Weekly Calaveras chronicle., 1867-11-23

Madam, | have mother at Greenbank
| want to live to see her. [ shall no
if try to 90 any further tonight
They all want to see their mothers,
said | and just then it came into my
mind that | hoped my son Charles, wht
had been a soldier-an officer he haC
got to be, mind you wanted tosee his
and would soon.
4 have been wounded, as you see,
said he
Don't 90 a showing me your hurts
said |; they buy 'em, so they told me
to 90 begging with now. | read the
papers, | tell We, and Pm principled
SOS our clergyman, agin giving any
thing, unless it's thro' some well or
gained society. Tramps are my abom.
nation, and as for keeping you al
night, you can't expect that Of decent
folks-go.
Drusilla came to the door and said
Let him stay, aunty,' with her lips
again, but | took no notice.
So he went, and this time did not
come back and | sat down BY the fire
and listened to the wind and sleet, and
felt the warm fire, and smelt the baking
cakes aud the apples stewing, and the
tea drawing on the kitchen stove; and
| ought to have been very comfortable,
but | wasn't. Something seemed tug.
sing at my heart all the time
gave the fire poke and lit another
candle to cheer myself by, and l went
to my work basket to get the sack had
been knitting for my Charlie and as |
went to get it saw something lying GU
the foo:. l picked it up. 1t was an
old tobacco pouch, ever so much like
the one gave Charlie, with fringe
around it, and written on in ink. &C
+. to Il. H. and inside was bit OF
tobacco and an old pipe, and letter
and when spread it out | saw at the
top, My dear SON.
knew the beggar must have drop
ped it, and my heart gave one big
thump as though it had been turned
intoa hammer
Perhaps the story was true and he
had mother. l shSered all over, and
the fire and the candles and the nice
comfortable smell might not have been
at all, [ was so cold and wrctched.
And over aud over again | had to
say to myself what l had heard our
Pastor say SO often, Never give any
thing to chance beggars, my dear
friends; always bestow your aims on
worthy persons, through well organized
societies. before | could get bit OF
comfort Aud what an old fool / was
to cry, | thought, when | found my
cheeks wet.
But l did not cry long, for as I sa,
there, hash and crash and jingle came
d sleigh over the road, and it stopped
at our gate, and heard my Charlie 5
voice crying, 'lIalloa, motherr And
out | went to the door, and had him in
my arms, my great, tall, handsome son.
And there he was in his uniform, with
his pretty shoulder-straps and as hearty
as if he had never been through any
hardships. He left me to put his horse
up, and had by the fire again my own
roy. And Drusilla, who had been up
stairs and had been crying-why, |
wonder-came down in huttcr-for
they were like brother and sister-and
he kissed her, and she kissed him, aud
then away she went to set the table,
and the nice hot things smoked on a
cloth as white as snow; and how Charlie
enjoyed them . But once in the midst
of all felt frightened feeling come
over me, and | know'd I'd turned pale,
for Drusilla said, What is the matter,
Aunt Fairfax?'
said 'Nothing;' but it was this ;
Kind o like the ghost of step, going
champ, champ over the frozen snow ;
kind o like the ghost OF voice saying,
Let me lie on the floor before your fire,
and give me any kind Of crust ) kind
o like seeing some one, who had a
mother, dropping down On the wintry
road, and freezing and starving to death
there. That was v hat it was, but
put it away, and only thought Of
Charlie.
We drew up together by the fire
when tea Was done, and he told Us
things about the war I'd never heard
before. How the soldiers suffered, and
what weary marches and short rations
they sometimes had And he told me
how long his life had been set upon and
he was badly wounded and how at the
risk CT his own life, fellow soldier had
saved him, and carried him away fight
ing bis path back to camp.
I'd never have seen you but for
him. says my Charlie. and if there's
a man on earth | love, it is Bob llada-
way-the dearest, best fellow. We ve
shared each others rations, and drank
from the same canteen many time !;
and if | ever had brother, | couldn't
think more of HIM
Why don't you bring him home to
see your mother, Charlie ? said l.
why, I'd love him too, and anything |
could do for him, for the man who saved
my boy's life, couldn't be enough.
Send for him, Charlie But Charlie
shook his head, and covered bis face
with his hand.
Mother said he, I don't know
whether Bob Hadaway is alive or dead
to-day. While | was still in the ranks
he was taken prisoner. And the pris-
ons are poor places to live in, mother.
I'd give my right hand to be able to do
him any good; but can find no trace