The weekly pioneer and Democrat. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn. Territory) 1855-1865, 1864-02-19
A GIFT By THE WAYSIDE.

Inc OlQ 1arm mouse CLOCK n8u JUST
struck seven, and over all the hills the
purple vapors of twilight were coming
down, making spicy OdOrs among the
sweet ferns in the pastures and the wild
grapes ripening in the woods, while the
whippoorwill sang sadly on the rnossy
rails of the broken down fence and chirped
shrilly through the morning glory leaves
about the window.
"Seven O'clock!" echoed Silas Miller,
Just as though he had been watching that
slow, creeping minute hand for the last
half hour. "He will be here nOw-my
boy will soon be here"
What strong softening of the rugged
features, what an unwonted quiver of the
harsh voice there was, when he uttered
the two words, "My boy" Yes, it was
his boy who was coming home from the
smoke of half dozen battle-ields no
wonder that the thought sent thrill
through his iron nature. His soldier
his hero.
"Surely I 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, Sybil, don't you hear it?"
"It's too early yet, father"
The light figure came stealing out to his
side, and both together leaned over the
garden gate, gazing into the opal gloom
of twilight with a 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, eyes like the
blue larkspur, and lips that had stolen the
dewy crimson of the wild rose in pearls
and blue Grape Sybil Miller would have
been beauty in her dress of gray ging-
ham, she was something far better and no
bier.
Suddenly the old man started and ut
tered an indistict, glad cry.
''It's he, Sybil don't you see beyond
thealder bushesP Child, don't hold me
back let me 60 and meet my boy
''No, father, you are mistaken; it is moi
laurence Laurence is shorter by half q
head; and that is not his quick, buoyan,
step.
You're right, Sybil," said Silas Miller,
rather petulently. "Why do these va
grant soldiers go wandering by, giving
folks such start: 1t is only this morn
ing that beggar, disgracing-1 won't say
wearing-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 81
las, angrily; I'D have seen him starving
first. Ihave no patience with these stroll.
ing beggars Here's another of the same
kind. l suppose. No, my man, you
needn't trouble yourself to repeat your
pitiful story"
For the tall figure, with hating step and
coat thickly powdered with dust, paused
in front of the gate, and Sybil could just
discern the dark piercing eyes, and fore
head curi0usly traversed by crescent
shaped scar, apparently newly healed.
siI have nothing for you," said Silas
sharply. eyes, yes, l know what yol
would say, but it's no use. Il you are de
serving, the proper authorities will TAX
care Of you, and, if you are not, the coun
ty Jail is the best place for you. DON
tell me about want what have you don
with your bounty money and your pay,
you're really what you pretend to be-
soldier?" -
Even through the t&iligbt sybil ooul
see the scarlet flush rising to the scarre
forehead. u4. asie ~
"Sir, you are mistaken. Ibid not beg
"No, you'd prefer to play the bully
I've no doubt. But am not q prope
subject for you, 30 be about your business
nay man.. &If.ls1fs .l88 s8
The soldier turned silently away, ste
more depressed, and passed elowly int
the gathering dusk. atss4 AIR
Father" whispered sybil. reproach
fully, had you not forgotten that on
laurence, too, is q soldier :" ~ r..i.a.,
NO" returned Silas, abruptly, 81 re
member it, and it convinced me all th
more that q man, paid and pensioned lik
our Laurence, has no need to be on th