The Portland daily press., 1864-06-11
ORIGINAL STORY.
Written for the Press.
THE SOLDIERS ORPHAN.
A True Sketch.

A True Sketch.
by MRS. +. d. CABOT.
1t was fortnight after the dreadful day Of
Gettysburg, and the country, yet quivering
with the shock Of battle, had just begun to
breathe more freely in the knowledge that the
insolent invader was hurled back from the bor-
der, his prestige broken, and his forces SO weak
ened as to be at least powerless for invasion.
The train was filled to overfowing with passen-
gers, many of them soldiers or civilians come
up from ''the 'front.'" and the talk was all Of
the battle and its incidents Of Lees retreat, and
Of what Meade was likely to do next. The day
was hot and sultry, and the air Of the crowded
car close and suffocating had been travelling
for several days without rest, and was too weary
and exhausted to take much notice of what was
passing around me. My companion placed his
portmanteau under my feet. and arrangeda pile
of shawls for pillow, and leaning against the
open window to let the summer wind fan my
cheeks, closed my eyes and tried to forget my
self in sleep. | succeeded at length to such an
extent that the stopping Of the train, and the
confusion incident upon the entrance of new
passengers, failed to arouse me fully. In a few
minutes, however, | became aware that D.
had left his place at my side. and | heard his
CHEEKY voice speaking to some one near.
looked up, and found that | was sharing my
seat with little girl apparently about seven
years Of age, while opposite to and facing me,
sat a pale. sad-eyed woman whose appearance
at once drew my attention. She was young,
and her faded features had once been beautiful
Even now there was something touchingly love
ly in the soft curves Of her mouth, and the
tiInid, appealing glance Of her dark eyes. Her
dress was cheap, but neat and tasteful, and she
had the air of one gently nurtured. noticed
that she carried in her hand the leathern belt of
a soldier. marked with the number Of regiment
and that she seemed to guard it carefully.
The triAng attentions which il is 80 easy FOR
one traveller to offer to another, formed the
steps by which advanced to an acquaintance
with the interesting stranger. Her confidence
was easily won; and il was not long before
was in possession Of her simple story. She was
an only child, and her home in pleasant New
England village, had been as happy as affection
could make it. Smoothly flowed the current Of
her life till love came to trouble thewaters. She
was sought by young man, who, though in
person and character all that the fond girl be-
leyed possible of perfection, yet lacked the ad-
yantages of fortune and station which her par
ents believed they had right to require. Their
opposition was decided, and the visits Of the
lover forbidden. Nevertheless the par found
means to meet, and their attachment seemed to
gather strength from the obstacles it encoun-
tered. Rash and ardent, impatient Of oppos-
tion, and confident in themselves, they took
their fate into their own hands and we're pri-
vately married The daughter had counted
upon the affection Of her parents insur ng her
an easy forgiveness, but in this she was mis-
taken. Their displeasure was deep and lasting
They refused to receive her again as their child,
telling her that she had made her choice apart
from them, and she must abide by IT, This un-
looked for obduracy caused her much sorrow,
yet despite II all, she was happy. Some pleas
ant years few by. Their little girl was born to
them, and notwithstanding their narrow means,
they led together life of cheerfulness and con
tent, till the trumpet Of war sounded through
the land. The young man was among the first
TO answer the call. For two years he served al
most constantly, and without receiving q hurt,
till on the fearful field of Gettysburg rebel
bullet struck him in the side, and penetrating
the lungs, inflicted o fatal wound. He lived
barely long enough to summon to his side his
wife and child, and expired in their arms, wear
ing on his lips the calm. triumphant smile with
which so many heroes have given up their strong
young lives in the sacred cause. The heart
broken wife closed the dear eyes which had
never looked on her but with affection, and
taking the child that alone was left her now,
turned northwardl to lay the remains of
her soldier in the resting place Of his
kindred Thus sadly freighted for her
was the rushing train which 50 swiftly bore us
on.
While the mother and myself continued to
talk together the child sat quietly by my side,
not speaking, but watching with wistful and
earnest look the changes Of her mothers face,
and seemingly never so happy as when able to
anticipa some wish of hers. She was not what
was called pretty child, but she had pair of
glorious dark eyes which reflected every feeling
OF her soul, ,and gentle thoughtfulness of man.
ner not common in one SO young. 1t touched
Inc strangely when, after regarding my face for
some moments with steady scrutiny, she stole
her little hand timidly into mine, and nestled
her head against my shoulder with long, deep
sigh as of grateful rest. @Ai'yef
The hours flew on. The day waned, and night
came down, cool, fresh and starry. The poor
widow, weAred with grief and watching, sunk
away into a heavy sleep, and the little girl slum-
bered sweetly in my arms. My friend had taken
himself and his newspaper to another car and
] was quite alone. | found myself singu-
larly wakeful notwithstanding my fatigue, and
sat alternately watching the slumbering forms
around me, and gazing from the windows at the
shadowy objects which shot toward us in the
darkness, and then as rapidly disappeared.
shock "a shuddering recoil "a horrible
crash, and cry in my ears of souls in mortal
terror-then sense Of falling from some fear
ful height. and knew no more
When recovered consciousness I was lying
on the dewy grass Of the bank with my friend
bending over me, and the little girl seated by
my side. He had found us, still clinging 10
each other, amid tue ruins Of the shattered car
and both, as by miracle. unhurt. The scene
around can never describe. Even at this dis.
tance of time, can scarcely think Of it with
calmness. The engine and six long cars, densely
crowded with sleeping passengers, had beer
hurled down an embankment of more thar
thirty feet in height, and piled in one promis
cuous and ghastly heap of ruins below. AL
around lay the dying and the dead, strong men
delicate women and little helpless children
crushed, mangled, MANNED; while shrieks o
pain and piteous lamentations sounded on ever.
side. The last ear. in which D. had bes'