Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1862-03-06


stiffness fell around him as he closed the last
sheet and sat back with folded hands to think
He could not tell why, but do what and 60
where he would, the face of the young Volun,
teer with whom he had spoken last haunted
hin. He arose to move to the window where the
breeze was cooler, when knock was heard at
the door, and rapid voice called, "Chaplain!'
He hurried to lift the latch. The surgeon
stood there, looked like shadow in the dim
moonlight that crept into the passage.
Chaplain, sorry to disturb you, and more
sorry to give you an unpleasant duty to per
form"
Why, what is it ?" was the quick re-
joinder
That fine young fellow whom ycu talked
with is going"
What you do not mean-"
Won't live an hour, or two at the most.
| tried to tell him, but couldn't and finally l
thought of you You can ease it, you know"
A great shadow fell on the chaplain for a
moment, be was stunned and choked ; and
his voice grew quite husky as he made
reply:
1t is sad ezra nd but none the less m
duty. Poor fellow ! l can't realize it, indeed
cannot. His voice was strong ; his name
so natural III be there presently and LETT
alone, he threw himself upon bis knees to wres'
tie for strength in prayer.
The atmosphere was filled with low sighs
from the strugglers with pain aud disease
Going softly up to the couch at which he had
stood before, the chaplain gazed upon the face
before him. 1t looked as calm as that of a
sleeping infant, but he did not sleep. Hfaring
slight noise, his eyes flew open ard rested in
some surprise on The chaplain.
"I felt as if l must see you again before |
retired" said the latter, striving to steady his
voice. How do you fell now ?"
90 better, thank you in fact almost
we'll. The pain is gone, aud feel quite hope
ful rather think the surgeon does, though
he said nothing.
Again that fearful swelling in the chaplain's
throat. How shall he tell him of his danger
how prepare the mind so calmly resting on
almost certainty ?-the poor, hopeful soul
that would never look with earthly eyes on the
mother he SO longed for.
Another moment and the young man ap-
peared TO be struck with some peculiarity in
the face or movements of the chaplain. The
large eyes sought his with an iDtenseness that
was painful, and he strove to interpret that
which made the difference between this and his
former demeauor.
" Your cases weary you, chaplain" he said
quietly p" You must be very faithful, for it is
past midnight"
Il was on the point of going to bed when
/ was called to prepare dying man for his
last hour" was that fearful response of the
chaplain.
Indeed ! what poor fellow goes next p
rejoined the young man, with mournfnl in-
quiry.
There was no answer, for the wealth Of
worlds the chaplain would not have spoken
now. That tone so unconscious of danger
that eye SO full of sympathy ! Still strange
silence ! What did be mean? The sick mans
nquiring glance changed for moment to one
of intense terror He raised both armS-et
them fall heavily upon the coVerlet at bis side,
and in voice totally altered by emotion, be
gasped"
Good heavens you mean me-"
My dear friend !" said the chaplain, un-
manned. a ,.-..
am to die then-and-how-long 2"
his eyes once more saught that of bis chap
lain
You have made your peace with Con !;
let death come as soon as it will, He will carry
you over the river" - s.--
Yes but this is awfully sudden! awfully
sudden I" his lips qrivered he looked up
grievingly-" and | shall not see my mother"
-" Christ is better than mother" murmur-
ed the chaplain.
The word came in whisper. His eyes were
closed the lips still wore that trembling
grief, as if the chastiSement were too sore, too
L l. L.-k . L. foz -n1
and the soul lifted itself up stronger and more
steadily upon the wings of prayer, the counte-
nance grew calmer, the lips steadier, and when
the eyes opened again, there was light in
their depths that could have come only from
heaven.
+" | thank you for your courage" he said,
more feebly, taking the hand of the chaplain
The bitterness is over now, and L feel will
ling to die Tell my mother" he paused, gave
one sob, dry, and full of the last anguish OF
earth" tell her how louged to see her, but
if God will permit me, will be near her
Tell her to comfort all who loved me, to say
that | thought of them all. Tell my father
that am glad he gave me his consent, and
that other fathers will mourn for other sons.
Tell nv minister by word or letter, that tho't
Of him and that / thank him for all his coun-
sells Tell him l find that Christ will not de-
sert the passing soul and thatI wish him to
give my testimony to the living that nothing
Is of real worth but the religion of Jesus. And
now wi Il you pray for me 2"
What emotions swelled the heart of that de-
voted man, as be knelt by the bedside of that
dying volunteer, the young soldier of Christ
and with tones so low that only the ear of
God and that of him who was passing away
could hear besought Gods grace and presence.
Never in all his experience had his heart been
so powerfully wrought upon never had feel
ing of such unutterable tenderness taken pos
session of his soul. He seemed already in the
$1,000 af .lnriind cx,irit o.Ad aftar the