Waterbury evening Democrat., 1903-03-09

his face now, however. He had always loved Mary Amman. She had been all most like daughter to him.. Now that her own father had gone he felt like father to her. Indeed he had hoped that he might be in that position to her some day before his boy turned his back upon the south and broke his fathers heart. An, many a day had the old man mounted the rampant and stared at the ships, thinking of that lad who had gone away! General Peyton had loved Beverly Amman. too, for his fathers and sisters sake as well as for his own, and it had grieved him sorely that the bright faced, proud hearted young lad should be stricken down.
 "How is he?" cried the girl as soon as she saw the general.
 The old man shook his head mourn fully.
 'Is there no chance, no hope?"
 ssMy dear" he said taking her hand in both his hands, you are q soldiers sweetheart = she winced at that -- 'tand you are soldiers sister. You must bear it! The poor boy! He is giving his all for the south and that flag" he added, lifting his hat as he looked up at the tall staff with the white starred blue St. Andrews cross stretched over it's red rippling folds.
 "Yes, yes," said the girl; 1the war is taking everything from me every thing! But where is he2'
 "In the casemate out yonder," an- swered the general. "We have fitted 1t up as hospital. Colonel P1easants and Dr. Bampney, after you have seen him I wish you would come over to my quarters. want you to stay with me until"-
 He stopped suddenly with signil- cant pause which cut the girl to the heart.
 to speak of" continued the old man quickly, smiling little, "but we can fx up shakedown for you.'
 t1Thank you, general, anything will do for me-" said Pleasants; "I am an old campaigner, you know"
 Although am not campaigner,' said pr. Bampney, T am old enough for anything to do for me too. We'll be with you presently"
 The casemate was not an unpleasant place. The low arches that sprang al- most from the floor had been freshly whitewashed. It was all neat and clean and the sunlight poured in through the open door, There were half dozen cots in 1t. Over in one corner lay sick soldier. The others were untenanted save for the one occu- pied by Beverly Amman. The surgeon, just then coming on his rounds. stoed by the foot of the bed. A tall, gaunt artilleryman sat at the head flaming the patient. The boy lay with his eyes closed, his head thrown back, motion less; low moan broke from his lips from time to time. He was as white as death and broken with suffering. Mary Amman and the two men walked softly over to the bed. Something rose in her throat and seemed to choke her as she looked down at her little broth CT. He had been so bright, so hand some, so full of spirits, and now 1t was all come to this. Of all the men in that garrison her boy, her boy alone, had been stricken down, the lad who should have been at play at school. Now he would never play again. The impartial touch of war and death had been laid upon him.
 As she leaned over the cot in spite of herself sob broke from her lips. The sufferer heard it and opened his eyes.
 "Sister Mary" he whispered, stifing low moan like the brave little soldier he was, "don't cry. It doesn't hurt so very much, does 1t, doctor7 And he says--he says-I will-be better" "-the boy bit his lip as a paroxysm of pain shook his body, to keep from crying out--s.better in the morning. Won't I, doctorW
 "Yes, my boy" said the physician. biting his own lip in turn, 'T hope so. I think so am sure of it."
 'tWho is that with you? can't see very-well Sister Mary"
 Its Colonel Pleasants and pr. Bampney."
 "Gentlemen," said the lad--and what gentleman he was himself, the two men thought-"I'm glad to see you. You will-excuse me for-not- getting up? It-was good-of youto come down hereto see me. Where-is fa- ther, Mary?" he said suddenly, with a little bewildered stare. 'I-I-want him. Why doesn't he-come tool" lThe girl looked at the two men in hopeless agony. The old clergyman kneIt down by the boys bedside and took his hand in both bis own.
 "You will have your father in the morning, my son." he said softly, un- derstanding, as they all did. the doc tors meaning.
 "Is that you, pr. Bampney? Father I will see him--in the morning. Our Father that is what you taught me when was a boy-in your Sunday school"
 ''Yes, my lad," said the old man, "'Our Father"
 "Say it, doctor"
 The two voices, the old one leading, the other feebly following, softly ut tered the eternal prayer. Peasants covered his face with his hands. The oscly cofdinr. Tn tha cornor lifted biyncoIf