The Manchester journal. [volume] (Manchester, Vt.) 1861-current, 1863-06-23

lie ungrammaticAl or iuelegant each
sentence came TO me briefly worded,
but most expressive, full Of excellent
council to the boy, ienaerly beqaeath-
ing mother and Llzaie' 10 his care,
and bidding him good bye in words
the saddcr for their simplicity. He
ad,lel few lines with steady hand,
and, as seal.d it, said, with patient
sort Of sigh, i hope the answer will
come in time for me to see ii" then,
turning away his face, laid the flower
against his lips, as if 10 hide some
ouiver Of emotion at the thought Of
such sundering Of all the dear home
/ ties.
These things had happened two
days before. Nov, John was dy-
ing and the letter had not come. |
had been summoned to many death
beds in my life, bat TO none that made
my heart ache as il did then, since
my mother called me to watch The de.
parture of spirit akin TO this, in its
gentleness and patient strength. AS |
went in John stretched out both hands,
Il knew you'd come guess I'm
moving on, maam.'
He was, and so rapidly that even
while he spo' e, over his face saw
the gray vail falling that no human
hand can lift. sat down by him,
wiped the drops from his forehead,
stirred the air with the slow wave of
a far, and waited to help him die. He
stood in sore need of help, and | could
do so little for, as the doctor had
fore. told, the strong body rebelled
against death, and fought every inch of
the way. forcing him to draw each
breath with a spasm, and clench his
hands with an imploring look, as if hr
asked, "How long must endure this.
and be still p For hours he suffered
dumbly, without a moments murmur-
ing. His limbs grew cold, his face
damp, his lips white, and again he tore
the covering off his breast, rs it The
lightest weight added to his agony !:
yet, through it all. his eyes never lost
their perfect serenity, and the mans
soul seemed to sit therein, undaunted
by the ills that vexed his flesh.
soLDIERLY SYMPATHY.
One by one the men woke. and
round the room appeared circle Of
pale faces and watchful eyes, full of
awe and pity for, though stranger
John was beloved by all Each man
there had wondered at his patience,
respected his piety, admired his forii-
tude, and now lamented his hard death;
for the influence of an upright nature
had made itself deeply felt even in
one little week Presently the Jena
than who so loved this co.aely Daved
came creeping fros his bed for last
look and wn:i. The kind soul wss
full Of troiblc, as the choke in
his voice, and the grasp of his hand
betrayed ; but there were no tears,
and the farewell of the friends was
! the more touching for its breyiiy.
"Old boy, how are you ?" faltered
the one.
Most through, thank Heaven =
whispered the other.
{" Can | say or do anything for you
anywheres 2"
"Take my things home, and tell
them that did my best"
IL will | will Y
GOOD bye, Ned
Good bye, John, good bye! y
They kiss each other tenderly as
women, and so parted; for poor Ned
could not stay TO see his comrade die.
For a little while there was no
sound in he room but the drip of wat
er from a stump or two, and Johns
distressful gasps rs he breaihed his
life away. / thought him nearly gone,
and had just laid down the fan, believ-
ing its help no longer needed, when
suddenly he rose up in his bed, and
cried out with bitter cry that broke
the silence, sharply startling every
one with its agonized appeal: For
Gods sake give me air Y
II was the only cry, pain or death
had wrung from him, the boon he had
asked, and none Of US could grant il,
for all the airs that blew were use
less now. Dan flung up the window,
the first red sirrak Of dawn was
warming the gay east, herald Of
the coming sun. John saw il, and