Mineral Point weekly tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1859-1868, 1867-08-28
/ gave the fire a hearty poke and

and | went to my work basket to get
the sock I'd been knitting for Charlie;
and as | went to get it / saw some.
thing lying on the floor. | picked it
up; it was an old tobacco pouch, ever
so much like the one gave Charlie,
with fringe around it, and written
on it with ink, From c. f to r. II =
and inside was an old pipe, and let
ter, rumpled old letter, and when I
spread it out I saw at the top, MY
dear SON
| knew the beggar must have drop
ped it, and then my heart gave one
big thump as if it had been turned in.
to a hammer.
Perhaps the story was true and he
had mother I shivered all over.
and the fire and candles and the nice
com mfortablc smells might as well have
not been at all. | was wretched.
And over and over again | had to
say to myself what ia heard my pas
tor say so often, ''Never give anything
to chance beggars, my dear friends;
always bestow your aims on worthy
persons, through we'll orgenized soci.
eties," before l could get bit of com
fort. And what a lool l was to cry |
thought, when found my cheeks so
wet.
But I did not cry long; for, as l sat
there, dash and crash came a sleigh
over the road, and it stopped at our
gate, and | heard my Charlie's voice
crying,
"Halloa, mother -
And ! went out to the door, and
had him in my arms, my great, tall,
handsome, brown 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 had to
leave me to put the horse up, and
then | had by the fire again my own
boy. And Drusilla, who had been up
stairs, and had been crying = why
wonder ?-came down in futter-
for they were like brother and sister
and he kissed her, and she kissed
him, and then away she went to set
the cable, and the nice hot things
smoked on cloth as white as snow;
and how Charlie enjoyed them But
once, in the midst of all, | felt a
frightened feeling come over me, and
| knew l turned pale, for Drusilla
said, wv hat is the matter, aunt Fair
fax?n
| said nothing, but it was this, 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
mother, dropping down on the win
try road, and freezing and starving to
death there. That was what it was
But [ put it away and only thought
of Charlie.
We drew up together bv 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 ra-
tions they sometimes had. And then
he told me how his life had been in
danger; how he had been set upon by
rebels and badly wounded; and how at
the risk of his own life, fellow sol
dier had saved him and carried him
away, fighting his path back to camp.
I'D never seen you but for him.
says my Charlie. "And if there's a
man on earth love, it is Rob Hada-
way the dearest best fellow. We've
shared each others rations, and drank
from the same canteen many and ma
ny time; and if | ever had brother,
1 couldn't think more of him"
"Why didn't you bring him home
to see your mother, Charlie 2" said l.
why, I'd love him too, and anything
| could do for him, for the man that
saved my boys life, couldn't be enough
Send for him, Charlie" But Charlie
shook his head, and covered his face
with his hands.
Mother" said he, Il don't know
whether Rob Hadaway is alive or dead
to day. While / was still in the ranks
he was taken prisoner. And the reb-
el prisons are poor places to live in,
mother. I'd give my right hand to
be able to do him any good; but l can
find no trace of him. And he has
mother, too. and she Is so fond Of him
She lives at Greenbank-poor old la
dy. Ny dear, good, noble Rob, the
preserver of my life !"
And | saw Charlie was nearly cry
ing. Not to let us see the tears, he
got up and went to the mantle piece.
| did not look around until | heard a