The Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1837-1867, 1865-10-13


sky. Spring melted the SHOWS away, and
the May sun shone. and the partridge
drummed in the woods, and the meadow
lark sang in the pasture. and the orioles
and swallows were every where, brighten
ing the branches of many a tree with color
and life. Then we heard from Johnny.
Dead at Andersonville.
One who was with Johnny there, and
and who left him dead there ip April
when he came away, brought to Mrs.
Curtis brown rebel newspaper whose
broad margin was scrawled with bloody
words. This Mary brought to me in the
Beech Woods pasture, and | sat ME down
by the gaunt acorn tree by the bars and
read the words with streaming eyes.
have since copied them from the paper in
the order in which l Judge them to have
been written. They follow:
Darling mother. Darling brown-eyed
Mary. Words write in my own blood
there being no ink here, but blood in plen-
ty. am shot in fifteen places l tried
TO get out of the pen last night. l wish l
had waited, for the boys are going home
now. My heart is filled with JOY, for the
war Is over. Too late for Johnny. Dear
Mary. don't cry for me. How much l
love you. He called me damned snake
when he dragged me back into the pen
last night You will be told how we suf-
fcred. You would shudder to see John
nv. | am as black As negro with pitch
pine smoke. and my lips are swollen and
one OF my checks most ate away. 1t is
>curvy. couldn't help it. Oh, how |
wanted to get away where there was wa
ter and fresh air, Libby Prison was
pretty bad, but not so bad as this one
How wish | coull see YOU once more!
The boys will he marching home now
There will be great times at the Manor. l
suppose. Dear :mother and Mary. don't
cry about lie. 1t has been pretty tough,
but some of Us must die. | wish that ii
had been in battle, that's all Written In
INV blood. How iS >choOlmaster Bald
win! hope Mark Lowenstein got off
all right. l. Your mother pretty well. Ma
~? Darling girl. we shall roam no more
in the old Beech Woods Therc'll bc
>ome back pay for YOU. mother. Ask
Captain Snow about it. Goodhy forever.
Oh. dear mother, dear Mary. ii | had one
touch of your clean hands, You could
not kiss poor Johnny. should die much
Happier if L could be clean, Good-by.
gocd-hy. good-hy..''
With these words ringing in inv ears
like the mourniul rcvcrbelation- OF some
solemn he'll, Sat on the great round stone
under the tree, and looked about me
through the Veil of tears that dimmcd nv
"yts. The grass WAS lS bright aS OF old
The but:er-cups and daisies, the clover
tops. the raspberry bushes in the corners
OF the old ziszag rail fence. the fragrant
/ brcathed cows chewing the cud by the
bar>-all these were just as they had been
wears ago, when Mrs. Curti>S boy uSel 10
come and drive the COWS home down the
long shaded road in whose deep soft dust
hi> naked feet padded contcntedly, Then
my eyes fell ON the petite form OF Mary
O>trandcr. Us she leaned her bare head
against the trunk of the old acorn. and
gazed with her sad brown eyes away oft,
into the long southwark distance. while
her chestnut curlS blew over her fair shoul-
der> and dropped upon the muSlin-hid bo-
som. where long >ighs struggled to lift the
load that bore down upon her tender
heart. lncver can torgei the vearning.
the anguish that looked ont at me from
her souls windows as she turned her face
TO me. Ii thrilled me almost with won
der, for | had never realized in Mary the
trutll-with which as a principle was
tlmiliar-that feeling has lis deepest
depths in joyous natures. and when once
the iron enters the soul it plungcs to these
remolc>t depths. Hard iron will float on
molten iron but the dagger dropped in
the bright bubbling spring cleaves straight
To the bottom.
There were no tears i'll Mary's ewes.
My brother William died in an insane
asylum many years ago, and have made
insanity Il study. knew Marv'S danger
at once. Her doom was certain. uni, S.
tears could be brought To her eyes. But
in vain | cssayed 10 wake the sealed foun-
tain. She would lay her head wcarily on
Mrs Curtis's lap: she would come TO me
and take my hand in both hers, and rest
her cheek upon ii; and ever and anon
those shuddering sighs, painting frcm the
furnace of agony within, told how fearful
ly the poor girl suffered. She neglected
no duty. She mingled with her friends
quite lis of old. and often she smiled but
such a touching smile, Ii was more
moving than tears.
In June our soldiers came home They
had been expected for several DAYS. and
great preparations had been going on
among the women for their reception. A
table was erected in the old Beech Woods
aud there the wives, mothers, sisters, and
sweet-heartS Of the returning soldiers were
gathered to greet them with bounteous
feast Of homely but hearty fare. | do not
purpose a description OF the happy scene,
when the soldiers marched in through the
bars, in careless order, with tattercd FLAG
flying, and the band playing merry air.
As they neared the woods, the boys broke
from the ranks in confusion and rushed
forward pcll-mell. There were embrac-
ings and tears Of JOY. Mary Ostrander
looked on the scene but for one moment