Ellsworth American. [volume] (Ellsworth, Me.) 1855-current, 1865-07-14
ELLSWORTH, MAINE, FRIDAY, JULY IA, 1865
How long can he ive? | asked.
The doctor shook hi head,

/
The doctor shook hi head,
"All will depend up on the care yor
take of him. Mrs. Moreton. With such
care as l know you will give him, he may
survive month, or even two. But
could not promise him week of life.-
He has had hard time. Damn the
Williams! 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 anything from me-
dear wife," said he. "There is no need
have been on familiar terms with death
for many mouths. am ready to CO."
Then l told him, and he smiled There
was peculiar light in his eyes as he
turned 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 passed slowly away, 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 he
would smile and shake his head in ans.
wer to the unspoken thought,
"ln the spring" he said, very often
Gin the spring shall de-"
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 WE'LL Sometimes Frank would bid
me open the window, so that he could
hear the plaintivc notes Of the blucbirds
and the twitter Of the swallows under the
caves. Wrapped in heavy shawls. sit
ting in his great arm chair, he would
gaze out of the window with his dreamy
blue eyes, till he seemed to forget was
there.
"rhey are getting ready" he would
murmur, II shall hear from them
soon."
l thought he was talking of the an
gels.
"What do you see there, Capt. Frank ?
asked DR.. Thomas, one such day, as he
entered the room.
81 am looking southwark whispered
Frank. There will be grand news from
the front very soon. That is what am
waiting for.'
Then we understood him. The win.
dow looks toward the south, and COM
mands v.ey 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. VIC get the news but once Il
week. We are on no highways where
travellers pass. The half dozen farmer;
who live on the Heights with us, like us,
90 to the village Saturdays the common
market-day. Then we get the weekly
newspaper, which is issued in the village
Friday morning, and contains all the
events of the week that is passed.
Frank slept none on that thursday
night. and Friday morning early he ask
cd that Philip might be sent down to the
village for the journal.
1t was afternoon when Philip returned,
Frank sat by the open window gazing
earnestly down the road. 1t was beauti-
full day. The air was balmy as June,
and the birds were flying about twitter-
ing joyousy in the trees. Presently
Philip came in sight around the bend in
the road. He was waving the newspaper
in the air. and seemed to be shouting
something, bnt we could not hear. The
orchard shut him from view a minute
after, and | ran down stairs to meet him,
and get the journal.
"IIooray :" cried Philip. "Nictory'
deyoured the news with quick eyes,
aud then ran up stairs to Frank and
knclt by his chair.
"Dear husband" said /, "the news is
grand, Do you think you can bear to
hear it ?"
"Mary said he, II shall never be
stronger than am at this hour, 1t is
my last. Tel me the good news. Ihave
waited long for it,"
Amidst my tears read the news
Richmond was evacuated and our troops
occupied it. jeff Davis was flying for
his life, end Lees whole army had sur
rendered to Grant. An order had been
issued to stop recruiting and drafting -
Peace had already dlwned.
He listened with clo-ed eyes, an cx-
preston of unutterablc happiness on his
white face.
"Glory !" he murmurcd when had
done. "The night is passed. Dear wife,
| am happy now. l knew | should live
10 see the dawn
An hour later he passed away. 1 sat
at his feet, clasping his hand in both Of
mine.
"Mary," he said "you know the legacy
| leave my boy. He is too young to
to understand now, but as he1 grows,
teach him its priceless value. The day
will come when he will be proudcr to
know that his father died one Of the
martyrs i'll freedoms cause, than he would
be il | had made him heir to Millions
| was soldier, too l wore the army
blue :"
His breath came fainter and fainter.
His hand grew llcless in my clasp. Then
he rose up in his chair, gazed with brill-
ant eyes out the window toward the south,
waved his bony hand in the air, and fell
back upon the cushions. touched his
cold forehead with my trembling lips,
and heard his last whisper
"Mary-dont forget-I wore the
blue !" And he was one of many.
~