The Union and eastern journal. [volume] (Biddeford [Me.]) 1854-1858, 1855-06-01
c II 4 p T Err III.


ale kiss. r f-...
CHAPTER III.
They come around me here and say my days Life are
That shah mount my noble s.esd, and lead my band no
They sSn' as and to my beard they dare to tell me no"
Their own lege lord, and master bOnthat l. ha! ha!
must die! ..
And wha, /, deah' I've dared him Of, before the raynlm
Think ye he's entered at my gate and come to seek me
I've met him. faced him, scOrned him. when the sht was
rnuy hi. mght,--rn brave hi. power defy and fear
him not ALDHar q. GREENE.
It was midnight, and old Colonel Falcon.
er lay dying. The death angel, whose
wings had famed him harmlessly on many
battle field, had sat down by his bedside
now. But ho did no, fear nor tremble.-
Outside, the wind blew wild, eeric blasts,
or swept like the crash Of coniending armies
through the old oaks Of the park. The
young moon was hidden by clouds hanging
low and heavy; black bannerols OF the
night. Tho old man lay very peacefully,
with his fair, young daughter beside him,
and the wax tapers burning cheeriully at
his beds foot. Little he needed clouds or
winds, going forth alone 10 that far country,
where never moro winds Of earth might fan
his brow.
~ had thought" he said at length, "tha'
Philip would be here before ] died-ihat !
could give you 10 his protection, and your
grief over my memory would be easier TO
bear, ligh,ened by the new joy Of wife.
But this might no! be. His footsteps linger
long, and must set forth on my journey.
Ny other child, Paul Ernsiein, wanders
over foreign land, far away from the castle
Of his fathers, and must leave you alone,
my timid blossom. But your blue.eyed
mother has waited for me many year and
day beneath the mould, and now she must
wait no longer. Holding her hand, I mus,
cross the unseen river, and drif outward on
the shoreless sea Of Heavens great future.
Mary, angel, hearts wife, I am coming.
One kiss, my child, my Jessie. We will
watch over you five may" ft'
He paused, but Jessie seemed to hear his
voice still. So gently had no drowsed into
death, that she know not he had departed.
Something, almost like the ligh, Of youth,
lay warm about the mouth and tho smile,
whose blessing baihed those features, grow.
ing so cold and still 10 death, ,ha, told in
that hour, on the banks Of the unseen river,
there had been meeting the patient and
long enduring love had met It's reward !;
true and faithful, with lips no other kiss had
ever crimsoned, The husband walked beside
the wife Of his youth. .r .s.. -.' % 8
II was long before Jessie Falooner awoke
10 sense Of her bereavement, and then,
when they would have led her from the
dead, she arose and walked, without sigh
or moan, 10 her own chamber. She waited
there calm, and mo,ionless, until on tho
high couch, with iis black hangings they
laid the body in state for It's burial, and then
calmly she went back, and sending forth all
others, sat down besideit.
1t was high.noon OF the next day-reius.
ing 10 take food or rest, she sat there still,
never once turning away her gaze from
that cold, dead face. Her old nune entered
unperceived, and going up to her side, laid
her hand upon her shoulder. But she
started away almost in terror, At the white,
passlonless face lha, met her vision.
"a letter my lady," she said ,imidly,
(which I though, you might look At even
now" ... ~. -rF. Jr "a. vats
Mechanically Jessie Pslconer took the
missive, and glanced q, the well.known
supeucrip,ion. Then motioning away her
attendant, with look Of something more
like her former self in her eyes she broke
the seal OF Philip Leslie's letter. II ran
thus: 4,,firz rtl sfl t-5af1
"Jrssix sr KIND, GENTLE oounx-s r'
You have wondered, I know, that since
peace was long ago declared, you have no
seen me, that have no: written you thes,
many months. Jsssie, / could no. write ie
you, I could not como 70 you.E Ihavs pass
ed through q, fearful Struggle. And nov
Ma, al is over, hardly darsto say 'ioreiv'
me- Ny love for you IL unchanged, bu