Cedar Falls gazette. [volume] (Cedar Falls, Iowa) 1860-1895, 1863-07-10
WOUNDED IN BATTLE.

WOUNDED IN BATTLE.
"How is he now, Covington ?"
The violet canopy Of heaven was ablaze
with the frosty sparkle Of innumerable stars
that frosty October night, and the pearly
crescent Of new moon hung family over the
horizon, as the genial faced old surgeon push.
ed aside the army blanket that formed the
door Of rudely constructed hut of ever
green's, among the pine forests Of Maryland,
and entered.
A fire Of pine cones was burning in the
coarse impromptu chimney Of mud and stone
burning with an aromatic fragrance that
prevaded every corner of the cabin, and by
itsfed, rcsinous light, the old man saw fig-
ure stretched on single mattrass, and q sec.
ond person sitting thoughtfully by the broad
stone that served for hearth.
Better, doctor, Think" was the reply of
this latter parsonage, throwing handful of
cones on tho embers, that they might blaze
up more cheerfully. He has wandered
good deal in his mind this afternoon, but
seems very quiet now. have dressed the
wounds as you directed, and"
He stopped short, for the expression on the
doctors face checked the half spoken words
upon his lips.
Doctor, do you not think" ...
"Covington," said the old man quietly,
"he's going fast. Don't bore him with any
more draughts or lotions. He may last until
morning, but rather think he will drift out
with the turn of the night You need not
look SO appealingly at me, my boy--I can do
nothing more. I'm sorry, for he was brave
fellow and good officer; but there is no use
in my remaining here to waste time, when
am wanted in forty places at once. BY the
way-Pd almost forgotten--the mail came
in while was at headquarters, and here is q
letter for Dacre; poor fellow, he'll never
read It'll
He tossed the square bit Of paper upon
the coverlet, close to the motionless hand
that never stirred to receive it, and was
gone. .... ..r.....s ..- ...
| Covington rose, and leaned sorrowfuly
over the face Of the dying man. 1t was
face chiselled in the most perfect manly beau.
ty, straight features, dark blue eyes, shadow
ed by light, languid lids, and curls Of silky
black hair, pushed away from the forehead
by the impatient hand of fever. The ghastly
wounds in his side were covered with the
bedclothes, and while he lay there, one might
almost have fancicd him asleep.
Asschool boys-as youths, as men, they had
been firm friends, these two comrades side
by side they had charged, on the murderous
day Of Antietam, and now Hugh Covitgton
was watching the dying bed of Charles
Dacre, in the lonely wilderness scarce stones
throw from the battle ground where Dacre
had been smitten down.
AS Hugh leaned down to smooth the rough
pillow, his eye fell upon the superscrption Of
the letter left by the old surgeon. He took
it up, growing almost as pale as the white
face below.
"" Marian's writing--the letter is from Ma.
rian y he gasped; +" the love would have
given worlds to win OF what use will it be
to the man that lies here dying?
He held the folded slip of paper amoment
in slence-then bent once more over the
PROSTATE form of his companion.
"Charley-Chariey Dacre Rouse up q
minute, my boy!" he said, in low clear
voice. H W. ...
The dark blue eyes Enclosed, and stared
vaguely up into his own !; but there was nc
light, no expression in their gaze
"They have brought you a letter, Charley
Ia letter from Marian !" urged Coyington
"See!' T. Es.
Marian-Marian," repeated the DIVING
man, and the heavy lids fell again. It was
but meaningless name in his dull ears now
poor fellow
But an hour afterward, as Covineton sa,
gazing into the fire, his thoughts hundreds
Of miles away, the name was pronounced
with distinctness that made him start
Marian-who was talking of Marian p
demanded Dacre, who had raised himself or
his elbow, and was gazing wildly around the
tent. as that you, Hugh? And they said
should drift out with the turn of the night
That hour is at hand-and there is some
thing | must say 10 Hugh Covington first
II am here, Gharley-close by you-wba
: is it, old friend? What shall say to Ma
, rian for you g'
The head dropped low on Covington's
shoulder, and his strong arm received the
sinking form. -.#
"There is letter in my breast pocket,
, he gasped. 20, Hugh, have wronged yol
sorely but you will forgive me now Ma
rian's letter"
|, They were the last words he ever spoke
and when Covington laid the heavy heat
: back among the pillows, he knew that Char
ley Dacre's soul had gone upon its long
long journey, through the solemn hush o
midnight
| MccualhCahy Hc TenueTeu the last lew OF
fees to the dead, and then sought as mechan
, ically, in the breast pocket indicated by
Dacre's last words, with on indistnct sens,
of some umulfled mission on his mind
1t was not a vain search, for he drew forth
letter, folded in piece of blank paper
But the letter was in his own hand writing
sealed and directed to Marian Howard-th'
very letter which, m ore than year ago, h,
had entrusted to Charles Dacre, to place II
Marian's hands--the letter avowing his owl
love. She had never, then, received it, anc
Dacre had woocd and won the lovely prz
with this stain Of treachery on his soul!
For moment the blood surged hotly t.
; his face-for moment bitter sense of re
sentiment cut keenly to his heart-but, ever
! in the same breath he knelt down besid,
Charles Dac-e's dead face, and murmeret
half aloud:
Charley-my earliest friend, may Got
forgive me. in my hour Of sorest need, al
truly as forgive you"
For he felt that neither anger nor resent
ment were meet in the awful presence of tn
death angel.
The red autumn leaves lay in heaps abov,
, Charles Dacre's grave in the village church
yard, and the same level sunset that glide,
the edges Of the marble tomb.ston smile,