The weekly clarion. [volume] (Jackson, Miss.) 1863-1882, 1871-12-14
Missouri Enoch Arden.


The Cincinnati Enquirer publishes
this:
A one-armed horseman recently tray
cling through Missouri stopped at a
blacksmith's shop to have his horse shod.
The smith noticed the empty sleeve, and
asked him if he lost his arm IN the war.
He replied. with sigh, that he did, and
even more, going on to relate how he
left home to enlist in the Southern army,
and at the close of the war, in going back,
he found that his wife, whothought him
dead, had moved away, and he had since
been unable to obtain a trace of her.
"What is your name?" asked the black
smith. When the answer was, 81. NJ.
Waldrup," he suddenly released the
hoof over which he had been bending,
and, without looking at the ex-soldier,
cried: ''Follow me into the house," and
hurriedly led the way. Amazed as he
was at such conduct, Waldrup mechani-
cally obeyed the unexpected bidding,
and before he could pause to think, was
in the presence Of a comedy matron about
whose sewing chair three happy children
were playing. She was the blacksmith's
wife, the mother of his little ones; yet
as she rose to see whom the smith had
brought in, and caught sight of the stran-
gers face, one wild shrek proclaimed
the instantaneous recognition, and she
tainted In the belief chat Walrup was
dead, she had married the blacksmith of
Cedar City in the very year of the sol
dier's parole, and could now only confess
her dread mistake, and call alternately
on her husband and her God for pardon.
After the first agitation of the singu-
lar e-union had partially subsidized, the
two men returned to the smithy and
talked the matter over as sensibly and
coolly as their respective feelings per-
mitted. Devotedly as he loved the wo-
man, the blacksmith admitted the others
stronger right to her and generously con-
scented that she herself should decide be-
tween them. After a long passion of
tears and self-reproach, she elected to 90
with him whom she first loved; but de-
clared with bitter lamentations, that she
could not leave her children. The smith
raising his head from his breast, on which
it had dropped in the first dependency
of his affection eyed her wistfully for
moment, and then said, "You shall take
them, my dear" When the steamboat
st. Luke stopped at the landing some
hours later, Waldrup went on board,
with his still weeping and thickly yelled
wife, and the blacksmith followed with
the children. The BOATS bell rang for
the starting, and the dread separation
was at hand. The crew, the passengers,
the captain--all who witnessed it-were
affected to tears by the touching scene.
With great drops rolling down his
tawny checks, the smith kissed the chill
dren one after another, and in choking
voice babe their mother an eternal good
bye. The two men gazed. wistfully at
each others faces, shook hands long and
earnestly, and then the blacksmith, by
a strong effort of iron will, released the
hand of Waldrup, and walked quietly to
the shore. He never turned his face
again toward the boat, which soon passed
out of sight around merciful bend in
the river, but strobe on, with head down,
to the home whittier the voice of his wife
and children should welcome him no
more