Year: 1870




Poor John! it did not matter now, ex-
cept that a shot in front might have spared
the long agony in store for him. He SEEM
ed to read the thought that troubled me,
as he spoke so hopefully when there was
no hope, for he suddenly added:


This is my first battle; do they think
it's going to be my last ?"


''lm afraid they do, John"


1t was the hardest question | had ever
been called upon to answer; doubly hard
with those clear eyes fixed on mine, fore
ing truthful answer by their own truth.
He seemed little startled at first, pom
dered over the fateful fact moment, then
shook his head, with glance at the mus
cular chest and broad limbs stretched out
before him;


I'm not afraid, but it's difficult to be-
lieve all at once. I'm so strong it don't
seem possible for such a little wound to
kill me-


Merry Mercutio's dying words glanced
through my memory as he spoke, '"Tis
not so deep as q well, nor so wide as a
church door, but It's enough And John
would have said the same could he have
seen the omineus black holes between his
shoulders he never had, but, seeing the
ghastly sights about him, could not be-
lieve his own wound more fatal than
these, for all the suiferings it had cost
him.


"Shall | write to let your mother
knowP Pn l asked, thinking that these sud
den tidings might change all his plans and
purposes. But they did not; for the man
received the order of the Divine Com
mander to march with the same unques-
tioning obedience with which the soldier
had received that of the human one;
doubtless remembering that the first led
him to life and the last to death.


mo, ma'am; to Jack just the same;
he'll break it to her best, and I'll add g
line to her myself when you get DONE"


So | wrote the letter which he dictated,
finding it better than any had sent; for
though here and there u little ungram-
matical or inelegant, each sentence came
to me briefly worded, but most expressive
full of excellent counsel to the the boy,
tenderly bequeathing "mother and Lizzie"
to his care, and bidding him good bye in
words the sadder for their simplicity. He
added a few lines with steady hand, and
as / sealed it, said with patient sort of
sigh, 81 hope the answer will come in
time for me to see it; - then turning away
his face, laid the flowers against his lips,
as if to hide some quiver of emotion at the
thought of such sudden sundering of all
the dear home ties. These things had
happened two days before now John was
dying, and the letter had not come. l
had been summoned to many deathbeds
in my life, but to none that made my
heart ache as it did then, since my mother
called me to watch the departure OF
spirit akin to this in gentleness and patient
strength. As / went in John stretched
out both hands.


81 knew you'd come! guess I'm
moving on, ma'am."


He was; and so rapidly that, even while
he spoke, over his face l saw the gray
veil falling that no human hand can lift.
| sat down by him, wiped the drops from
his forehead, stirred the air about him
with the slow wave of fan, and waited
to help him die. He stood in sore need
of help--and | could do so little; for, as
the doctor had foretold, the strong body
rebelled against death, and fought every
inch of the way. forcing him to draw each
breath with spasm and clench his hands
with an imploring look, as if he asked:
GLOW long must | endure and be still ?"
For hours he suffered dumbly, without a
moments respite or moments murmur-
ing his limbs grew cold, his face damp,
his lips white, and again and again he tore
the covering off his breast, as if the light
est weight added to his agony; yet, through
it all his eyes never lost their perfect Sc
renity, and the mans soul seemed to sit
therein, undaunted by the ills that vexed
his flesh.


One by one the men woke, and round the
room appeared circle of pale faces and
watchful eyes, full of awe and pity for
though a stranger John was beloved by
all. Each man there wondered at his pa
tence, admired his fortitude, and now
lamented his hard death: for the influence
OF an upright nature had made itself deep
ly felt, even in one little week. Presently
the Jonathan who so loved this comely
David came creeping from his bed for a
last look and word. The kind soul was
full of trouble, as the choke in his voice.
the grasp of his hand, betrayed but there
were no tears, and the farewell of the
friends was the more touching for its
brevity.


sOld boy, how are you?" faltered the
,, one.


Most through, thank heaven " whis-
pered the other.


Can say or do anything for you any
where's ?"


Take my things home, and tell them
3 that did my best"


Il will !" l will!"


Good bye, Ned"


"Good bye, John, good byem


They kissed each other tenderly as
women, and so parted, for Ned could not
stay to see his comrade die. For little
while there was no sound in the room but
the drip of water from a sump or two, and
Johns distressful gasps, as he slowly
breathed his life away. l thought him
nearly gone, and had just laid down the
t fan, believing its help to be no longer
t needed, when suddenly he rose up in his
bed, and cried out with bitter cry that
= broke the silence sharply, startling every
e one with its agonized appeal;
, 'For Gods sake, give me ARP"


1t was the only cry pain or death had
wrung from him, the only boon he had
+ asked; and none of us could grant it, for
G all the airs that blew We're useless now;


Dan flung up the window The hrst rea