The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1883-11-29
JOSEPHA.
A Soldiers Love Story and Its Very
Happy Termination.

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mail was received. There was month
old letter from my young nephew, Regi-
| nald Travers, containing sad news.
My dear old friend, Oswald Hamilton,
was dead; his affairs left in bad way.
The arrangement of his papers, straight
ening of accounts, and settling up of
the estate were left in my hands. A
second was to the effect that Josepha
| (the only and motherless daughter of
my old friend now about "a years of
age,) had refused him. That he had
secured change into the Tenth, which
was soon to be ordered away to fight
Zulus, and closed by saying that the
best thing could wish him Was bull
let through the head in the first en-
gagement.
My poor Reg! 1t was his first taste
of life's bitter, and it was going down
hard. l Ilonged to grasp his hand in
sympathy. / cursed the stupidity of
mail carriers, and stormed and swore
at the hundred and one annoying de-
lays that kept me so long on my home
ward journey. However, in two days |
was well on my journey.
Soldiers are rough of speech. | be-
gan to fashion some soft phrases of
sympathy for my old friend daughter,
but gave up in despair, trusting that,
as in battle, when the opportunity
comes, | should be ready to equal it.
And, after all, to such self-reliant ma
lures as Josepha's sympathy held a
tone of pity which gave it distasteful
| flavor.
A word of myself An old soldier
nearing 80, but hale and hearty, | in
| herited at my brothers death the pile
of stone he called home and his large
| business interests. A misanthrope, he
had shown little taste for the society of
his kind. My visits to him were few
and brief. | had taken little notice of
Josepha until | came to Deerwood as its
master. Her name described her. Di-
vinely tall, she had none of the awk-
wardness peculiar in women of her stat
ure, but her motion was at all times
free, suggesting the fight of sea bird.
| Better than beauty, her face expressed
| dignity and character. Her mouth was
shapely and red, although square jaw
and long chin proved somewhat detrac-
| tive to it.
But her eyes-glorious! Clearest
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| mans forehead. She had frank, bon
canarade way which played sad havoc
with mems hearts, whatever their az
NOR. Many of the wisest and wariest
knelt at her shrine, but each and all
gainly. Between her and my dear lad
there had been an understanding, based
on childish attachment. Merely a
silken link. | cared little for society
(though, thank God! never unfeeling
or cold to my kind, like my brother).
Tie surrounding country families who
would have Gonized me on account of
q few scars and decorations met with
small encouragement, and but for the
flying visits of my young Lieutenant,
and an evening cigar on one of the
wide verandas of Hamilton Place, my
time was passed in riding, walking and
| shooting.
/ Now will let you into secret
was surprised when found it out my
self. had fallen in love with Josepha.
Preposterous! So said. At any rate,
give me some credit. never dreamed
of telling her, and / went away imme-
diately = travelling with party of
friends. &
My old friend / mourned sincerely.
Though ten years my senior, we had
been friends years and years. He knew
l stood ready to lend helping hand
| whenever it was needed; but he was
/ proud to fault, and though I had
begged him to allow my assistance {for
l knew he was in sad straits) he would
never take a penny.
His reverses were quick and sudden
| His indomitable viii upheld him in his
: struggle for time When that broke
! beneath the burden of troubles, which
grew heavier day by day, he died.
| Dear old friend! Here lies man
whom pride brought low," murmured
as / stood over his grave.
| / had arrived at Deerwood late in the
afternoon, and had stepped in the
| churchyard on my way to Josepha-
The grass waved to and fro. / fam
cied the one below stirred uneasily,
Peace" | whispered. Your name
shall be cleared; your daughter guard
ed we'll"
Josepha let me in. She staid to fas-
ten the door, and as she came up with
me in the corridor she slipped her warm
hand INTO mine, and held it strongly.
My eyes fell on Oswald's picture as we
entered the drawing-room. Together
we stood looking at it. Then I looked
at Josepha, in her long, black gown,
her neck rising like lily stem from its
sombreness, as she stood by my side.
| Bereavement and harassing cares had
set their mark on brow and lips, though
she held her head still proudly. and
| her eyes looked into mine unmisted
If had loved in the midst of her
happiness and Hght-heartedness, how
much more loved her now, penniless,
with faint shadow of dishonor on her
name, forsaken by the crowds of sum-
mer-day friends!
| She looked into my face, for my
tongue was tied, and then bent her
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