The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1898-08-27

to me like the groaning of ghost. 1t
weakened me so that had to rest while
before going down the long walk still lined
by my mothers flower beds; but oh, how
neglected they looked As | neared the
porch | saw red calf tied to lilac bush,
one that my mother had herself planted on
the very day she was bride, and then
seemed to know that she was gone. War
kills women as well as men. She Thought
her only boy was dead, and she had moth
ing to live for-nothing but an empty
home.
THAT was too good a house to be long
unoccupied, and DR.. Miller had rented it
to needy family of foreigners, requesting
that my room should be left just as my
mother had last arranged it.
"Oh how had cheered myself with a
picture of that waiting tea table But |
didn't drop down into my accustomed
place, for even the table had been moved
into the little, overcrowned kitchen, and
the robust woman who did her best to
serve me could not understand my simple
language, but she did comprehend my
sorrow and WEAKNESS and bitter disappint-
ment, and after l had taken glass OF
milk she allowed me to go right up to my
own airy chamber. Everything was
sacredly familiar. How delciously soft
and clean the bed seemed, and | cried my
self to sleep like tired, homesick baby.
The first thing heard in the morning
was, not the chirping of the robbins, as in
the olden time, but the loud bawling of
that steer calf under my window. | COW
cred my head with the bedclothes and
was the poor, weak baby again. When |
awoke later in the day good DR.. Miller
was sitting by my bedside. He helped me
dress, and took me home TO breakfast,
where the talking, as well as the cooking,
wasn't hungry, and longed to ask what
had become of Martha
II soon found out. Her father was 60
ing to Holyoke the very next day to hear
her valedictory, and he took me along
with him. 1t was long drive, but we
took it slow and easy, and | had my fill of
fresh air, and recovered my appetite. We
were little late to the exhibition, and
found the chapel already crowded, but the
! good doctor finally succeeded in getting a
seat well up i'll front, and there, RICH, be
|
fore us was Amherst Jim, just as slim and
white as ever. He fingered his watch
chain and petted his mustache and made
his diamond glisten and devoured the
| platform with his eyes, just as he used to
! do in the old red school house when Mar :
tina was going to speak her piece. Now
he was full-tledged physician, and DR..
Mller's partner. We had long time to
wait. The essays were lengthy aud
learned, and Martha s was the very last
The other graduates wore white, but she
was all in black, with a Grape collar l
looked questioningly into her fathers face
lie put his arm around me, and whispered:
She wears morning for your mother-and
for you
"For my mother and for me-oh the
pain Of it oh, the joy of it ! aud whether
it was the pain or the joy, or the crowded
room, or the way Jim looked at Martha, |
cannot tell, but somehow everything Slip
ped away into nothingness.
"When came back to consciousness
the folks were all gone, all but Dr. Miller
and his daughter, and Martha was holding
me as handy as she is holding that blessed
baby now, and l was just as quiet and sub,
missive.
81 didn't know much of anything but
submission for long time after that. |
didn't know | was helpless in bed in the
Miller mansion, with jim for night watch,
mixing the medicine to suit himself, and
always telling Martha l was slowly ill.,
proving, and / could not see the noiseless
hand that was stretching pontoon bridge
over the last river, but when my hand was
wet with the cold surf, reached it feebly
toward Martha g, and she shook it firmly,
Just as she did when was going away to
war and she said: Bonnie, oh Bonnie !
you are to young to die; if only you will
live, my mother shall be your mother, and
then she laid her warm cheek down on that
cold hand and it thrilled me back to life
again, and the good old doctor whispered,
While there's life there's hope, and after
that he was the night watch, and Martha
was the day watch and Jim dropped out
and Martha's mother was my mother.
MATTHIAS children are my children her
grandchildren are all mine, too, and poor
Jim never had any. have outlived him
by quarter of a century, and Pm good
for twenty-five years more, but want you
! youngsters distinctly to understand this is
NY last war story-positively the last"
Two chubby arms wound around grand
pas neck, and a reproving little kiss was
dropped upon the veterans forehead. Lit
tie Matte well remembered that he had
said those very words, positively the last,
on his very last birthday, and so her
grateful caress must needs be little re-
proving for had he not often counseled
her, TELL the truth, the whole truth and