The weekly union record., 1864-03-05
A Gift by the Wayside.

aud the wild grapes ripening in the woods,
while the Ehip-poor will sang sadly on the
messy rails Of the broken down fence, and
katydids chirped shrilly through the morning
glory leaves about the window.
Seven o'clock r echoed Sias Miller. lust as
though be had net been watching that slow
creeping minute hand for the last half hour
He will be here now-my son will soon be
here"
What strange softening of the rugged
features. what an unwonted quiyer of the harsh
voice there was, when be uttered the two words
my boy" Yes. it was his boy who was
coming home from the smoke of half dozen
battle fields no wonder that the thought sent
thrill through bis iron nature. His soldier
bis hero.
Surely ought to hear the stage horn" he
said, feverishly pacing up and down the narrow
path, where the maple leaves lay like carpet
of pale gold. Listen, Sybi. don't you hear t?'
ITS too early yet, father"
The light fgurs came stealing out to his side,
and both together leaned over the garden gate,
gazing into the opal gloom or twilight with
wistful, searching gaze.
She was not prettier than many another New
England girl, yet there was delicate type of
beauty in her face and form that belongs as
much to the ''frozen North" as its pine forests
and cliffs of eternal snow. Pale-brown hair,
with aureate lights crossing its surface at times
and eyes of deep blue. Clad in fashions
trappiugs, Sybil Miller would have been "a
beauty" in her dress Of gray giogham, she
was something far better and nober.
Suddenly the old man started and uttered an
indistinct, glad cry.
Its he Sybil; don't you see beyond the
elder bushes? Child, don't hold me back let
me go and meet my boy"
No, father, you are mistaken it is not
Laurence. Laurence is shorter by half head,
and that is not his quick, buoyant step
You're right Sybi," said Slas Miller, al
most petulan,y !" Why do these vagrant
soldiers go wandering by, giving folks such a
start? 1t is only this morning that beggar
disgracing-I won't say weariDg-the United
States uniform, came by and had the audacity
to ask me for money"
did you not give him something's
Give him something" repeated Silas, an
grily; I'D have seen him starving first. |
have no patience with these strollng beggars
Here's another of the same kind, suppose.
No, my man, you needn't trouble yourself to
repeat your piiiful story"
For the tall figure, with halting step and
coat thickly powdered with dust, paused in
front of the gate, and Sybil could just discern
a pair of dark piercing eyes, and forehead
curiously traverSed by crescent shaped scar,
apparently newly healed.
Il have nothing for you, said Silas, sharply.
Yes yes, know what you would say, but its
no use. 1t you're deserving, the proper author
tiles will take care of you, and If you are not,
in the county Jail is the best place for you.
Don't tell me about want what have you done
with your bounty money and pay, if you're
really what you pretend to bea soldier?"
Even through the twilight Sybil could see
the scarlet flush rising to the SCARED forehead
Sir, you are mistaken. | did not beg"
mo, you'd prefer to play the bully, I've no
doubt But am not proper subject for you,
so be about your business, my good man"
The soldier turned silently away with a step
more depressed, and passed slowly into the
gathering dusk
had You not forgotten that our Laurence, too,
is a soibier ~
No" returned Silas, abruptly. Il remem-
bered it, and it Convinced me all the mere that
man paid ard pensioned ike our Laurence
has no need to be on he public highways"
But, father, he did not beg?'
1
taxes for the support of such as he. and swear
| will do no more"
He spoke 10 the sharp. high pitched accents
of passion. and when he looked round again
Sybil was gone.
Foot sore ard weary, the travel worn pedes-
trian bad sat himself down on a messy bowlder
by the roadside, when a quick, light footstep
came up little path. leading from the back
door of the farmhouse, through blackberry
pastures and mown fields and a slight figure
bent before him.
Don't mind my fathers words; be was an
cry and unreasonable" she said hurredly. Il
have little to give, but want you to taEe it
for my soldier brother"
Before be could 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 gray nun iu her sombcr hued dress He
rose up as if to follow and overtake her. but it
was too late, and as be bent bis head over the
cleaning token, something very much ike a
tear dropped upon its circlet of tiny stars.
And BOW tell Us everything that has hap
pened to you, Laurence. Oh, Laurence, when
| walked this morning it seemed all dream
that you had come back to me again in very
truth"
The bronzcd, handsome young soldier looked
smllingly down into the radiant face that
nestled against his shoulder, and serious
shadow stole into his eyes.
Il can tell you it came very near being
nothing more than dream once or twice.
have had more hair breadth escapes than you
know Of little sister. l did not tell you, did |,
of that skirmish along the Potomac, where |
stood face to face with DEATH an ugly death,
too, al the point of rebel bayonets when some
brave fellow charged down on them and saved
my life with his own right hand"
"Who was it. laurence asked old Sias,
with trembling lip and diiated eyes. would
give my best wheat field for chance 10 grasp
that right hand'
Il don't know-I never came across him
again. Probably he was in some other regi-
ment. All know is that he bad fiery black
eyes. and a fresh scar on his forehead showed
exactly ike 4 Moorish crescent"
a. nd r,r,.rht nd h'acl-