Daily globe. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1878-1884, 1880-04-25
A Tragedy that Became a Romance.

-
Walking Slowly along the shady paths
Of Central Park in this city, may be seen
almost any fine Sunday remarkable
couple.
They are mother and son. she Is
sweet faced and past the meridian OF
life; her hair is silver white. He is
young, spirited, and energy glows in
every feature, IN striking contrast TO the
abundant, snow-white hair that waves
over his brow, ike crested willows above
an active sea.
An ordinary observer can readily see
that the species of devotion existing be-
tween these two is almost paramount to
worship. They idolize each other, as
mother and son never loved each other
before. She feels that she has recovered
her only child, by God gwen instinct,
from a night more lamentable than nom
existence.
The father, wholc-souled Southern
er, threw all Of his wealth into the chan
mel that flowed from Southern hands and
hearts to sustain their acts and pTinci-
pies, and when his life blood also ebbed
with the crimson tide of thousands, the
mother clasped her sixteen year-old boy
to her heart and whispered, Il still have
you; and remember, my boy, and be
guided through life by the recollection
you are the son Cfa hero"
The proud boy lifted his head and re-
piled, another, the son Of a hero, and of
such a noble mother, is no longer child;
he shall prove to his country the nature
of his blood =
That night the boy was not there to
join their solitary devotions, but in her
hand she held slip of paper, and her
agonlzed prayer formed only four words
-"God spare my boyP
Fired with boyish ambition he had
gone to shoulder musket to fight, and,
if need be, to die also, like hero.
For year that one cry went up into
heaven, God spare my boy" Then the
desolating war ended-her boy came
back no more. No one had seen him
The regiment his father headed before
he fell was the one she imagined her son
might have joined. He had not been
heard of, the few remaining soldiers said
his name neither appeared among the
captured, missing, or dead But thou
sands OF others passed into oblivion thus
in the fearful slaughter, and left only q
name IN the hearts of the mourning few.
The widow applied to the government
for news; the hospitals and prisons were
searched, the death records scanned with
the eager, fearless eyes that searched
also every face in tattered uniform. Every
cripple in blue or gray received her
blessing for her boy s sake, that it might
rebound upon him living or dead. Thus
thirteen years passed, and IN charitable
actions the lonely widow hushed her
hearts yearning and at last became re
signed to "bide the little time that sep
arated her from those gone before" as
thousands of other widowed m,StheTs
were doing.
One day ahe joined party of friends
in visiting & State insane asylum. There
were a few "harmlesS" patients sitting
in the garden One white haired man
sat leaning against a tree alOne.
Instinct, or whatever science or
physiology may call it, led the
lady to his side. She peered into the
face beneath the silvery hair. The nexT
instant she lay upon her knees before
him, those longing arms lightly clasped
about his neck.
"Dear God, thou dldst spare my bOy?
her friends heard her cry. And the long
agony of heart burst its dried fountain
and the shock of lannon's thunder that
had shlled the boys intellect was also
broken, perhaps by that fervent prayer,
and his recognizing eyes awakened to
sense again in his mothers arms.
The boy had been captured among the
dead and dying on the battle field, not
hurt bat crazed with the fearful scene
HIS name and purpose was blank TO
HIM, and the government had placed him
in an asylum. That is the history of
those two white-haired people in the
park.-N. Y MercurV.