Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1881-11-23
pure bright dreams of sacrifice, loving

pure bright dreams of sacrifice, loving
his country as only her young men car
when he came, as If he were again 9
child, and asked his mothers blessing
he knew TO what he was going. So
think. did L. Yet [ did lot say him nay.
| did not hold him back with my weak
tears and pleadings I thank God fol-
that. l thanked HIM on that desolate
Thanksgiving eve. And when I go down
the sloping years to meet the old age
without my boy. shall thank Him still.
L am very sure OF that.
But you do not care to hear the rest
of my story. 1t is yours, perhaps, as
well as mine; and of it's sacredness, you
and [ know well.
/ was not there to see him die. [ can
never go back and be there to help him
die. There was one woman-you have
heard of her, perhaps-she found him a
stranger cared for by strange hands;
and when they bore him to his quick
made grave upon the battlefield she
lips, and said, "Let me kiss him for his
mother" God bless her for that God
bless her wherever she may be and
may she never lay her first born away
under the frozen ground, where Re can
never call to her, or take her IN his
arms, or kiss her with his warm young
lips!
But we have brought him home sine e
that, and in the shadow of the old
familiar church he is at rest. AS I sat
before the fire, through all my bitter
musing that night, [ remembered the
solitary figure pacing round and round
the moonht grave-his father loved him
so. ] do not say that even I, his
mother, loved him more.
Did I ask for strength to live through
this day which was coming-to live it
quietly, BEAUTIFULLY, thankfully, remem.
| bermg that mine was not a thorn wreath,
since "No mortal grief deserves that
crown % | do not know. Do we ever
pray for that which we will not have Z?
Our Father, who is very patient with us,
alone knows.
| And then, these facts of sorrow are so
sharp. 1t was one thing to give him up
"a grand, heroic thing; it was another
to find him gone
ITO feel the door-latch stir and clink
Al d know tits no more he-nor sink"
Do you know tins "surpr1se when one
sits quite alone?" But, with my prayers
or without them, the morning came. 1t
came as other Thanksgiving mornings
had come-with fresh. frolicklng winds,
and sunlight, and blue skies; with merry
voices, with cloudless faces and happy
! hearts.
The children woke up with the old rap
on my door. Susy, and Harry, and
BERTHE and May hiding slyly in the
entry, lest papa would have a peep at
her nightcap, half. doubling, indeed,
whether she was not getting to be too
much of q woman to take part in the
childron's sport.
How merry Willie always was at it I!
His little rap always the loudest, and
his laugh the clearest of all. Icould not
| forget it, and turned away to hide the
quick, hot tears.
Mamma, don't talk" cried BERTHE
through the keyhole. II guess she
hasn't woke up-mamma !"
"Come away, said MAY, in a whisper.
"Mother feels badly to have Thanks
giving come, you know. Perhaps she
isn't well; let's go and dress"
And before [ found my voice the little
/
entry, and it was too late to call them
| back.
l remember Just how yellow and
murky the sunshine lay On the floor thai
morning, and how | thought the wind
walled about the corners Of the house
to me it had no frohc. The children
came IN from coasting while I was at
work, all flushed and eager and happy,
jostling and pushing each other at play
in the entry.
The moment they saw my face, Susy
grew sober and May began to hush
Harry's laughter. IIow could [ help it :
Where's the evergreen trimmings ?'
asked BERTHE. looking around the room
with disappointed eyes.
"There's lot picked up in the gar
ret, mother"
All, that pretty celebration of the day
[ had never planned for it. It was
Willie's fancy, and Willie's skill full fin
gers they were which had always made
the old rooms bright and festive. How
L cling to the baby name Yet he never
minded it from me; sometimes, from q
quick, pleased look in his manly eyes. |
used to think he liked me to call him SO.
4ilNT -hoy LA UIlC i
said, turning away. ell am too busy
this morning."
1t isn't like having you," said May,
her bright face falling, and the children.
with puzzled eyes, crept, one by one,
away.
Dinner-time came at last, and they
gathered round the table gleefully -iust
as gleefully, thought, with half bit
terness, as if they had all been there.
"Why! What's this for?' asked
Harry, stopping. 'tMother, you've got
one chair too many"
"Hush, Harry [ know-don't you
see?" And heard Susy whispering tc
him.
Why had / done it? I hardly knew.
To lay the plates, and set the chairs, and
pass that one place by-that place that
was always by mine-it seemed hard. 1t
was very little thing; but you know
bow dear those little things become to
women sometimes.
so 7 had mt II tharn bo on, pty oh OF y.