Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1863-02-05
opened his eyes wide, and slowly rubbed

opened his eyes wide, and slowly rubbed
his nose, looking the while from Alice to
Harry, and back again.
Well, Pm free 20 confess l hadn't
thought O. that" said the Squire "But
Harry Moore, You are made O the right
mettle, and I've always found you true to
the backbone. Yes, if Alice hain't no
objections, you shall have her when you
come back again"
And thus it happened that when Harry
Moore went away to the was a lock of
Alice Bankgrove's silky hair lay upon bis
manly heart, and stirred to the music of
its strong beatngs.
Whew-w WV" whistled Trad Cur
tbs, as he worked all alone in the profound
silence of the old barn IS didn't suppose
the affair would turn out precisely IS it
has done; but no matter, things may hap
pen just right after all !"
And Trad Curtis was not " hit dis
heartened at the cool pollteness with
which Alice Bankgrove put aside the IN
| Vulnerable little courtesies he strove to
render toward her all that fall-not he
There was a good deal of logged perse.
verance Ingram to the nature of Trad Cur
| tbs.
The year glided away in sun and shower
--blossoming roses and dreary falls of
snow--and once again the harvest moon
hung like shield of silver over the quiet
! old homestead, with its red barn and it's
cluster OF gnarled apple trees. But in the
west the sun had set with wild, ensan-
guined splendor, amidst clouds whose
crimson dyes seemed like sea of blood.
Aud Alice Bankgrove, sitting at her win
dow, thinking OF the dreadful rumors of
battle that foated dimly in the country
solitudes, could not dare to lock at the
blazing horizon, so nervous had she grown.
Suddenly clear bugle. sound rang out
amidst the dewy hollows, dying away
with pathetic cadence in the woods, where
a score Of whip poorwills were moaning
their sad refrain.
"There the stage has passed by, and
the mail is in - exclaimed Alice, springing
to her fee. Papa, may l go down to
the Post Office pitt is only little way !"
''It's mile, my child, and more, and
the dew is falling" said the practical
Squire, looking up from a calculation he
was making by the light of tallow
candle.
"Do let her go, father" said his wife,
nudging his elbow. "Don't you see how
worried she feels I? You was young your
self once!"
Alice scarcely waited for the permission
ere she hurried away through the lonely
woods, dew dripping and full of faint,
sweet fragrance.
"No letter for week." she murmured
to herself. ''Perhaps it will come to-
ight-perhaps."
"A letter for Alice Bankgrove" No,
there is no snch letter." said the gray
headed old postmaster, sorting over the
pile of epistes in leisurely way that was
agony to poor impatient Alice.
1" No letter are you sure ~ repeated
the young girl, leaning eagerly forward
with blanched cheek and a throbbing
heart.
"Sartin sure, Miss Allce-that is, as
sure as man can be of anything in this
onsartin world. Stay, though" be added,
as Alice was turning away with thrill of
sick despair; ''here are some newspapers
for Jeremiah Bankgrove, Esquare. That's
your father, gaess."
Half an hour atterward Alice came into
the sitting-room at home, with slow, lam
| guild steps, and dew drenched hair hang
ing carelessly about her shoulders. Trad
| Curtis sat by the table talking to her
father. He rose and bowed.
! " You have been to the post Office,
Alice Why didn't you let me go for
you2 | hope you have taken no cold"
did you get letter, daughter 2" said
Mrs. Bankgrove, keenly scar ming the girls
face.
" No letter." returned Alice wearily.-
| "Here are some newspapers for you,
father"
! She laid them on the table and went
and sat ON the broad door stone, her cheek
resting on her hand.
ono letter. that's strange!" said Trad
artfully. Now if | was off to the wars,
| and had sweetheart like somebody |
know of at home, | should write every
day !"
PITY you wasn't off to the wars, with
a sweetheart at home!' said the Squire,
dryly; and Trad was silent tor q moment.
| =" Read US the news Irad," said Mrs.
Bankgrove. "The Squire's eyes amt so
young as they was, and be does make aw~
tul work readin' by candlelight."
" Yes, 90, Irad," said the Squire, put
ting the spectacles back in his case with
| sigh of relief; and Trad urfolded the TEEN
| inc columns OF the newspaper, and be-
| gan:
s Great battle in Virg'nia!' he enunci-
ated, reading very much as if the words
had been printed in capitals. List OF
the Killed and Wounded!"
"Read that, Irad," said the Squire,
leaning forward. Mis-. Bankgrove gave a
| quick glance toward the door, but Alice
had vanished.
"lts pretty lengthy" said Trad, rue
fully; ''bnt here goes!"
slow mechanical exactness, as if each were
not shrined in some bleeding heart-wept
over with everlasting tears
"What !" shreked the Squire, suddenly,
as some well-known name knelled on his
ear; "not in the list of killed ?"
He started up, pale and trembling, with
cold dew on his forehead.
"Yes, it is" said Trad, himself rather
dismayed. COMPANY E-thats his very
company; read for yourself, if you don't
believe mel"
The Squire's dim eyes traced the fatal
sylables in the doomed list, through
thick mist of binding tears.
Poor Alice it will break her heart J"
he said in husky tone. Mrs. Bankgrove
gave piercing cry, and sprang forward
Just in time to catch the sinking figure of
Alice. who stood near the door, white and
motionless as spectre.
dead killed in battle! !" She could
not believe it, though she repeated the
words TO herself mechanically, a thousand