The River Falls journal. (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1857-1861, 1860-12-12
Sflette0 Talf,
THE RIG HIT n r NJ.
THE PATRIor AND THE TRAITOR.

~ shook the City Of London. AT
the dead of night, when the storm was
at its highest, an aged minister, living
near the suburbs Of the city, was arous-
ed BY an earnest cry for help. Looking
from his window he beheld rude man,
clad in the coarse attire Of a sweeper Of
the public streets. In few moments,
while the rain came down il torrents,
and the storm growled above, the preach
or, leaning Gu the seayengsr. threaded
his way through the dark and lonely SUD
urbs.
That very day a strange old man had
fallen spcechlezs in front OF tie old scav-
enger's rude home. The good hearted
street sweeper had taken him in. and laid
him on his ov.a bad-he Lad not lpo-
Ken once-and now he was surely dy-
ing.
This was the simple story Of the rough
man.
Ari now, through dark alleys, among
tenements that seemed ready to sopple
down upon their heads. into the loneliest
and dloariest suburbs they passed, that
white haired minister and his guide
Ar last in narrow court and up flight
Of narrow stairs shat crcaked beneath
their tread, and then into the dreary
bathroom.
In one corner, en- the coarse straw Of
the ragged bed, lay the dying man. He
was but half dressed-Li, legs were con
csaled by military boots.
The aged preacher drew near and
looked down upon him. AS be looked
-th-ob-throb you might hear the
death-watch ticking in the shattered
wall.
It was the form ola strong man grown
old with care moro than age.
There was face you might look upon
once, aud yet wear it in your memory
orever. Let US lend over the bed end
look on that face.
A bold forehead stamped by one deep
wrinkle between the brows-long locks
of dark hair, sprinkled with grey--lips
firmly set. yet quiyering as though they
had life separate from the life OF the
man-and then two large eyos, vivid,
burning, unnatural in their fixed and
steady glare.
All, there was something so terrible
in that face-something so full Of unut'
terable loneliness, urspeakable despair
that the aged minister started back in hor-
ror.
But look, those strong arms are clutch
ing at the thin air-the death sweat starts
in drops upon the cold brow-the man
is dying.
Throb !-throb !-throb the death
watch in the shattered wall.
Would you die the death of q Christ
ans faltered the preacher, as he knelt
there on the dark floor.
The white lips of the death-strickcn
man trembled but made no sound.
Then, with the agony of death upon
him. he rose TO sitting posture. For
the first time he spoke.
christian 7 he echoed in that deep
tone which thrilled the preacher to the
heart, will that faith give me back my
honor! Come with me-with me far
over the water. Ha! we are there =
This is my native home. Yonder is the
church in which l knelt in childhood
yonder the green upon which l sported
when boy. But another flag than that
waved when I was child. And listen,
old man, were to pass this street as
passed when a child, the very babies in
their cradles would raise their tiny hands
and curse me. Thu graves in yonder
church-yard would shrink from my foot
steps, and yonder flag would stain bap-
tism of blood upon my heart
This was an awful death-bed. The
minister had watched the 'last night,
with hundred conyicts in their cells
and never beheld a scene so terrible as
this.
Suddenly the dying man arose. He
tottered along the floor. With those
white fingers whose nails were blue with
the death chill, he threw open the valiss.
He showed his military coat trimmed
with silver, an old parchment, piece Of
cloth that looked like the wreck Of bat
lie flag.
Look ye, priest, this faded coat is spot
ted with my bloodp he cried, as old mem
ories seemed stirring him at his heart