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went on, “these boys receive the finest physical training in the world.”

“I know one awkward fellow, however, whom they never could make anything of,” said the Doctor, with a chuckle.

“Who is he, if I may ask?” inquired Mother.

“I won't tell you his name, but I will tell you what he did,” responded the Doctor.

“He accidentally shot his neighbor's dog. In explaining to his neighbor how he did it, he accidentally shot the neighbor. He was called before the coroner and a jury, and in explaining to them how he shot the dog and the man, he managed to shoot the coroner.

“So they discharged him, for fear that, if kept in custody, he would do some more explaining and, consequently, some more shooting.”

“They have no use for that type in the United States Navy,” said Uncle Jack, laughing.

“And now for the Pilgrim Monument,” said the Doctor, “which is one of the great sights of this town."

The party started at once, the Doctor telling them the story of the monument as they walked along: “Do you remember the sign at Chatham, the


one where Ben took a picture of my bald spot? That sign tells why the Pilgrim Monument was erected at Provincetown instead of at some other spot, on the coast of New Jersey or Virginia.

“The Monument,” continued the Doctor, “which stands upon Town Hill, is a landmark for many miles around. It was erected to commemorate the landfall of the Pilgrims at Cape Cod on the eleventh day of November, 1620; their anchoring in this harbor; the adoption in the cabin of the Mayflower, on the day of the arrival, of the Compact of government, the first charter of a democratic government in the world's history; the birth here of Peregrine White, the first white child born in New England; the death of Dorothy Bradford, the wife of William Bradford, afterward governor of Plymouth; the explorations in search of a place for permanent colonization; and the entire train of events which preceded the settlement at Ply


By this time they had reached the monument, itself. Climbing to the top, they enjoyed the magnificent view for a few minutes, after which they were ready to go back.

On their return to the hotel, Ben picked up a copy of Kipling's “Captains Courageous,” which

happened to be lying on the table, and read aloud the dedication:

James Conland, M. D.,
Brattleboro, Vermont

I ploughed the land with horses,

But my heart was ill at ease
For the old sea-faring men
Came to me now and then,
With their sagas of the seas.


After reading it, he said:
“Doctor, didn't you know Doctor Conland?”

“Yes, indeed, I knew him very well,” was the reply. “He was reared in Chatham by Captain E. M. Eldredge. And it was their knowledge of the sea that Kipling wrought into 'Captains Courageous”.”

There was a lull in the conversation, and the playing of the band on the flagship Kentucky could plainly be heard. They listened in silence to several numbers, but when the strains of “My Old Kentucky Home” came floating in through the open windows, they all sang with the band:


The sun shines bright in my old Ken-tuck - y home;

young folks roll on the lit - tle cab - in floor, They hunt no more for the 'pos - sum and the coon,

day goes by like a shad - ow o'er the heart, The head must bow and the back will have to bend, I few more days for to tote the wea - ryload,

'Tis sum-mer, the dar-kies are gay; The corn-top's ripe,

All mer - ry, all hap-py and bright;By’n’-by Hard Times On the mea-dow, the hill, and the shore; They sing no more With sor-row where all was de - light; The time has come Wher-ev-er the dark-y may go; A few more days No mat-ter, 'twill nev-er be light; A few more days

and the meadow's in the bloom, While the birds make mus-ic all the come a-knock-ing at the door, (Omit)

by the glimmer of the moon, On the bench by the old cab-in when the dark-ies have to part, (Omit) and the trou-ble all will end, In the field where the sugar canes till we tot- ter on the road, (Omit)

day. The Then, my old Ken-tuck-y home, good - night! door. The Then, my old Ken-tuck-y home, good - night! grow. A Then, my old Ken-tuck-y home, good - night!


Weep no more, my la - dy, Oh, weep no more to - day!

We will sing one song for the old Ken-tuck -y home,

For the old Ken-tuck-y home fara - way. Just before sunset the bugles were heard playing:


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