The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1895-02-06
SOLDIERS BUDGET.
" Goodbye, Comrades"

Wuou Ilduh I1OdR lelJ our Town IOr
the war, he parted from the prettiest
little sweetheart man ever had. He
took her picture with him, and down in
the malarial swamps of Virginia be sell
dom said his prayers, but looked often
at his sweethearts picture. One sum-
mer's day news came that Hank had
lost his life while bravey fighting in
the ranks. Hanks sweetheart cried
some, was condoled with by numerous
friends-and got married the next year
to well-to-do middle-aged grocer.
But Hank was not killed in battle,
and he came home one fine day and
found his Amelia a happy wife and
mother. No one knew that Hank suf-
fered very much when he learned that
his dreams-and they must have been
many, during the dark days of '61-'65-
had ended 30 contrary to his antici-
pations He quietly left the city, and
we saw him no more until along in the
seventies.
One day, when the sunlight was
warming the broad street of the town,
and the stream of life was flowing by
in the varied shapes and colors which
clothe thoroughfare with variety, we
saw Hank again. He stood on cor
ner, with his soft, battered military hat
tipped forward on his ruddy nose, a
twinkle in his honest blue eyes and
his general appearance shabby but
neat. You had only to glance at him
to see that he was veteran. On a
thick knobbed cane he carried punches
of shoestrings, which glistened gor-
geously in the sunlight, and a little
American flag fluttered from the end of
the cane.
Hank told us something about his
wanderipgs since he was in town last.
He had drifted to California, where he
labored in the mines for some time {;
then to Texas, where he led the life of
a cowboy, until broken collar-bone
would not admit of his riding a mus
tang for some time; then to the United
States army, where he did service as a
corporal, fighting the wary red man,
and running his health in the cactus
brush, and on the parched plains, and
finally back to his old home, covered
with scars-and selling shoestrings.
One could but admire Hank. He was
such CHEEKY fellow, never down on
his luck, and always ready to laugh
when the occasion seemed to warrant
more tears than laughter.
One day Hank came to US. His
usually cheerful face was gloomy, and
there was click in his throat when he
spoke. Boys" said he, "you've been
kind to me, an wanter further i'm
pose on your good nature. Will you
come up to my house for few minutes?
l wanter show you something"
or course we went with him. He
took US to a little tumble.down frame
building in an alley where the unfortu-
nate and depraved of the town resided.
We followed him up creaking stair
way and into room which, despite the
poor furnishings, was neat and cosy.
"Now, boys" said Hank, "look
round you"
We looked, and on a lounge saw a
little boy. The child was paralyzed,
and from his lack-lustre eyes the light
of intelligence was gone.
"Boys," said Hank, seating himself
beside the shattered little mortal, my
furlough at the Soldiers Home in
Maine is up, an I've got to start back
tomorrow You see this little 'un? u
And Hank lovingly rubbed his hard
hand over the face of the child. "He's
Amelia's. You start, boys. But it's
so-he's Amelia's, sure enough"
And then we remembered that the
well-tOdo merchant who married
Hanks love had failed several years be-
fore and committed suicide. Amelia
had left the city with her infant child
and was heard of no more.
"Well, boys" said Hank, after mus.
ing few moments, Z" l was at the
Home when Amelia was dying in a
little village. She had consumption,
an it took her off quick. Somehow
she got wind that was up in the Maine
Home; so she wrote me an told me
she was poor an dying, an that her
boy-she had named him Henry, after
me!-was paralyzed little shaver, an
that he would be sent to the county
house or orphan asylum after she was
dead. AS soon as got the letter sat
down an wrote Amelia. 1t was hard
job, but l wrote her letter-an' l
guess she could read it. They told me
she died awful easy when she heard
from me-just like Jim Ruth, who lay
in my arms during skirmish in the
Wilderness, an smiled up at me for the
last time an said, feebly, God bless
you, Hank Yes. l suppose she died
easy, like that. So l came to town with
the shaver, an sold shoestrings; an
boys"
Hanks eyes were sparkling as he
stopped over an old trunk, rummaged
about the depths far a moment and
drew out something.
See here" he said; "I've earned
all this for the little fellow, two hun
dred and fifty dollars! That's to pay
the expenses for specialist-a Al doc,
tor--who is to cure my little Henry of
his paralysis, IAN make his pretty eyes
look into mine with the light that was
in Amelia's. Will you take the child
to Specialist"
We promised Hank we would do all
he asked us--yes, even more. Should
his money be insufficient, we would con-
tribute enough to pay the specialists
bill.
The tears came into Hanks eyes
when we were leaving, and he turned
his face to the dust-covered window.