The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1875-07-20

demned man. Having looked at him at
tentlvely for some moments, he touched
him gently upon the arm. lie Preu1
opened his eyes.
"Has the time come~ he inquired
rising.
"No, Jules, the hour has not come; bu
IL VIII soon strike"' was the reply.
w nat, then, do you desire," said
"You do not know me. nv friend /,
continued the stranger, disregarding the
prisoners words. 81 saw you at the
battle of Austerlitz, where you fought
bravely, and won the Cross OF Honor
since the memorable 9th of November
nave entertained for you sincere esteem
In the army you have been held as q
dutiful soldier. On entering Strasbourg
heard OF your crime and condemna.
tion. The jailer OF the prison being a
relation OF mine, was able to obtain
this Interview. Those about to die often
regret that there is not some friend near
to whom they can confde their last
wishes. VIA can do for youp
"Thanks, comrade. / have made nv
peace, and have no wish," LIE Preux
said briefly.
Have you nothing to sayw
"Not even a farewell word to some
young heart yearning for your return
no message to a sister?"
mo one watches for my return.
nave not any slster--l neyen.had one.,
"A fatherW
"He has been dead for years."
"And your mother" The stranoer
pressed each question earnestly.
"My motherp reiterated jules how
ing his face upon his hand. the tone of
his voice deepening. "Mother. motheriu
he said. tearfully. "Ohi do not even ut.
ter her name," he Continued. fixing his
eyes upon the man. "She is dead. l
have only one hour or two of life: then
we will meet, and before her must lay a
tarnished record" As he spoke his
strong frame shook with suppressed
emotion.
'Do you remember your mother?p LIE
Preux questioned. after moment of ST.
lence.
"Yes, loved her, and was in return
beloved" was the quiet response.
"Then l can open my heart to you. 1t
is a comfort in this hour to pour out nv
soul. Will You listenf"
81 am listening, said Jules, with deep
sympathy and interest,""
81 was the only son of widow: NV
native village was called Folk. can
only remember my father; he died many
y ears ago, but can still recall the pres
sure OF his hand upon my head, as it
rested there in his last blessing. grew
to manhood with but one affection, and
that centered upon my mother. was
her sole companion; her life was one of
to the poor who received
her only visits. To the gentle teacaing
of that mother owe my little store OF
knowledge. From early youth she had
sought to instil into my mind lofty
sense OF duty. was called to serve n,y
flag. Filled with despair at the thought
Of leaving her, protested; in my hour
of weakness she strengthened and en-.
me. She bade me 20 for her
sake. With tender smile upon her
white lips, she blessed me, telling me
that my country claimed a higher duty
OF me than my holy duty TO herself, ad-
ding IL was the will of God. 'Should
you die before me, my son, will still
have strength to say, Father, into thy
hands [ commend his spirit. eGo, and as
you love me, be faithful to your duty
These were her last words, and
| departed. We had returned
from Spain, flushed with the
glory of conquest. l endeavored 10 OBJ.
tain leave, but, owing to the dete nina
tion OF the Emperor to Invade Germany,
l was obliged to abandon the thought. /
followed my regiment to Strasbourg.
One morning received letter from nv
beloved mother, telling me she was iii.
A great longing possessed me to see her.
/ requested leave, but it was refused. L
her last words, AS you love
me, be faithful to your duty, resigned
ole
a letter from the curate of the parish
reached me. 1t told briefly that my
mother was dying-there was no hope.
My reason torsoOk me. At AL isks de.
teimined To return home. The yeasning
10 at least pray beside her grave, if l
might not look upon her dear face, tor
tured me day and night. Like many oil
the simple peasants of our mountain viii
age, l am imbued with a supers titious
beliel--a belief that has strengthened
with my years, and which / have cher.
ished, and which no argument could de-
stroy. This superstition taught me to be-
lieye that the first flower which
blooms above the grave of a loved
one possesses peculiar charm;
the one who gathers and retains
It is never forgotten by the dead.
1t was a sacred and comforting thought.
With this belief in my heart, death
seemed robbed OF half its sting, and be-
comes only a sweet sleep, like rest after
fatigue. This flower l desired to see
bloom that might gather it, and with it
the blessed assistance of immortal re-
The night the troops left
l fled. Alter weary Jour-
aey of ten days l reached Folk to lind,
alas, only a grave. She had died bless
ing me. The earth was still fresh and
solt beneath the green sod, but no flower
had made its appearance. l waited;
weeks passed. AT length rose.atdawn
one morning and Wended my way to The
little churcny ard. The sky was covered
with fleecy clouds, and the sun rose. in
golden glory as knelt beside the grave.
There, midst the green grass, ]. saw a
fower; its tiny leaves were open,
and on its blue bosom rested soft
Iy, like a sweet promise, a ray
Df the morning sunlight. 1t was
the little blossom we call Forget me.
not My mothers soul seemed to look
inle my eyes pleadingly, Willie whisper
ing remember me, Jules, remember me-
Beieving myself truly in ths sacred
presence of The dead. l gathered my
treasure in silence, and, with tears OF
gratitude and hope rose to depart. Moth
ing now detained me at Folk, and the
W ords AS you love me, be faithful to
your duty,' l seemed to hear at every
urn; the very air was filled With the
sound. That duty bade me deliver my