Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1879-03-20

.o1nt0 hHttt ttto iatf
agaia.
The spring wore away !; summer
came, ana the thunders Of battle
rocked the old farm house 10 its very
center; but the rose tree did not wilt.
Though the air was hot and suIphu
rous, it shot up young tendrils, and
burst into fragrant bloom; and Alice
said to herself continually. sHe will
| live-he will come back again to US.
i A cold and cruel winter-another
/ spring--the harvest tramplad down
before it ripened the beautiful hill.
country made desolate by the ravages
OF war still the rose tree bloomed
and grew, and Alice's heart was full
OF hope. But when tire summer
passed, and the fall came, and the
scanty harvests were gathered in
and one by one the fathers and hus.
bands, left at home, were conscripted
into the Southern army, leaving weep
ing wives and children in comforiless
homes, a change seemed to fall upon
the land the sun wore murky glow
the sky seemed brass, and God too
far off to hear. 90
j But in those Gays of desolation, the
rose tree dropped and willed, and as
winter came on, all life seemed to 90
out from branch and root, and Alice's
hope failed. No letters reached them
from Archer, and they heard rumors
of terrible disasters daily Detailing
the Union forces.
lie is gone, Alice--we shall never
see him again. said the poor mother !;
and Alice found no words to disprove
what she said. SO
The winter was dreadful. Scanty
offood and fuel, the two mourners sat
by their lonely hearth, with an un
spoken sorrow in their white faces
that awed even the fierce guerrillas
that prowled about the old farm house,
into something like pity and respect.
But there is nothing in this world of
ours that does not, sooner or later,
come to an end. The wheels of time
mey seem slow, but they are sure
The lonely winter dragged itself
away, and spring came--'a snow-drop
in her hand, a solitary lark above her
head The blue sky smiled down,
and the sweet sunlight fell in genial
beams. and the gentle rain descended
on fields blackened and blasted by
the ravages Of war, bringing up the
tender grass and meek eyed violets
over the nameless graves of the fallen
brave. In the garden, at the old farm
house, the pinks came up and opened
their odorous petals, and the holly
hook buds swelled almost to bursting;
the old fashioned roses budded, and
the lilacs tossed their purple piumes
through the low windows, as in days
gone by.
Alice felt strange balm dropping
into her heart, and day by day she
watched the little wilted rose tree, as
one might watch dear face on the
verge of eternity. And at last--at last
her hopeful faith was rewarded, for
on the topmost branch tiny green
shoot appeared.
ooh, mother, mothern she cried,
running in, She isn't dead he'll come
back to us again-the rose tree is
alive
But the poor mother turned despair.
ingly from the happy face zrf-ishook
her head. Age is less hopeful than
youth. No, no, he'll never come back
again, she said. 4.,
But the spring advanced, and the
little shoot grew, and one after an.
other new shoots came outy and by
summer tide the rose tree was in bios.
som, weighed down with fragrant,
crimson flowers. Still no tidings came
from Archer but Alice hoped and
waited. In the meantiue, Lees
forces retreated before Grap,;an the
old flag waved again over THAT por-
ton of poor, desolate, mistakes Vir-
ginia. ~-4..-
An evening came, in the eloadIess
glory of regal June. Mrs. Bradford
sat upon the door-sill, swaynfg back
and forth, and murmuring to herself
in a dazed, melancholy way; Alice
sat on tie soft grass close by the
blooming rose tree. The same whip
poor-will piped on the old grindstone;
the same stars glittered overhead
but where was he? Heaped up amid
the nameless dead on some distant
battle ground-languishing in some
far off hospital--yearning for home
and friends. Her blae eyes grew dim
with a mist of tears, and her brave
heart sick with deferred hope. But a
gentle wind stirred the branches of
the rose tree, surrounding her with a
cloud OF delicious perfume, and a. the
same instant the old, red gate swung
sharply on its hinges. Some one was
coming down the little foot path a
soldier, with blue, armless sleeve
dangling at his right side. Such Wis
itors, finding their way back to Wash.
ington, and so home, after the terri
BILE battle in the Wilderness, often
dropped in at the old farm house now.
Alice rose up and placed chair be.
meath the little woodbine arbor.
wont you sit down and have a
drink, sir 2 she said, sweetly, as he
came up. -~
| lie sat down, while Aliea-aarted off
to the kitchen to get the drink.
Bring some cider, Alice said the
old woman, wiping her eyes. / like
to give 'em the best my own poor
boy was soldier
| Alice brought the cider, clear and
racy, lump of ice tinkling inrthe bot
tom of the goblet. The soldier took
it, raised it to his lips, heard the ice
tinkling with cool, refreshing sound,
as he had heard it hundreds of times
in his boyhood. His hand trembled-
| gave way-it fell, and he sprang to
his feet with passionate cry.
| Mother, Alice--don't you know me?'
| Did they know himg Let their
| happy tears, their tender embraces
answer. Clasped in their arms, he,
| the strong man, the soldier, bronzed
| by the smoke Of half score of bat
ties, so5bed like little child. But
after while they grew quiet, end
Archer sat down beside his mother on
the door sill, with fresh goblet OF
cider in his hand while Alice, with a
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