Bradford reporter. [volume] (Towanda, Pa.) 1844-1884, 1865-05-25
NUMBER 81.

| PAIN, DdSScu UuG lHc SdIc, anu WdFCu HIS
gilded cap to me from the road; and when
he was so far away that he could not see
me weep leaned against pillar and gazed
long after him through the binding rain of
unavailing tears
used to get such cheering letters from
my herol He found so many amusing
things to write about in his new life, and
seemed to relish SO well the novelty and
hardihood of the camp! He would describe
to me the minutist particulars OF his sur
roundings, tell me what he ate and how,
where he slept and how, and drew for me
such photographs of the scenes in which
he moved, that | soon quite lost my foolish
habit of picturing him lying bleeding on
cold battle-felds, alone with the watching
stars and the long night. Instead of this
| soon began to share his dissatisfaction at
having nothing to do through the long win
ter, and | looked forward to the spring
with his longing vision, and learned to glo-
ry in my husbands strength as he himself
did, and to feel certain that all perils must
yield before the power of his arm. Our
| boy was born that winter too, and in him
found an object on which to pour out the
love of my heart, and a companion to make
the time pass away.
The spring came and in the battle of
Fair Oaks my husband was taken prisoner
They shut him up in that fearful prison in
Richmond, and murdered him by inches.--
Long, long months rolled away. My boy
grew till he could run about the house
and play with Carlo in the yard and
every day he seemed to grow more and
more like his father as he was when he
went away, with his fresh, round cheeks
red with bloom, and his merry blue eye and
ringing laugh
Last October they brought my husband
home. Oh what pitiful semblance of the
man who waved his glded cap to me from
the road as | stood in the porch that Sep
tember morning so long ago! They left
him alone in the parlor to wait for me, for
| had tainted at sight of him from the win
dow--my darling Frank-this skeleton
with shrunken limbs and ghastly, fallen
cheek and dull eyes. Could it be he?
Only when | entered the parlor where
he sat, and beheld the clustering black hair
that shaded his white forehead could | see
aught of the man had married in that MAY
night when the odor of the apple-blooms
was in the air. He looked on me so pitt
fully, and raised his wan hands as if to
embrace me. flew to his breast, and kiss
ed his white cheek and colorless lips with
despair in my heart, for | knew he had
I" come home to die"
{" Is this my husband ?' | murmured, in
tone of awe, as looked upon the strange,
strange face
This is what they have left you of him"
said he, smiling family !; and hid my face
in his bosom.
"Where is my boy?" he whispered,
smoothing my hair with his bony hand
| went for little Frank, and held him up
while his father wrapped him in his arms
The little fellow looked into the white and
bearded face with straight earnest gaze,
and then his eyes filled with tears and his
lip began to culver but it was with pity,
not with childish fear, for he put up his lit
tie hand to his fathers mouth caressingly, |
and said, Papa sick p
Next day the doctor came. He sat an
hour with Frank prescribed cheerfulness, |
quiet, and generous food instructed me
in the duties of my new office as nurse, for
| would have no other pressed Franks |
hand cordially, and left the room Ifol-
lowed him to the door.
How long can he live p | asked.
The doctor shook his head
him, Mrs Moreton, With such care as
know you will give him, he may survive a
month, or even two But | could not pro-
mise him week of life He has had a
hard time Damn the villains They'd |
be torn to pieces like carrion if | had my
way with 'em !"
When | went back to Frank he asked |
me what the doctor said.
Don't conceal any thing from me- dear
wife," said he. "There is no need have
been on familiar terms with death for many
months. | am ready to go"
Then | told him, and he smiled There |
was a peculiar light in his eyes as he turn
ed them on me, and said,
Mary, | shall live till spring"
1t was October then So many months |
of life yet? 1t seemed like priceless |
boon Nearly half year to live? Oh
what world of love should be crowded |
into that time And | believed him, too |
don't know why but | did.
The winter rolled by slowly, and he did
not die. Sometimes | would feel a wild
hope that he might recover, and he would
see it shining in my eyes, and would smile |
and shake his head in answer to the un-
spoken thought
" In the spring" he said, very often
" in the spring shall die"
The spring came too soon. The robins
began to sing in the sunshine-the starting
came to his old nest in the apple-tree by
the well. Sometimes Frank would bid me
open the window, so that he could hear the
plaintive note of the bluebirds and the
twitter of the sparrows under the caves
Wrapped in heavy shawls, and sitting in
his great armchair, he would gaze out the
window with his dreamy blue eyes till he
seemed to forget that | was there
They are getting ready" he would
murmur. "I shall hear from them soon"
| thought he was talking of the angels
"What do you see out there, Captain
Frank ?" asked Doctor Thomas, one such
day, as he entered the room.
81 am looking southwark !" whispered
Frank "There will be good news from
the front very soon. That is what | am
waiting for"
Then we understood him. The window
looks toward the south, and commands
view of the road leading to the village,
ten miles away. And it was there he sat
when he died,
You must know that here on the Heights