The Newberry herald. [volume] (Newberry, S.C.) 1865-1884, 1880-09-22

lnSIEunCuG Clc1G IAC al IL, eA1u Vii0A
followed insensibility.
Ten to one he will die,' said
the surgeon, indiferently, as he
replaced the gIittering tools.
There's no use of bandaging it SO
carefully But tho young cadet
knelt down to tasteu the wrap
pings, wondering in his secret
heart if the time would ever come
when he, two, would speak so
carelessly Of 8 fellow-creature's
life, God-given.
John Carlyle did not die, the
grim old surgeon to the contrary
Notwithstanding.
! There had been a glorious thun-
der-shower. Along the west hung
heavy draperies Of violet-black
clouds, edged with dazzling fringes
of gold, while the blue zenith, sml-
ling through it's brief tears, seemed
literally to swim in liquid light.
I And from far-of apple orchards.
pink with pillows Of tossing bios
som, and sunny slopes all enpur-
pied with wild 7iolcts, came sud-
den sweeps OF fragrance on the
city winds, carrying the Wall
street jobbers and shriveled mon
ey-makers back to the time when
they we're boys, looking for the
first strawberry blossom under the
rosy canopy Of the old apple trees
The fresh breeze, eddying into
the wide open hotel windows
lifted the damp masses Of hair on
John Carlyle's wasted forehead,
as he sat in the easy chair beside
the easement, and passed it's cool
fingers softly over his burning
temples, as ifit fsin would whisper.
Don't repine any longer! Look
out on the glad blue sky, and feel
heavens healing sunshine on your
cheeks
As if man ever needed natures
silent monitions! John Carlyle
was no exception to the general
rule.
"A common private! Those were
her very Words he muttered to
himself, with a faint CRIMSON spot
burning on his wan cheek-'and
crippled now for life! All it was
we'll that l drew back into the
shadow of the curtains when l
heard her step in the corridor.
Why did they bring me here, Of
all places in the world? Must l
drink the bitter cup Of humiliation
to the very dregs? They should
have let me die that dismal night
in the hospital when the ligature
slipped off and the red life.stream
drained slowly from the vital
sources-that night when fever
throbbed in all my veins, and l
madly fancied I could feel her
tears dropping on my cheek. III
had died-never waking from the
delusion! But now a common
private with only one arm!
Helaughed bitterly as the perpet-
ually-recurring conviction pressed
itself upon his mind-a laugh that
was almost sob. Only twenty
six, and weary Of his life; it is not
often that heart and hope die out
Of mans breast at twenty-six.
And the clustering domes and
spires of the great city, leaning
against the gold and purple cloud
columns Of the sunset, grew dim,
and seemed to reel, as he looked
upon them, through the mist that
was more bitter than rivers of salt
tears.
'John!'
He turned listlessly around, fan
cying that the word had syllabeled
itself somehow out of the vague
imaginings and unspoken fantasies
that were whirling in his brain.
But it was not fancy.
A slender little figure in deep
pink-the very dress he had been
used to admire long ago-was
kneeling on the carpet beside him,
and Harriet Deane's auburn hair,
cleaning golden in the sunset,
fell over the arm of his chair where