The Richmond palladium., 1865-03-31
THE SOLDIERS VALlCE.

rounds among the sick and wounded in
that hospital tent, and the youthful voice
that asked the eager question trembled
with emotion. 1t was boyish face in
to which the physician turned and gazed;
| but the death angel had set its impress
there, and the kind hearted surgeon
could only shake his head.
II wanted to 90 home once more be-
fore died Oh, mother. mother.' The
words were full Of agony, and for a few
moments the poor child lay with closed
eyes, and tears trembling upon the long
lashes, but they did not fall; he crushed
them back and lifted his almost sight
less eyes upward.
MY mother taught me 10 die, bless
God for that. My home in heaven is
always near"
The struggle with feeble human nature
was over. Angels were present to COM
fort the dying soldier, and quietly and
peacefully he crossed the dark river up
on the long last, march that ended his
earthly campaign
| There was soldiers buriel. Kind
hands followed the humble grave, and
laid him down prayerfully to his rest;
and when the brave men turned back to
the lonely tent, the sword and valice of
their youthful officer met their eyes.
| "What shall be done with them?" was
the sorrowful question.
''Send them home to his mother
And they came! 1t was the early
morning Of a bright October day.-The
broad sunlight lay about the home, over
whose threshold the young Lieut.. had
gone forth one twelve month before, SO
full of life and activity.
90 20
stood open, and all along the floor of the
wide, pleasant kitchen lay a stream of
yellow sunshine. broken here and there
by a restless moving shadow, where the
waving trees came in between the sun
light. The mother was alone, and as
she sang in low, sweet voice, sketches
of hymns that she had often sung when
the dear boy, now growing into man
hood. nestled in her lap, and she was
hushing him to sleep, and she looked as
if expecting to see his bright face com
ing in at the door, or hear his CHEEKY
voice calling from the garden, Mother
Did she hear no whisper from the
garden of Paradise, at that moment,
calling ''mother, mother?''
Was there not a guardian angel how
ering about her-a youthful face now
glowing with spiritual beauty-hovering
over her? Alas, she saw it not! Wits
The stage came rattling along the
highway, and her heart beat quicker at
the sound, for perhaps there might be
something from her darling boy.-It
stopped beside the little wicket gate, and
the driver came with slow and rcluc-
tant step up the walk. There was some
thing in each hand, which he brought
silently in and laid almost reverently
on the table. Not word broke the
stiffness. The poor mother looked upon
them \ moment, and then with sharp
cry of agony, sank down beside them.
MY boy! my boy. Oh God help me!
this isn't all that is left?'
She drew the valice to her almost
frantically, and lifted her white, implo
ring face to the driver.
All, it needed not that solmn answer:
one glance in that plying face revealed
the truth. Wondering ut her own
strength che eagerly opened the valice.
There was coat with its bright buttons
and epaulets, that his companions had
folded carefully away; and as she held it
up, she seemed to see the noble boy as he
had stood before her in that dress, and
asked so eagerly-"Now, mother, amt
You proud of your boy? You won't cry
any more, will you? am going to fight
for the dear old flag, my fathers flag
and niue, I want to go with your ap
proval 'and blessing" And then she
placed her trembling hands upon his
head and whispered through her tears:
go nv son, and God be with YOU
And God has been with him to the end.
Then came the Bible; his little pocket
Bible she had give him on his birthday
wears before. He had read it faithfully.
There was here and there mark on his
favorite chapters, and there were pencil
lines drawn around many comforting
texts that he had repeated upon tedious
marches. and they had been his support
and guide to the very last little pack
of letters so full of hope and trust to an
absent son; and as she opened them
one by one, she saw how some tender
passage, breathing her full hearts love,
or telling vf the old home that stood
with open doors to receive him. were
blotted with bitter tears, which the brave
heart could not hold back; her picture
with its case, into which his eyes gazed
so many times, and as she opened II
little slip of paper huttered out. with
the words in his own hand, "Sweet
mother, what a blessing God has given
me in your' She had been a blessing to
him. she had taught him the way to eter
nal life God be praised for that.
But a broken-hearted mother, the kind
neighbors raised from the place, where.
overcome with grief, she had piliowed
her head among the treasures of her son.
Only for little while, poor mother
My heart aches for you as write. and
for the thousand of hearts made desolate,
for whom can only pray as for my own
loved ones in this hour of danger. Only
for little time; the pearly gates are not
closed. They were left ajar as the dear
one entered in-unclosed and waiting
for you. This incident is strictly true
Harper's Magazine.