The Pickens sentinel. [volume] (Pickens, S.C.) 1871-1903, 1885-11-12

soldier was dying and that Nellie had
been sent for across tho sea, all the
people We'd with zach other in sooth-
ing the last moments of tho famous
man, for he was beloved by all, and all
wero bound to him by bonds of patri-
otic gratitude, since ho had boen so
brave q soldier upon the battlo-iields of
his country. But tho soldior did not
heed their words of sympathy; tho
voice of fame, which in tho past had
stirred q fcver in his blood and fallen
most pleasantly upon his ears. awaken
cd no emotion in his bosom now. The
soldier thought only of Nellie, and he
awaited her coming.
An old comradc came and pressed
his mana, ana talked o. mo ClmCs wuun
they went to tho wars together; and
tho old comradc told of this battle and
of that, and how such victory was
won and how such city was tukon.
But the soldiers cars heard no sound
of battle now, and his eyos could see
no flash of sabre or smoke of war.
So the people camo and spoke words
of vcneration and love and hope, and
so with quiet fortitudc, but with huE
cry heart, tho soldier waited for Nellie,
his little girl.
She camo across the broad, tempest
uous ocean. The gulls flew far out
from land and told the winds, and the
winds blew further still and said TO the
ship: Speed on, oh ship! speed on in
thy swift, straight course, for you
arc bearing n treasure to fathers
heart"
/ Then the ship lcapcd forward in her
pathway, and tho waves were very
still, and tho winds kept whispering:
Speed on, 0 ship" till at last tho ship
was como to port and tho little girl
was claspod in the soldiers arms.
Then for 4 season tho soldier seemed
quite himself again, and people said:
"IIo will live," and then prayed that
ho might. But their hopes and pray
crs were vain. Deaths seal was on tho
soldier and there was no release.
The last days of the soldiers life
wore tho most beautiful of all-but
what mockery of ambition and fame,
and all the grand protentious things of
life they were! They wero the triumph
of \ human heart, and what is better or
purcr or sweeter than that?
No thought of tho hundred battle
fields upon which his valor had shown
conspicuous came to tho soldier now
nor the echo of his eternal famc-ncr
even yot the murmurs of a sorrowing
people. Nellie was by his side, ard his
hungry, fainting heart fed on her dear
love and his soul went back with hor
to the years long agonc.
Away beyond the western horizon
upon tho prairie stands little home
over which the vines trail. ALI about
1t is the tall, waving grass, and over
yonder is the swale with legion of
chattoring black-b;rds perchcd on it's
swaying reeds and rushes. Bright
wild flowers bloom on every side, the
quail whistles on the pasture fence, and
from his home i'll tho chimney corner
the cricket begins to chirrup an echo
to the lonely birds call. In this little
prairie bono we SOC q man holding on
his knee little girl, who is telling him
of hes play as he smooths her fair curls
or strokes her tiny velvet hands; or
pe.haps she is singing him one of her
baby songs, or asking him strange
questions of the great wide world that
is new to her; or perhaps he binds the
wild flowers she has brought into lit
tie nosegay for her new gingham dress,
or-but we SEQ it all, and so, too, does
the soldier, and so docs Nellie, and so
they hear the black-bird's twittor and
the quaips shrill call and tho cricket's
faint echo, and all about them is tho
sweet subtle, holy fragrance of mem-
ory.
And so at last when Death came and
the soldier fell asleep forever, Nellie,
his little girl. was holding his hands
and whispering to him of those days.
Hers were the last words he hoard, and
by tho smilo that rested on his face
when ho was dead you might have
thought tho soldier was dreaming of q
time when Nellie prattled on his knco
and bade him weave tho wild flowers
in her curls.