Daily Kennebec journal. [microfilm reel] (Augusta, Me.) 1870-1975, 1870-11-11
Tales aud Sketthes.
JOHN.
A HOSPITAL SKETCH.

One evening L found lately emptled
bed occupied by large fair man, with
fine face and the serenest eyes l ever met.
One of the earlier comers had often spok
en- of friend, who had remained be-
hind that those apparently worse wound
ed than himself might reach a shelter first
1t seemed David and Jonathan sort of a
a friendship. The man tretted for his
mate, and was never tired of praising
John-his courage, self-denial, sobriety,
and unfaling kindlness of heart always
winding up with "He's an out and out
fine teller, ma'am; you see if he amt" /
had some curiosity to behold this piece OF
excellence, and when he came, watched
him for u night or two before | made
friends with him; for to tell the truth
was little afraid of the stately looking
man, whose bed had to be heightened out
to accommodate his commanding stature
who seldom spoke, uttered no complaint,
asked no sympathy, but TRANQUILITY observ-
ed what went on about him; and as he
lay high upon his pillows, no picture of u
diving statesman or warrior was ever fuller
of real dignity than this Virginia black
smith. A most attractive face he had,
framed in brown hair and beard, comely
featured and full of vigor, as yet unsub-
dued by pain; thoughtful and often beau
tifully mild, while watching the afiiiction
ofothers, as ifentirely forgetful of his own.
His mouth was grave and firm, with plenty
of will and courage in its lines, but a
smile could make it as sweet as any wom-
ans and his eyes were childs eyes, look
ing one fairly in the face, with a clear
straightforward glance, which promised
well for such as placed their faith in him.
He seemed to cling to life, as if it We're
rich in duties and delights, and he had
learned the secret of content. The only
time | saw his composure disturbed was
when my surgeon brought another to ex-
anime John, who scrutinized their faces
with anxious looks, asking the elder, "Do
you think l shall pull through, sir?' 81
hope SO, my man." And, as the two pass
ed on, Johns eyes still followed them,
with an intentness which would have won
truer answer from them had they seen it.
A momentary shadow fitted over his face
then came the usual serenity, as if in that
brief eclipse he had acknowledged the ex-
istence of some hard possibility, and, ask
ing nothing yet hoping all things, left the
issue in Gods hands, with that submission
which is true piety.
The neXtday as | went my rounds with
DR.. p, happened to ask which man in
the room probably suffered the most; and
to my great surprise, he glanced at John.
Every breath he draws is like stab !;
for the ball pierced the left lung, broke a
rib, and did no end of damage here and
there: so that the poor lad can find neither
forgetfulness nor ease, for he must lie on
his wounded back or sutfocate. 1t will be
hard struggle and long one, for he
possesses great vitality; but even his tenn
perate life cannot save him; | wish it
could"
"You don't mean he must die, doctor?'
"Bless you, there is not the slightest
hope for him, and you'd better tell him so
before long; women have Il way of doing
such things comfortably, so | leave it to
you. He won't last more than day or
two at the farthest"
| could have sat down on the spot and
cried heartily, if | had not learned the
wisdom of bottling up ones tears for lei
sure moments. Such an end seemed very
hard for such man, WREN half dozen
worn out, worthless bodies were gather
ing up the remnants OF wasted lives, to
linger on for years, perhaps, burdens to
others, daily reproaches to themselves.
The army needed men like John,-ear-
nest, brave and faithful; fighting for lib
| erty and justice with both heart and hand,
| true soldiers of the Lord.
After that night, an hour Of each even
ing that remained to him was devoted to
his ease OF pleasure He could not talk
much, for breath was precious, and he
spoke in whispers; but, from occasional
! conversations, | CLEANED scraps of private
| birfArv hi.l, pltra aIlnI ~ tho
and affection felt for him. Once he ask
pen and paper, said, with an irrepres-
sible glimmer offeminine curiosity. "Shall
| it be addressed to wife or mother, John n'
"Neither, ma'am; I've got no wife, and
will write to mother myself when get bet
ter .Did you think was married because
of this ?" he asked, touching plain ring
that he wore, and often turned thoughtful.
| ly on his finger, when he lay alone.
Partly that, but more from settled
sort of look you have, look which
young men seldom get until they marry.
Il didn't know that; but I'm not so very
young, ma'am, thirty in May, and have
been what you might call settled this ten
years. Mothers IA widow, I'm the oldest
child she has, and it wouldn't do for
me 10 marry untll LizZlc mas II honle Vi
her own. and Jacks learned his trade foi
we're not rich, and must be father to the
children, and husband TO the dear old wo-
man, if | can"
mo doubt you are both, John; yet how
came you to go to the war, if you felt so?
Wasn't enlisting as bad as marryingP"
"No, ma'am, not as | see it, for one is
helping my neighbor, the other pleasing
myself. / went because couldn't help it
didn't want the glory or the pay; | want
ed the right thing done, and people KEEP
saying the men who were in earnest ough
to fight. | was in earnest the Lord knows
but | held off as long as | could, not know
ing which was my duty. Mother saw thu
case gave me her ring to keep me steady
and said, Cor so WENT
A short story and simple one, but th
man and the mother were portrayed bette
than pages of fine writing could have dom
it,
"Do you ever regret that you came
when you lie here suffering so much ?n
"Never, ma'am; | haven't helped
great deal, but I've shown | was willin
to give my life, and perhaps I've got to, ,br