A Civil War veteran, who has outlived all his companions, goes forth alone on Memorial Day to decorate their graves. His wife's devotion makes him realize that the title of comrade belongs to her even more than to the men who fell by his side in the ranks.
nd 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 wome
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