The Globe-republican. [volume] (Dodge City, Kan.) 1889-1910, 1899-05-25

swsr: KILLED down to Newbern -
year."
You knew him. thsn?" cried.
startled, being unaware. you see, till Ia
spoke that had uttered my thought
aloud.
yah! yah!" burst out Jem. reckon
I did. marster: used to long to him.
me an all my folks"
You! Paul Dumarcie's slave! Ana
Helen's now"
mo. sir. Miss Helen never would
own wedem. Tell rs to 60 North, and
when she cum I stick to her close, you
bet. But 'spect own myself, now"
| replied Jem with another laugh and q
mixture Of negro patois and Yankee
slang in his speech.
You do. Of course. Jem." for his last
remark was half question: there are
no slaves here. But was Captain Du-
marcie in the armyf"
Eyes. sir. Long Of the Confeder-
ates. When he killed, Miss Helen
come North to get his body, and. oh.
how she weep when she ind he been
buried many days! She nebber 60
back any more. She been here ebber
since, and ,Jem with her"
"Ah" I said. But am very
thirsty. VIII you bring me drink.
Jem?" would not question servant.
but had received information enough
to think about for one day.
Helen was a widow, then! How
lonely she was. and what a hard, hard
life after the years Of luxury she had
enjoyed In her southern home!
few days afterward. when 1 was
nearly we'll enough to be discharged
Helen spoke to me Of herself. She told
me of the dreadful parting that was
final. OF her journey northward when
tidings of her husbands death came
and finding only the grave where his
mutilated remains were laid days be-
fore.
My little Phillip died but month
before" she said, "and had no longer
any tie to bind me. My dream of love
and home was past. Stern. sorrowful
realities presented themselves. Intel
ligent nurses were wanted. and re-
solved to take my place among them
My life Is dedicated to the work"
But. Helen, you need not sacrifice
your life. You are looking pale and
worn. When my mother comes to take
me home, 90 with us. You know how
welcome you will be-"
| II thank you, Charley" she an
swered, as II something in my words
had recalled our youth, calling me by
the old. familiar name, "but my work
is here: l cannot leave it. After tina
war is over. perhaps. II live till
| then"
| Her tone was very sad. but shs
looked up as she paused, and touch
ing smile. full of resignation and hope.
dawned over the marble pallor OF her
face She rose up and went away.
When my mother came she added
her entreaties to mine. and even some
thing of the authority which her age
and long friendship justified. But
Helen, with warm thanks. put her
aside, as she had done me. Her work
was there, she said: she could nc,
lesve it. And SO we left her to her
patient rounds and mournful duties.
l went home . crippled man. Nc
more of outward striving life for me-
no dreams and successes, no ambitions
| to be realized. The future seemed q
drear blank l fell into a morbid state
thoughts introverted self prominent
bitter, uncharitable. unreasoning, J
supposed was grateful to Helen. bu,
1 often found myself wishing she had
let me die. And. as I could not ye,
hold a pen in my left hand, made
that an excuse for not writing to her
when either Of my sisters would gladly
have written for me, and often did
| write on their own account, and
| thanked her over and over again for
| preserving to them the brother. who
had been too sullen and bearish to
deserve such kindness ever since his
return. Helen answered briefy-her
time was so occupied-but she said
little about herself.
| 1t came upon US all with great
shock, then, when. about two months
after my return home. the papers
brought us tidinzs Of her death.
| Faithful to the end, she had never
left her post, even to die. When she
could no longer resist her weakness
and disease she lay down in the great
bare room. and upon the very cot
had laid on to die. There poor, faith
full JeIn watched her, with all a wOm-
ans tenderness, to the last, and kind
| | } ., t.