The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1897-10-27
Coming Home.

1t was bitter cold night; one of
those times, happily infrequent in this
latitude, when everything, animate and
inanimate, seemed to shrink and cover
in the intense cold. The very air was
full of icy particles, which one was
forced to draw in with every breath;
and when the moon rose, round and
clear and bright, the wind came up
with it, and penetrated every crack and
crevice, no matter how minute. The
passengers by the night express gath :.
cred closer to the stove, crowding and
jostling each other, as even well-bred
people will sometimes do in their efforts
to keep warm.
All but one man who sat in seat by
himself near the door. A tall man
wrapped in coat of army blue, the
visor of his cap drawn low over his
eyes-deep, dark eyes with a strange
expression in them-such eyes as a
man might have who had been fated to
stand for time on the borders of hell,
and having seen must bear with him
through life the memory OF its horrors.
He sat there quietly enough, taking
little heed of what was going on around
him. All the afternoon he had sat so,
seldom moving, not speaking, only once,
when he had given up his seat, near the
fire, to a poor-looking woman with a
child in her arms, and himself taken
this one farther back, and the passen-
gers, noticing the little act of polite
ness, and observing his dress as we'll,
decided that he was soldier on his
way home; veteran, probably, and
NJ hoir thnvtnhfo
And while the hours of early evening
wore away, the train Numbered on,
over miles and miles OF level prairie;
past farm houses nestled down among
trees, and barns and corn.cribs; past
little groups of dwellings, with their
home-lights shining cheerily out.
The man by the window watched
them as they fitted by, an eager, hum
cry look coming into his eyes. Was he
thinking of house at the end of his
journey, where the lamps were lighted
by this time, and three faces, sad
enough now, would grow suddenly
bright at his coming? do not know.
The conductor came in presently,
bringing little of the keen outer air
with him. He paused with his hands
on the back of the seat in which the
soldier sat, smiling down into the
gloomy eyes lifted to his face he said
cheerfully:
"We shall be ATM. in eleven minutes.
You're almost home, SIR"
"Yes, thank Godl"
Home! Did conductor Hines know
all that word meant to the man sitting
there 30 quietly? He thought he did (;
thought he could understand his feel
ings, for he himself had served three
years as a soldier, and well remember
ed the inconsistencies, the weary wait
ing, the longing that grew almost in
supportable, sometimes, for one glimpse
of dear faces left behind.
Something of this, he said in his ear
nest way, still standing there, his hand
on the back of the seat. The soldier
agrasped it, and the two looked steadily
into each others eyes.
Two faces 30 very unlike. One
pleasant to look upon, though shadow
ed little by cares and responsibilities
of middle life. The other showing
warm and white under the lamplight,
gray hair about the temples, lines upon
the forehead, deep lines around the
mouth; the face of an old man-and
yet he was but thirty. His very voice
had curious, unnatural tone in it as
he said, still keeping hold of the friend
ly hand, still looking into the kindly
eyes, "Ips three years since l saw my
family, two since / heard from them.
have been prisoner eighteen months
at Salisbury"
What story was outlined in these
few words-only outlined-the details
will never be known till the great day
of Remembrance, when the secrets of
all prison houses shall be revealed, and
the black record of Southern cruelty be
shown up to the gaze of angels and
men. Eighteen monthsl They had
done the work of eighteen years on the
once powerful frame of this man, whose
whole heart seemed centered now on
the one thought of going home.
Homel Who can tell how blessed
memories of it had steadied the sol
dier's brain and kept him from madness
during those days, and weeks, anc
months OF lingering torment, wher
hope and courage and manly fortitudt
alike gave away before the horrors o.
the situation, and brave men, who hat
looked death in the face many tim'
without blanching, shrank, now, wheI
it came in the form of slow starvation
But they have lived through it-som'
of them-this Mark Ryder among tn
rest.
He stood now on the platform of tn
car as the train stopped alongside low
roofed. dinpy little building, dignihe