The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1866-02-17


deeper as they filled with tears. Not for her
self She never cried for herself that know
of, for she never had a days illness. But
she was terribly cut up when her poor brother
died, and that you see was how knew
her. Her brother was my right hand man in
my company. Many's the time that he stood
shoulder to shoulder with me, good at drill,
good at song-good at anything. He used TO
live near the coast; and, indeed, he Joined us,
and l was one of his tent-fellows, and his
chum. Well, he knew people that knew, and
we were soon friends; and he took me home TO
show me Alice. He was always talking about
her and she about him: and, when he was there
scarce a look did she give me. her brother Joe
his name was Joe, and mine, too-coHld do
everything, and he was the be-all and endall OF
the world used to think; and so one day |
tried to run with Joe, and Joe beat me, and
Alice laughed; and then shot against Joe, and
he beat me too and she laughed the more: and
! wTestled with him and threw him, and she
didn't laugh then, but ran to see whether ne
was hurt and said it wasn't fair for Joe TO tackle
a big fellow like me- although he was nigh an
inch taller. IN short, could not please her any
howl
Well, it was one day when we heard that the
fiat bottomed boats of old Boney were not
coming over, and that the Army oil bou-
logne had melted bit by bit away, like snow
drift, that we made night OF IL. Ay 1t was
a night, too and being hot and in the sum-
mer, We must needs keep up the fun till the
sun came up over the seacoast looking red and
angry at our folly. Well, Joe and 1.-The two
Joes as they called us-ran down to the beach
and washed our hot faces, and plunged in the
fresh, salt waves, aud were in few moments
as fresh and as merry as larks. And, after
dressing, Joe must nseds take a walk with me
who was nothing 10th, you must know-along
the edge of the Cliff. The seas for centuries
have been washing that chalk-bound coast
and at intervals there stand up pillars of
chalk, with seas around them, and with little
green patches of land, a few yards square, on
the top of them, The people call such place
mo Mans Land" and no man can own it,
firmly oil Ino onoRN IN al
feet-ssy twelve-from the cliff and, turning to
me, he said, "Joe Junior" said he-l think
see his bright face now--"1 challenge you to
leap up on that No Mans Land doW
'iJoe,n said |, hurriedly, don't be fool It
may be 1t would give way at top, and II 1t did
not how could you jump back without run
You'd be stuck atop there, like mad sentinel
or pillar saint Pm not going to jump IT,"
'But am /" said he. And, before could
step him, if indeed / had tried, he took run
and jumped.
1t was so sudden that 1 could only stand
aghast when saw him there. He stood, indeed,
but for moment and then he took step back,
and would have jumped back, when heard a
rumbling sound, and half the top OF the mo
Mans Land" parted and the chalk and earth,
and Joe, too, fell down with a crash upon the
rocky coast below.
ran round the little creek to the other side
OF the small bay, ard, throwing myself down on
the turt; stretched my neck over, looked out
and cried out, "Joe! Are you hurt JoeW
faint voice came up, and could see the
poor fellow struggling under huge piece of
chalk which seemed TO hold him down in agony.
He smiled in ghastly way, with his whitened
face, and said, "Run, Joe, run The tides
coming in!"
Well, 1 did run, and we got ropes from the
tents, and few strong fellows held these as
swung over the cliff, Just reaching poor Joe as
the cold sea water was lap, lap, tapping up to
his mouth, taking away his breath and then
running back, crawling over him and leaving
bubbles Of salt foam, as If in sport. | got him
hIlf nn Nunr
broken, and he was sadly bruised; so that was
forced to lie hIm to rope, and they hauled him
up, and afterwards pulled me up, and we took
him home.
Well well to make long story short, poor
Joe died, with my praises on his lips, and poor
Alice bowed her head like broken lily. 1t was
long time before she got over 1t, and summer
had grown into winter, and winter to summer,
| to autumn, and to winter again. The threatened
| invasion was all over; our swords were getting
rusty, our uniforms rusty, and when the holidays
came left the firm in which / had just become
| partner, and went to spend fortnight at my
old friends in Kent.
Alice was there, well and cheerful now, and
| reconciled to her loss, though we often talked
| of poor Joe; and as the days wore on we grew
| close together, and she called me by name, and
| seemed to have transferred her brothers love to
| me. She never told me so, nor let others see it
til one = merry Christmas night, when she re,
1ected all her cousins and her,other friends, and
| would only dance with me.
We had the mistletoe, too. At last one mad
| cap fellow proposed that the ladies should kiss
| the gentlemen all round when and no W they
could; and Alice and l, who had subsidized into
solemn talk, and were speaking of poor Joe,
| were surrounded, and 1t was insisted that Alice
| should play too and she, in a solemn, quiet way
smiling sadly and yet sweetly too, took IN
beneath the Christmas bough and kissed me on
| my lips.
Ay, it's many ye ars ago, but feel 1t now. y
heart beat so fast that hardly dared return it
but put my arm around her, and took heI
gently TO the bay window of the old hall, saying
as pressed her hand, "Alice, dear Alice, did
you mean that kiss?"
Well, need not tell you what she answered
It's fifty years agol fifty years ago and / am
surrounded by Alices dear grandchildren; anC
there is one, little thing with light and colder
hair that will deepen into brown, who plays
around my knees and tells me her little stories
her sorrows, and her Joys; so quick, SO sudden
so hurried in their coming and their going tina
they are like my own, and, as we talk, we grow
quite friends and companions, like my Alic'
was to me.
Bless you, she understands it all (! She is
woman in her pretty ways; her poutings, pet
tings, and quarrellings' She manages her house
hold of one wax doll and two wooden ones, AM
tells me- for the wax doll Is the lady and tn
wooden ones are the servants in mobcaps an,
stuff gowns, when they are impudent and do n
work, and when they gossip with a woodel
/ policeman Awho belongs to her brother, lii
tie Joe.
So we are fast friends, little Alice and I; an
! tonight. on Christmas night, noticed that sh
would not dance nor play with the pink an
shiny-iaced little boys who were so unnaturall
tidy and clean ia their new knickerbockers wit
: | red stockings; but she came and sat by me an
! talked softly in the freight as Alice did, an
! made me think OF fifty years ago. And onl
, think how old times came back and new time
like the old: only just think, that when he
, mother told her she should choose sweetheart
: : she got little bit OF mistletoe, and climbin
| silly on my knee, holding me in talk, as II t