Daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, Va. [W. Va.]) 1859-1865, 1864-12-21
The guteIligeaees.
sTEPHEN GREY.
BY LILLIAN A. FAULKNER.

two hands to help him to-day"
And so I went about my work. The
boys, hilarious with mirth, came in from
the barn with their milk-pails, and the
men tinkered with their axes and chains
The other side of the stove while mother
and | worked our way around them, she
with patient good humor, l, very much
out of sorts with all the world. You know
how dresry is that early, frosty morning,
when it is 80 dark and cold that the tenn
per must fash out little to make light
aud heat. Besides, this kitchen work had
grown dis;a5teful TO me, this homely do
nestle lite seemed prosaic, and 80 had
only sharp word for my brothers fun
and mischief, a silent tongue under my
fathers good-uatured railiery, and grave
face uader my mothers wisttul, symPa-
thizing look.
The pork was fried, the potatoes boiled,
the biscuits baked, and the coffee sent it's
fragrance through the room as we gathered
around our frugal board. Our heads were
bow moment as father reverently Rc-
knoWIedged the 6iVer of our blessings,
remembering our country's need, even in
that short benedictiOn on our food. And
then naturally they talked 9th war news,
the policy of the administration, or the
necessity of another draft. Listening to
them, | felt strong and proud that had
given my best TO my country. So we dim
the fne gold of our virtues. Wedo heroic
DEEDS AID worship ourselves for them.
As they discussed draft, my impatient
tongue grew hot with indignation that
draft should be needed. There were men
enough in our town who might volunteer,
and as for those who avail themselves of
any excuse 10 be exempt from service, 1
had no patience with them. The multi
piled forms of physical inability, that had
disabled SO many of our men, the sadden
family arrangements, by which the parents
depended on certain son, the unexpected
removals to other places,-how lightly /
ran over these, and how scornfully
dropped off my tongue the epithets applied
TO these'exempts,' this coWardly set Of men.
Father laughed at my enthusiasm, but 1
saw the color deepen in the cheek of one of
the men, Stephen Grey, and his eye flashed
little as he bent over his plate. He said
nothing in reply to my TRADE, but as l
caught that look in his eye, 1 remembered
that he had been drafted the year before, |
but the caro- of an invalid sister and wild
owed mother had been received as sufi-
Client excuse for not holding him.
As the talk went on, and father was |
Speaking of our brave boys, he replied,
There be some that stay at home whose |
task is harder. Those who can't go are to
be pitled. as well AS thoss'who do co.
would you go 2" said little Henry.
"Certainly would, were it not for moth
er and Hannah," he replied"
/ looked at the man; homely, grave
face, and stalwart form and brawny arms,
that had doue their work on the same farm
from earliest childhood. Remembered him
when he did not look SO sober, when he
used to come TO our house to work with the
older boys, many time he had tossed me
on the hay, or shaken down the rosy
checked apples to fill my basket. His
father had died and left him to provide for
a weak, querulous mother and bed-ridden
sister. The small, rocky farm yielded but
poor profit, and the little brown house
grew. older and more homely in its rough
finishing aud primitive furniture. But the
mother chung pertinacipusly to the old
home, and would listen to no change or
improvement, and the sister, ill-natured
and stupid, had no RomAnly gifts to glad.
den her brothers heart, had her strength
been equal or her health sufficient. And
SO the youth grew into manhood, with |
hard labor outdoors and little comfort
within; faithful, honest and patient in the |
lot fallen to him. With only common |
abilities and the ordinary education of a |
poor farmers boy, his life must be humble |
enough. There had come to him once, as
thefe comes to other young men, a dream
OF a pleasant homo with face he
loved. He had looked into Mary
Lees bright eyes, and his honest heart
had grown warmer as he watched
her brisk movements around her fathers
kitchen, or heard her voice in snatches of
songs as she brought in her trimming milk
pals. when he worked there in 'hsying
time But how could he ask the girl he
loved to bear the poverty and discomfort
of his home with no prospect of making
il better or pleasanter2 His mother and
sister were too set in their ways to allow
any interference. And yet there was a
kind of hope in his heart, that some day
things would change aud SO he waited, but
Mt last Mary got married and went to ONO
to live. After that he grew sober and old.
No wife to sit at his table, no children to
gather round his hearth; the mother more
childish, the sister more feeble and eX-
acting; was it strange that he grew sober
and old7 Aud into this monotonous life
had come the call to arm himself for his
country, call TO go out from that duh
dreary lite into the keen excitement and
stirring scenes of the army. But If his
heart leaped up at the thought OF such
change, it was only for R.moment. Chere
were others TO fight for his country,
there WAS no one else to care for his
mother or his sister and SO be got his ex.
emption and went on in the old way. And
had called this man coward So slow
are We to recognize the heroism In the
common lives around US. 1t all flashed
through my mind in IN instant, and 1
wanted to reach my hand across the table
aud ask his pardon, but he went on quietly
with his breakfast; mother, with her sweet
voice, made some kindly remark and the
meal soon finished. But / did not forget
the lesson learned that morning. The
m4u seemed as unconscious of his self
sacrifice and iliaI devotion as if he never
thought of doing a noble or heroic thing;
felt humble in his preseuce. There was no
martyr look IN his face, no airs about him
which challenged us to appreciate his
goodness, but learned from him that the