Ashtabula weekly telegraph. (Ashtabula, Ohio) 1880-1886, 1880-05-21
TIE DEAR DEAD FACE.

4
those which we have lately had upon
our own hands, but that which few
years ago ragged so long, so iiercely, |
between the Northern and the Southern |
States of America. II was my fortune |
to serve on the medical staff with |
portion of the Northern army during |
most of that terrible struggle; and it is
needless to say that many personal in
cidents came under my notice, which |
will never leave my memory. Not one |
of them, however, made so painful an
impression upon me as that which l am
about to describe.
Toward noon on the day after one of |
the fiercest fights of all the war, young |
soldier was brought in from the battle !
field, where by some mischance he had |
been overlooked and abandoned, while |
comrades of his, far less grievously
wounded than he, had been sheltered
and tended before nightfall. The poor
fellow had lain all night and during the
long scorching hours of the morning,
amid heaps of dead, both men and
horses, suffering from the loss of an arm,
and other wounds. An army surgeon is
not as a rule a man prone to undue sem
timent or to feminine softness at the
sight of physical suffering; and l am
not conscious of any weakness that
makes me an exception in this particu-
lar. There was, however, in this
youths expression of countenance some
thing which struck me irresistibly,
and with the strong glare of
his large, bright eye, fixed my
attention and awakened my eager in
terest He was a slender youth, tall,
vet gracefully made, witha head which,
as the novelists phrase it, would bring
ecstacy to the soul of a sculptor; and
every feature nodded to the true type of
manly beauty. A single glance gave
me this summary outline of my patient
before l had time to ascertain the ma
ture or extent of his injuries. A very
brief examination soon told me that the
life which for hours had been ebbing so
painfully away was well nigh spent, and
he must have read the awful truth in
my face, for he whispered to me family
and sadly, as | rose:
&C Is there, then, no hope?"
Alas! there was no hope; but l had
not speech to tell him so; for something
was rising in my throat and choking
me, and a moisture in my eyes was
binding me; and the only reply could
give him was shake of my head. The
brave spirit which had nerved him
through the fight had kept him up till
now; but now, when the dismal truth
had broken upon him, there passed over
his pallid face look of mingled disap-
pointment and resignation which it was
painful beyond expression to witness. l
lost no time in giving him such surgical
aid as his desperate condition called for
and his waning strength could bear. l
had hardly done so when an unexpected
voice addressed him:
"My own dear boy! my brave, heroic
boy!"
The tone was of CHEEKY encourage
ment, yet feebly Disgusting the woe of a
breaking hearts for it was his mothers $
voice that spoke, and her lips that kissed
back his disordered and blood-stained
locks, assembling with evident effort
the mothers anguish, lest she should
add another sorrow to the pangs OF his
dying hour.
"My mother!" he cried with almost
frantic delight. "Isit you, my motherP
How came you hereP Is it you, or am
dreamingP" and as he spoke he threw
his only remaining arm around her neck
and kissed her with all the rapture Of a
child. "Thank Godl" he continued,
in snatches, as his failing strength al,
lowed him" THANK God for this blessed
Joy, that see your face once more, my
mother, All last night, as lay amid
the dreadful sights around me, prayed
the prayer in all my pain, and only one
1 prayed that l might look once more
upon your face, my sweetest mother
once more hear your voice. Iseemed tc
pray in vain, yet still prayed"
'My poor, poor boy" she said "s
curse upon the hand that has brought
you to this1" and her tears at length
broke from her control.
To the amazement of all, there ap
peared 10 be something in this eXclama
ton of his mother that stimulated the
dying youth to final effort of speech
and motion. He half raised himsel
from his bed, and with that unaccount
able energy which sometimes marks tht
closing moments of life, he said:
"No, no! don't say that. Don't sa,
accurst. You know not the words yol
are speaking. Obi" he cried after
moments pause, " how shall 1 tell he
the horrible taleP How can 1 smite he
down with such blow, at such a
hourPn and be fell back exhausted upo
his pillow. The effort has been to
much for him, and for some moment
we doubted if the spirit had not fled.
was only a passing weakness, however
and before long he rallied again. Agai
he spoke, but with a kind of dream
half consciousness, at one moment gai
ing into his mothers eyes, at anothe
seemingly forgetful of her presence.
"Truly it was a bloody field, I" he sale
"I had been in several hard-fougf
fights before, but they were all chi
dren's pastime compared with that {
Yesterday. No sooner had we come /
sight of the enemy than the ringin
voice of the General was heard:
"'At them, my boys, and do you
dutyl'
"What happened after that, l kno
not. Know not, do l sayg Oh, woul
it were true that knew not Begrime
with dust, each man was confronte
with his own individual foe, and if thel
be fighting among fiends, then sure
did our fighting resemble theirs. wi
myself wounded when fair-haired ma
bore down upon me from the opposln
line, if line it could then be called, an
received his headlong onset with te
rife bayonet thrust, and as he fell
thought Of Cain, and of that deed whiC
has made the name of Cain a name
malediction forever. know not VIII