The weekly register. [volume] (Point Pleasant, Va. [W. Va.]) 1862-1909, 1864-12-15
Send them to His Mother.

"Am | dying, Doctor? Isn't there
any ray Of hOpe!'
The 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, Il was boyish face in
to which the physician turned and gazedi
but the death angel had set its impress
there, and the kind hearted surgeon
could only shake his head,
Il wanted to 60 home once more be-
fore died, Oh, mother! molherl'
The words were full Of agony, and
for few moments The poor child lay
with closed eyes, and tears ,rcmbIed up
on the long lusbes, but they did not fall
he crushed them back, and lifted his
almost sghlless eyes upward.
My mother taught me how 10 die
bless God for thatl My home in heaven
is always near The struggle with fee
ble human nature was over, Angels
were present 10 comfort The dying SOL
dier, and quietly and peaceubly he cross
ed the dark river upon the long last
march that ended his earthly compaigu,
There was a soldiers burial. Kind
hands halIowod the humble grave and
laid him down prayeIfully and tearfuIIy
TO his rest; and when the brave men
turned back TO the lonely tent, the sw ord
and vaise of their officer met their eye.
What shall be done with lhem?' was
the sOrrowfuI question.
Send them home 10 his mother
And they came! 1t was the early
morning of a bright October day; the
broad sunlight lay all about the home
over whose threshold the young lieUlen.
ant had gone forth one year before, SO
full of life and activity.
Z The door of the neat white house stood
open, and all along the door of the wide
pleasant kitchen, lay stream OF yellow
sunshine, broken here and there by a
restless, moving shadow, where the wa
wing trees came in between the sunlight
The mother was alone, and as she moved
abeut her morning work, she sang in a
low, sweet voice, .sna!ches ofhymns that
she had uftenrung- -wieiiSthe ~dslak Boy,
now growing into manhood, nestled in
her lap, and she was hushing him to
sleep; aud she looked as if expecting his
bright face coming in at the door, or
heer his cherry voice calling from the
garden, Mother.
Did she hcaruo whisper from the gar.
den Of paradise al that moment, calling,
mother, mother? Was there not a
guardian angel lowering about herr
AlOs, she saw it not!
The stage came raItling along the
highway, and her heart beat quicker at
the sound for mayhnp there might be
something from her darling boy. 1t
stopped before the little wicket gate.
and the driver came with slow reluctant
steps up the walk. There was some
thing in each hand which he brought
silently in, and laid almost reverently on
the table. Not word broke the still.
ness. The poor mother looked upon
them moment, and then with sharp
cry ofsgony ssnk down beside ;Asu.
My boy! my boy! 0, God, help mel
this isn't all that is leN?'
She drew the valise to her almost
franticaliy, and lifted her white impIo
ring face to the dryer,
'Ah!' Itneeded not that solemn ans.
wGr; one glance into that plying face
revealed the truth. Wondering at her
own strength she eagerly opened the
valise. There was the coat, with its
bright buttons and eparletS, that his
companions had folded carefully away;
and as she held it up she seemed to see
the noble boy as he had stood before her
in that dress, and asked SO eagorly-'Now
mother, aia't you proud OF your boy3-
You won't cry any more, will your