Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1864-07-07

| y,
small blame could be attached to Paul Rog-
ers the old postmaster Of $500, or his good
| wife 4" Aunt Charity" for they were minis
tering to one that angels lowered about in
pity and love.
Eyes, I mast 60"
They were the first words that escaped
from the pallid lips of Lucy Vaughn when
reason again resumed her sway-when she
had mastered the contents of the letter by a
| mighty effort, and made her all-absorbing
love break the shackles of an iron dispair.
eco? what! among those great, rough
menu"
And Aunty Charity took off her spectacles,
wiped them with her apron and held up her
hand insholy horror.
Yes, go? They will be kind to me, all
an-orphan, and-and he is all I have to
| love-"
The child is crazy"
Think of him dying, dying "
| Well, never heard till now of such a
thing in all my born days I'd Just as soon
/ think Of sending my cosset lamb into a den
of hungly wolves"
But it is my duty"
| Duty? how you do talk"
| eyes, duty Kind as you have been to me,
and much as l love both you and Uncle Paul,
yet l feel that must go. Only think of the
brave ones that are giving their lives for
their country while am doing nothing"
"But you are nothing but girl"
No matter, [ can surely do something.
[ may not go out on the battlefield but l
can help tend the sick-bind up their wounds
| give drink to the fevered ones and pray by
| the dying"
Vainly Uncle Paul "pshawed" and Aunt
| Charity declared that she "never heard the
beat of it" for love carried them the day,
and Lucy Vaughn smoothed back her luxuri-
| ant curl and confined them from wantoning
| in their dark brown glossiness and beauty
| tied, the kind old couple did all in their pow
er to assist her, and when she turned from
their quiet, cosy home, prayers and blessings
| followed her on her way.
"Died last night"
Are you sure?"
Certainly. There can be no mistake:
was in the same company and knew him
| we'll"
"Then it must be So Poor Graham! '
| Clutching to the door-post of the hospital
at --, Lucy Vaughn heard two crippled
soldiers whispering thus as they passed out
A month before she would have tainted, but
she had come prepared-had nerved her
| heart for the worst. She could see his corpse
and go home-to die. =
But even that satisfaction was denied her.
| There was cred tape " in all the departments
of the government except where the grim
King of Terrors was dictator. There was no
delay and "insolence of Office" there
Graham was buried this morning"
Edward Graham, sir ?"
"Ter be sur9. There han't more'n one of
| that name IN Their company, l guess. But go
erlong and don't bother me, young woman.
| Don't yer see Pm as busy as ken be ?" and
the gruff, brave-hearted minion of death left
her to hurry other brave forms beneath the
cold clay of the graveyard.
All woman, frail and delicate though they
may be, will do and dare-brave and suffer /!
A little month and Lucy Vaughn, thanks to
| the friends to whom the good old postmaster
| of and his wife had consigned her,
was able to begin the duties which she had,
henceforward, devoted her life He was a
soldier-he had died for his country, and she
would be the soldiers friend and nurse, until
the dark dream of her life was lost in the
glories Of another and a better world How
many a feverish lip was cooled by her soft
hands, how many parting soul was soothed
by her words of holy hope, God and his holy
| angels only know.
Slowly and yet surely the dropping of the
broken-hearted (for there are such in the
world, let the scoffers say what they may, J
though they linger On, will pine and die away
No longer could so frail an organization as
that of Lucy Vaughn bear the shocks and ia
tigue incident to a~hospital life. Like the
passing of a summer day her life wore away
like summer sun she was slowly sinking to
her rest. At the summons Of her friends
good Paul Rogers and his wife left their home
for the first time in many years. and fastened
to her bedside. Watching and contagion
had done their work but too well. She was
following her heart through the dark, shadowy
land Of death to the cline where there should
be no more parting forever.
Lucy" and the old postmaster laid his
hand revcrently on her burning forehead and
| smoothed back the damp hair
Don't pity me, Uucle Paul-don't weep
Tor me, Aunt Charity. I am going to him."
Don't talk so, child. Bless my old heart,
| ter" and hot tears ran down the time. planed
| burrows of her motherly face, and fell upon
| the soft hand she held in her own.
doctor, is there no hope? Must she die 90
| questioned the old man, III voice tremulous
| both with age and emotion. "Can she-will
she be spared to ns?"
81 fear not, and yet were her heart hapnv
and her mind at rest, should care but little
| for her bodily ailment. In fact, there is
nothing the matter with her but what perfect
| quiet and careful nursing would soon make
her right again, if her soul had gone not out
| from her in love-"
Then all we can do for her is to pray"
Better let the petitions ascend for those
who are to remain behind. If we were all
| as well prepared to meet death as this moor
child, it would need no baptism of the grave
to make US angels"
Doctor"
Inc words came from the lips of the diving
girl as the soft futtering of summers eve,
ming sephyr through the red leaves of q new.
| born rose She stroye to raise her head from
the pillow and support it on her emacia.
ted hand, but the effort was too great and
exhausted, she sank back again like one
dead.
"My child Ny poor child! Oh. Doctor
she IS gone !" and Aunt Charity sobbed as
she did over the cradle-death Of her first
born.
"No," and the physician laid his fnee, on
the expiring pulse. "No, the golden gates Of
Heaven are not yet turning on their hines
But the end viii soon come" and he placed a
restorative to the half open lips.
"Doctor!"
Feebly as the wailing of an infant was the
voice of the dying girl as life futtered back
and memory again resumed its power, and
thought triumphed over the palsying touch
of dissolution.
"Doctor!"
"Speak to her, mother" whispered he,
turning to the post-mistress. "Speak to her
you know her-I cannot" and he turned
away
"When am gone"
"Hush, child !" and the voice of the moth.
was lost in her snhs uhila her rhan q