Juliet signal. [volume] (Juliet [i.e. Joliet], Ill.) 1844-1???, 1863-11-03
J. MORGAN'S SUBSTITUTE.
A story of the Present war.

D. MORGAN'S He.
A story Of the Present war.
1t had been the day for drafting in a lit
tie town in the hill country Of Crnnettiout.
| 1t was nightfall now. and man walked
! slowly hcme 10 the wife y no watched end
waited for him. He was a tall handsome
fellow--thrty FIVE, perhaps; vigorous of
limb, strong of muscle, with kindly yet
earnest eyes. well cut features and an ex-
preston Of fearless integrity You would
have known him at once for what he was
coed unsel6sh, courageous, honest man,
worthy of winning, capable of holding a
! wOm8n's love.
| She who listened for his coming heard
the slow srep upon the gravel and s9rang
| from the door to meet him. You could
| see, even in that dim light, what bright,
pretty. CHEEKY woman she was, with her
| loving eyes-her dark. satin. smooth hair :;
| her red, tender eSs; and the fresh roses on
her cheeks. She went up to her hus-
! band aud put her hands 0n his arm Loving
ly.
II know you have bad news for me,
John !"
"Yes. Mary; 1 must go. l was the third
Zone drafted"
The wife felt her limbs shake, and che
though; at first that she could not stand -
All the forces of Der nfture seemed giving
way, bot she rallied bravAIy. For his sake
she would be calm and strong; but STE
could not speak just then. She led him
into the house where their children were
five Of them che oldest Only ten in the
July just gone. There was something in
ia arIs NIB IT.
noisy demonstrations with which thew
were wont TO greet him ,aud they only gave
him few silent kisses as he sat down in
the great chair by the west window lie
hurled his face in his hands for while.
AMI then he lifted it and looked round on
the little gr up of bis loved ones. Three
girls and Two boys. and his wife, their
mother, looking, in s;Ite of years Of care.
as fair, almost as young, as the day he
brought her home his new made bride.
| His chest heaved with a long and bitter
| sigh-a sort of cob of detpair rather
| end then he said, as If he feared that
even she, his other self might n1isunGer
stand him:
| God knows it is not FOR my own sake,
| Mary! do not think an afraid to die.
would 90 with more than Willingness
| with j5y-if had not so much to leave. If
L fall, what will become of you and the
| children2 cannp. bear to think of what
| you might suffer, with no one to stand be-
| tween yOu and the cares and surrows of the
| world. Mary ,thiF drafting iodiscriminate-
ly does not seem Just. Surely the single
men ought to go first.
His wife stole her little hand into his
very gently.
DO not think of u.s." she said, with
true womsn's self forgetGulness. ut il not
that. We should do we'll enough. You
iced not fear that we should come to want
| But O. John"
And just there she broke down utterly.
and cried out, With burst of passlonHte
! tears:
No, cannot bear it! You will die =
] shall never, never see your face sgain =
Ii could know that you would ever come
hack again, even were it manned end help
less, would not murTur; but to tbiuk
| that you might die there, and could not
help you-that your eyes would seek mine
and your hands grope for mine, and not
be tbere-O. hD, / shall 90 mad With
hopeless horTor"
1t was his turn to be the comforter now.
He drew her into the shelter Of his arms
he rested Ter poo head on bis breast, he
| whispered tenderly:
"All who fight do not die, Mary. God
watches over US there az we'll as here
ScnIe wOmen's husbands must 90, poor
child Something may happen yet that
shall not have to-"
He knew, however, no solitary chance
under the wide heavens by which be could
escape. The words with him were but
the vaguest utterance of soothing; but she
caught at them eagerly.
''You could procure a substitute perhaps
Is that what you mean?"
II would il could" he answered eva
sively mbering 10 bis own mind the
difficulty that richer men than he had ex
perienced in procuring the . in those quiet.
thinly peopled, agricultural towns. Il am
very tired. Mary; can you give me some
tea 2"
! Cheered little By her new hone. and
anxious, above all, to cheer him and make
him comfortable, the wife got IN and went
into the kitchen. The biscuit for sumner
were already made, and in q few minutes
tea was upon the table. John MORGAN
drank cup after cup of il, with an eager.
feverish thirst ; but eating with him was a
mere ieIDt. When the meal was over the
children were put to bed, all but the two
Oldest girls. They stole cut to the open
door, and sat down 10 the September
moonlight, their arms around each other
ieeling, with sort of duab pain, that a
shadow which they could not resist had
iallen upon the household. Their mother,
meantime, had lighted her lamp and taken
her work-a cAild's frOck, which she was
hnishlng-tO the little round stand. She
would not let this evening seem more
unlike other evenings than She coUiS
help sOU'O
Soon there came a footsep unon the
gravel walk; this time Quick. firm
tread. The girls in the doo- made nav
for the new conner to enter, and he came r.
and stood silently for moment in the can
ter Of the little sitting.room.
He was slender, elegantly moulded
man. You could see at a planoa that III