The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1851-01-09

aThere Is a love that DER the war
Ofjarrng passion pOurs Its light,
AMI sheds It's influences like q star
That brightest burns in darkest night
BrOtrne.
"I have loved-Oh, lover, Why
Must all my fondness tell 7
DO not, do not bid me die,
At thy cruel word, FAREWELL"
Nearly two years of sorrow and care had pass
ed over the head of Margaret Neale shadowing
her fair brow and dimming somewhat the morn
ing brightness of her smile In all those weary
months. she had seemed to the world much as of
olJ-calm and cheerful, and sweetly forgetful of
herself; but those beneath the same roof with
her might have told of sleepless nights, of hours
of melancholy abstraction, of the deathly white
ness Of her lips at the news of any recent battle
in Mexico, and of the fearful shrinking of her
sight from the list of killed and wounded
From her former lover, Margaret had never
beard directly and but seldom through his mother,
to whom she was most afectionately and PAINFULLY
devoted, yet with whom she did not often con-
verse on the subject nearest the hearts of both.
Mrs Moore had last heard from her son by
line from New Orleans, and was now daily look
ing for the arrival of the boat in which, if still
surviving, he would return to his native city.
1t was late on chilly and misty night that
gallant steamer, having on board some three hun
bred soldiers, coming up the Ohio, neared the city
g.. What q fearful contrast did those
men present to the fery-hearted young adventur-
ers who had once emb lrked from that shore, amid
the waving of banners, the peal of martial music
and the cheering shouts of thousands!
Standing in groups upon the upper deck, look
ing impatently toward the city, speaking little
and in low tones, were the returned volunteers
pale, gauut, haggard, and dis6gured men-shame-
fully shabby and dirty in appearance forlorn and
miserable in the extreme.
On the forward part of the lower deck stood
three rude collins, containing the bodies of SOL
Giers WIN Lad died on their passage up the Mis-
sissippi-ofiicers such privates as had died had
been buried with little delay and no ceremony on
the river banks.
On large coil of cable, in the bow of the boat,
and where the red light of the furnaces cleaned
on his thin and palld face, lay Herbert Moore,
looking foil fifteen years older than at the time
when he left his native city and set out for the
wars Never, he aftorvard declared, had he suf-
fered more, even in the hospitals of Mexico, than
he endured in this passage from New Orleans
from sickness, neglect, cold, and starvation. For
the first time for many days he had now dragged
himself from his miserable berth, to watch in pain
and exhaustion, and apart from his comrades, the
approach to that dear home he had so wsntonly
abandoned. His heart was agitated with the
most painful anxieties for the dear ones there,
for not one letter had ever reached him, in camp
or hospital lie knew not if his mother yet liv-
ed-and Margaret--of her he dared not think
himself
Nearer and nearer shone the lights of the
city-a shout was sent up by an expectant crowd
Oh shcre, and feebly answered by those on board.
10 few moments more, the boat lay at the
wharf-her planks were thrown out, and the ca
ger friends Of the returned volunteers crowded
around them. Almost every poor fellow had
some one to take him by the had and call him by
his Christian name and cordially welcome him
home. Some there were who came to look around
vainly and vainly call on beloved names-and
one young boy, who came to meet his father, when
something was told him in low voice by the
captain, ran and flung himself on one Of those
rude collins, and cried aloud in the agony Of sud-
den grief
but group after group the soldiers and their
friends went on shore, until, with the exception
Of two or three sick in their berths, Herbert
Moore was the only man left on board. No one
came Tor him-he was forgotten, abandoned, ut
teriy friendlessl A feeling of awful desolation
came over him-a dread sinking of the soul into
the lowest depths of loneliness and despair. He
drew his warm cap over his eyes, wrapped his tat.
tered blanket about him, stretched himself out
and prayed that he might diel
hand was laid gently on his shoulder-hs
looked up, and the good pastor, Mr. Mcdonald
stood at his side. The old man gazed searchingly
10 the face of the soldier a moment, and then
folded him in his arms. Herbert could not speak
pu' ne caught the hand of his venerable friend
ana raised it to his lips, in the excess of his hu
"''''y and grateful joy. Half unconsciously, the
young volunteer was carried on shore, in the arms
STOUT serving man, and placed in a carriage
""'on was waiting for him and his friend. Weak
anu '''n'' he was sinking helpessly back agains,
,"' cushions, when gentle arms were wound about
n''O and his head was drawn tenderly against a
sOit bosom.
Mother is it you ~ asked the young soldier
!" trembling voice, for il was 40 dark that he
''''' not see the face bending over him. There
"m no word given in answer. but delicate hand
h'ue" over his emaciated face, and fast tears fell
On his pale, Scared brow.
an, he murmured, III think know the touch
mat hand MTgGra, is yOn?"
Who should it be but Margaret. dear Her.
W. WV she replied, bending down, and kissing the
remulous lips Of the poor volunteer Their
'srt buried his face in Margaret's bosom, and
~ ~, IKE child. Love, sorrow, shame, disap
encouragement, and great joy which
%. YET half sadness--all the long-suppressed
"ss OF his soul had way, in that psssionat,
Ourst Of tears.
reaching the house of Mr. Neale, Herber,
,nI MS mother awaiting him with open arms
o.. 'eeP'ng with excess Of grateful happiness
"'u been in delicate health for some month";
So...' nna Margaret had taken her home, making
Ell 60" 'ne nurse and almost constant companion
u her beloved friend
la, ''' was borne at once to his chamber, and
pOn bed from which he was not to rise fou
length Of time The agitation and n,
fr,ma return were too much for his exhausted
W.. lie suffered a relapse, and for many
u,,.~ y At the very gates Of death, in state O
'' plank insensibili.y and childish hslplss,