The Middlebury register. [volume] (Middlebury, Vt.) 1850-1882, 1878-01-25

the balm OF thy love into her bleeding
wounds. Not for him whom thou hast
, called to enter into his reward do we
weep, but for loved ones whom in lone.
illness he has left behind. oh, help on,
thoughts to turn TO him in that spiritual
body which cannot die, radiant with
immortal life in thy kingdom. Helr
us to realize that he is not lost, but
gone before, and that in little while,
we, too, shall cross the dark river to be
with him in thy presence forevermore. .
A low cry interrupted the prayer.
My mother sprang forward just in time
to catch Aunt Sarahs reeling form, and
for time she found relief in blessed
Inconsistencies.
Poor old gran'mammy caught Sam in
her arms in passion of tenderness.
!, "Oh, my boy, thank de Lord you is
too little to be soldier! for war is
cruel an hard, an dars no right in any
tit. It's all bitter, black wrong-dat's
what it isl"
And | echoed her words, as | threw
down the flowers that all this time |
had held unconsciously in my hands.
Later in the day, my mother was
obliged TO leave Aunt Sarah's room,
and took her place. tried to think
of some words of comfort for the poor
stricken mother, who lay on the bed,
moaning feebly; but none came to me.
l could only throw myself on the floor
and cry silently.
AT last she raised herself and looked
about in bewildered way. sprang
to her side.
Kate" said she, "in my work box
his last letter."
gave her the letter, and she began
to read it aloud, making strange, pitiful
comments between the sentences.
Darling little mother, he always
would call me that,-he is so big and
strong,-my brave boy,-as tall as his
father when he was fourteen years old
keep up your heart, for Pm getting
along first-rate.'"
"Keep up my heart? Why so will.
God is merciful. My home is gone, my
other boy living sorrow, my husband
dead of course God must leave Allan
to my old age"
"'Your last letter was a great COM
fort. The boys think there was never
such mother as mine. We are thriv-
ing on parched corn and hard-tack, -
not very dainty fare, but we have n
good sauce to go with it, My big toe
is out of my left boot; but our colonel
is in the same fix, and some of the poor
fellows are regularly barefooted. /
write long letter now, as we are on
the eve of a battle
"Ies, yes, ycsw cried the poor moth
er, with heart-rending Shrek "That
is what I was trying to remember On
the eve of battlc And he was killed
killed. killed! My boy, my only hope
in life! No friend to close his eyes! A
bullet tearing through his flesh. Oh.
my God! | cannot, cannot bear it,"
In such wailing the afternoon wore
away; but toward evening she became
more calm.
"Itead to me, Kate" she said, faint
ly; perhaps in His word l may find
peace"
opened my little bible and read the
holy words of comfort that 10 repeti-
ton can rob of their healing power.
Her sobs grew gentler, and her poor,
stricken heart seemed to open TO the
balm of the Redecmer's promises.
Night brought her sleep; but the
next dry the great black wave of sor-
row rolled back upon her, and she sank
beneath it. 1t was sad, sad day.
l wandered about the house like one
who sorrowed without hope. | had
read the blessed words, "TIeaviness en-
durcth for night, but JOY cometh in the
morning" How little did dream that
before the setting of the sun they were
to be literally fulfilled.
In the afternoon l was walking in the
front yard, idly plucking a flower here
and there, thinking what mockery
seemed the bright sunshine and the
twittering of bird near by.
| There was hawthorn hedge around
the place, and looking through the in
| terstices, i saw soldier i'm gray com
ing towards our gate.
The sun was in my eyes, and the first
thing l noticed about him was that he
was extremely ragged. Then / saw
that he had long, tawny beard, the
like of which had never seen before.
As he drew nearer, his face seemed
familiar; those honest blue eyes--what
| did my eyes deceive me e?-could il be?
but the next moment all doubt was at
rest, as he fairly lifted me off my feet
and caught me to him, exclaiming:
"Why, my little coz, how yon have
grownl"
| 1t was the old familiar voice of Allan
Edmandson. have always been proud
that l neither screamed nor tainted;
but clung to him with such white,
frightened face that he became alarmed.
"My mother-is she wellT he ex-
claimed.
"Yes, yes,", gasped; "but we heard
you were killed"
~ was left for dead on the field"
said he, gravely; "but Northern SOL
dier picked me up and saved my life,
though his comrades insisted that | was
dead, and should be left where | had
fallen. | was sent TO the hospital, ex-
changed rs soon as / was well. got a
furlough from my colonel, and here
am only needing little petting to set
Inc up again"
Knowing that Aunt Sarah must not
be told too hastily, left Allan in the
sitting room, with the injunction not TO
stir until my return, and ran up to her
room. But had no idea of the diff
Guilty of the task | had undertaken. |
blundered at II with the calm conf
dence of my years.
"See what beautiful flowers, Aunt
Sarah," said /, in lively tone.
She was sitting by the fire, in an atti-
tude of utter detection. She took no
notice either of me or the flowers.
go dear' thought /; "what can
say next?"
81 read such funny story to-day"
| remarked; "it was about man
whom every body thought dead for
more than twenty years, when all of a
sudden up he came, alive and WE'LL"
No reply; so planted myself where
Aunt Sarah couldn't help looking at
me, and seeing that my face was as
bright and rosy as the flowers | held,
she said:
"How soon-how soon the young
iorgetl' And she shook her head
drearily.
30, no, they don'tw cried; "but,
Aunt Sarah, didn't you once tell me
that truth Is stranger than flction?'
What do you mean. child?"