The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1892-11-18
MY CORRESPONDENT.

like those they tell OF in the old English
ballad Of "Robin Hood, )" that measured a
cloth yard" from tip to tip. / rather fan
eied all that sort of thing was for women
and girls, and perhaps l might have
thought so still If l had never been to the
army, and had never come back, to sit,
hour by hour, for weary days, doing moth
Ing. Then began to read works of fiction,
and to wonder as / found the ones liked
most were the truest, whether my left
hand writing might not be turned to some
account in jotting down my memories,
and mixing them up with my fancies as
they say story writers by profession do,
and as l think probable
was as patriotic as most young fellows,
I hope, but when marched away / did
think of riding back General Bagnet-
we'll say Bagnet; it's as good a name as
any other. 1 could see mothers eyes
sparkle and Sister Jean clap her hands for
Joy, but l didn't think as much of that as
Of what Miss Stockton would think of it
oil. To tell the truth she had driven me
away from home. l was desperately in
love with her. That might have kept me,
you say But you see she was the belle Of
the place, and her people were very fash
ionable and lived in great country seat,
with host of servants to wait upon them,
and we were only farmers, and in busy
seasons mother and Jean did their own
housework, and / knew l was rough and
unpublished and not fit for her, and under
stood that though she never took airs"
she felt as much above me as though we
were not "all free and equal" So said
this to myself: "Tll never pine and whine
about it. AS am 1 couldn't win her; I'll
60 away with the boys and fight as sol
der should, and I'll make a name even she
might be proud of, and come back, God
willing, to try my fate" So Rachael Stock
ton did drive me from home, you see, and
make a soldier of me without knowing it.
never shall forget how mother took it.
She in the kitchen peeling onions when
went in to tell her. Said she:
"Paul, what brings you home so earlyf
You're not sickp"
mo, mother" said l, Ppm well enough,
but thought I'd spend the last afternoon
with you. Pm off tomorrow"
"Offp' cried she. "Where, Paul."
ITO the army" said l. ':I've enlisted"
She dropped the knife she held and sat
down, the great tears rolling down her
cheeks.
''They say we mothers should be glad to
send our boys from u.s." she said, "but it's
hard to bear. / shan't ever see you again,
Paul. know that we'll"
"Why MOTHER" said /, "what fancyp'
But fancy or not, she stuck to it, and
kept sobbing softly to herself as though /
were dead. She got everything ready for
me, but she never once stopped crying, and
went away leaving her in tears. | never
saw her smile again, for a month after
ward she died. A fever broke out in the
place, and she was the fourth who fell it's
victim. When the news came l wished
almost that l had put away all my dreams
Of glory and fame and Rachel Stockton,
and staid at home, but it was no use wish
ing, none in the world, and was growing
fond of a soldiers life-fond, although l
began to understand it better, and to know
that every brave man did not become an
oficer-although that fancy of being some
day rich and renowned enough to make
even Miss Stockton proud of me began to
seem no more substantial than the fanniA-
OF dream.
One day when was rather low spirited,
for we were in camp and there was moth
Ing to do but think, my friend Jack Am
mon came to me laughing
"Do you want some Emphasized he.
"Fun," said l. SIS there any?"
"Yes," said he. "Join the postofrice
club"
whats that?" asked
"a dozen of us have formed a club"
said he. "We're going to correspond with
any charitable young ladies who will take
pity on our forlorn situation"
Nonsense" said l.
"Fact," said he.
"Well," said l. Sin the first place Pm no
writer. In the next place l don't believe
any girl l should care to correspond with
would write to me-"
Nonsense for YOU" said he. "The girls
think good deal of the soldier boys, can
tell you"
They put an advertisement in the Hay
Hill Journal, and each of them had let
ter. Jack showed me one. read it. 1t
was school girlish thing, but pleasant
too. Certainly there was no harm in it.
So Joined the club, and wrote letter to
whoever chose to answer it. The girls,
whose real names were hidden, were told
Of it, and one day an answer came to me
signed Leah.
1t took my fancy. wrote again. Pretty
soon began to wish knew who my COR
respondent was. Some of the fellows had
their suspicious who wrote to them. One
discovered, l remembered that it was his
own sister who had been hoaxng him. l
had no clew to NINE l grew more and
more interested with every eplStle, until
at last quite forgot Rachel Stockton in
my unknown friend. While we were in
our winter quarters the postoffice club was
was well sustained, but by and by one
dropped off and then another. Some were
too busy to write. A hard days fight takes
fun and romance out of a man.
Jack Ammon was shot. / remember the
bullet that killed him passed through the
last letter he had ever had from the school
girl who wrote to him. Will Brush died
Of n fever. One by one all the correspond
ents ceased their letters except myself
and this mysterious Leah"
i was desperately in love with the girl
by this time, but she wouldn't give me her
name, and she wouldn't send me her photo
graph. One night sat down and wrote
this to her:
DEAR Miss LEAH am going into battle to-
morrow, and somehow l am impressed with
the belief that the fates have marked GER
tain bullet with my name. Always before this
I could see into the future-thatis, could
fancy myself doing such thing tomorrow or
next week. Tonight can't; SO in the few mo-
ments have sit down to pen these words. l