The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1864-05-27

subject of my story. suffered much in that
and various other hospitals, going thence,
upon the evacuation of Yorktown, TO For
tress Monroe, and afterNard to Baltimore,
where spent five miserable weeks in the
Patterson Park hospital, when received my
long-coming discharge.
A sunny July afternoon found me stepping
aboard the cars for home once more. Over
that road had come, ten months before,
strong healthful man; | was returning now,
broken and weak in body and weary with
pain, an empty coat sleeve pinned to the fad
ed blue breast of my Goa: and an ugly and
still tender furrowed wound beneath the
same faded coat front.
Before leaving Yorktown l had obtained,
through a comrade who was nurse at the
hospital, the knapsack of my friend Charley,
and the likeness and letter of the girl, who
was so Gear to him TO the very last, were
part of my little sack full of luggage.
The journey to my far home consumed
three days which were very long to my poor,
impatient mind, but arrived at last among
my kindred at the old, old house of my sun
nier years and found that l alone, of all
there had changed. pass over the sadness
of such a reunion and hasten on.
The day after my arrival, after some in
quiry, l ascertaned that Alice Gardner was
still living at the old place Of her father,
some miles awry upon road that centered
in our village, and, just al the dusk of even
ing, mounted my old horse, who had not
forgotten me, and, with a package tied to
the pummel of the saddle, and the lines in
my only remaining hand, started.
Gan you guide him?" asked my father.
"Yes. indeed :" | replied. Il learned it
n ole Virginny.' You should have seen
Phil Kearney 90 down the lines, standing in
his st;rrup, with the reins in his teeth, and
his sword flying in his only hand. Get up,
Duke"
Nv father laug he'd, and | cantered away
upon the road, a road where every hsld, cor
nsr and tree were as familiar 10 me as the
pages Of my spelling book in the school-boy
DAYS, and whose well-remembered turns and
crossings served but too well to recall the
scenes OF old times when he, of whose dying
message was then the bearer, and she, 10
whom bore It, were with US Of the village,
in our glorious sleishin5 parties, the gayest
of the gay.
Ny heart sunk within ME as | began fully
to realize the soemnity of my errand, for
have no soul for such tasks of sorrow. That
Charley had loved Alice, | knew, and that
she loved him had always believed indeed
knew that TOO, for Charley had told NE
that she gave him the promise Of her hand,
with many tears, the night before our compa-
ny left for Washington. That she had heard
long before of his loss at Yorktown | knew
II must be, but really dreaded the sad task
of bruising anew the torn heart that had vet
scarcely recovered from the first great shock.
me iitated on these things as | turned up
to the late of the Gardner house and dis
mounted. A man was passing at the mo-
, ment. as | saw in the growing darkness, ard
he spoke some words to me | did not under
stard. Ipaused in my awkward tying Of
the halter and cried,
What"
"Oh. thought it was Charley" was the
. reply.
pittied the man, who, in the shades Of
evening, had thought he recognized in mine
the form of one who had been every mans
friend. l walked slowl ly up the path to the
door and knocked knocked as slowly as |
had walked, for felt was a sorry visitor,
who had no need of haste.
a light step tripprd down the hall and
the door was opened by Alice herself, the
same sweet, brown-eyed, gentle girl, whose
E lovely image was tn e fit dream picture of any
soldiers heart. raised my hand, cucumber
ed with the package, to my cap, clumsily
e enough, and spoke as advanced to enter.
GOOD evening, Alice. Haven't You a
Y hand for an OLD friend?"
: She bright eyes were dimmed with rising
e tears of pity at my outstretched, solitary
9 hand, bat she drew back little as she re-
|. Piled
e "Really, sir, liam sorry for-oh, as
h live it's Jimmy. l didn't know YOU. Ot
IS course have hand for You, and a kiss, too
Come in. There, now, will call father and
7 mother, and
> "Stay one moment, Alice" l said, retain
). ing her hand; +" | would like to have a few
@ words alone with you before l see your pa
J. rents
4 "Of course, though, they are anxious tc
v see you. Come into the parlor. How sor
d ry am to see you wounded SO badly; sorry
~ very sorry"
st We entered the parlor just as anothe
door closed hastily, and at which perceived
id Alice glanced with smile. turned th'
so precious package in my hand, and, command
i'd ing, as best could my voice and self-posses
l. sion, which were both ready to forsake NE.
IN rehearsei, in as few words as possible, tn
of scene of the April day at Yorktown and tn
le last words.of Charley Stinde.