Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1888-09-28
A SENATOR'S STORY,
BY HON. GEORGE G. VEST.

Several years ago, at the request of some
Missouri boys, in whom he felt interest,
United States Senator Vest WI Ote a story for
a little paper they were publishing. The
story was printed anonymously, however
and few of those who had an opportunity OF
reading 1t knew who the author was. The
Senator has given permission for the story
to be republished under his own name. 1t is
aS fOlIOwS:l
In 1868, while passing through a viii
iage in Mississippi, [ was approached by
q surgeon of the Confederate army with
inquiry as to my name and place of ma
tivity. AS l had no special reason for
Withholding the desired information 1
was told that my cousin, Charley s.,
from Kentucky, had been badly wounded
in a recent fight with the enemy and
was then lying in the hospital at that
place and In a critical condition.
HE is badly OIL" said the doctor,
H'mentally and physically, and unless
some one takes a special interest in him,
and in the right way. he will die"
Charley and myself had been raised
together, but had not met for years. In
early manhood our paths in life had
widely diverged l had gone to the far
West, and on the breaking out of the
war had entered the Confederate service
from Missouri, whilst he had become a
citizen of Mississippi and had been in the
same service from the beginning of
hostlities with the command of General
Chalmers.
A very few minutes walk brought me
to the hospital where Charley lay with
ing for the result-life or death.
The sepulchral light in the shadowy
room, the half suppressed means of
agony, the weird shapes of the Sisters of
Mercy noiselessly moving from couch to
couch, were not cheerful, to say the least,
and when | looked down at the poor,
wan, emaciated form before me, stretched
upon a cot, and realized that this was
what war had left of the glad hearted,
robust friend of my boyhood- I
was rather disposed to give up few of
my rights in the Territories" if they
would let me live peaceably in the States.
''Charley," said l, ''old fellow, doyou
know me-"
Yes" he whispered, whilst faint
CLEAN of light came into his eyes; 81
heard you were here and sent for you"
sat there and the deepening shadows
came about me, the silence unbroken save
by groan, whilst memory went back to
our boyhood, his and mine, the old hills
and the shining river, with the bridge
UP and around the cliffs, like serpent,
undulating through the trees and rocks,
the schoolhouse and the old church,
with the high pulpit and the hard, hard
seats, where We sat on each recurring
Sabbath, with eyes fixed on the preacher,
until our cervical vertebr,p seemed to be
parting. Oh, how we longed then to be
men! What dream of adventure, travel,
war, fitted before us as ''seventeenthly,
"eio hteenthly' and Sin conclusion my
dear friends" fell from those venerable
lips
Well, we had become men, and here
was the end, bed of agony and a
soldiers death. Deeper fell the shadows
and memory still fingered amidst the
scenes of the far-off past How the
cold. stern features of that austere
Presbyterian, under whose teachings we
were reared, became softened by the dim
twilight of the years ago. Father,
mother, teacher, minister, where are
they! Ask the marble cleaning in the
moonlight on those Kentucky hills And
how they taught US our duty both to God
and man. Hard, severe, tyrannical, we
thought it then. But now, softened by
time. we see the surprising love which
was in it all
The mind is at times disposed to vaga-
bondize and to dwell upon subjects
utterly 81 variance with all our sur
rOuGdings. How often in some holy
place do we find unholy thoughts press
ing upon US? How often with the bier
and grave do we find some ludicrous
idea dancing, harlequin-like, by our
side? And so, sitting there in the gloom
by the bedside of death, actually
laughed aloud as the image of 'Old