The evening telegraph. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1864-1918, 1871-06-05

1haO nao not once gwen nlm-Iuy bAooeo0o
friend-a thought sinceI carried him of the
field the day before But war and suffering
make men selfish. / would go in now as
any rate, and rest awhile, and sec If / could
be of use. The little garden before the
house was as trim as ever-I used to
pass it every day on my way to the train, and
knew every shrub in it-and blaze Of .
flowers, but the hall door stood ajar.
stepped in and saw little Arthur standing in
the hall. He had been dressed as neatly as
ever that day, and as he stood there is his
pretty blue froek and white trousers and
socks, showing his chubby little legs, with his
golden locks, fair face, and large dark eyes,
the picture of childish beauty in the quiet
hall, lust as it used to look-the vases Of
flowers, the hat and coats hanging up, the
familiar pictures on the walls-this vision of
peace in the midst of war made me wonder
for moment, faint and giddy as 1 was, if the
pandemonium outside had any real existence,
and was not merely hideous dream. But
the roar of the guns making the house shake,
and the rushing Of the shot, gave ready
ansyer. The little fellow appeared al
most unconscious of the scene
around him, and was walking up the stairs
holding by the railing, one step at time, as
/ had seen him do hundred times before,
but turned round as came in. My appear
ance frightened him, and staggering as did
into the hall, my face and clothes covered
with blood and dirt, must have looked an
awful object to the child, for he gave q cry
and turned to run toward the basement stairs.
But he stopped on hearing my voice calling
him back to his god-papa, and after a while
came timidly up to me. Papa had been to
the battle, he said, and was very i'll; mamma
was with papa; Wood was OUT Lucy was in
the cellar and had taken him there, but he
wanted to 60 to mamma. Telling him to stay
in the hall for a minute till called him, I
climbed up stairs and opened the bedroom
door. My poor friend lay there, his body
resting on the bed, his head supported on his
wife's shoulder as she sat by the bedside.
He breathed heavily, but the pallor Of his
face, the closed eyes, the prostrate arms, the
clammy foam she was wipirg from his mouth,
all spoke of approaching death. The good
cid servant had done his duty, at least-he
had brought his master home to die in his
wifes arms. The poor woman was too intent
on her charge to notice the opening of the
door, and as the child would be better away,
closed it gently and went down to the hall
to take little Arthur to the shelter below,
where the maid was hiding. Too late! 1fHe
lay at the foot of the stairs on his face, his
little arms stretched out, his hair dabbled in
blood. had not noticed the crash among
the other noises, but splinter of shell must
have come through the open doorway; it had
carried away the back of his head. The poor
child's death must have been instantaneous.
tried to lift up the little corpse with my one
arm, but even this load was too much for me,
and while STOPPING down tainted away.
When l came to my senses again it was
quite dark, and for some time I could not
make out where was; lay indeed for some
time like one half asleep, feeling no inclina-
tion to move. BY degrees I became aware
that was on the carpeted floor of room.
All noise of battle had ceased but there was
q sound as of many people close by. At last
sat up and gradually got to my feet. The
movement gave me intense pain, for my
wounds were now highly infamed, and my
clothes sticking to them made them dreRdfully
sore. At last I got up and groped my way
to the door, and opening it at once saw
where was, for the pain had brought back
my senses. / had been lying in Travers'
little writing-room at the end of the pas
sage, into which made my way. There
was no gas, and the drawing-room door was
closed; but from the open dining-room the
glimmer of candle feebly lighted up the
hall, in which half -a-dozen sleeping figures
could be discerned, while the room itself
was crowned with men. The table was COW
cred with plates, glasses, and bottles; but
most of the men were asleep in the chairs
or on the floor, q few were smoking cigars
and one or two with their helmets on were
still engaged at supper, occasionally grunt-
ing out an observation between the mouth
| fuls onti1 1aeL
''Sind wackere Soldaten, diese Englischen
Freiwilligsn, said broad d-shouIdered brute,
| stuffng great hunch of beef into his mouth
with silver fork, an implement should
think he must have been using for the first
time in his life. sas 10
''Ja, ja" replied a comrade, who was
| lolling back in his chair with pair of very
dirty legs on the table, and one of poor Ira
yers' best cigars in his mouth; ''Sie so gut
| laufen konnen."
''Ja wohl," responded the first speaker;
''aber sind NIGHT eben SO schnell vie die
Franzossischen Mobloten."
"Gewiss, grunted hulking lout from the
floor, leaning on his elbow, and sending out
cloud of smoke from his ugly jaws, ''und da
sind hier etwa CUTE Schatzen.
''Hast recht, lange Peter, answered num-
Der one ''wenn die Schurken so gut exer-
| ciren vie schutzen konnten, so warren wir
heute nicht bier"
'Rechtl recht" said the second; "das exsr
ciren macht den guten Soldaten."
What more criticisms on the shortcomings
of our unfortunate volunteers might have
passed / did not stop to hear, being inter-
ruptsd by sound on the stairs. Mrs.
Travers was standing on the landing place;
limped up the stairs to meet her. Among
the many pictures of those fatal days en-
craven on my memory, l remember none
more clearly than the mournful aspect of my
poor friend, widowed and motherless within
q few moments, as she stood there in her
white dress, coming forth like ghost from
the chamber of the dead the candle she held
lighting up her face and contrasting it's palIor
with the dark hair that fell disordered around
it, its beauty radiant even through features
worn with fatigue and sorrow. She was calm