Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1864-07-09
Lucy vaughn---A Photograph of War
BY WIN. H. BUSHNELL.

1
the semi-erimson uniform, listening to the
stirring music of the band and the chanting
music Of a thousand voices, keeping time
with both step and lip, as they sung the well
known strains, "We're marching along" and
heard not the loving mothers CALL
Lucy, child"
Wrapped in the brilliant scene-the gor-
geous pageant that was passing by-she had
neither eve or ear for other sights or other
sounds. Her young heart beat as swiftly
and almost as audibly as the drum, and the
flashing of her eve was as ftful and vivid as
the starry banner that glittered and tioated
in the bright sunshine.
"Lucy, do you hear me?" And the moth
err advanced and laid her hand gently on her
daughters arm.
smother came the answer back from
pale and trembling lips, Though the brow and
cheek were crimson. But no other SOUND
escaped her save deep, long.drawn sigh.
"What will the soldiers think OF you?
persisted Mrs. Vaughn. "Do you think 1t is
maidenly or becoming to stand staring at
these mem"
"But they are going to war, and perhaps
shall never see them again"
"Wen. what of it? 1t amt anything to
you, and am not going to have my daughter
a talk and a laughing stalk for the whole
town." And the matter-offact woman fairly
dragged her within the house.
But the girl had seen all she wished to see,
had learned all she desired to learn, and will
Engly screened herself from all curious eyes.
A rose, red as her own soft cheek, was blush
ing on the breast of young officer She
had seen it taken from the button-hole and
pressed to his lips as he passed along-had
seen the waving of his handkerchief, and
that was sufficient for her young heart, and
to fill it with rosy dreams of love for many a
long day.
The little bower where her mother wild
ow-resided, soon settled down again to it's
usual dullness. "All quiet on the Potomac"
headed the news column of the paper day af-
ter day, month after month, until even re-
port of battle and bloodshed would have
been relief The war appeared more live
a grand eneampment, one for drill and dis
play, rather than for a stern, unwavering, and
never-to- be -relinquished purpose-and those
at home fretted at what they called "useless
delay"
Lucy Vaughn continued her occupation as
school mistress, which was the sole support
other mother and herself, though they owned
the cottage homestead in which they resided,
a shade more subdued, perhaps, than usual.
The secret of her love was unknown to any
one, even her mother, and all her fears for
him who had gone to battle for his country's
flag and his native land, had to be hidden in
her own heart. Faithful to her duties, she
bapished the loved one during the school
hours; but when they were over, and she sat
on the vine shaded doorstep of her home, or
watched the stars as they flashed in at her
window at night, thought ran riot, and when
sleep came at last, she was ever wandering
amid the dead and dying-threading with her
delicate feet the CORY battlefield, in search
of him to whom her young heart had gone
out in devotion.
The army awoke from its lethergy at last,
and great battle had been fought, but scant-
tily and slowly the news came. Imperfect,
not to be relied upon, were the published list
of the dead, wounded and missing. To-day
the heart was wild with hope, and tomorrow
sunk to the lowest depths of dispair. All
then, indeed, all realized how much more
fearful was uncertainty than even know
ledge of the worst.
Mechanically Lucy Vaughn struggled to her
little school house and performed her duties
there. Her step became less active, her
cheeks lost their roses, and her merry laugh
was no longer heard. She lived no longer in
the sunshine of the past, but in the shadow
of the future. Her young heart was crushed
as by a neither milestone, yet she neither fall
tered nor tainted.
Lucy" said the gray haired, infrm, and
specialized old postmaster as he hobbled into
the school house, Just as her enormous task
for the day was finished. "Lucy, here is a
letter for you. 1t ha'nt often that you get
one, and thought that would bring it my
self"
"Oh, thank you-thank you'll" and she
glanced hurriedly at the superscription, and
added but don't know the writing"
In truth she had not seen it before, but it
needed no clairvoyant to tell her who it was
from. Her heart was sufficiently gifted with
second sight" for that.
"Well, do, Lucy. 1t is wondrous fair
hand, though somewhat shaky now, / should
say. He is a brave boy and a good one, and
used to help me often. Yes, yes, many day
he saved my poor, old eyes by writing for me-
But he has gone now-gOne to the war: and
so l thought I'd just bring the letter to you
before any one saw it, even my wife, for she
is a master hand in finding out things, and /
don't know what might be betwixt you young
folks. There, there, don't blush, Lucy. It's
all right, nobody will ever know anything
about it from Paul Rogers"
With cheeks like a peony, and wildly
from the garrulous, though kind-hearted old
man, and in the retirement of her chamber
read her first love letter. With trembling
hands she tore open the envelope. The
words and story were old as youth and beau
ty itself, aad yet new to her-new and dear
as they be to young hearts, though repeated
ten thousand score of times He loved her,
and when he come back again, wearing the
victor's laurels, or the war was ended,
"would she bless him with her hand and be
an earth angel to him But, ahl he was
wounded, and
"Lucy, darling"
''Mother p and Capt. Graham's letter
found a safe hiding place nearest her heart,
as she hurried to her mothers side.
''Lucy."
Mother, dear mother, what is the matter
with your" The pale face and trembling
ashy lips struck such terror to her heart
that she could hardly articulate the words
as she dropped on her knees by the bedside.
s'The doctor quick am very sick"
But no human physician had power to avert
the fat of death. No cunningly prepared
drugs could stay the soul from its upward
fight. No earthly prayer keep the angels
from bearing away to God the priceless Jewel
that was to be reset in unfading glory.
The star-lights in the mosaical floor OF
| heaven flashed out, aud another was added
| to their number. The moon arose, and ia
silver light shone through the snowy cur.
tains of the window upon corpse, pale and
holy in its sleeping The night wind stole in
through the clustering vines and lifted the
curls from the brow of one who sat in stony
silence with her young head resting on the
coffin. The widowed mother "had gone on