Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1885-12-24
The Sturp Teller.
MY CHRISTMAS EVE.

It was Christmas Eve, and I, Harry
CourtlaRd, was walking home through the
crowded streets. AS I walked, my mind
wandered back through memories of the
past back to another Christmas Eve which
I spent, years and years ago, in one OF
the outposts of. the British army before
now, but was young, and full of life and
hope then, and when the strong voices of
the soldier boys rang out, on the clear fros-
ty air, the beautiful refrain,
.And for bonnie Annie Laurie I would lay me
down and die,''
My mind wandered back to the bright
spring evening when I strOlled between
the fragrant hawthorne hedges with Annie
Campbell and told her that 1 loved her.
But my reverie was suddenly broken by the
sharp crack of the deadly rifle and the
stern command: Fall in, Forty-eighth. /"
A strong scouting party of the enemy was
many brave voice that had joined that
evening in the chorus of "Annie Laurie"
was silenced forever. was uninjured, yet
how often since then have I wished that q
Russian bullet had found me in its way.
But it was otherwise written in the book Of
fate.
came through the brush uninjured, and
through many previous and subsequent
one; and by-and-by the war came to an
end and my regiment was ordered home.
Once home I was to be discharged from the
service. I had "run away to the war;" as
the phrase goes, and now that the war was
over my father had secured my discharge.
WhaVa morning that was when We landed
in Portsmouth. seemed to walk upon air
as we marched up to the barracks, through
the cheering multitude, to the tune of 1.-The
Girl left Behind Me-" When we "broke
OFF, in the barrack- yard, I was to lay my
gun and uniform aside and resume the ha-
biliments and implements of peace. Then
was going home! Going home to settle
down, and, in little while, to marry An
ME. All! it seems like a dream now, the
great joy that filled my young heart.
The old man, as 1 called my father, was
there to meet me, and right proud he seemed
too, of his soldier boy, who had come home
with medals and clasps, and-that prize of
all-the Victoria Cross. When had chang
ed my clothes I went uptown with father,
and when he reached his hotel he handed
me letter. From the nervous manner in
which hedid this, I fancy that he must have
more than suspected WhatWas in it. 1t was
from Annie, but, instead of being a joyful
greeting, it was carefully worded apology
for having discovered that her loving me,
"as wife should love her husband, was all
a mistake" Had Chesterfield written it,
it could not have been more polite, but there
was no feeling in it-not the slightest indi-
cation of regret for the man, or boy, rather,
into whose heart she had driven the knife.
l read this precious document through to
the end; once, for second it seemed as
though the beating of my heart had stopped,
but it Immediately resumed and went on as
before. l am of what is termed dull,
phlegmatic temperament.
Once, in the Crimea, was wounded, and
did not know of the fact for three days.
This time it did not take me but a moment
to realize that was hurt, and seriously,
too. But l struggled to keep my disap-
eventful day succeeded, but next morning
my bloodshot eyes and haggard face be-
trayed me; then for days following wan
dered around demented. l was like one
who had been walking along in the bright
sunlight of valley where the verdure of
the fields sank and rose, and the foliage of
the trees rustled beneath the perfume laden
ed breeze, where a flowing stream danced
and rippled on and on, and the birds sang
their merriest, sweetest carols, and, while
wandering through this valley of delight,
darkness behind, the verdure and the trees
had disappeared, leaving barren sand and
rocks in their stead; the perfume-laden
breeze had given place to the still, thick
atmosphere of the valley of despair, and
the joyous carol of the song bird had been
replaced by the Kissing of reptiles.
At length this came to an end. All hu-
man suffering, like all human pleasure,
must terminate. The great and uncontroll-
and in its place came that dull pain which
wears away little by little and finally dis
appears altogether in the grave. There
are, no doubt, skeptics who will laugh at
the idea of a young man, or, as they would
say, "a mere boy" feeling a deep-seated
love like this. But then, skeptics, as rule,
are people who know everything and yet
know nothing. There are boys-a few of
them only-who are capable of great pas
sion, and there are men-a great many of
them-who are incapable of great pas
sion.
To proceed with my recital, however.
When the sharp, keen agony had passed
away and my brain had resumed it's func-
tions, I resolved to 60 abroad. Father re-
allied that it was best, too, 50 he sent for
mother, and the two bid what has turned
OUT to be farewell for all time to their SOL
dier boy, who had just returned from the
war. Since then l have wandered in an
aimless sort of way around the world. Faith
er and mother have passed over to the great
majority and 1 have not relative that l
know of in this world of sin.
This is the riddle of my life, as it passes
through my mind this Christmas Eve. l
walk slowly as 1 mediate. am alone in
the midst of multitude. The streets are
thronged with happy faces, that are swift
ly hurrying by me as moodily wander
to my home that is no home. Alone in the
midst of multitude A homeless man can
find no better place to realize that than
the streets of great city on Christmas
Eve. Well, as pass along, | feel slight
pluck at my elbow, and hear voice say
ing: "Please, mister, can you help me to