The Daily clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1866-1888, 1866-08-29
From The Land We Love.
EVANSVILLE AND ITS HOSPITALS.
CHAPTER FIRST.

g i eS mOIueI- tO-AlS hI 10 Ii last a.
home Thus spoke Frank Barton, in
reply to a question asked by his
mother. Tomorrow / leave for my
regiment. / received a letter from
Phil Bradford yesterday; and in it he
mentions that Major Cross has been
disabled blythe accidental discharged of
a gun in the hands of one of the sol
diers. Poor Cross | am sorry for
him. He is a gallant soldier and
noble fellow"
but, my son, why go tomorrow ?
LII is at -; and John will surely
be provoked if you do not see him be
fore YOU leave for Virgins"
well, mother, l would certainly
like to see Johnnie; and 1 mast see
Li-bless her. She would never for
give me if | went away without seeing
her"
Frank, you really must not go to-
morrow. What has Phil Bradford
witten YOU that has SO suddenly re-
called you to vour command -
Mother, | am morally certain that
one woman has twice as much curiosity
as three men; but to settle difficulties,
and quiet your mind, here's Pills let
ter. You can read it, and if you see
why | should remain at home, after
reading it, why, of course, I'll do so
and, while you are engaged in finding
out the fine. points, | will call Jack
and tell him to saddle Telegraph, for
must 90 and see Johnnie and that
little wife Of his.
So saying, the handsome Frank
whistled to greyhound lying on the
rug.
Come, Jowler, old fellow, do you
want to 90 over to Calhoun, too -
Then, whistling three times in shrill
tone, as summons to his dark valet,
he was answered by a sprightly boy of
merry countenance and Enthusiastically
of color.
Did you call, Mass Frank? l
fought | we're you whistle, sab. "
yes; | want you to saddle Tele-
graph, and bring him round to the
door"
Frank then walked slowly back to
ward the house, whence he had saunter-
ed while issuing his orders to Jack;
and as he reached the steps, he sat
down and looked thoughtfully around
him, noting with a half-sad tenderness
the many familiar objects upon which
his eye rested. -
To morrow" said he to hip,seif,
Il return to my regiment. Shall
ever return home? SIialI l ever see
again this spot, so loved, so dear Will
my eyes eyer again see that darling
mother,~ gentle, loving sister, and
ns-6rother?
y His sad musings were interrupted
by his mothers voice, calling from the
parlOr:
9 Frank, are you busy? Ifnot, come
here for moment, before you leave.
| want you to tell me what to put away
in your trunk. | know you will not
come back before nightiall. Johnnie
and Annie will keep you until then"
Mother dear, do as you like about
the matter You are better acquainted
with my wants than | am"
As his mother, thus commissioned
with full powers, turned away instinc-
lively to commune with herself in re-
gard to Frank needs, his expeditions
''master of the horse" appeared, with
report of proceedings on his lips:
Telegraph ready, Mass Frank +! l
got UNI roun' to de piazza"
"Good-by, Lady Barton. I'll see
you ere the gentle queen of night be-
gins her silvery reign. So get every
thing ready for me, and good by
again"
Kissing his mother. he disappeared
through the door; and in few mo-
ments was speeding down the avenue
on the spirited horse, which had taken
its eccentric name from its reputation
for swiftness, a quality well exercised
whenever Frank was the rider.
Let me tell you briefly, reader, who
Frank Barton was. He was a descen-
dant of one of the oldest families in
Floyd county, the youngest son of
Colonel Barton, gentleman of dis
tinctiOn as a statesman and soldier.
Young, handsome, wealthy, he added
to these adyentitiOus qualities the
charm of genial manner and an il
resistible frankness in eye, tone, and
gesture. Better and rarer than these,
were those ingredients of worth and
excellence, which raised his character
to so high a standard in the estimation
of all who knew him-his generous
instincts, his honorable principles, his
answering adherence to any purpose
once resolved upon, and last of all,
his unselfishness Warmly attached |
to friends as well as kindred, devoted |
to our righteous cause, and conspicu-
Ously brave in the hour of danger, he |
was a noble specimen of manhood, |
possessing all the requisites of true
gentleman He was, at the breaking |
out of the war, recent graduate of |
Emory College, where he had won the |
prize for the best essay, and had taken
the first honor; and, if it could add to |
his merits, he was now senior captain |
in the Fifty second Georgia infantry.
Mrs. Barton busted herself, mean
while, to get her boy ready for the
morrow With a sad foreboding she |
his clothing, fondly lingering
over each article as she folded it and |
packed it away Fond mother Little
did she think that strangers hands
would perform the same service ere
long for her loved boy. But / antic-
ipate.
Frank cantered along the hard, rocky
road for some time After while.
however, as if by mutual consent he
and Telegraph were satisfied to go at
slower pace "We1, to morrow night"
thought he, Il must stop in Atlanta,
and see little Lii; and then away to
the bloody fields of Virginia. l will
rank as major, if Ben Cross loses his
leg, as Bradford writes me it is feared
he will. Poor Ben! We were neigh
bors, friends, and comrades | feel
deeply for him What evils these
have brought upon us As
| ride along this beautiful country and
see on every hand evidences of wealth
and comfort, the desolate waists of
Northapn Nirorinio ,;oa hoforo