Prescott journal. [volume] (Prescott, Wis.) 1861-1871, 1864-07-09
The mother was buried and Lucy's school

sheltered her. 10 WnOm now SnOuiu sue
turn? All had it not been for the old
J postmaster, she might, in the hour OF her
deep despair, have forgotten that there was
| a God who is father to the fatherless. Like
| good shepherd, he gathered up the little,
shelterless lamb in his strong arms and bore
| il TO the fold that the wolves of sickness had
long before left desolate.
@Lucy, my poor pet lamb, here is another
letter for you. But it isn't the same hand
writing that the other was, and / fear"
| The good old man drew his wrinkled hand
across his eyes as he saw hers surcharged
with tears, and hurried away.
A letterl In her deep grief at her great
| loss she had never finished the former one
| She had read that him she loved was "wound-
| ed and"-that was all. And now months had
passed and another had come-come, but not
written with his hand With a prayer to
God to give her strength she tried to read it,
| but for long time the tears blinded her so
she could not.
| "Wounded-in a Hospital-dying of fe-
yer I" thus far her aching eyes saw the writ
| ing, and her bewildered brain caught the
sense, then she fell heavily to the floor.
If politicians and shoddy contractors, gos-
siping old maids and flirting young ones fall
| ed to receive their mail in due time that day,
small blame could be attached to Paul Rog-
| ers, the old postmaster of 49,, or his good
wife, Aunt Charity" for they were minis
tering to one that angels lowered about in
pity, and love.
eyes l must CO."
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 in..holy horror.
eyes, go? They will be kind to me, an
an-orphan, and-and he is all l 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 den
of hungry wolves"
"But it is my duty"
DUTY? how you do talk"
eyes, duty. Kind as you have been to me,
and much as love both you and Uncle Paul,
yet feel that must go. Only think of the
brave ones that are giving their lives tor
their country while am doing nothing"
"But you are nothing but girl"
No matter, l can surely do something.
| may not 90 out on the battlefield; but
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
about her pale face. The question once set
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 sure. There han't more'n one of
that name in Their company, 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 better world. How
many 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
water will wear away the hinty rock, and the
broken-hearted flor there are such in the
world, let the scoffers say what they may,)
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 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 reverently on her burning forehead and
smoothed back the damp hair.
"Don't pity me, Uucle Paul-don't weep
for me, Aunt Charity. am going to him."
"Don't talk so, child. Bless my old heart,
but it pears to me as if you was my own dar-
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.
'tDoctor, is there no hope {? Must she die? ?"
questioned the old man, in a voice tremulous
both with age and emotion. "Can she-will
she be spared to ns?"
al fear not, and yet were her heart happy
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 arc to remain behind. If we were all