth in what he says,” faltered Gwinnett. “Hardly,” said the doctor dryly. “Things don’t come about in life so dra- matically. It’s easily accounted for. You say your friend has been morbid and de- pressed for a time. The excitement of the parade, with all the subconscious mem- ories it induced, has been too much for him. He has caught this child’s name— the last stranger he met—and dressed it up in a personality. Depend upon it, that’s all. If he persists in the morning— well, we’ll have to prove to him he’s mis- taken. He’ll sleep for some hours now, but I’ll be in before he wakes.” The city woke, but the man slept on. Gwinnett was standing by the window with the doctor, listeningto the directions, when there came a stir from the bed. How the glad light rushed to his eyes as he heard his name called, for he had feared that waking. “nge’,_ s the doctor, Jim. You’ve had‘ one of year had turns, but you’ve slept and are better. Jim Smith turned glad, sane eyes upon them. Then he said: “Yes, I’m better, Walt; but have you seen my wife yet?” Waltén hesitated and looked helplessly at the doctor. “There, there, my dear sir, it’s all right. She’ ll come by and by.” . A little smile came round the corners of the sick man’s mouth. He must take the reins himself. “You think I am delirious, doctor. Well, I am not. This is a matter in which you cannot meddle. Walton, what time is it? They must have finished breakfast. I want you to go down stairs and find that boy’s father. Tell him I am his father, Francis Trumbull, who was born in the old house opposite the Green in 1838; that I am a graduate of Yale, class of ’58; that I married Barbara Sherman in 1859, and that I went to the war in 1861 as a captain in the Invincibles. ” His voice was low and steady and car- ried conviction to one of his hearers. “See him alone and let him break it to—his mother. Only”—here the excitement which he had bravely kept in check broke out in a measure—“only, for the sake of heaven, be quick!” Walton Gwinnett went down the stairs in a maze. While he was listening it had all seemed true, but now be doubted. As he reached the floor below he met the New Haven party just coming out of the eleva- tor. The boy rushed to him ashe stood con- fused before them. At the sight of them his tale seemed absurd. Yet there was the black dress of the oldest woman, and he must speak. “Can I see you a moment alone, Mr. Trumbull?” " The young man turned and faced him, and in one glance every doubt was stilled. Out of all the world this was Jim Smith’s son. The ladies walked on,.followed reluc~ tantly by the boy. The men sat down in the seat by the elevator, and Gwinnett began his story. In a half hour he was back in the sick- room. The doctor sat beside his patient. “She’s coming, Jim,” he said hoarsely. ,f‘Doctor, it’s true.” The doctor went into the other room. “Do I look very old? Oh, Gwinnett, do you think she can love me still?” For answer Gwinnett brushed the gray hair back from his forehead, and the hot tears fell on his face. “God bless you, old fellow! Now go out and let her in !”—Independent. Visions of Heroes. My mind fills to overflowing with thoughts that come unbidden of the men who wore the blue and often stained it purple. I see them in the bloody day at Shiloh, in the phenomenal campaign about Vicksburg. I see Thomas, standing like a rock at Chickamauga, sustained by men who could not be driven back while their hands could hold the cold steel, and there is Black Jack Logan riding along the lines at Atlanta, and hark to the tramp of Sher- Inan’s men, marching over the hills and through the valleys down to the sea! The sea—aye, its voices sing to me Of ships and men, of Winslow in the Kearsarge, Cush- ing and the Albemarle. Worden and the Monitor, Porter and Fort Fisher and that » bold sailor, the brave old admiral, lashed to the rigging of the Hartford, who said in the bay fight: “Damn the torpedoes! GO ahead !”——Arch bishop Brady. Not Forgotten: The navy’s dead will not be forgotten on Memorial day. In the numerous ports all over the world when: officers and men have found the1r.‘i nal resting places memo- rial services will be observed by the com- panies of any United States man-of-war that may be in the..l1arbors. If they are unfortunately distant from points where the graves of the navy’s dead are located, then the diplomatic and consular repre— sentatives of this government will proba- bly place flowers on the tombs to show that the government of the United States remembers its servants—Selected. Our Country’s Heroes. Long years ago an army vast Went forth to do and die. Their deeds are graved on history’s page, While low their bodies lie.