Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1888-05-11

ging me to forgive his unceremouious
| departure and assuring me again and
again of his love, but said not a word
: of his father. His heart was still full
of anger toward him, l could see. L
/ have that letter yet | have read it q
thousand times. 1t was the last
lines ever had from his hand
He was in Georgia. Why he
went south l do not quite understand.
Perhaps it was accident; perhaps it
was destiny Even then there were
rumors of war, and in short time it
burst upon the country in all it's ter
ror. These quiet hills echoed the
sounds of the bugle and the drum
from morning till night. Down in
the town companies were forming
and regiments waiting to be ordered
toward the front, Wilbur Rathbone
commanded company. and waited
for an order to depart. Before be
left the news came one day that our
Willis had joined the Confederate
army; that he was captain Of COM
pany under Longstreet. l tried to
doubt that awful story. l would not
believe i'll could not That he had
left US in anger was sorrow and dis
grace enough; to know that he was
in arms against his and our country
was too great an afiliction to be calm
ly born. His father raved like mad
man and forbade US to speak of Willis
in his presence.
II saw Wilbur march away with q
heart heavier than stone If my boy
had only been with him, it seemed to
me could have laughed from joy.
Bot now, those two whose lives had
always been brotherly companion
ship, were in arms against each other.
The roll of the drums sounded in my
ears day after day and would not die
out, even after every soldier had been
sent to the South. 1 awoke night
after night from dreams Of battles in
which l saw our Willis wounded and
dying. Sometimes called his name
in my sleep and his father's groans of
anguish would wake me.
wv hen the body of Wilbur Rath
bone was sent home, l envied his
mother her sorrow, He had died for
his country-died for its freedom. l
stood dry-eyed by his grave, loving
him as son and feeling that my own
sorrow was greater than death. My
daughter died few months later.
This affliction We bore unmurmuring.
ly; but that other, that unspeakable
sorrow, grieved US increasingly,
''At last /, too, grew stern and un-
relenting toward my son. bsnish-
ed him from my thoughts. drove
him from my heart. 1 had no for
giveness for him. And 80 the years
went on-those awful years of war
when the whole country mourned and
suffered. AT last it was over. Peace
came and the country bound up its
wounds and began tc live again.
Nearly year later we learned that
Willis had been killed while fighting
at Chicksmauga. His fathers heart
softened then. He wept and mur.
INJURED affectionate excuses for him.
But IL felt relieved to know that l
should never see his face again. They
talk about the deathless tenderness of
q mothers heart; but mine had it's
day of hardness. Always. this
thought stung me; l, q patriot, the
daughter of patriots, was the mother
of son, who had defled his parents
and fought against his country.
"Three years later my husband
died, and was left alone. He spoke
of Willis often in the last days of his
life. But was silent.
Not till long, long afterwards did
find in my heart forgiveness for my
erring son. l realized at last that l
had no right to judge him; that if be
erred perhaps / was to blame. l
know now that the passions, sorrows
aud evils of life become as nothing in
the sweep of time. He was buried
in the trenches of Chickamauga 1
cannot lay flower on his grave, 80
come on the day they honor SOL
diers and 10y my tribute on the earth,
that covers Wilbur, his best beloved
friend. Somehow l feel that Willis
| understands and knows that in my
heart are flowers of affection for him.
They were both dear to me-very
dear to me.
Eyes, he surely understands. l
have long felt that, and have long
! ceased to grieve. Both my boys are
safe-safe and dead. 1t is we'll with
them.
She ceased to speak and stood with
her hand resting on the soldiers
headstone, her eyes seeing visions of
the past, and nothing of the present.
The boy sat in the grass at the foot
of the grave, with tears dripping
down bis brown cheeks The tale
had touched him, little as he could
understand the deep tragedy of it.
And | heard again the clash and
thunder of war, saw the blazing fires
of battle, and felt, il rush of memo
ry, the fierce fever of those vanished
days of carnage.
The boy followed me out to the
roadside. "Do you think" he said,
earnestly as mounted my horse,
"do you think there will be another
war here in my timer"
Il think not; l hope not" | an
| swered.
He looked disappointed. II want
to fight" he said, eagerly; "tor have
sword that was my grandfather's." /"
rode away from that lonesome
spot full of sad thoughts. All con-
tentions, strife and anger seemed 80
needless; all suffering 30 gratuitous.
But, thank God, peace and rest al.
ways come at last.
The Time Which Killed the