Litchfield enquirer., 1863-05-07

Pity you wasn't of to the wars, with . sweetheart at home,' said the Squire, dryly l; and Trad was silenced for the moment. Read us the news, lrad,' said Mrs. Bank. grove. The Squire's eyes ain't so young as they was, and he does make awful work read in by candle light
 Yes, do, Trad said the Squire. putting his spectacles back in their case with sign of re. lief ,; and Trad unfolded the teeming columns of the newspaper, and began:
 Great Battle in virgina! he ennnciated, reading very muck as if the words had been printed in capitals.
 List of the Killed and Wounded
 Read that, Irad,' said the Squire, leaning forward Mrs. Baukgroys gave quick glance toward her door, but Alice had vanished.
 It's pretty lengthy said Trad, ruefully,- .but here gees.'
 Name after name he pronounced with slow, mechanical exactness, as if each were not en- shrined in some bleeding heart-wept over with everlasting tears.
 What ? shrieked the Squire, suddenly, as one we'll known namo knelled on his ear, net in the list of killed P
 He started up, pale and trembling, with 8 cold dew on his forehead.
 Yes, it is,' said Trad, himself rather dismay- ed. Company E,-that's his very company :; read for yourself, if you don't believe me-
 The Squire's dim eyes traced the fatal sylla- bles in the doomed list, through thick mist of binding tears.
 Poor Alice it will break her heart 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 spec Ire.
 Dead I-killed in battle She could not be- lieve it, though she repeated the words to her. self mechanically, thousand times day. Dead-in the bloom of his vigorous youth, and she living to mourn him. She scarce under stood why people looked pityingly at her, and whispered one to another as she went by she felt like one who walks in the mystery of a dreadful dream, and blindly trusts, some day, to waken from it's awful shadows
 Dead killed in battle!
 The sad December blasts were moaning in the skeleton woods ; the icicles tingled like tiny chimes of bells, at every rattle of the frozen boughs 1; the sunsets burned in orange flame along the west, and the nights, still and starry, were full of rimy frosts that cut almost like a knife in their biting keenness. And Alice Bankgroye sat leaning sadly over the fire of cracking logs, wondering what dreary snows were folding their shroud over his unknown grave.
 Better go to bed, daughter it is past ten. said the Squire, and stormy night. There's snow in the air, or I'm mistaken"
 T will, by-and-by, father.'
 Mrs. Bankgrove, wiser than her husband quietly took up candle and beckonsd him in | so sAS ouJoAhiuS b041Ao0hM. -
 Don't notice her, Jeremiah said Mrs. B. in low voice :; she'll grieve it away in time if she's only let alone-poor child r
 It is too eonsarned bad,' said the Squire the nearest approach, by the way, to profanity in which he eter indulged. And to think oI Trad Curtis comin' danglin' round, to see if I'd ar f< hs <o day nights. Objections let him know what I thought of his conduct. He won't come again in hurry, calculate r
 There, there, father-hushr said Mrs. B. soothingly, you'll disturb Alice
 And she closed the door as softly as if hel daughter had been sleeping infant whom shs
 Alone, Alice sat there before the fire alone with the ticking clock and the bubbling drIp ol resin from the singing pine logs, and the vail of the tempest without, sadly pondsring on the wintry blight that had come over her young life. Almost before she knew it, the old clock had chimed once again, and the faint horn eI the midnight stage, passing on it's lonely way down in the hollow, aoated distinctly up to hel ear-and still she unused on.
 * < x
 Hallo. sAere, insideP bawled Jonathas Starkey, the stage-driser, : who was it wanted to get out opposite Squire Baakgrove's house. This is the nearest we come to it. JGst ovel the hill, sir, and take the first road to you right-tain't but little way and pitch dark at that he added in an under tone, as he help ed out a muf1ed figure. Sorry can't drive you nearer, sir-you seem to be lame.' Lame1 If every bone in his body had beer shattered, the knowledre that he was within sight of Alices home would have given hin supernatural strength. How well he knes every turn of the road, even in the dense dark l ness of the stormy midnight L-how familiarly the frozen ground answered to his footfallsi
 Far out in the murky gloom streamed th, ruddy brightness of that hearth-stone, Yher, she sat, all alone, Could she have knowr 1 who was toiling to reach her, through tha night and tempest 4A sI. ,,,,,.r hoard the faint uncertain fan al