The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1893-07-12

OF wives and turned away with heavy
hearts. Fathers held laughing babies
In their arms and kissed their little
races again and again, seriously realiz-
ing tnat, perhaps, even the baby would
grow gray with age ere the sire's re-
turn. But such is that catastrophe of
war that grows out of the ignorance
ana mistakes of men that we wrongly
say must be washed out with blood
put makes crimson stain, a deeper dye
that will take long years of kindness
ana patience to remove. HarshneSs
never heals wound in state any more
tnan IT does in the human heart. Love
alone can bridge the chaSm of hate and
carry the foes across. There is no case
on record where the battle has not left
more nate than existed before it. 1t re-
CURES the craftsmanship of ages 10
undo the wrongs Of one bloody field.
When John Brooke said good-by to his
peautlful daughter, and gave her the
last KISS he ever pressed upon her lips,
MS demeanor seemed TO undergo a mys-
ferrous change. Something seemed to
say: This is the last farewell" Some
unexplained presence was there as 1t
is everywhere in human affairs, shaping
destlnies, giving thorns to one, roses to
another; water to one, TO another worm
wood and gall This is life, a game of
chance, where bitter and sweet is all
mixed; smiles and frowns, tears and
laughter. and then-sleep.
The father looked at the golden hair
or the child that he so often had combed
and brushed, that his own big. clumsy
fingers had tied with blue ribbons; he
looked at those dimpled hands, ex-
qulsite, beautiful, and he remembered
when he first taught her at eventide TO
fold them together and say: Now L
lay me down to sleep"
In all human grief, what Is so sad as
a soldiers farewell to his child?
He did not regard his daughter. how
ever, a young woman. He thought her
but supplemented child. He did not
Know that even she, his bright-eyed lit
tie girl had ever dreamed of love. He
did not know that that mysterious some
thing that promised all joy, but that is
always bathed in tears had introduced
itself to Sparkle.
Again the bugle calls, and the small
squad of men take their positions, and
for the first time try to keep step as
the corporal calls out in keeping the
time of the drum: '1eft-left," and each
man straightens himself up, conscious
of the fact that he is to be a soldier.
The bright morning sun lovingly kisses
their red, white and blue, in whose folds
hide the stars of liberty
Down the street they went with their
good-byes, their tears and cheers. As
they advanced to the top of the hill
and about face" to look back upon the
little, quiet, flower-cheered village, with
the brook that divides il like a broad
band of silver. each man dotted his hat
TO give 1t a goodbye, and then over the
hill, and lost as morning lost in night.
Each villager tried to comfort the other
as best grief may soothe dispair. Tears
Offering solace to groans. Mothers
gathered their little children about them
and felt an awful loneliness that only
the remnant of broken family can
feel
Sparkle's mother had withdrawn to
the house that her eyes might relieve
the fulness OF her heart, that sObs might
sOothe the soul and give way to weep
ing that sometimes is the only relief.
The girl remained at the gate, with a
heart too heavy, a burden too great TO
bear, crying and wondering. Carl Bran
don, who had remained to see the SOL
diers depart, saw his opportunity to
make still deeper impression upon the
sensitive nature, to warp more her fleX-
ible heart. Approaching Sparkle with
that graceful bearing. the product Of
long studied effort, extending his hand
and expressing a real grief, and yet not
void of all satisfaction, for while ii hurt
him to see her sorrow, he was not sorry
that her father had left town. Taking
her half unwilling hand in his, and look
ing at her reluctantly half upturned face
and seeing those beautiful eyes swim
ing in tears, he realized for the first
time that he loved the girl, and yet his
vicious nature was so overpowering il
made him mad at himself that he should
be so weak as TO love prospective vic
tim. He said, looking earnestly and try
ing to look honestly into her eyes,
Sparkle Brooke, your grief touches my
heart, your sorrow is my misery. I pity
you with a feeling I have never known
before" Here his lips quivered, his hand
trembled, she seemed all emotion. He
could speak no further. Seeing they
were observed by the villagers. he quick
ly gained his reserve and said, Meet
me at the bower this evening and let
us talk
The day of the departure of the re-
cruits was largely one Of grief but the
demands of life, the necessity of exist
ence, must eventually overcome all
sentiment and sadness. We must turn
from the coffin to the pillow, from the
tomb and the temple TO the shop and the
mine. The wailing for the dead must
give way to the laugh of the living.
So. after all, the villager returned to his
work at the bench and in the garden,
thinking, bordering, working, now plan
ing the board, then laying down the
plane among the curled up shavings to
gaze stea Oily in deep meditation looking
at what he did not see, thinking of what
he could not comprehend; the division
of the nation, the blood of its people.
Then again he starts quickly 10 work
and seems to forget the far away fields
OF carnage to again drop into his
former reverie.
The busy housewife had to lay aside
continuous weeping and take up the
everyday duties of life and the common
Grudgery of woman's toll. Cooking, to
ease the hunger of little mouths, patches
on worn out garments, washing or iron
ing. all demanding attention. With a
heavy heart she goes about the duties.
Grief and duty. grief may be duty. AS
the sun wearies of the day and seems
to grow tired of it's own brightness, and
sinks into night for rest, weary
hearts await the darkness. A few
more duties remained for the lonely
wives of Cedar Dell. The COW is to feed,
the COW is to milk, and lastly, half sick
baby must be lulled TO slumbers on a
weary mothers breast, and with rock
ably song. day fades, while night deepens,
light fails and the Dell goes TO sleep.
On the hilltop the light seemed to
wooingly linger In the valley where
Cedar Dell slumbered dark came more
quickly. The deep gloom from the
shadows Of the western hills broken
here and there by a light i'm the window
that sent out a glow making the dark
ness visible about it, till the curtain was
drawn and all was black Through these
shadows and these dreams a tall. erect
figure was seen walking with a proud
half Indifferent step for a few PAGES,
then stopping, listening, as if holding his
breath lest the least noise should pre-
vent the football he hoped to hear.
Again he walks on, glances down every
street, he passes the last house in the
outskirts of the town and feels a relief
as much as to say the last picket is be-
hind the guard is in the rear. Onward,