The Bolivar bulletin. (Bolivar, Tenn.) 1888-1946, 1889-06-21

was not what kept him so very pale
and quiet, however No. it was some
thing heavier still; he would be a Grip
pie for life. Not that he dreaded the
sacrifice for his country; no he gloried
in that He was proud of being one Of
those successfully withstanding Hoods
triple endeavor to keep Thorn from the
city. But he was a hopeless, helpless,
penniless cripple, barring a possible
pension, and he-loved Ruthie He
had written to her of the converting of
her old home into a hospital for the
Union soldiers, and that he was pass
ing days and weeks of pain under its
ample roof-tree. Then after he could
stand it no longer he wrote more about
his manned condition; ''for life," he
had said in a bitterly expressed SEN
tence. 1t would soon be time now to
receive her reply. He had hoped to
soon tell her of his love; but, of course,
it was all over with him; he would not
ask her to link her sweet, young life
with that of poor cripple.
Summer had merged into fall. Sep
TENDER had come. Atlanta was now
occupied by the Union army and Har-
ley was able to use crutches. IL. had
received Ruthie's letter, and what a
letter it was; he could only read it and
think, while his heart beat as never be-
fore and his blood ran warmly on and
on" 1t seemed to him that she loved
him more for his affection.
One day the surgeon said to him, &c
home; you are going to get the fever
unless you do"
Harley wanted to go bad enough, but
after all, when it came to the point he
dreaded that she should see him Grip
pied and emaciated as he was Other
convalescents were going home-home
TO wife, mother, sister and sweetheart
He had no one to be joyous at his com,
ing unless-well, he would 90.
1t was October now; in merry New
England autumn had made good pro
gress with her artistic work; the Grim
son leaves futtered here and there, and
wild grapes hung purple amid their
browning tendrils.
They were wandering slowly among
the hills, Harley and Ruth. The flush
of health was coming back to his pale
cheek and he could handle his crutch
better than when she, with careful,
loving hand, guided him out to the dear
old hills for the first time.
To-day she was planning. "When
the war is over" she was saying, 1--WE
will go home The old place can be
repaired; it is so lucky we brought our
money with us for it will serve US well
by and BY"
But I" aud Harley turned away
his head, gulping down the rest of the
sentence with the disappointing misery
of his condition.
There! never mind. dear" said
Ruth, coming closer to lend a white
taper hand in assisting him over a
rough place in the path Il am Ger
tain God intends that I shall take care
of you, Harley, and l shall so love to
do it. 1 shall always be so proud OF
my soldier boy; but, f." she added, medi-
tatively, Il never dreamed that ]
should learn to knit his hose among
his native hills, while he was battling
for me in the home of my youth"
''Ruthie!" was all Harley said in re-
ply, as he leaned heavily upon his
crutch and drew her to his heart. But
there were volumes of meaning and
the love of lifetime in the tone, and
it was sufficient.
The fair, blue eyes of the north
gazed tenderly into the dark, lustrous
eyes of the south, and two hearts, beat
ing as one, throbbed union forever. "
-Manda L. Croker. in Detroit Free
| Press.