The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1863-07-10

l didn's want the glory or the pay. want
ed the right thing done, and people KEEP
saying the men who sere in earn st ough,
to h BIT. | was 10 ainest. the L L,rc knows,
but held off As long as could not know
ing which was my duty. Mother saw The
case gave me her ring to keep me steady,
aud said. 'go;' so | went"
SOLDIERS PRIDR.
do You ever regret that You came when
you lie here suffering much -
Never, ms'am. haven't helped q
great deal, but I've shown l was wiling to
give nv lite. and perhaps I've got to; but
don't blame any body. and il II was TO do
over again. Id do It. I'm little sorry
wa>n't wounded in front. 1t looks cows ard
'ly 10 be hit IN the back. but obeyed or
ders, and il don't matter in the end,
know"
Poor John it did not matter nov, ex-
cept that q shot in front might have spared
the long agony in store for him. He SEEM
cd 10 read the thoagh, tha, troubled me, as
be spoke 50 hopefully when there was no
hope, for he suddenly added:
:. This is my first battle-do they think
It's going to be my last -
:. I'm afraid they do. John"
1t was he hardest question had ever
been called upon to answer doubly hard
with those clear eyes fixed on mine, forcing
truthful answer by their own truth. He
seemed little startled at first. pondered
over the fearful fact moment, then shook
his head with glance at the broad chest
and muscular limbs stretched out before
him.
I'm not afraid. but it's difficult to be.
lieve all at once. I'm So strong it don't
seem possible for such a little wound to
kill me-
THE LAST LETTER.
:" Shall | write to your mother, now ?"
| asked, thinking that these sudden tidiugs
mi ght change all plans aud purposes; but
they did not for the man received the or
der OF the Divine Commander to march
with the same unq uestioniug obedience with
which the soldier had received that of the
human one. doubtless remembering that
the first led him TO life, the last to death.
No. ma 'am to Laurie just the same;
he I'll break it to her best. and I'll add . liue
10 her myself when you get DONE"
So | wrote the letter which he dictated,
finding it better than any I had sent. for.
though here aud there a little uoyrama ical or
neligant. each sentence came to me briefly
worded. but most expressive. full OF excel
ens counsel to the boy. tenderly hequesth-
ing q mother and L'zzy" to his care, and
bidding him goodbye in words the sadder
for their simplicity. He added few lines
with steady hand. and, as | sealed it. said.
with a patient sort OF sigh, Il hope the an
swer will come in time Tor me to sac to-
Lhen, turning away his face, laid the flowers
against his lips rs il to hide some qniver of
emotion at the thought Of such a sudden
sundering of all the dear home ties.
These things had happened two days be-
ore. Now. John was diving and the letter
1ad not come. / had been summoned to
many death beds in my life. but TO none
hat made my heart ache as it did then.
ince my mother called me to watch the de.
,arture OF spirit akin to this, in its gentle
less and patient strength. As [ went John
tretched OUT both hands,
:" | knew you'd come guess I'm NOV.
ng on. ma'an.'
He was, and so rapidly that even while
le spoke over his tace saw the gray veil
alling hat human hand can lift. / sat
l.'wn beside him. wiped the drops from his
orehead, sIirred the air about him with the
low wave of fan, and waited TO help him
lie He stood in sore need Of help, and l
ould do so little; for. as the doctor had
ore,oli, the strong body rebelled against
eath. and fought every inch of the way,
orcing him TO draw each breath with q
pasn. and clench his hands with an i'm.
aoring look. as if he rsked. How long
must | endure this. and be still !" For
ours he suffered dumbly, without mo- :
aents respite or a moments murmurine
lis limbs grew cold. his face damp. his lips
Ihite, and again and again he tore the COW
ring off bis breast. as if the highest weight
dded to his agony; yet. through il all. his
yes never lost their perfect serenity, and
re mans soul seemed TO sit therein, un. !
aunted by the ills that vexed his flesh.
soLDIKRLY SYMPATHY. ze ers j
One by one the men woke, and round the
pom appeared a circle oe pale faces and
'atchful eyes, full of awe and pity; for,
1ough stranger, John was beloved by all
'ach man there had wondered at his pa
ence. respected his piesy, admired his for
tude, and now lamented his hard death 4
II the influence OF an upright nature had
,ade itself deeply felt even in one little
this comely David came creeping from
ID ucl Iof n Idet IOOk SL u WDIu. kne kluQ
,ui was iull of trouble. as the choke in his
oice. the grasp of his Land betrayed; but /
,ere were no tears. and the farewell Of the l
lends was the more touching Tor its brevi- /
T.
"Old boy. how are youe ," falssred the
ne.
"Most through. thank heaven!" whis-
cred the other r
q Can say or do anything for you any
heres g.
Take my things home. and tell them
Ia. did mF best"
al viii | will y
"Good bye, Ned" +
"Good bye. John, good hye r
They kissed each other tendsriy ss NO.
en. and So parted: for poor \ d could
ot stay to see his cou,rads die. For little
hile there was no sound 10 the room bat
le drip of water from stump os tvesand /,
,hn's distressful gasfs As he slouly breath
. bis lite away. thought him nearly gone.
I'D had just laid down the FAM. believing
. help to be no longer needed. when he sud.