Sequachee Valley news. (Sequachee [Sequatchie], Tenn.) 1896-1952, 1904-01-14
Written FOR THE News,
THE BLACKSMITH'S STORY.


She left me voluntarily and neither was
to blame.
It's rather a queer story and l think you
will agree
When you hear the circumstances twas
rather rough on me.
She was a soldiers widow; he was kill.
at Malvern Hill;
And when married her she seemed to
sorrow for him still,
But | brought her here to Kansas and
never want TO see
A better wife than Mary was for five
bright years to me.
The change of scene brought cheerful
ness and soon a rosy glow,
OF happiness warmed Mary's cheeks
and melted all their snow,
| think she loved me some-lm bound
TO think that of her,
And as for me can't begin to tell how
loved her.
Three years ago tho baby came our
humble home to bless,
And then | reckon was nigh to perfect
happiness,
Twas hers, twas mine, but I've no Ian
guage to explain too
How that little girls weak fingers our
hearts together drew,
Once we watched it through a fever,
and with each gasping breath
Dumb with an awful wordless woe we
waited for its death,
And though I'm not pious man our
souls together there
For heaven to spare our darling went up
in voiceless prayer.
And when the doctor said 'twould live
our JOY what words could tell,
Clasped in each others arms our CRATE
full tears together fell,
Sometimes you see the shadow fell
across our little nest
But 1T only made the sunshine q still
more welcome guest,
Work came to me a plen4y and / kept
the anvil ringing,
Early and late you'd find me there a.
hammering and a-singing;
Love nerved my arm to labor and NOV
ed my tongue to song;
Although my singing wasn't sweet it
was tremendous strong.
One day one-armed stranger stopped
to have me nail on shoe,
And while was at work he passed a
compliment or two;
l asked him how he lost his arm. He
said twas shot away
At Malvern Hill. AT Malvern Hill?
Did you know Robert May?"
That's me, said he. ''You," l gasped
choking with horrid doubt,
"lf you are the man, just follow me,
Well try this mystery out"
With dizzy steps led him in to Mary.
Twas true.
Then the bitter pangs of misery un.
speakable | drew
Frozen with deadly horrors she stared
with eyes of stone,
And from her quivering lips there broke
one wild despairing moan,
Twas he, the husband of her youth,
now risen from the dead,
But all too late, and with bitter cry her
senses fed.
What could be done? He was reported
dead. On his return
He strove in vain some tiding OF his
absent wife to learn.
Twas we'll that he was innocent.
would have killed him, too,
So dead he never would have riz till
GabriePs trumpet blew.
1t was agreed that Mary between vi
should decide,
And each by her decision would sacred
ly abide:
No sinner at the judgement seat waiting
eternal doom
Gould suffer what 1 did while waiting
sentence in that room.
Rigid and breathless there we stood
with nerves as tense as steel
While Mary's eyes sought each white
face in piteous appeal:
God! could not woman's duty be less
hardly reconciled
Between her lawful husband and thu
father of her child.
All! how my heart was chilled to ict
when she knelt down and said,
Forgive me, John, be is my husband
here alive not dead"
| raised her tenderly and tried to tel
she was right,
But somehow in my aching breast tht
prisoned words stuck tight.
But John, can't leave baby" Wifi
and child, cried /,
Must leave all? All cruel fate! Bette
that should die;
Think of the long, sad, lonely hour
waiting in gloom for me,
No wife to cheer me with her love, n
babe to climb my knee.
And yet you are her mother and moth
er's love
Is the purest, tenderest tie that eve
Heaven wove.
Take her, Mary, but promise for tina
will bring no shame,
My little girl shall bear and learn t
lisp her fathers name.
1t may be in the life to come II
meet my child and wife,
But yonder by the cottage gate we part
ed for this life;
One long hand clasp from Mary and M
dream of love was done,
One long embrace from baby and N
happiness was gone.
A Reader