The Kenosha telegraph. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1860-1888, 1864-01-07
Nenas Carey's Reward.

Red and suilen, like the eye of some bale
full demon, the low sun glowed through til
tangled depths of the November woods cast
ing bloody lines of light across the falIe
trees, whose messy trunks were half hidde
in drifts of faded yellow leaves end evokin
faint, sweet scents, like Orient sandal WOO
and teak, from thousand forest cenSurs hid
den away, who knows how or where. AN
through that line of dull flaming fire the SIX,
trowned-a leaden gray cOncave, IreighteQ
as the weatherwise could tell you, with snow
iiakes sufficient to turn that broken fores
into fairy grove Of pearl and ermine. s.
the daylight was ebbing away from th
Thanksgiving eve.
Snow wonder where | am p said JOIN
Siddons, pausing abruptly in the scarce visi
bic foot-path that wound among the trees
LAS completely turned round as though
stood in the deserts Of Egypt! | wish | hac
been sensible enough to keep the high road
these short cuts generally turn cut very lony
ones. However, if keep strait ahead, / mus
inevitably emerge from these woods 80 me
where"
he sat down on messy stump, leanin,
his head carelessly on one hand, while tn
other played unconsciously with the worn
brim of his blue soldiers ca pa slender, pleas
ant faced young man, with gray-blue eyes
and dark hair thrown back from a bronco
forehead, which had been touched by the fiery
arrows of many Southern sun in lonely
swamps, and along the fever-reeking shores
of sullen rivers.
Houseless-homeess - he 1nurmured tc
himself 81 wonder how many others are say.
ing the same thing this Thanksgiving eve
To think that | should fight through the cam
paign unh urt, and return with fan honorable
discharge in my pocket to a place where nc
one knows or cares whether Pm alive or dead
while SO many brave fellows were shot down
at my side with bullets that tore through 6
score Of hearts at home, carrying sharper
pangs than death has to give! It's queer
thing to have only one relative in the world
and he total stranger. If find this secont
cousin Of my father he'll probably kick me
out Of doors for a shftess, soldering vaga-
bond But, hang it, man can't live alone
like tortoise III it's she'll | remember won
dering, when | was boy, why the Madeira
vines over the porch stretched out their greer
tendrils, and seemed to grope through the
sunshine for something to cling to- / think
| understand it now"
He rose up and walked on through the rus
set leaves that rusted ankle-deep beneath his
tread, still musing-musing; trying to study
out the unknown quantities in lites great
equation, while the sun went down behind a
bank of lurid clouds, and the chill NIGH
wind began to sigh sorrowfuIly in the tree
tops. And suddenly the sturdy W Gods ia
pered off into lver-stenlned thicket o
white birches, and the white birches fringeC
lonely country road with little red house
beyond, whose windows were aglow with fire
| light, and whose door-yard was full fthe pc
culiar perfume of white and maroon blossom
ed chrysanthemums.
| Zenas Carey was leaning over the gate
surveying the stormy sunset with critica
eyes
81 told Melinda So" calculated Zenas, ap
parently addressing himself to the crooked ap
pie tree by the road iii bet my best stee
we have good old-fashioned fall of snow t.
keep Thanksglvin' with. 1 smelt it in tn,
air this mornin,' but women don't never be
Iieve nothin' until it comes to pass right un
der their noses, for
This rather obscure sentence was nipped il
the bud by footstep at his side. Zenas turne,
abrupt to reconnoitre the new arrival.
''Will you be kind enough to give me
|
rily.
'Ssartin, sir said zenas, so your sol
der, hey?"
GA returned soldier" said Siddons, drain
ling the cool element from the groun
that always lay close to the well-curb at tn
side of the house.
Coin home to keep Thanksgivin' ?" ques
toned Zenas
Home? Sir, hqUs no home :"
Siddons had spoken sharply as if the though
were goading to him. Zenas put his brown
knotted hand and grasped the retreating man
arm.
My boy!" he said, with kindly abrupt
ness, your soldier, and to tell by your look
should guess you were about the age of hir
that's buried at Gettysburg-my only son :
l love that blue uniform for Davies sake, an
if there's soldier i'll the world who hasn't
: home to go to on Thanksgiving eve, there's
corner for him by Zenas Careys tireside Com
in, sir come in! You're as welcome 6
flowers in May"
John looked into the wet eyes and workin
face of the old farmer an instant, and accep
ed his invitation without another word.
What cheerful change it was, from ii
frosty air and chill twilight of the lonely roa
to that bright kitchen with its spotless boar
floor and fire Of resinous pine logs An
when Melinda Carey drew hump back rocl
ing-chair to the hearth for him. and spoke
word or two of welcome, John Siddons wor
dered if the eyes of the mother, who die
when be was babe, had not beamed upc
him just so!
81 told mother so this very mornin,' sal
Zenas, with triumphant flourish of his han,
as he stirred up the logs to waving, glor
GUS sheet of flame. Says |, Melinda, we
? kill the biggest turkey, and I'll pick out ii
yallerist pumpkin on the barn floor Ar
says she, what for, Zenas, when there's OIL
ly two Of US to eat EN-? And says l, Mott
ct, Davie was here with US last Thanksgi,