- ‘Their country asked them for their lives. They did not answ eI nay, But 11 0111 their homes and friends and kin They br'uV. cly marched away. Beneath the flag of freedom we In peace repose today, ‘And mid the folds of glory’s flag The gentle sunbeams play. A loving north and loyal south, United, mourn our dead And gaze with patriotic pride At stars and stripes o ’.erhead . —Buflalo Express. OF NEW YORK. +- 3111111131: A. McG'U'RDY, President. Statement for the Yeai Ending Dec. 31,’97. ‘ According to the Standard of the Insurance Department of the State of New York. INCOME. ' Received for Premiums . . . A . . $42,693,201 99 From allfioth‘er Sources . . . . 11,469,406 24 $54,162,608 23 DISBURSEMEN’ESQ To Policy-holders for Claims by Death . . . $13,279,630 66 To Policysholders for Endowments, Dividends, etc. . 12,712,424 76 For all other Accounts . . . . . 710,132,005 57 $36, 124,060 99 ASSETS. ' United States Bonds and other Securities . . $132,017,341 45 First Lien Loans on Bond and Mortgage . . . 69,423,937 31 Loans on Stocks and Bonds . . . . 12,880,308 00 Real Estate . . . . - .1 21,618,454 88 Ca'sh in Banks and Trust Companies . . . 11,705,195 82 Accrued Interest, Net Deferred Premiums, etc. . . 6,141,200 20 - . $253,783,437 66 Reserve for Policies and other Liabilities . . W Surplus . . . . . . W Insurance and Annuities in Force . . . $936,634,496 63 ,. l have carefully examined the foregoing Statement and find the same to be correct, ° liabilities calculated by the Insurance Department. CHARLES A. PRELLER, Auditor. From the Surplus a dividend will be apportioned as usual Report of the EXamining Committee. Office of the Mutual Life Insurance Company of New York. TO THE HONORABLE, THE BOARD OF TRUSTEES or THE MUTUAL LIFE IIISIIBAIIGE COMPANY OF NEW YORK. The undersigned, a Committee appointed by your honorable b0dy, on the twenty- socond day of December, I897, to examine the Annual Statement of the Company and to verify the same, respectfully—q REPORT That, pursuant to the pOWer and authority thereby cenferred, the Committee have, at various dates between the date of the said reference and the date of this Report, attended at the office of the Company, and have been waited on by the Treasurer, the Comptroller, the Auditor, and the Cashier, together with the respective assistants of such Officers, and have carefullyg gone over all the items contained' In the said Statement, and have found the same to be correct. They have examined and counted every certificate of stock, bond and other obligation held by the Company, and compared the prices at which the same are carried In said Statement with the market quotations, and find the same not excéeding such quotations—in fact, in many cases below them. They have examined and counted the bonds and mortgages on real property held by the Company, and find the same to be as stated. They have also verified the valuation of the Com- pany ’s holdings of real estate and have verified the deposits of money in the various banks and trust companies, and have counted the cash on hand held by the Cashier. And the Committee certify that all the books, papers, documents, and evidence of title of every description neces. sary in such examination have been freely submitted to the Committee by the said officers and their assistants, and that the same are accurate, in good order, and well kept. And the Committee further certify that the investments of the Company are of a high order, and that the System and methods adopted oy the Company In recording its transactions and caring for the assets are entitled to commendation. All of which“ 1s respectfully submitted. CHAS. R. HENDERSON ELBRIDGE T. GERRY A. N. WATERHOUSE NEW YORK, January 21, 1898. S. V. R. CRUGER J. HOBART HERRICK JAMES c. HOLDEN Board of Trustees- GEORGE G. HAVEN ADRIAN ISELIN JR. GEORGE S. BOWDOIN WILLIAM C. WHITNEY WILLIAM ROCKEEELLER JAMES N. JABVIE CHAs D. DICKEY JR._ ELBRIDGE T. GERRY J AMEs SPEYER HENRY H. ROGERS J No. W AUCHINCLoss THEODORE MORFORD WILLIAM BABCOCK STUTVESANT FISH ' AUGUSTUS D. J UILLIARD CHARLES E. MILLER WALTER R GILLETTE H. WALTER WEBB FREDERIC CROMWELL J ULIEN '1‘. DAVIES A. N. VVATERHOUSE S. V. R. CRUGER CHARLES R. HENDERSON RUFUS W. PECKHAM J. HOBART HERRICK WM. P. DIXON ROBERT A‘. GRANNIss RICHARD A. MCCURDY JAMES C. HOLDEN HERMANN C. VON POST 1‘ ILLIAM J. SEWELL OLIVER HARRIMAN ROBERT OLYPHAN'I' GEORGE F. BAKER DUDLEY OLGOTT SAMUEL D. BAccocs I ROBERT A. , GRANISS, Vice-President. WALTER R. GILLETTE, General Manager. ISAAC F. LLOYD, 2d Vice- President DUEH du-P. BRECK, COIresponding Secretary WILLIAM J. EASTON, Secretary. ALBERT KLAMROTH, Assistant Secretary ' FREDERIC CROMWELL, Tr.easurer JOHN A. FONDA, Assistant Treasui e1 JAMES TIM}. 8011! 26. Assistant Treasmer. WILLIAM P. SANDS, Cashier. ‘ EDWARD P. HOLDEN, Assistant Cashier. » EMORY MCCLINTOCK, Actuary. JOHN TATLOCK, JR , Assistant Actuary. CHARLES A PRELLER, Audit01.. W ILLIAM W RICHARDS ,‘Comptrollez C. CLIEFORD GRETSIN GER, As- sistant Auditor. HENRY S. BROWN, Assistant ComptIOllel JOHN C. ELLIO l‘, Superintendent of Domestic Agencies. ‘ ED“ ARD LYMAN- SHORT General Solicitor. MEDICAL DIRECTORS: .ELIAS J. MARSH. )l D U KANVILLE II WHITE. 1‘15 G. S. “- INS'] 01‘. \i. D. Consulting. D NICHCLS GILBERT, General Agents. A. H... CAME, Local Agent. - .
Norwalk Chronicler