wo a week, were the same as those he had been
writing all the while. In them were but few references to himself. Even
in the privacy of his correspondence with his home, there was not a
boastful thought over a thing that he had done, and only the vaguest
reference to the homage paid to him, as tho it were all a part of a
soldier's life. It was only through others that the mother learned of
the honors given to her son in France.

At the beginning of each letter he quieted his mother's forebodings for
him, and he turned to inquiries about home. Out of his pay of $30 a
month as a private soldier he had assigned $25 of it to his mother. He
wanted to know that the remittances had reached her. Two brothers had
married and moved away. Henry, the eldest, was living in Idaho, and
Albert in Kentucky. He wanted news of them. Two other married brothers,
Joe and Sam, while still living in the valley, were not at the old home.
He wanted every detail about their crops that told of their welfare.

His most valuable personal possession was two mules. Were George and Jim
and Robert, the younger brothers, keeping those mules fat? How much of
the farm were they preparing to "put in corn"? Corn was sure to be
scarce and would be worth $2.50 by harvest time! Was Mrs. Embry Wright,
his only married sister, staying with his mother to comfort her? Were
Lilly and Lucy, his little sisters, still helping her with the hard
work--of course they were! And in every letter there was an inquiry
about the sweetheart he had left behind.

The mother, when each letter had been read, placed it upright on the
board shelf which was the mantel of the family fireplace. When a new
letter came she took down the old one and put it carefully away. So
there was always "some news from Alvin" which was accessible to all the
neighbors.

"Will" Wright, president of the Bank of Jamestown, received the first
printed story that gave any description of the fight Alvin had "put up"
in the Forest of Argonne, and Mr. Wright hurried to Mrs. York with it.
With the family gathered around her in that hut in the mountains, and
with tears running down her expectant face, she learned for the first
time what her boy had done. She made Mr. Wright read the story--not
once, but seven times.

America was ready for Sergeant York when among the returning soldiers
his troop-ship touched port--the harbor of New York in May, 1919. The
story of the man had run ahead--his fight in the forest