Belmont chronicle. [volume] (St. Clairsville, Ohio) 1855-1973, 1868-03-19
CHAPTER III.


of them had breathed upon the senses of
/ the little home circle that now waited
anxiously for news from their "boys in
Blue.p liif ~ al.e ',,
| He had been kept safely so long that
they were beginning to think him proof
against the dangers of war, but when
| the news of the battle came aud was not
speedily followed by assurances of his
welfare, they doubted. In the midst of
theiranxious doubling and hoping, came
the message. u
! 1t was just such one as came to many
and many another home-just such one
as cut to thousands of other hearts
saving, perhaps, the leaf of myrtle.--
| This sanotified, in certain sense, the
grief of Ellen VaDe to herself She had
| not known of his keeping it. He never
mentioned IL in his letters, and she had
| almost forgotten the giving of it. How
much it had been to hin--how much her
memory had been to nim--the little faded
leaf eloquently told. AS something
sacred, therefore, she laid it aside. And
as he brought 1t forth often to see the
picture which il hid from all others, so
she drew IL from its receptacle and read
in 1T sadder story than ever young
heart ought to know, and to see in it a
sadder picture than ever loving ewes.
ought to behold. The dry leaf was to
her semblance of others of its kind,
which she saw eyermore running over
lonely grave.
Midsummer died away in a smoky
haze the harvest moon came and went
with its silver sheen; autumn put on its
many eolored robes of loyalty, and reign
ed lin splendor. Over the Hammond farm,
meanwhile the sunlight and moonlight
seemed to shine dimly. Things are not
as they used to be before the reading of
that terrible message. Nell was q merry
hearted body, as Clyde had said, but her
merriment was not now as genuine as
| formerly. She saw the picture of that
lonely mound, alas too often: and when
a grave comes into the heart the laugh
goes out. The old folks, whom she en-
deavored to comfort, seldom spoke of
their loss in her presence, but together
they spoke of him who was slain with a
fond tenderness, and of their lonely fu-
ture with-a shade of dependency light
ened only by the faith that itwouid soon
be brighter lover the river.n
The dull, leaden days of November
erept Oh apace. There was chill i'm the
heart of Ellen Vane and those whom she
knew as father and mother; there was
a chill in the air around them. The
| snow came drifting silently down, at
length. During all the weary day pro-
ceding Thanksgiving, the feathery flakes
floated through the still atmosphere
while fields grow white, and the trees
nodded to each other with new and spot
less plumes, and the seringa bushes APP
peared in strangely grotesque forms. Be
fore the twilight settled over the new
earth with an uncertain dimness, Ellen
drew forth her myrtle leaf once more,
and dreamed over as she looked upon it,
the brief happiness that gladdened her
young life, seeing still, through the thin
veil of her dream, the grave that she
fancied would never be shut out of her
sight.
Morning dawned--Th morn
lng-calm, clear and beautiful. Arrang-
ed in its white robe the world seemed as
pure as the long Eden days. The hush
of holy silence was on the air-such
all heavens angels. 1t was n fit day for
thank offerings.
Thanksgiving should be honored at
the Hammond farm houses as it' bud
been honored there for half century,
Less joyful, perhaps-.there would be no
merry gatherings, no happy meetings of
the old and young, no laughing evening
games--but no less sincerely honored.-
The outhreaking of the thankfulness in
the old mans prayer after morning
meal, was no less fervent because of a
tremor I'm the voice which he uttered it.
He could give thanks even amid his
mourning.
Through the forenoon Ellen busted
herself in preparing the Thanksgiving
dinner. She took sad kind of pride in
making II rich and generous, like the
old time ones when they spread more
ample board and feasted and made glad.
Yet she thought soirowingly of those,
for they were the last. There would be
,i,.lx k. af 1, >f
gladness In the days to come, but they
would not be like the days gone by.
The last, her heart echoed, as the
turkey, done to delicious brown, was
set upon the table. And as she thought
of the myrtle leaf, she placed fourth
plate upon the board, and set u fourth
chair by ii. Ii wasa sudden fancy of hers
prompted, she hardly knew by what,
and when at that moment some one rap
ped at tho outer door, her foolish little
heart gave sudden leap that frightened
her.
''Have you invited guest p" the
father querried, AZ sho stepped TO the
door to give admittance.
She had no time for reply. Not paus-
Ing for bidding to come in, the visitor
raised the latch, and entered. Her heart
leaped again, and then stood STILL and
the daylight faded out of her sight for n
moment as Clyde Hammond folded her
In his arms.
~ gave up themyrtle leaf, my darling,
but clung TO life,n he whispered.
And as he told his story OF slow re-
turning to consciousness from the DEATH
swoon OH the battle field-of the weary
months In Southern hospitals-and of
the sickening longings for home-there
were tears In the eyes of parents and the
betrothed, and a Laus Dec In the heart
of each; willie tho thank-ofiering that
went up from the old hearth-stpne was
the frankineenso and mirth of souls that
had known bitter sorrow, but were now
filled with exceeding Joy.
A Magieian's Triek--Anderson not Dead
.-Elopsment Hut mo- Murder, no Suicide
and no Money.
The Meadvllle Republican says: On
Tuesday we reported the news of the
elopement of Professor Anderson's wife
with man named Norris, and the tele-
graphic statement that Anderson had
killed his child and committed suicide.
BY later advices 1t appears that Prof.
| Anderson Ia not the dead duckH that the
telegraph, made him out TO be. The
message was only ruse TO decoy the hap
| by "birdss into the hands of tho few
lerp and 1t did. The guilty ''twainr took
the back track, and at Middletown, Ohio.
behold the unfortunate husband who had
(by report) murdered his little child and
blown out his own brains, appeared be-