The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1895-07-17

she had placed one or the wreaths on
the peg over the faded, threadbare coat
Of Zach's home life, one of the links of
the past her mothers heart chung to.
AS her trembling fingers touched the
old familiar garment, the waves of
memory swept over her like flood,
ard swiftly the tears gathered and fell
upon her haudiwork. Then there sud-
denly came to the lonely woman the
feeling of presence near, and as if
spoken aloud, so clear and distinct
seemed the voice in her ear, she
thought she heard the word " come"
A little startled, Nancy glanced
quickly about her; but the purple lilacs
nodding at the window, and the sun
beams dancing across the bare floor
seemed to laugh at her fears.
81 must be a-gettin' dreadful ner-
vous,n she muttered to herself, as she
hastily brushed her eyes, "but it
seemed to me as if some one spoke to
me then, sure"
All that day, in spite of her strong,
practical common sense, the feeling re-
NAMED with her, and the word leone"
seemed whispered in every sound hat
fell upon her ears. In the breC re that
swept the shower of apple blossoms
across her neat doorstep she heard ii !;
in the murmur of the brook, whose
tones she could hear from her open
window, there came that same plaintive
voice, and the loud notes of the robins
in the tree-tops seemed to have settled
down into solemn chant of that one
word, "Come."
Through the long hours of the night
Nancy lay with wide open eyes, staring
into the darkness, and not until her
mind had formed and matured plan
of action did they close in slumber.
With the coming of dawn, however,
she arose and began her preparations
for long journey. 1t was many years
since she had left the old farm for even
the journey of day, but so strong had
grown the desire to learn something Of
her husbands last resting place that
she seemed impelled by a power
stronger than herself to make this eff
fort. Realizing nothing of the distance
or the difficulties of journey to that
far off South she had read of, she took
from its hiding place the small savings
of years of economy, and started forth
into the unknown.
The whirling landscapes, the unfa-
miliar faces, the many stops and
changes, and the noise and clamor of
the great cities, dazed and bewildered
er, and, after what seemed like
troubled dream, she awoke one day,
and found herself in the city of Wash
ington. Having read Of that beautiful
spot, the National Cemetery, where so
many of cur heroes are sleeping, Nancy
Jacobs determined to look here for the
grave of her husband Through the
long hours from sunrise 10 sunset she
wandered through those aower-bor-
deredwalks, peering at the names on
the headstones in that field of graves,
and gazing with wonder-struck eyes at
the vast number marked Unknown"
Could it be that among these poor
boys Zachary Jacobs had found his last
home? Heartsick and weary, Nancy
sank down on shady seat, while a
feeling of despair and disapr ointment
took possession of her. Through the
broad avenue rolled The carriages filled
with curious sightseers, yet no one
seemed to notice the little old woman,
in her country-made gown, who
watched them with pathetic eyes.
Presently the warm sunshine, the
sweet fragrance of early blossoms, the
sweet twitter of birds soothed the tired
nerves, and there came to Nancy de-
lightful feeling of rest and peace. Then
it was she seemed to be lifted and
borne through space far, far away. The
sweet smell of the pine trees came to
her nostrils, and the low murmur of
their voices touched her ear. "Come,"
they seemed to say, and, with start,
Nancy awoke. Refreshed and strength
ened, she drew from her pocket the
little map that had been her guide
throughout her journey, and once more
studied its lines with renewed hope.
Thus it came to pass that the nc xt
day she was once more whirling thrc ugh
the country, on, onward toward that
spot of Southern ground, where the
battle Of Antietam was fought so many
years ago.
In the little town of Sharpsburg she
paused, feeling that her feet were near
ing earth sacred to the memory of
slaughtered heroes. The Southern
town, hot, dusty and dirty, with its
crowds of black faces all about her,
was strange and bewildering to the
country woman OF the North, and
Nancy Jacobs gazed about her with
wondering eyes. Gaily-turbaned me-
groes passed her by with curious
chances at her own figure, while now
and then the sallow face of white
woman looked sharply at her from the
depth of a huge sunbonnet. YEARLY
Nancy's tired feet trod the dusty walk +,
as she sought for place Of rest and
shelter from the burning rays of the
sun. Suddenly strange dizziness
swept over her, the earth seemed to
rise up like huge wall, and the faces
of the people about her blended to-
gather in one black sea. With des-
perate effort she threw out her hands
and clutched at the nearest object,
which happened to be the dress of a
negress who was passing.
" Dress de Lord, honey! What's de
matter?" cried the woman, as her arms
clasped about Nancy's fainting form.
No answer came from the pale face