Cedar Falls gazette. [volume] (Cedar Falls, Iowa) 1860-1895, 1862-07-11
Picture lst.
PRAIRIE HoME--FAREwELI..

t- - p
..r PRAIRIE HoME--FAREwELL. ... .- ..
see a cottage in prairie land, brown and
low--apo mans humble home. The vines
ofthe wild cucumber arch its windows. and
morning glories grow by the door IN the
little box on the caves the blue-birds make
their home. Every Spring they, come to
build there. A grove of quaking aspens
ward off the chilling north winds Of winter,
and two spreading locusts shade it from the
burning sun of summer. Near at hand is
the byre and the sheds for the brute inhabt-
ants of the farm. Rooted with wild grass
of the prairics, they are in keeping with the
masters unpretendlng abode. On every side.
far away, roll the prairie waves til. lost in
the level Of distance. . :. .HH .s. n. cai
One mile eastward is seen the house Of
one neighbor; southwark and far off, the
dim outlines of another--humble cots, both.
In the first lives "neighbor Dean" How
bright the humble farmers home the blue
eyes of his daughter lura light it'll In the
second, a newly mated pair, tar away from
all neighbors, are building up home.
The declining sun burns red in the smoky
west. a soft breeze steals across the fire
backencd billows Of the plains, scarce lifting
the ash iakes from their crcsts The wild
hens call TO each other from their coverts
IN ncghGoring hills. In struggling line
the cattle are following the familiar, home
leading trail. Timid deer rise from their lairs
IN the hazel and gaze timidly about. Cawng
crows wing their strai ight course to solitary
groves, by their shril outcry Weakening the
doing cat-owl to fit on noiselcss wing in
search of his evening meal. Fearful rabbits
are bold to play at hidcand-scek near the
Travelled roads, and quails call and answer in
the dusky thickcts. About the farmhouse
every sound tells of the neorncss Of night -
The pigs in their pens, are clamoring to be
fed; the horses neigh in their stalls, the hun
cry sheep beat unGrasingly--fowls are flut-
tcring to reach their roosts, the pigeons coo
about the caves. Distant sounds seem near
the baying of the far-of watch dog is heard,
and the voice OF the ncighbor calling to his
cows seems close at hand.
Now, at last, the farmers day of toll is end
ed; night, not less black than the charred
bosom of the prairie, rests on the land Still,
all is not dark. Away westward CLEANS n
long crimson line of prairie. fire; eyer and
anon this line of dull crimson is enliyencd by
brighter flashes, where the forkcd tongues OF
flame lick the intervening ridges; dancing
along the duSky line, now singly, now in
files, they seem blazing demons of dcstruc-
ton eXuting in their power. In other GUAR
ters-north, south, cast, the clouds and sky
glow with the fainter red of more distant
fires. On some near ridge are heard the
shrill yelps of a band Of prairie wolves, fired
off IN rafting volley like the wild cries of
stuiy-weary children rushing out from a
school-room TO play, and the fainter answer
ing mutations Of more distant packs. This
is night on the wild prairics of the West
'Tis night on the prairies. But tonight
they are sad at the farm house. The red
eyes of the good woman tell tales of late
weeping, and the good master is silent. He
well knows why his good wfe's heart is full
knows we'll why her eyes are drowned in
tears. " ." .~ ..
The old couple are now alone Three
sons and two aughters--children fair as the
dawn of the morning on their own prairie
land, they have lived to plant wild violets
above. Their sixth and youngest child
their darling, brown-haired Willie, they have
this day torn from their reluctant hearts and
given to their country. Hard to send away
this fair, smooth checked boy-ths only son,
so long watched over, so belovcd-to face
whirring balls and screaming shcls-to breast
rushing torrents o, cleaning steel.
q" would chat but my life were asked !"
cried the mother, but asking thee, O. VIII.
lie ! is asking more than life! Yet it's our
Country asks--cor Our Count3y's sake, 90,
my son-goi and remainder hat My mother
scouM prefer the pride Of aceeping for thee
dead, totheshdme of5luxhing for hee lisiaqi"
Bravey spoken, American mother brave
i'd ,t,o Al.
heart for womanly fear--for mother anx-
iety. a<a" sf7e ta ia
A mothers hand is laid in blessing on his
head mothers kiss pressed upon his rud-
dy cheek-a fathers silent clasp of the hand,
and Willie leaves the lowly farm house.
Toward the cottage to the eastward--the
home Of good neighbor Dean, Willie hastens,
Zura is'waiting at the gate To-day her
bright eyes are dim and fearful, for Willie is
going to the wars. On Christmas was to
have been a wedding; now alas!
Yet Zura had said "I am but a poor little
girl, Willie, and dare not let my heart plead
for you when orr country calls"
All! how often, when they chanccd to
stand side by side, bal the heart of Willie's
mother futtered with pride l--her son--tall
and broad shouldered- what a flush in bis
Drowned cheek as he gazed down upon
the little wand-likc Zura, Whose up-tmnod
face wore an expression Of modest fondness
and deep, trustful content already she loved
the gentle Iura rs daughter and in return
received thoughtful daughters love- III,
But now these loving children must part
A braid Of brown hair is clasped on Willie's
wrist, kiss is pressed on Xura's lips, and
the fair girl is left weeping by the little gate,
far out on the prairie the form Of her loved
young soldier is fast fading from her linger-
ing gaze. Willie has indeed gone--olos Z
gone to tie uars! aass -:aa.,t
i 81 ig9ial aHaa
Picture II. fsst4 - y,s
eHas}r TIE BATTLE. # Es
+" Forward at duty's call-and then, =
II matters not the how when, S9se -s see..a
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