The times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1882-1897, 1892-11-18
can't feel comfortable to think have left them

can't feel comfortable to think have left them
unwritten.
| | have all your letters in my knapsack, and
| op them / have penciled request to have
| them buried with me. They have been great
| comfort to me-a great pleasure. / used to
| think that some day / should know you, and
| make you like me as well as like you. Two
| never seen you, or even your portrait, but
! love you as IL had. I've written the truth
now-I love you fondly. 1t seems to me that
| have read your heart and soul in your letters.
| II should never write again-if should fall
tomorrow, as believe shall-remember that
my last thoughts were of you-of you whom
have thought constantly of late-and think
sometimes of me. Goodby-perhaps good by
forever Iwish could have known you better.
And l ended with my name.
The next day | was in the midst of the
worst fight had ever been in. can't re-
member much of it, but l know that it
was terrible. / saw more than one poor
fellow / knew well drop at my side, but
some one else took his place. At last it
was my turn. A crash, an agony, a thought
that my forebodings had proved true, and
| knew nothing.
When / came to myself it was in hos
pital tent, and l found that / had been
there many days. My right arm was gone.
and they fancied then that the rest of me
was going after it; but was young, and
| rallied.
didn't want to. Life looked very dark.
/ couldn't see much hope in it. And then
| it was / began to take some interest in
novels and in poetry and to feel as the rest
felt-wild to get hold of any book or paper
kind people brought to us.
| One day was reading love story, and
| crying over it, too, like girl, for was
Il tha l. act ~
| them are, when the chaplain stood at my
cot. "A letter for you," he said. ut has
| Travelled good way after you; it's in q
| lady's hand too" l took the little wnIte
thing with my heart beating like a sledge
hammer. and l turned it over and over
again. / couldn't bring myself to open it
at first. knew whom it came from. Ihad
heard from home only the day before
At last broke the seal, and this is what
| l read within:
| DEAR PAUL-Dear friend, l have heard Of
| your misfortune. l have grieved over 1t. For
| awhile j thought was grieving for one dead.
have been very very happy since heard that
| you would live They tell me you will be at
home soon; when you come we will meet. If
| my letters have pleased you, as you say they
| have, it would be wrong to keep my name a
| secret any longer. began the correspondence
in mere sport, as did the rest of us. 1t is sport
no longer. l will tell you the truth. You have
been writing to one you knew-to
RACHEL STOCKTON.
To Rachel Stockton. gasped for breath.
felt faint and giddy. Could it be hoaxf
answered "No" at once. 1t must be the
serious fact unless l was quite mad, and
then she must have liked me a little in
those old times when / became soldier
for her sake
I,I @IaN II Tiki
never have left Hay Hill.
And now, instead of marching home
with uniform and epaulets, l must take
my empty sleeve back to the farm, and be
not half as useful or as happy as l had
been. l did not regret what had done for
my country, but / had quite lost Rachel.
If had been afraid to WOO her before, how
must it be now? hid my face in my pill
low and the letter next my heart. The
sudden knowledge that had come upon
me frightened me. Before next morning
/ had come to resolution.
Day and night / studied to learn to write
with my left hand, for l could confide in
no one, and at last the first scrawl was
completed. In it told her all-how had
loved her; how, knowing myself not her
equal, had thought to win name she
might be proud to bear; how the transcript
of her soul had effaced the image of her
beauty, so that as the writer of those let
tiers, she had been her own rival and how,
now that / found myself no officer crowned
with honors, but only poor, disabled pri-
vate soldier, knew that all l had hoped
must be remembered only as dream, but
that | still must love her-love her while l
lived-tenderly and passionately and truly,
as though l had the power, as had the
will, to WOO and win and cherish her.
The letter went. | thought it the finale
of my love tale. But there was to be an
other ending. l had grown better, and
was at home All the little world save /
was busy and l sat on the old porch in the
trembling shadows of the vine leaves.
There / heard step behind me and turned
and saw Rachel Stockton.
Paul." she said, and gave me her hand
and took it. / held it as men hold the
hand of women whom they love- looked
into her eyes, filled and overbrimming
with bright tears. | forgot that she was
the rich heiress. l only remembered the
Leah who had written those letters.
And so that came to pass which had
seemed too wild a dream ever to come true,
and | found my arm about her waist and
her head upon my BOSOM and l had said to
her:
'Remember, am crippled man, and
one who can offer you neither wealth nor
name. Even what | had-strength and
some little shadow of good looks-are gone
l am sadly altered"
Then her hand, pressed upon my lips,
silenced me.
you have not altered to me-" she wills
pered. II have loved you long, long
while-long before you knew me as Leah
and | love you better now than ever"
Then a great joy filled my soul, and I
thanked heaven.
Today she is my wife.-M. K. ID. in New
York News.
Regeneration of the Parrot.