Pomeroy weekly telegraph. [volume] (Pomeroy, Meigs County, Ohio) 1860-1866, 1861-10-11
THE SOLDIERS SISTER.
BY. S. ANNIE FROST.

They have all passed! The roll OF
the drum, which for the last hour has
filed the street, grows fainter, as the
soldiers follow it, leading them to the
depot, from which they start to defend
their country's flag. Brave men, who
take thus your lives in your hands, at
the call of country, ready to lay it down,
if need be, G ID protect you.
Several years ago, not SO many but
that even young people remember the
time, the same call, love of country, and
the desire to assert and defend her
rights, took brave men from our city,
southwark. too, to Mexico, and then, ah,
then, l was not calmly writing at my
window, but with heart full of weary,
sore trouble, I, too, prepared to leave
my home to follow the soldiers. 1t is u
story that in these stirring times may
not prove uniuteresting, SO, though |
am an old fashioned woman, and no great
writer, will tell it:
was not an old woma n, some twenty
six or eight years old, when my only
sister, Mary Curtis, died, and left me
two little children for her legacy Their
father died before the babies, a twin
boy and glrl, were born, and so they
came to me, dependent, not for worldly
goods, for Horace Curtis died a rich
man, but fer love and care, wholly de-
pendent upon their aunt. They were
bright, pretty little things, between
seven and eight years of age, when they
came in their mourning dresses to my
city home, from the pretty country seat
where l had closed their mothers eyes
upon them and all earthly things, fer
ever.
When the children were sixteen
Horace was admitted to West Point
From his early childhood this had been
the strong desire of his heart. A SOL
dier's life, though he knew much Of its
hardships, had ever been before his i'm
agination as the one, above all others to
be chosen. Strong, healthy, and active
the children had always been, and it was
hard to say which was the strongest
Horace's desire to be soldier, or
Nelie's wish to see him become one
| had never approved of making women
the timid, helpless creatures they are
only too apt to become, so [ allowed the
fearless little girl to join her brother in
his sports and studies, trusting to his
chivalrous, loving heart to keep her
from harm, too, that while she grew
hardy, fearless, and active, from his in
duence, her presence made him gentle
manly and polite, above most boys
Their lives seemed knit, bound together;
the first morning greeting, the last even
ing kiss Of each was for the other.-
Walking to school together, to part only
at the door, they met gladly again, for
the home walk. In the summer spent
at the country seat which formed part
Of their inheritance, he taught her to
ride on horseback, to shoot at mark,
with pistol or gun, to walk miles with
out fatigue, and she, in turn, taught
him to sing with her, and coaxed him
one winter to learn to play on the violin,
that he might not he idle while her
fingers drew music from the piano. At
first he shrugged his shoulders and de-
clared it "a bore" but soon he began to
enjoy, as much as herself, these tuneful
duets. With perfect love, perfect con-
fdence and trust, each in the other,
they seemed to have but one heart and
one mind between them. The physical
resemblance was perfect. The same
large hazel eyes, fresh, fair complex
ions, straight noses, and to an inch the
same height, the only difference that
struck the observer was, that Nellie $
curls were long and floating, while
Horace's clustered In short thick
bunches about his forehead, botk being
Of warm chestnut color
They were, as l said, sixteen, when
Horace went to West Point, but this was
their first separation. Sadly, wearily
and tearfully Nellie dragged about the
house. Her song was hushed; she did
not care to ride, practice or read, and
though always loving to her "auntie, y as
they always called me, l found it almost
impossible to win smile or look Of in
terest from her.
"Nelliep
We were sitting together, one brigh
day sewing. The work had fallen from
my darling's hands, and she was musing
with dropping head, and sad longing