Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1885-04-30

anu WHAT 10 90. Inc french were
crossing the river. He fired his car
bine to warn the outpost, and galloped
back as hard as he could 60.
The first shot of Talavera de la Reyna
had been fired from Dick Blackthorn' s
carbine.
FABLE THE FIFTH.
SOMETIMES LOoKERs-ON SEE LEAST OF THE
GAME
This is no history; though there was
many household, besides the Black
thorns of Legs Croft, whom that shot
and what followed it concerned. Those
who can not care for lesser fortunes care
all the more, it is to be hoped, for the
greater fortune of England; and these
will remember that England was hard
beset on that twenty-seventh of July.
To the north, fastening upon General
Wellesley's left flank, were two armies,
under Mortier, from Valladolid, and
Ney, from Astorga. SOult, from Sala-
manca, was rapidly advancing on
Placencia, to take them on the rear
fifty thousand men in all. And in front,
betwixt Talavera and Madrid, under
Victor and Sebastiani, We're fifty thou
sand more. A hundred thousand
French, under five great and famous
commanders, against some twenty
thousand British, hampered and weak
ened by about as many Spanish allies.
And these twenty thousand were half,
starved besides.
But these things, and the falling back
upon the defensible ground of Talavera,
with its rivers and its neighboring
height, were matters of high general
ship They had no concern beyond
that of mere life. death and duty. with
one who was known, in his regi-
ment of the line, as Sergeant Black
thorn; to himself as Stephen Harlow.
For to that rank he had risen, or, as he
| would have put it, had fallen.
Men had gone mad for less cause.
He was ambitious; and while still
young had become man of mark in
great town, and had reached a place
whence he could already see a vista of
further rise and honor reaching before
him without end. He was proud; and
had achieved the better part of fortune
with his own hand and his own brain.
He believed in peace and progress, de-
/ testing war and all other barbarism
with all his soul; and nothing was more
congenial to him than the life he was
| making. He was in love, as a man can
love only once for all; and he had
| bought his sweetheart her wedding
ring. He was grateful; and the debt
he owed his friend and patron was be-
ing more than repaid. Never on NOR
tai head had the sun of life shOne more
unclouded and full. Glad in his life, in
! his love, and without an evil spot in his
heart, only the basest could have envied
him. And now ambitious of golden
chains and fur gowns, and a share in
the magistracy and law-making of
England, were Knocked by a sergeant
stripes; pride had become bitterness;
the enthusiast for peace was under or
ders to kill; the grateful man had
missed paying his debt; the lover was
wearing on his own hand the ring with
which he was to have won better than
all his ambitions long and long ago.
And he who had never made an enemy
| in his life had lost all faith in human
kind.
But he believed in one piece of
womankind, even yet. He had written
to Patience as last resources; and,
| though no answer had come, there were
hundred reasons for believing in her
| still. His regiment had been hurried
off so quickly that there had not even
been time to give him the fifty lashes
| ordered him; from that. at least, fort
une had spared him. His letter might
! have come too late, or a thousand
things, including the falling of the
skies or the forgetfulness of the sun to
rise, were each and all more likely than
! that Patience Blackthorn should cease
| to be Patience Blackthorn. That was
| not his dread on that score. She would
/ be true as he, and wait for him even as
he would have waited for her. That
trust was the one thing that kept him
sane.
| No, there could have been no time.
He had reckoned it over and over
again. Indeed, he himself had no more
time than to write that one letter, with
hurried postscript, before the ship
| sailed, asking her to let them know at
Millport what had happened. If there
had been a delay in sailing for but three
more days! And Marrish-what devil
could have been in the mans heart, or
rather, in the mans brain, for heart he
could have none? Marrish was no
mailman; nobody who knew him could
have that in his head long enough for
/ thinking. Dwelling upon that made
Stephen we'll nigh think that if madness
there were, it was not in the brain of
| Enoch Marrish, but in his own. What
can seem more true than nightmare?
But then a nightmare does not last
through nights and days.
| But | should think it shame to tell
the tale of lovers who, though parted
by fate or villainy, should let them
selves be sundered by doubt or mystery,
or because there is something they do
not understand. 1t is because these
were true that / write of them, and for
no other cause. Truth is fixed STAR"
says the song, more wise than songs
are wont to be. And there that fixed
star shone over Stephen Harlow-it was
| Truth. But he called it Patience Black
thorn. She would not be ashamed of
him; he would fight his way back, and
win her still.
He was bad soldier in his heart.
He could not hate the enemy, or catch
the fighting fever. When he first saw
fighting on the Douro, he was sickened
by it; and when he became corporal, he
received the stripe with disgust and
would have refused it could such a
thing have been done. Nobody could
say he ever shirked duty, though no.
body could ever praise him for zeal.
He went to work like a machine, scorn-
ing himself and plying others, for be-
ing what he called slaves. But brains
will out: and the deserter was soon
found to be something better than mere
food for powder. Sometimes an acct
dent where intellipence was wanted