Springfield globe-republic. (Springfield, Ohio) 1884-1887, 1885-04-12

low the river to the town, taking his
chance of what might befall him by the
way. But no sooner had he come into
sight than he ,Dds seen.
But not by his last nights comrades.
In that gray dawn, as far as his eye
could reach, the bank of the river was
alive with men, marching swiftly, and
as silently as hundreds may. He needed
not to look twice-the rawest recruit
would have known what had happened
and what to do. The 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 Ia Reyna
had been fired from Dick Blackthorn's
carbine.
FABLE THE FIFTH.
SOMETIMES LooKERs-oN SEE LEAST OF THl
CANE.
This is no history; though there WAS
many q 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, were 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 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 place
whence he could already see vista of
further rise and honor reaching before
th,r, ord 10 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 share in
the magistracy and law-making of
England. were Knocked by a sergeant's
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 hiSown 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 a last resource; and,
though no answer had come. there were
Q hundred reasons for believing in her
still His regiment had been hurried
off 80 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 q 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 tha: 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 reckoEed it over and over
again. Indeed, he himself had no more
time tnan to write that one letter, with
hurried postscript, before the snip
sailed, asking her to let them know at
Millport what had happened. If there
had been 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 well nigh think that if madness
there were, it was not in the brain of
Enoch Marrish, but in his OWE. 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. "TLuth is fixed star
says the song, more W sc than songs
are wont TO be. And there that tiNci
star shone over Stephen Hdrlow-it was
Truth. But he called it Patience Bla k
thorn. She would not be ashamed OF
him: he would fight his wav back. and