Louisiana capitolian. (Baton Rouge, La.) 1879-1881, 1880-05-01
The Dear Dead Face.

l. AAO DVaSA DVSVu Il lVOOs
The war / refer to was not one of
those which we have lately had upon
our own hands, but that which few
years ago ragged so long, so fercely,
between the Northern and Southern
States of America. 1t was my for
tune to serve on the medical staff with
a portion of the Northern army during
most Of that terrible struggle; and it
is needless to say that many personal
incidents 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 am about to describe.
Toward noon on the day after one
of the fiercest fights of all the war, a
young soldier was brought in from the
battlefield, where by some mischance
he had been overlooked and aban-
doned, while comrades of his far less
grievously wounded than he had been
sheltered and tended before nightfall.
The poor fellow had lain all ight and
during the longscorching 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 q rule a man
prone to undue sentiment or to fcmi-
nine softness at the sight of physical
suffering; and | am not conscious of
any weakness that makes me an ex-
ception in this particular. There, was,
however, in this youths expression of
countenance something which struck
me irresistibly, and with the strong
glance OF his large, bright eye, fixed
my attention and awakened my eager
interest. He was a slender youth, tall,
yet gracefully made, with a head
which, as the novelists phrase it.,
would bring ecstacy to tile soul of u
sculptor; and every feature nodded to
the true type of manly beauty. A
single glance gave me this summary
outline of my patient before had
time to ascertain the nature or extent
of his injuries. A very brief examin-
alton soon told me that the life which
for hours had been ebbing so painful
ly away was well-nigh spent; and he
must have read the awful truth in my
tace, for he whispered to me family
and sadly, as l rose:
els there, then, no hope ?"
Alas! there was no hope; but had
not speech to tell him so, for some
thing was rising in my throat and
choking me, aud moisture in my
eyes was binding me, and the only
reply l 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 truth had broken upon him, there
spread over his pallid face look Of
mingled disappointment and resigna-
ton which it was painful beyond ex-
preston to witness. | 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 50 when an unexpected
voice addressed him:
any own dear boy! my brave, he
rolc boy!'
The tone was of CHEEKY encourage
ment, yet feebly Disgusting the woe
of a breaking heart; for it was his
mothers voice that spoke, and her
lips that kissed his fevered brow.
Gently she turned back his disordered
and blood stained locks, assembling
with evident effort the mothers
anguish, lest she should add another
sorrow to his dying hour.
"My mother!" he cried, with almost
frantic delight. lis it you my mother?
How came you here? Is it or am l
dreaming 2" and as he spoke he threw
his only remaining arm round her neck
and kissed her with all the rapture of
child. "Thank God" he continued
in snatches, as his failing strength
allowed him. thank God for this
blessed joy, that | see your face once
more, my mother. All last night, as
| lay amid the dreadful sight around
me, l prayed one prayer in all my
pain, and only one. prayed that l
might look once more upon your face,
my sweetest mother, once more hear
your voice. [ seemed to pray in vain,
yet still prayed"
any poor, poor boy" she said; "a
curse upon the land that has brought
you to this !" and her tears at length
broke from her control.
70 the amazement of all, there APP
peared to be something in this excla-
nation of his mother that stimulated
the dying youth to final effort of
speech and motion. He half raised
himself from his bed, and with that
unacoountable energy which some
times marks the closing moments of
life, he said:
ooh, no, don't say accursed. You
know not the words you are speaking.
Oh ~ he cried, after moments pause,
Chow shall l tell her the horrible tale7
How can l smite her down with such
a blow at such an hour 2" and be fell
back exhausted upon bis pillow. The
effort had been too much for him, and
for some moments we doubted if the
spirit had not fed. 1t was only
passing weakness, however; and be-
fore long he rallied again. Again he
spoke, but with a kind of dreamy,
half-cOnsciousness-at one moment
gazing into his mothers eyes, at an
other seemingly forgetful Of her pres
ence.
"Truly it was a bloody field" said