The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1864-09-01
Send them Home to his Mother

sam dying, doctor? Isn't there ray OF
hope?"
lne feeble hand grasped the arm Of the
physician, AS he was going his rounds among
the SICK and wounded, in that hospital tent,
and the youthful voice that asked the eager
question trembled with emotion. 1t was a
boyish face Into which the physician turned
aud gazed; but the death-angel had set its i'm
press there, and the kind-hearted surgeon
could only shake his head.
II wanted TO 20 home once more before
died. o, mother mother" The words were
tull of agony, and Tor few moments the poor
child lay with closed eyes, and tears trembleo
upon the long lashes, but they did not iaii ne
crushed them back and lifted MS almost sight
less eyes upward.
"My mother taught me how to die, bless
God for thati My home In heaven is always
near" The struggle with feeble human ma
ture was over. Angels We're present to COM
fort the dying soldier, and quietly and peace
fully he crossed the dark river upon the long,
last march that ended his earthly campaign.
There was a soldiers burial. Kipd hands
followed the humble grave, and laid him down
prayeriuly and tearfuily to his rest; and when
the brave men turned back TO the lonely tent,
the sword and vallse of their youthful officer
met their eye.
"What shall be done with them?' was the
sorrowfu question.
''Send Them home to his motherr'
Aud they came! Ii was the early morning
of bright October day. The broad sunlight
lay all about the home, over whose threshold
the young lieutenant had gone forth one twelve
month before. SO full OF life and activity.
The door OF the neat white house stood
open, and all along the door OF the wide, pleas
ant kitchen, lay a stream of yellow sunshine,
broken here aud there by restless moving
shadow, where the waving trees came Ia be
ween the sunlight The mother was alone,
and as she moved about her morning work
she sang in low, sweet voice, snatches Of
hymns that she had often sung when the dear
boy, now growing into manhood, nestled in
her lap, aud she was hushng him to sleep;
aud she looked as ifexpecting TO see his bright
face coming in at the door, or to hear his
CHEEKY voice calling from the garden, moth
err
Did she hear no whisper from the Garden Of
Paradise at that moment, calling, mother
mother?' Was there not guardian angel
lowering about her-a youthful face now
glowing with spiritual beauty, towering over
her? Alas, she saw 1t not.
The stage came rafting slowly along the
highway, and her heart beat quicker at the
sound, Tor mayhap there might be something
from her darling boy. 1t stopped before the
little wicker gate, aud the driver came with
slow, reluctant steps up the walk. Therewss
something in each hand which he brought ST.
lently in, aud laid almost reverenuy on the
table. Not word broke the stiffness. The
poor o.otner looked upon them moment anG
then win sharp cry OF agony sank down be-
side hem.
my by my boyl o God, help me! This
isn't all that is left?"
y She drew the valise to her almost frantic
ally, aud lifted her white imploring face to
the driver.
"An.' II needed not that solemn answer !;
one glance into thar plying face revealed the
truth. WonderiI al her own strength, she
eargely opened the valise. There was the
cnai, with its bright buttons and epaulels,
that his companions had folded carefully
away, and as she held it up, she seemed to see
the noble boy rs he had stood before her in
that dress, and asked so eagerly-"now moth
er aren't you proud of your boy? You wont
cry any more, will you? I'm going to fight
Tor the dear old flag, my fathers flag and
mine; want TO go with your approval and
biessing." And then she placed her trem-
bling hands upon his head and whispered
through her tears, ''go my son, and God be
with YOU And God has been with him TO
the end. Then came his Bible, his little peck
ct Bible that she had given him on his birth
day years before, He had read il faithfully
There was here and there mark at his IA
vorite chapters, and there were pencil lines
drawn around many comforting texts, that he
had repeated upon tedious marches. going
right into the face of the enemy, and they
had been his support and guide to the very
last. A little packet Of letters, her letters, SO
full OF hope and trust and counsel to her alb
sent son; and as she opened them, one by
one, she saw how some tender passages,
breathing her fnll hearts love, or telling OF
the dear old home that stood with open doors
to receive him, were blotted with tears which
the brave heart could not hold back Her
picture into which his eyes had gazed so ma
ny times; and AS she opened it a little slip OF
paper fiuttered out, with the words In his own
hand sweet mother, what blessing God
has given me in you'll She had been a bless
ing to him; she had taught him the way to
eternal life. God be praised for that. But il
was broken hearted mother the kind heart
ed neighbors raised from the place.. where
overcome with grief, she had pillowed her
head among the treasures of her son.
Only for a little while. poor mother; nv
heart aches for you as write, and for the thou
sands OF hearts made desoate, for whom can
only pray as pray for my own loved ones in
this hour of danger.
Only for little while; the pearly gates are
not closed They were left sjar as that dear
one entered in, Enclosed and waiting for
you.
The incident is strictly true.-Home Maya
zine.