The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1896-02-27

| and Tom was turning the music.
Without thinking where the others
could be, stepped out on the veranda
and lighted a cigarette. 1t was per-
| feet night. The air was filled with the
warmth of early summer, and the
moon lit up the tops of the birch trees
in the meadow beyond the garden,
| while far across the fields cleaned
Allswater lake like broad strip OF
silver.
Suddenly there came two figures pac
ing slowly across the lawn-Denton
and Eunice. l gasped with astonish-
ment, for the merchants arm was about
the girls waist; and they walked SO
until they came close beneath the place
where l stood, when they stopped.
The wall behind me was covered with
ivy and they could not see me, and just
as was about to make my presence
| known-oh. shame and confusion-I
| saw the girls snowy neck bend, and her
head droop upon the strangers Shout
| der. Their he took her face between
| his hands and kissed her on the mouth.
l barely depressed a cry, for that
moment l felt hand grasp my arm
with the force of wise, the fingers
fairly sinking into my flesh. The pair
on the lawn walked slowly round to
another door of the house with arms
about each other, as lovers walk, Eu-
nice looking like a spirit in her cling
| ing, white dress. Then I turned and
| looked into the face of Tom Grantham,
and the look of agony there l hope
shall never see again in the face of hui
man being.
When we returned to the drawing
| room presently Denton and Eunice were
there. She was as fair and unruffled
as the saint l had thought her Den
ton held an envelope in his hand which
he handed to Tom. "a telegram foc
you, lieutenant" he said, coldly. II
| took it from boy at the gate. Your
father, it seems, sent it on here
Tom took the telegram and read it.
[ marveled at his composure. THE
regiment is ordered to Africa" he
said, and thrust the paper in his pocket
Eunice gave heart breaking Shrek
and rushed upon him.
How very unfortunate" observed
Denton, with perceptible sheer.
Grantham turned about and struck
him to the floor with blow from his
fist. Then he STROBE from the room with
out glance behind him. Eunice faint
ed. Her two sisters were too busy at
tending to her to notice me, and their
father was nowhere to be seen. Feel.
ing my presence unnecessary, [ fol
lowed my friend just as the fallen mer-
chant from India was preparing to
rise.
How | came to be passenger on the
troop ship that carried the Eighth from
Plymouth does not matter much. The
commercial house that commanded my
valuable services had some affairs to
settle at Cape Town, and as l was the
only person in the Office ready to vol
unteer for the mission my offer was
eagerly accepted.
Though l was young my employers
were good enough to admit that l had
brains. To settle this business was an
easy matter, and having a taste for
adventure, it wasn't difficult-every-
thing considered, including little dis
tance-to seek out my friend Tom at
| the headquarters of his regiment.
How he managed it | do not know,
but when l obtained permission to ac-
company the Eighth in the guise of a
war correspondent, or anything else
| might choose to call myself ION con-
dition that L kept out of sight at the
proper time, and refrained from talk
ing too much), availed myself of the
privilege with the ardor of a school
boy let out for holiday.
The campaign has gone into history,
and it is not my purpose to describe it,
Or justify it either, for that matter.
The part played by the Eighth was not
d conspicuous one, hard marches
through dreadful, rough country,
with very little to eat and broiling
Sky over our heads, We're for long our
sterneSt lot.
On these long marches, and in the
quiet watches about the campfire, my
friend never once spoke of his great
sorrow. From the tenor of his con-
NeFSdulOn, however, l. cOulu easily per-
ccive that life had no charm left for
him, and that he would welcome as a
boon the chance shot or assegai thrust
that could end it. His hair, too, was
growing gray. Think of it--a soldier,
three years out of school, and gray at
a.
When we heard of the death of the
prince imperial, the widowed Eugenie's
only son, Tom sighed and said he en-
We'd him. When news reached us of
the awful catastrophe of Rorke's Drift,
where so many brave fellows went
down, he gritted his teeth and vowed
he would like to strike blow for venge-
ance before the war was over.
The final battle of Ulundi, which was
followed shortly by the capture of
Cetewayo and the termination of the
war, was most bloody affair. 1t was
here that the Eighth performed it's
magnificent and almost only service
of the campaign.
Through the long afternoon the Zulu
warriors fought with the superb fe-
rocity that has marked them out as
the heroes of all the savage tribes.