The Hillsdale standard. [volume] (Hillsdale, Mich.) 1851-1909, 1860-12-25


dopted, for there was not one person in the
court who did not consider the desertion OF
Pierre Pitois as one Of those singular circum.
stances beyond the range of human possibil.
tiles, which, while every one is forced to ad-
init as a fact no one account for or compre-
hend. The accused, however, pleaded guilty
most positively, aud WAS most pertinacious in
his demand for the just penalty Of the law to
be inflicted on him. lie so boldly and fear
lessly avowed his crime, continually repeating
that he did not regret it, that at length his
firmness assumed the character Of a bravado
and left no room for clemency. Sentence OF
death was therefore pronounced.
Pierre Pitois heard his sentence read with
tho most unhiuching gaze. They warmly ur-
ged him to plead for mercy, but he refused.
As every one guessed that at the bottom OF
this affair there was some strange mystery, it
was determined that the execution Of Pierre
should be delayed.
He was carried back to the military prison,
and it was announced 10 him that, rs mark
of special favor, he had three days given him
to press for pardon. He shrugged his shou
ders and made no reply.
dawn the day fixed for the execution, the door
Of Pieue's dungeon turned softly on ITS hinges,
and a subaltern officer advanced to the sid, of
the camp bed in which the CONCERNED WAS
TRANQUILITY sleeping, and af.or gazing on him
some time in silence, awoke him.
Pierre opened his eyes, and staring about
him. said:
The hour, then, is at last come
NO Pierre replied the officer, 'it is not yet
the hour, but it will soon come.
'And what do YOU want with me until
then. ?
'Dost thou not know me, Pierre? No mat.
Its, and travelv dids't thou bear thyself.
From that day, Pierre, have had for the re.
gard no less warm than sincere. Yesterday,
on my arrival at Strasburg, | learned thv
crime and condemnation. | have prevailed
on the iailor, who is relation OF mine, to al
low me to see the. AMI now that | have
come, would say to the, Pierre, it is often a
sad thought for man about to die, that be
has n OF friend near him to whom he might
open his heart, and intrust with some sacred
commission to discharge when he should be
no more. If thou wilt accept me, l will be
TO the that friend
4 thank you comrade,' replied Pierre.
'Why hast thou nothing to say to meg
Nothing.
What not one word of adieu to thy sweet
heart ?'--to thy sister,?
"A sweetheart sisterl l, never had ell
ther.'
TO thy 'ather?
'He is no more. Two months ago he died
in my arms
Thy mother, thenf
my motherv-and Pierre, whose voice sud
denly and totally changed, repeated-'my
mother! Ah, comrade, do not utter that name,
for | have never heard that name-I have
never said it in my heart-without feeling
melted like child; and even now, methlnks,
if were to speak her
What thenP
The tears would come-and tears do not
become man. Tears! continued
he, "tears. when l have but few hours TO
live All there would not be much courage
in that!
Thou art too stern, comrade. / think |
have, thank God, rs much courage as other
people, and yet would not be ashamed Of
weeping, were / to speak Of my mother
Are you serious? said Pierre, eagerly seiz-
lug the officers hand. you man and a SOL
dier, and not ashamed to weep?
When speaking of my mother1 Certainly
not. Ny mother is SO good, so kind She
loves me mnch, and /, too, love her dearly
She loves you, and you love herr Oh!
then | may, indeed, tell yon all. My heart is
full-t must have vent; and, however strange
my feelings appear to you, am sure you will
not laugh at them. Listen, then; for what
you said just now is quite true. A man is
glad, when about to die, to have heart into
which he can pour out his own. Will you
listen to INC. and not laugh at me!'
Surely l will listen, Pierre. A dying
man must ever excite compassionate sympa-
thy
You must know, that since | came into
this world, never loved but one being-that
heing was my mother. But her | loved as
none lovel-with all that was in me of if
and energy While yet babe, used to
read her e;es as she read mine, guessed
her thoughts, and she knew mine. She was
the heart Of my heart, and | the hcayt Of
hers. | have never hal either sweetheart or
wife; | never bad friend; my mother was
everything to me. Well, was summoned
to take up arms; and VIXEN they told me
must leave her, in a paroxysm Of despair
declared they might drag me limb from limb
but never should they take me from her alive.
With one word spoken in her holy fortitude
and strong courage, size changed my whole
purpose.
Pierre said she, you must go-it is my
wish
4 knelt before her, and said, Il will q,
mother
pierre she added, thou hast been good
son, and thank Col for IL: but tho duties
Of a son are not the only ones a man has to
fulfil. Every citizen owes himself to the
country it calls thee--obey! Thou art going
to be soldier. From this moment thy life
is no longer thine own; it is thy country's
If its interests demand il, lay it down cheer
fully. II it be the will Of God that thou
shouldst die before me, should weep for
thee my hearts tears; but / would say, He
gave, and He has taken away, blessed be the
name Of the Lordp Go, now, and II thou love
thy mother, do thy duty Oh how precious
those holy words! have never forgotten
n