Love to
you and a handgrasp to your comrade archers.
"WILL THOMPSON."
After the Civil War, where both youths fought in the Confederate Army
and Maurice was wounded, they returned to their Southern home, broken
in health, reduced in circumstances, and deprived of firearms by
Government restrictions. They turned to the bow and hunting as
naturally as a boy turns to play. Out of their experiences we have a
lyric of exquisite purity, _The Witchery of Archery_.
As a result of the interest stimulated by the recount of their
exploits, the National Archery Association was established and held its
first tournament at Chicago in the year 1879. It has ever since
nurtured the sport and furthered competitive enthusiasm.
Maurice later became a noted author, Will an attorney-at-law, the dean
of American archers and a poet of remarkably happy expression. Here I
feel at liberty to insert one of Will Thompson's verses, sent me in
personal communications:
AN ARROW SONG
A song from green Floridian vales I heard,
Soft as the sea-moan when the waves are slow;
Sweeter than melody of brook or bird,
Keener than any winds that breathe or blow;
A magic music out of memory stirred,
A strain that charms my heart to overflow
With such vast yearning that my eyes are blurred.
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