The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1897-05-05

sat on his knee and prattled of hei
dolls. This is the way of the human
heart.
1t having been noised about that tn,
soldier was dying and that Nellie haC
been sent for across the sea, all the
people We'd with each other in sooth
ing the last moments of the famous
man, for he was beloved by all and all
were bound to him by bonds OF patri
otto gratitude, since he had been &C
brave soldier upon the battlefelds oil
his country. But the soldier did not
heed their words of sympathy; the
voice of fame, which, in the past, had
stirred fever in his blood and fallen
most pleasantly upon his ears awakened
no emotion in his bosom now. The
soldier thought only of Nellie, and he
awaited her coming.
An old comrade came and pressed
his hand, and talked of the times when
they went to the wars together; and
the old comrade told of this battle and
of that, and how such victory was
won and such a city taken. But the
soldiers ears heard no sound of battle
now, and his eyes could see no flash of
sabre or smoke of war.
So the people came and spoke words
of veneration and love and hope, and
so with quiet fortitude, but with hun
CRY heart, the soldier waited for Nellie,
his little girl.
She came across the broad, tempestu-
GUS ocean The gulls few far out from
land and told the winds, and the winds
flew further still and said to the ship:
"Speed on, o shipl speed on in thy
swift, straight course, for you are bear
ing treasure to fathers hearth"
Then the ship leaped forward in her
pathway, and the waves were very still,
and the winds kept whispering "Speed
on, o ship" till at last the ship was
come to port and the little girl was
clasped in the soldiers arms.
Then for a season the soldier seemed
quite himself again, and the people
said "He will live," and they prayed
that he might. But their hopes and
prayers were vain. Deaths seal was
on the soldier, and there was no re-
lease.
The last days of the soldiers life
were the most beautiful of all--but
what mockery of ambition and fame
and all the grand, pretentious things of
life they were! They were the triumph
OF human heart, and what is better
or purer or sweeter than that?
No thought of the hundred battle
fields upon which his valor had shown
conspicuous came to the soldier now
nor the echo of his eternal fame
nor even yet the murmurs of a sorrow
ing people. Nellie was by his side, and
his hungry, fainting heart fed on her
dear love and his soul went back with
her to the years long agone,
Away beyond the western horizon
upon the prairie stands little home
over which the vines trail. All about
it is the tall, waving grass, and over
yonder is the swale with legion of
chattering blackbirds perched on its
swaying reeds and rushes. Bright wild
flowers bloom on every side, the quail
whistles on the pasture fence, and from
his home in the chimney corner the
cricket tries to chirrup an echo to the
lonely birds call. In this little prairie
home we see man holding on his
knee little girl, who is telling him of
her play as he smoothes her fair curls
and strokes her tiny velvet hand; or,
perhaps, she is singing one of her baby
songs, or asking him strange questions
of the great wide world that is so new
to her; or, perhaps, he binds the wild
flowers she has brought into little
nosegay for her new bingham dress,
or-but we see it all, and so, too, does
the soldier, and 30 does Nellie, and
they hear the blackbird's twitter, and
the quail's shrill call and the cricket's
faint echo, and all about them is
the sweet, subtle, holy fragrance of
memory
And so at last, when,Death came and
the soldier fell asleep forever, Nellie,
his little girl, was holding his hand and
whispering to him of those days. Hers
were the last words he heard, and by
the peace that rested on his face when
he was dead, you might have thought
the soldier was dreaming of time
when Nellie prattled on his knee and
babe him weave the wild flowers in her
curls.-Eugene Field.