Clarksville chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 186?-1872, 1868-10-09

up uiiU WIN tHc .pIONislOH VIC uuTltu
we can live until we car raise more.
lThe negroes, except Aunt Charity
and Henry must be sent within the
enemy's line to be fed. / will give
them letter to the Yankee General
who will feed them, which IL 4tofe
than we can tlo. With these arrange
ments we can live, IL we husband
well what we have. VIII you not
take comforti I'm your childrcn?"
ri will try, my child.o
Mr.. J. followed this advice, and the
heroic noble girl hushed the sorrow
for her great loss deep within her
motherless heart, and arose to cheer
fnfHess and labor for the sake of the
dear ones left to her care, and the
land of her birth, her love, and her
pride. Industrious hands cheerful
spirit accomplish wonders, and there
wds soon an air of ncatRess and conf
fort about the two rooms eInbOwered
in trees and wild vines, which re-
freshed and comforted the weary spir-
1t of her almost broken hearted faith
er, and the little ones declared that it
was nicer than the great fine house.
The piano was gone, but little Eddie
had run away with her guitar and
hid 1t, and each evening after her
father had retired to bed she played
and sang, until soothed and cOmfor-
ted, he dropped to sleep as gently as
n babe listening to its mothers lula
by.
The catastrophe has come; the war
Is ended; fathers, sons, brothers and
lovers flock home as the chased deer,
famishing for the colling draught,
rushes to the clear, bubbling water;
two brothers out offour are welcomed
back to the desolate home-spot Of the
J.'s; they resolved to restore to the
family something of their former
prosperity, and with active energy
they entered upon life of labor;
God blessed almost their every effort,
bnt strange enough to her father
Laura for the first time droOpcd; u
shade of sadness often fitted across
the lovely face, and rs days andn nights
passed by deepened until 1t became
habitual; the birdlike motion depart
ed from the hour her mother was laid
beneath the dark earth; now the reg
ular, bright movement Of the cheer
full girl was gone, and every step flag
ged wearily, and every effort seemed a
burthen; yet she ceased not i'm her daily
lobors. Mr.. j. looks on i'm heavi-
ness of heart, and feels that If she too
goes he will not longsurvivc her-nor
does he wish to. He knows the glo-
riOus powers of sclf-reliance which
have so peculiarly marked the last
four years of her life, and forbears to
to question her, only growing tender
er and more caressing i'm his efforts to
WOO back light and life to her soul,
knowing well what blast and blight
the fall of her loved country has cast
upon nature like hers.
1t has been q cool, rosy-tinted fall
day all animal existence seems in
stinct with renewed strength and life.
The dogs run, frisk and leap; the
poultry crow, cackle and sing; and
horses toss their heads, bound and
out off schools; the birds fit from
bough to bough, and once more renew
their glad spring songs; yet Laura
changes not, except to look more
spiritual, and wear a sweet sad smile
as she casts her eyes Oftencr to oheav-
en-; but the spirit of beauty, If not of
life seems to have entered her sad,
quiet soul, and she arranged her toilet
for the evening with unusual care
and taste; purely white apron con-
traits beautifully with the little brown
figured muslin, which sits so nicely
to the dainty little form, while soft.
white ruf1les relieve the neck and
hands, and the pretty feet, laced close
ly i'm pair of well-fitting boots, peep
from beneath the short dress with
every step; an exquisite blush rose
trembles in her auburn curls, while a
bud and geranium leaf are elapsed
at her throat with bright coral pin.
She has just finished milking; the
cows are looking lazily contcntcd,
crunching their cuds, and their calves
beside them; the little white cedar,
pail, filled with the snowy frOth OF
the smoking milk, which smoke curls
gracefully In thin wreaths above the
frosted pile, Is poised I'm her hand rs
she pauses beneath an outrageous oak
10 observe man slowly advancing
towards her on worn looking horse.
He was thin and pale, and looked like
n war-broken veteran, with the empty
sleeve dangling by his side; Us her
. eyes rest upon him she never
|. dreams that he Is young man OF
only twenty-eight. A shade of pink
fiushcs into the wan, pale face, and
the dim eyes brighten as he palses
. before her; the next instant dark
, shade of sadness deepens In its blood
less lines and he tries in vain to speak,
"Sir, you look faint and weak, take
, cup of this warm fresh milk, 1t Will
revive your strength. Now let me
, hold your horse while you allght, you
must tarry with us until you are
strong enough to continue your jour
, ney"
! The soldier was very feeble, but hs
| was soon by her side,
/ "Surely my senses do not deceive
me, YOU must be the Laura j. j lef'
| on y0nder burned hill four years ago
III am she, sir, but Ii cannot he tha'
, you are Robert Dillingham; ?"
Now the blood rrshes i'm u full tor
/, rent over face and neck, while thu
fragile form shakes like wind-tosset
leaf.
so, Laura, can 1t he that your hear
: yet warns to the MANNED, broker
/ soldierT'
. Now the weary, worn man filishet
! scarlet, the eyes eagerly, sparkled win
Joyous expectancy, as he clasped the
O little hand and looked questloniiigly
: down into the girlish face.
I ''Robert, can you doubt IL? Did
I not love you n thousand times bette
for these very honors, would he un
!, worthy the land of our birth, un
r worthy u noble soldiers love. Twill b'
an arm to YOU through life, as well a.
o your devoted wife. For the first mo
J, moment since our country fell | nov
feel that | have something 10 live for
/ something 10 giveme happiness even
r amid our great loss"
e The soldier clasped her to his war
< Scared breast. and tears of bliss tos