The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1864-02-19
Il" But, father, he did not beg"

But, father, he did not beg"
because l would not allow it, child. ~
pay taxes for the support of such as he,
and | swear will do no more"
He spoke in the sharp, high-pitched &C
cents of passion, and when he looked
round again, Sybil was gone
Foot-sore and weary, the travel-worn
pedestrian had set himself down on a
messy boulder, by the roadside, when a
quick, light footstep came up little path,
leading from the back door of the farm
house, through blackberry pastures and
iiT;3wn fields, and slight figure bent above
him.
"Don't mind my fathers words; he
hurriedly; 81 have little to give, but l
want you to take it, for the sake of my
soldier brother"
Before he had time to speak, she had
unfastened from her neck blue ribbon
with tiny gold piece suspended from it,
| placed it in his hand, and was gliding
away across the fields, like some little
| grey nun, in her sombre-hued dress.
He rose up, as if to follow and Overtake
| her; but it was too late, and as he bent
his head over the cleaning token, some
thing very much like tear dropped upon
its circlet of tiny stars.
"And now tell US everything that has
happened to you, Laurence. Oh, Lau-
renee, when l walked this morning it
seemed all dream that you had come
back to us again in very truth"
The bronzed, handsome young soldier
looked smilingk down into the radiant face
that nestled against his shoulder, and Sc
riOus shadow stole into his eyes.
81 can tell you, it came very near being
nothing more than dream once or twice.
have had more hair-hreadth escapes than
you know of, little sister. did not tell
you, did /, of that skirmish along the Po-
tomac, where l stood face to face with
death, an ugly death, too, at the point of
rebel bayOnets, when some brave fellow
charged down on EN- and saved my life
with his own right hand"
"Who was it, Laurence -" said old Silas,
with trembling lip and dilated eyes. 81
would give my best wheat field for chance
to grasp that right hand"
81 don't know-I never came across
him again. Probably he was in some
other regiment. All I know is, taat he
had fiery black eyes, and an old scar on
his forehead showed exactly like Moorish
crescent"
"And a straight nose, and a heavy
black mOustache ?" interrupted his sister.
Exactly
"Father," said Sybil, turning with
sparkling eyes and crimson cheek to where
| Siias Miller sat, "the wandering soldier
| whom you turned from your door last
night was the man who saved our Lau-
rence's life'
Silas rose up from his chair and took an
uneasy turn across the room and back, his
iron features working strangely.
1t can't be helped nOw," he said, in a
tremulOus voice, ''but it's the last soldier
III ever send with empty hands from this
door. The man who saved our Laurence's
life? Oh, Sybil, if had only listened to
| your words.''
But she never spoke of the little lucky
piece of gold. She fancied it might look
like ostentation, this shy, fastidious little
wild flower of the hills.
"My Sybil going to be married among
the fine folks down in Boston! Well, /
suppose might have expected it, and yet
it does seem kind o. hard, solloquized
Silas Miller, dropping the happy, timid
letter in his lap, and looking through
dimmed spectacles upon the snowy, sun
bright hills. wonder who it is. should
like to see the man that's going to marry
Sybil Miller"
Silas would have been a proud man
could he have beheld his pretty daughter
that self same night in her white evening
dress, with scarlet geraniums lighting up
her brow and glowing on her bosom. No
wonder that Captain Leslie's face bright
ened with grave quiet pride as he looked
down on his fair betrothed. "Sit down
here, dearest, in this quiet little music
room," he said, with caressing authority.
81 can't share your sweet eyes and sweet
er words with all the world any longer. l
must have you all to myself for while. I"
She looked up with blushing smile then
down again.
"Well2" he asked, as if she had spoken.
81 was wandering, Allen-that scar on
your forehead.
"What of it?"
Why, it is such a singular shape-al-
most half circle. 1 never saw but one
like it before"
did you not ? and where was that ?"
"A poor soldier passed our gate once
with just such scar on his forehead,
and"
She paused, for Allen Leslie had quietly
taken from some inner receptacle in his
coat tiny piece Of gold with a mai ROW
blue ribbon passed through it. He held it
smilingly up.
"DO you know who gave this to me -
"Gave it to you, Allen?"
ITO me, footsore, weary wanderer.
who had missed his way among your tan
/ LII .oada Won Go nniod mo a honna. =.