The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1863-08-28
ONE OF MANY.

sic-rose and swelled, as the company
marched down the street of the little
country town. How the banners shook,
and the bayonets glittered i'll the August
sunshine. Blue were the skies overhead,
and along the wayside the fields were
green, and the scent of flowers was in the
air. For moment Margery Dane looked
out from her window; then she drew
her ears, trying to shut out sight and
sound
Are they treading on the ground or on
my heart? " she cried, with a passionate
despair in her tones. "He is marching
away, and LIE will never march back
again. Pity me, Heaven; | am losing
my last sight at him"
Up again went the curtain, but the last
man had gone by. The martial music
iloated back, soitened by distance to pity
and tender pain, instead of triumph. Mar
gerry was indeed alone.
She had had Il lonely life. Not that She
had been poor or ill-treated, Or in auywise
prosecuted. But she had neither father
nor mother, brothers nor sisters She had
& fortune Of her OWE; Il very comfortable
one, they called it in that it'll country
town: and tue uncle and aunt with whom
she lived were kind to her, and seldom
crossed her wishes. But if you have ever
lived just such life, you know what lone
illness meas. One' would rather have
even harsh blame from those whose love is
their authority, than the cool kindness of
people too indifferent to cenSuIe. Mar
gerry had not been morbid or sentimental
in girlhood, or even in childhood When
Ler heart ached for !ove--for mother
kisses and tathegiy praises, she scarcely
understood what size wanted herself, and
only betrayed her secret pain by her utter
reclLessness Of danger No boy in West
vile rode such gay horses, or climbed such
high trees, because not 4 boy there v;s
buc knew that some heart would ache If
i'll beteIi linn. Want OF love inude Mar
gerry reckless.
But when She was sixteen love came 1t
was the old, sweet story. She grew in six
months from ronping, reckless girlhood, to
gentle, retictnt and most graceful woman
hood. All the tenderness OF her nature,
which had waited 80 many years for its OBJ
iact, over.iowed at last,-longing, dream
Ing heart, passionate, earnest soul were
satisfied And for once she built no altar
to false idol. Her nature was so pure it
tested those she net like a tombstone. 1t
had TO affinity with evil, AMI her choice
fell worthily Nelson Harding deserved
a!!-lOve, confidence, tender giriis!i trust.
| think, too. his devotion was not less in
tense than her own-not less utterly alb
sorbing. He, too, was az orphan, and the
new tie was his all.
They had been engaged six months when
the war broke out. They were not to
marry for two or three years; but they
met daily, and so waiting was not wear
some. When the war began, Margery had
been half afraid Nelson would think that
bis duty called him; but he told her he
would wait until there was more need of
him-so many were ready to 60 then So
she had year and over to be happy in.
Then came the call for the three hundred
thousand, and two Or three nights after
ward Nelson Harding, with the words she
dreaded.
81 ought to go, Margery. Shall r.
"Go home now, Nelson, and come and
ask re again to lnorrOw.a
She dared not answer him then, for she
was torn between the fear of losing him
ard the fearof doing VIZ ing. She felt that
she must he alone in the universe with God
in order to see the truth clearly.
When he was gone she went up stairs to
the little room where, for SO many years,
the solitary child had cried out of her
hearts else muttered Loneliness to the
"solitary God" What was required of
her now? When Heaven gave her no
father or mother. only Nelson, was it not
meant that she should keep the gift !?
Could it be that already the Giver was ask
ing for it back again? Aud yet were not
the chosen people in all ages taught to offer
of their best-to lay their first fruits upon
the altar? Ought she not to think it
Heavens bounty that gave her opportu-
nifty to make sacrifice SO costly?
All the night she sat before her window,
or knelt beside her bed, until the daily
miricle of dawning repeated itself-re-
peated its tender pink fiushes above the
hills. its tremulous mists, its airs of balm,
its broadening glory of sunrise! Soon he
would come. Soon she must tell him
what to choose, life and love for her and
him, or-the right. With that word her
soul grew strong. She would be the con-
collar not tho tamDtreSS