The Richmond palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1855-1875, 1865-07-20

and may God bless YOU"
"And you to my boy"
He turned away, panied by the sight
of her tears, and strode out toward the
old, red gate. Alice followed him.
He kissed her through the bars, on
checks, brow, and eyes, and then, with
out another word, walked rapidly away.
She watched him until a sudden turn in
the road took him from her sight; 80 did
the poor mother, sitting on the door sill.
thinking. of both of them, no doubt, Of
the weary days Of woe and war that would
intervene before they looked upon his
face again.
The spring wore away; summer came,
and the thunders of battle rocked the
old farmhouse to its very center; but the
rose tree did not wilt. Though the air
was hot and sulphurous. it shot up young
tendriis, and burst into fragrant bloom
and Alice said to herself continually,
..He will live-he will come back to U.S."
A cold and cruel winter-another
spring-the harvest trampled down be-
fore they ripened; the beautiful hill
country made desolate by the ravages of
war; still the rose tree bloomed and
grew, and Alice's heart was full of hope.
But when the summer passed, and the
fall came, and the scanty harvests were
in and one by one the fathers and hus-
bands. left at home, were conscripted
into the Southern army, leaving weeping
children and wives in comfortless homes,
a change seemed to fall upon the land;
the sun wore a murky glow the sky
seemed brass, and God too far off to
hear
But in those days of desolation. the
4 4 IA AZ
winter came on, all life seemed to GO out
from branch and root aud Alice's hope
failed. No letters reached them from
Archer; and they heard rumors Of ter
rible disasters daily Detailing the Union
forces.
II is gone, Alice-we shall never see
him again." said the poor mother; and
Alice found no words to disprove what
she said.
The winter was dreadful. Scanty of
food and fuel, the two mourners sat by
their lonely hearth. with an unspoken
sorrow in their white faces that awed
even the fierce guerrillas, that prowled
about the old farm house, into something
like pity and respect But there is no
thing in this world Of ours that does not,
sooner or later. come to an end. The
wheels of time may seem slow, but they
are sure. The lonely winter dragged
itself away, and spring came-"a snow
drop in her hand, a solitary lark above
her head" The blue sky smiled down,
and the sweet sunlight fell in genial
beams, and the gentle rains descended
on fields biackened and blasted by the
ravages of war, bringing up the tender
grass, and meek-eyed violets over the
nameless graves of the fallen brave. In.
the garden, at the old farm house. the
pinks came up and opened their odorous
petals, and the hollyhock buds swelled
almost to bursting; the old fashioned
roses budded, and the lilacs tossed their
purple plumes through the low windows,
as in days gone by.
Alice felt a strange balm dropping
into her sore heart, and day by day she
watched the little wilted rose tree, as
one might watch a dear face on the verge
of eternity. And at last-at last her
hopeful faith was rewarded, for on the
topmost branch tiny green shoot ap
peared.
''Oh, mother, motherr' she cried,
running in, "he inst dead he'll come
back to us again-the rose tree is alive"
/ But the poor mother turned despairng
| ly from the happy face and shook her
! head. Age is less hopeful than youth.
mo, no, he'll never come back again.
she said.
But the spring advanced, and the little
4 shoot grew. and one after another new
shoots came out, and by full summer tide
/ the rose tree was in blossom, weighed
down with fragrant, crimson flowers.
/ Still TO tidings came from Archer; but
Alice hoped and waited. In the mean
time. Lees forces retreated before Grant,
and the old flag waved again over that
portion of poor, desolate, mistaken Nir
ginia.
An evening came, in the cloudless
glory of REGAL june. M4s. Bradford sal
upon the ioorsill, swaying back and
forth. and murmuring to herself in
dazed. melancholy way Alice sat on th'
4 grass close by the blooming rose-tree
| The same ~hiPpo-~il lsiped on the ole
Grind stone the same stars girssesss
overhead-but where was he? Heape1
up amid the nameless dead on som
distant battle ground-languishing
some far-off hospital-yearning for HON
and friends. Her blue eyes grew din
with mist of tears, and her brave hear
sick with deferred hope. But gentl
wind stirred the branches of the rose
tree. surrounding her with a cloud o
delicious perfume and at the same in
Stdtt TUX oiu- ASu SAeS S"u Shh pay VI
its hinges. Some one was coming dow
the little foot path q soldier, with blue
armless sleeve dangling at his right side
Such visitors, finding their way back t,
Washington, and so home, after the ter
rible battle in the Wilderness, offer
dropt in at the old farm house now
Alice rose up. and placed chair beneatl
the little woodbine arbor.
Won't you sit down and have drink
sir?" she said. sweetly. as he came up
He sat down, while Alice darted off I,
the kitchen, to get drink.
Bring some cider. Alice" called tn,
old woman. wiping her eyes. II like t.
give 'em the best; my own poor boy wa.
a soldier"
Alice brought the cider, clear and racv
a lump of ice tinkling in the bottom O
.he goblet The soldier took it. raised
70 MS lips. heard the ice tinklinc with
= eooi, refreshing sound, as he had heard
uiI nunureas Of times in his boyhood-