Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1891-02-06

broken heart. And I'd have been shot
down before I'd have marched against it.
Il can't say now what I'd "a done if Ia
been free. know had no blame for my
boy, when he wrote that be was wearin
the blue; his country needed him, and he
felt that he must GO Nor did his mother
blame him, though her FACET was a
handsome face once, my boy-seemed to
grow old in a day.
''Liouel was terribly cut up, but after
that first day he never mentioned Ernest's
name. Six months later when the war
was at our very doors, he stood there at
the turn of the road, wearing the gray
uniform, and waved his cap good by. We
never saw him alive again.
after that, mother erept around about
her work, day after day, scarcely ever
speakin' but with scared look in her
eyes, as if she was listenin' to some awful
sound. We heard from Lionel, sometimes,
but, after the first letter, there wasn't
word from Ernest. At last, as we sat on
the porch yonder one evening, tall man
open the gate. He was ragged and hag-
gard looking, and when my wife threw her
arms around his neck and kissed him, l
thought that grief had drove her crazy.
But when he said 'motherl l knew his
voice
. 4 have come home to die, he said as
he went indoor. Forgive me, mother. 1
did what thought was right"
'She only held him closer and kissed
him again. 1t was enough for her to have
her boy near her once more.
''Three weeks later soldier brought me
a note. from Lionel's captain. The poor
boy was lying dead-killed within a mile
of his homo. We buried him here that
evening, and less than a month afterward
we laid Ernest beside him."
Again the old mans voice failed, aud l
pressed his hand in silent sympathy.
''You see now," he said gently, "why we
can't dwell on those times. The war was
here, with us; and it isn't easy to forget"
As we turned to leave, lifted some of
the long sprays which had fallen to the
terwining tendrils. The old man touched
my hand with look of pain.
Don't he said. "The mother likes to
see 'em grow together"
He closed the gate, but turned to look
once more at the gravestone, with its in
scription showing so clearly in the moon
light.
Neither shall they learn war any
more" he repeated, slowly. BLESS God
for thet good time coming MY boy, l hope
you may never understand, as l do, how
much that means about evry man sittin'
under his own vine'and fig tree, with none
to make him afraid. First thing in the
morning and last'at night, 1 thank God,
most of all for peace and quiet"
i looked around at that peaceful scene
where, but few years before there had
been strife and bloodshed, and then at
the gentle old man at my side.
THAT time must have been terrible
one, indeed, for you" said. and you
blame no one; you bear no malice"
mo malice, boy" he said, earnestly.
There were mistakes, no doubt and may
be wrongs ON 10th sides. But there was
blood enough split to atone for it all. The
old wounds are healing now, thank God!
and my hand shall never help to tear them
open again"
''Nor mine" | answered as earnestly,
impressed by the solemnity of his manner.
had plucked a spray from each of the
vines, aud now twined them closely to-
gether and placed them between the tab
lets l carried in my pocket.
80 long as keep these in my possess
ion," said !, ''they will remind me of the
promise gave you tonight that whatever
influence have shall be used for peace
everywhere"
He looked at me with moist eyes.
''Then, perhaps" he said, "1ong after the
old man is laid to rest there" pointing to
the vacant place beyond the graves, ''he
may still, through you, be helping that
cause. Thank you, my boy."
The showers of many a spring time have
freshened the grass on the old mans grave,
but the twisted vine sprays, dry and with
cred now, reminders of my promise, lie
before me as | write.