The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1863-08-28
ONE OF MANY.

sic-rOse and Swelled, as the company
marched down the street of the little
country town! How the banners shook,
and the bayonets glittered i'll the August
sunshine! Blue were the skies overhead,
and along the wayside the fields were
green, and the scent of flowers was in the
air. For moment Margery Dane looked
out from her window; then she drew
down the curtain, and held her hands over
her ears, trying to shut out sight and
sound.
care they treading on the ground or on
despair in her tones. "He is marching
away, and be will never march back
again. Pity me, Heaven; l am losing
my last sight at him."
Up again went the curtain, but the last
man had gone by. The martial music
hoated back, softened by distance to pity
and tender pain, instead of triumph Mar
gerry was indeed alone. -..., :
She had had lonely life. Not that she
had been poor, or ill-treated, or in anywise
prosecuted. But she had neither father
nor mother, brothers nor sisters. She had
g fortune Of her Ow0; a very comfortable
one, they called it in that littl. country
town; and the uncle and aunt with whom
she lived were kind to her, and seldom
crossed her wishes But if you have ever
lived just such a life, you know what lone
illness means. One would rather have
even harsh blame from those whose love is
their authority, than the cool kindness of
people too Indifferent to censure. Mar
gerry had not been morbid Or sentimental
in girlhood, or even in childhood. When
her heart ached for love-for mother
kisses and tatherly praises, she scarcely
understood what she wanted herself, and
only betrayed her secret pain by her utter
recklessness of danger. No boy in West
vile rode such gay horses, or climbed such
high trees, because not q boy there was
but knew that some heart would ache if
i'll befell him. Want OF love made Mar
gerry reckless.
But when she was sixteen love came. 1t
was the old, sweet story. She grew in six
months from romping, reckless girlhood, to
gentle, reticent and most graceful woman
hood. All the tenderness of her nature,
which had waited so many years for its OBJ
ject, overhowed at last,-longing, dream
ing heart, passionate, earnest soul were
satisfied. And for once she built no altar
to false idol Her nature was so pure it
tested those she met like tombstone. 1t
had no affinity with evil, and her choice
fell worthily. Nelson Harding deserved
all-love, confidence, tender girlish trust
| think, too, his devotion was not less in
tense than her Own-not less utterly alb
sorbing. He, too, was an orphan, and the
new tie was his all.
They had been engaged six months when
the war broke out They were not to
marry for two or three years but they
met daily, and so waiting was not weari-
some. When the war began, Margery had
been half afraid Nelson would think that
his duty called MIN; but he told her he
would wait until there was more need of
him-sO many were ready to go then So
she had year and over to be happy in
Then came the call for the three hundred
thousand, and two or three nights after
ward Nelson Harding, with the words she
dreaded.
s'I ought to go, Margery. Shall IT,
eco home now, Nelson, and come and
ask nee again to inorrOw.a
She dared not answer him then, for she
was torn between the fear of losing him
ard the fear of doing VIZ ing She felt that
she must be alone in the universe with God
in order to see the truth clearly
When he was gone she went up stairs to
the little room where, for SO many years,
the solitary child had cried out of her
hearts else muttered Loneliness to the
"solitary God" What was required of
her now? When Heaven gave her no
father or mother. only Nelson, was it not
meant that she should keep the gift !?
Gould it be that already the Giver was ask
ing for it back again? And yet were not
the chosen people in all ages taught to offer
of their best-to lay their first fruits upon
the altarp Ought she not to think it
Heavens bounty that gave her opportu-
nity to make sacrifice so costly g
All the night she sat before her window,
or knelt beside her bed, until the daily
miricle of dawning repeated itself-re-
heated its tender pink Pushes above the
Kills. its tremulous mists, its airs of balm,
its broadening glory of sunrise! Soon he
would come. Soon she must tell him
what to choose, life and love for her and
him. or-the right. With that word her
soul grew strong She would be the con-
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