Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1864-08-27


ne than spoken those words"
And Byington, innocently smoking his cigar
IN the platform of the lightning train, mar
relied at the shadow that lay upon the Cap
aims stern, set face.
Kate Evtinge was receiving" in sky-blue
ak and sapphires-" receiving" the gay
world of her acquaintance as joyously as IL
no nall stretched its black darkness over the
eountry's horizon. And Captain Vivian stood
in the recess of superb bay-window Whose
blossomed myrtles made sort OF green wall
to exclude the crowd beyond, and surveyed
the swaying multitude with bitter curve 10
his lip.
"a Tbs looks like keeping the pledge" he
said. scornfully, as Byington came up to look |
for dropped fan.
81 told you So said the young man. sniue-
ging his shoulders. 4
Captain Vivian looked toward the eoor-
he was tall enough to insure pretty fayora-
BILE prospectus Olive Byington hoated IN
the rich folds of her maize colored SILK RIP
Ming over the carpet like sunshine, while the
noint-lace shawl that dropped from her per-
fectly moulded shoulders was ciasped with
the golden sparkle of asuperb Oriental topaz;
Walter Vivian gave but one glance, ana
then turned away with feeling very IKE
disgust at his heart
Suddenly familiar appellation struck on
his ear, sending the hot blood IN torreh' "
his sunburnt forehead.
"Itis Clara Meade, with Miss Byington.
But what is she wearing? Pale-blue silk :"
s'No; it looks like grenadine, and yet II
isnr What can il be? India crape?"
"Fiddlestick I" said plain Mrs. Vaudeville.
"Don't you see it's blue calico, with little
white check all over it? Now that's what L
call good common sense"
The sbeau monde, gorgeous in moire an
tioue and shimmering glace, stood appalled,
and silent as Clara Meade quietly moved up
the long room on her fathers arm. Calico
And at full-dress reception Why, who
ever heard of such thingg
And then came a murmur of scarcely-re-
pressed admiration-a spontaneous tribute OF
applause to the girls simple beauty. Clara
Meade had triumphed over Mrs. Grundy,
Madam Greenback, and Company.
For she looked strangely lovely in the
pale blue dress, with its delicate edging of
| lace at throat and wrists, and the creamy
water-lily twisted in her shining brown curls,
a dream of the Lotus Isles. Nojewel sparkl-
ed on her breast, only knot of waxed lily
buds; vet all the pearls of the East could
not have improved that spray of graceful
buds.
"Calico, eh?" laughed Kate Eytinge,
archly surveying her friend. 81 see you
have enrolled your name on the Pledge"
81 have" said Clara, calmly; "and l in
tend to observe its regulations"
As she turned away, her hand was drawn
| lightly within an arm that trembled slightly
in its Herculean strength. She looked up,
with sudden blush, through which there
glowed the sunbeam of radiant smile
Captain Vivian
-"Clara, pardon me; but / have only this
evening to stay with you, and have so much
to say"
Martin Byington would not have thought
the young officers eye stern could he have
seen the tender brightness that illumines the
dark irids now. And Clara's glance fell be-
meath it. as you sometimes shrink from the
welcome intensity of the gentlest sunshine.
a scarcely know how to thank you for
this" he said, inclining his head toward the
folds OF her azure dress; "but it is a surety
TO me that your heart is in our cause
1t has given me new hope and strength,
Clara"
He stopped to pick up the bunch of lily
buds that had fallen from her bosom.
g should like to keep these, Clara"
"Keep them, Captain Vivian"
He gave them back to her silently. She
looked up in timid surprise, half fearing that
she had unwittingly offended him.
81 don't want them, unless you will give
me something else with them. Clara"
Something else:" she repeated, wonder
ingly.
"Your heart, dearest"
She looked downward, rosy as an eglantine,
and then gathered up the cream-tinted buds
and laid them gently in his hand.
So Walter Vivian proposed and was ac-
cepted, and the moving crowd of fashonables
around him had not the slightest idea of what
was going on. And Clara is to be married in
the identical blue calico dress-at least so
Captain Vivian DEGREES it, and husbands-elect
generally get their own way in such matters.
And the tOusseait, greatly to Olive Byington's
horror, is to be of domestic manufacture"
throughout.
alt will be so o,ltre," sighed Olive; "and
yeti don't know-if signing the Pledge
would get me half such a splendid husband
as Clara has won I'd go into calico for the
rest of my daysp
"WHAT DIRTY SET THEY ARE !"-There
was no installing the tones. The words were
scOrnfully-almost bitterly-spoken, and the
speaker pressed the skirts of her costly dress
close to her person so as to escape the touch
of 1.-THE boys in blue" Tone, look, and man.
ner could not have expressed more, had eaah
soldier as he tramped YEARLY by, been the
embodiment of infection. We were anger
ed at first, and then grew sad as we looked
upon the beautiful and richly arrayed speak
er. Such was not the type of womanhood
which gave US the fathers, husbands, broth
ers, sons and lovers, who trod the wilderness
of carnage for seven long years that their
children might enter into and possess the
land of Freedom. She was fair to look upon,
but we turned from her with pity and loath-
ing. With life would end her history Like
the worthless bauble that she was, she would
be forgotten when the Nightingales of our
hospitals and the mothers of our Gracchi
shall live in the scripture of Fame. The
costly pin that rose and fell upon her indig- |
nant bosom, was mockery by the side of
the broken plumes of the. cavalrymen from |
the war. And, as we turned from her cost |
ly trappings to the worn and faded ones |
of the troopers, each of the latter |
grew into knight of more than king |
ly mien, and the begrimed blue was touched |
with the kindling halo of the glory of hero |
ism. They were the weary, worn, soiled |
children of the Republic, scanned in conflict, |
hronzed in battle glare; the fragments of |
history whose chapters shall record the high |
est and hottest sacrifices of heroic devotion |
and patriotic martyrdom. "Dirtv set T"
God forgive the unworthy daughter of per- |
lied Republic. We could have kissed each
swarthy cheek, and with brow reverently |
bowed in their iron hardened palms, wept our |
gratitude for what they had suffered. The |
blue acGs soiled-dirty call it, but it was soil
ed in the camp, the march, the battle, the