The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1865-07-19

place. here was no time 10 lose IN idlt
grief. IF should reach the North il
would require all my tact Already wa.
| looked upon with suspicion, and knowr
Union man would meet with little mercy
hurried on my mother was in waiting
had not told her of the why and where
fore of my journey to the pines. She
thought it had to do with business, and
did not question me. She had friends in
Philadelphia, and fortunately funds
enough to live ON for "a time; besides il
was possible my father might be there
he would make for that point. And,
strange to say, his hand was the first to
welcome. 1t happened well | could
not have borne up longer; the oversfrung
nerves relaxed--weeks Of sickness follow
cd, and in my rawlings my mother learned
the romance Of the pines and as the
fever left me, and | lay SO wan and help
less It was a comfort as she talked to me
so gently; and grew stronger, made me
desribe minutey the slook of both Mrs
Pool and Annie.
knew that Mrs. Barton was dead
had read her name on the rude slab at
the head of the grave. She had been
dead two months when | was there. e.
Restless and sad, l wandered up and
down the street, hunting up something
that | thought was mine once. and |
thought that I found her. There were
two--a middle-aged woman, with a
sweet-iaced girl, the same dark eye and
pure brow, felt sure of it. | followed
them as fast AS my strength would allow ;
they entered n small shop, and made a
trifiing purchase ; they passed me at the
door. u was not my blossom, and stag
gcred back to my room, strength gone
aud reason well nigh overtlrown.
Next day ! started for Boston. Her
name was Barton, and her father was an
artist should inquire--I sheuld ad-
vertise. Three weeks elapsed. l was
balancing the question whether to give
it all up, when the door opened, .and a
tiny note folded deicately, with my ad-
dress :-"Miss Barton was at home, No.
200 st"
With feeling of sudden expectation,
half saddened 10y fear of mistake, sci.
zed my hat. Miss Barton was at home
and there felt Inclined to leave her, tall.
stiff and stately, very different being
from my little wild flower, Sick at
heart, and not caring where | wandered,
drttcd back TO philadelphia The i'm
pending storm grew thicker-clouds dar-
: II, Al
the field. The sun of my life had zone
out, the rust OF inacion was growing over
me- joined the Army Of the Potomac
and between the marches, counter
marches, drills, skirnishes, and real bat
ties, had small time for other thoughts.
Sill, memory was busy, and whether by
the campfire, under the curtainless sky.
or n sentinel pac ng up and down nv
beat, | 'ouId not shut out the vision of
that lovely child-lrienIless perhaps des-
,itute.
Ii was April. The wind and rain were
battling for the supremacy. | had been
s'ii' ring from Il wounl in the shoulder.
not dangerous rs painful. a furlough of
forty days was granted / wa, free to
think, eat, sleep, and dream
"Wha say you 10 a trip TO New York;"
and Lieut.. l. laid his hand upon
my arm.
Il have no objection. One place is as
good for me as another. My home is not
here"
"One would not think SO, at the way
you have fought"
"My country is here--a home I may
never have"
400 sad altogether. for brave soldier.
| see how it is you are weak from vour
wound. A little fresh air and plenty of
roast beef, will soon set you up. shall
call for you in the morning. Don't dis
appoint me-"
He was goie--the dark haired, bright.
eyed New Yorker, that had won more of
my heart than any one else. will 90
with him.
Three weeks we had been in New
York. Once more felt that the stirring
life of the city was good for me- 1t slim
ulated and gave me thousand interest
ing things to think about Libraries were
visited, picture galleries inspected, and of
ten, as "A feeble old woman and graceful
girl tripped by, did involuntarily start,
and question myself-could it be them
One morning ! found myself with the
lieutenant in the blue-room of one of the
editorial corps. 1t was quiet, cosy
place; and while the two were conversing
| mechanically took upa sheet-on the
first page story; and as | read, a strange
dreamy sensation stole over me. 1t
sounded SO natural, so real. It was as
though some one had taken up the thread
Of my life, and woven 1t into a web of
beauty. The tears crime forgot where
l was the old home was before me, the
soft air laden with scent of orange-blos-
SONS. Then the sad, tender wall of the
pines resounded in my ears--the music
of broken lutestring, an unforgotten
voice, breaking waiting for
something.
1T is SO very like. Can it be" I
calculated.
"What is it, major I" and the editor
turned blandly,
IL was reading little sketch here by
one Of your lady contributors, presume,
A--B--.' DO you know her
personally I" o.