394
tainq
THOU WILT NEVER GROW OLD
Thou wilt never grow old,
Nor weary, nor sad, in the home of thy birth ;
My beautiful lily, thy leaves will unfold
In a clime that is purer and brighter than earth.
0, holy and fair, I rejoice thou art there,
In that kingdom of light, with its cities of gold;
Where the air thrills with angels' hosannas, and where
Thou wilt never grow old, sweet,—
Never grow old
lam a pilgrim, with sorrow and sin •
Haunting my footsteps wherever I go;
Life is a warfare my title to win—
Well will it be if it end not in woe.
Pray for me, sweet; I am laden with care;
Dark are my garments with mildew and moult;
Thou, my bright angel, art sinless and fair,
And wilt never grow old, sweet,—
Never grow old!
Now, cutlet thou hear from thy home in the skies
All the fond words I am whispering to thee?
Dost thou look down on me with the soft eyes
Greeting me oft ere thy spi•it was free ?
So I believe, though the shadows of time
Hide the bright sprit I yet shall behold;
Thou wilt still love me, and, pleasure sublime,
Thou wilt never grow old, sweet,—
Never grow old I
Thus wilt thou ba when the pilgrim, grown gray,
Weeps whenthe tines from the hearthstone are riven;
Faith shall behold thee as pure as the day
Thou wrrt torn' from the earth and transplanted to
heaven. .
0, holy and fair, I rejoice thou art there,
In that kingdoria of light, with its cities of gold,
Where the air thrills with angels' hosannas, and where
Thou wilt never grow old, sweet,— ,
Never grow old I Mas. HOWARTH.
MY REFUGEES
[We are always reluctant to offer
long articles to our readers, especially
on this "family page" of our paper.
Generally we feel disposed to, accompany
them with some apology for their length.
But we give the following from Harper
without hesitation. Read it, and you
will feel that any apology for it would
be an offence.] • I
My refugee, after describing the
burning'of her house, .and , the escape of
her husband from his fiendish captors,
stopped a : -moment, some strange, dark
glitter creeping into her eyes : • After
that they changed Only to
she
More
stony; and her voice, as she went on
with her-."story, was cold and hard:.
"So we all tuk up with the woods for
' a home, an' 'tivere -all the home we • hed
fur,three months. ,We dursn't go anigh
the railroads, an' we travelled mostly
whar the forest was lonliest, - an' the
swamps a-plenty. Thar -was bold nights,
too, when the wind cut into us, an' the
damp seemed ter choke. us like ; an'
thar was rainy. nights, when we crep'
under the bushes, and Stephen he allers
tuk'off his coat ter cover the rest on us,
an'thar were no Stoppin' of him no way.
An' I waked up a-cryin' in my dream,
an' see his face while he, slep' lookin' so
white with the cold, an' the childern
shiverin' all night ; an' I'd lay an' cry,
• and the rain cried along with me on the
leaves, but' it never stopped fur all that.
Sometimes, we •found 'a shed or barn
,whar folks-let us sleep, an' - sometimes
When thar wa,rn't no rebel sojers anigh
the place they'd let us in the house.
'.:But the , starvin' comb the wust.
Folks ,give us.meals. sometimes, ef we
durst 'go out into the road ter hunt up
house. Then, Agin, they cussed us,
an''shet the 'door 'cause we was 'denied
Yankees,' yer know. Thar was a few
as give us a basketful o' victuals, and it,
lastedfur a long spell: Wien we
couldn't get nothin', Stephen . , he shot
rabbit an' birds, an' we picked berries
an' ketched fish ; fur he wouldn't h
that}inanwoulcln't of he'whs ter die fur
But there was days. When: we hadn't
nothin' an' the childern cried an' teased'
fur .food ,an',J only ryes, ,sot an' looked
at ',em, netl4' ter ,give 'em
only hold in My arm an' tell
'eiti tit-Told - their 'little an'l say,
OU'r "Father.' The podia inhocentat
`stopped &yin' 'oilers, 'caUse Hefd throw
, Aown bread from heaVen, _ln
course He -did, give us , some!at, inestly,
or we'd all a ben under l the grass,i but
send : priongh•teri, ; keep the
childern. Four on 'em is dead. Ire
didn't leave one big enough, ter call me
iitPtiferi kiSs iv i ith its little cora
' fditli Ways ; "there's 'n,i3bOdY'left: but
the baby. I doan't know why'she.stood
it, when the rest couldn't. P'r'aps ~be,•
kep' it under my shawl mostly,
an',..it were the warmest of all,on!us.
``Jack went. fust-- 7 tbat ~was his
4ther's boy. lie tuk_ 'f6rer . in them
marshes, an' kinder' wasted afore irn
knewlt: ° ''."
,' ' '- ' -' 1 •
"Viyarn't fir." as we':l'ione after then,;
4ifore , the twins 'friar sick. 'They . didn'i
Mau' it long, an' it were better fur.?..em,
~, poprithings ! When I see , f em bothikin
ter ;once, i ttieir,little.hands , so,poor an'
wint l e ? an' Ikeerd , era ; mOarun' ,in . my
arms, I were slpw ' behevin of, It. I'
tholikhtli'Av4reenoUgh ib l Ve l lonely fur
' I sbWEßYiell the biglita an'-d4s—to"be
' , 'lblitiSin' , of him every year, an be, cryin
Wfnii the !toetty boy he'dtat groived:ter
~ , b e: •ll.lnevier
,thought TA m
lose o.hmore•
` , ..,t7 - 7.X. 4 1e:T0V1 /?•Pugitt.cret. It.Cerne t4rrrne
.. u ßp r .e.RWL,t„wben the chid e a rn ,hed. been
,syilixa',. r yh,: i most, the. atteynoon. VA
Iliad stbp,pea iiiih"e';'n'ty a little InloOk
w oo ° the hushes *aS, thick dn.' I:iarth. ,
') le,,ii- it' laidderldBtephenJ he 'called ;:iUt,,
4.. 4 iStiry/ SliSii - -le, A they're; gold'. ter see
~(TztekyV, ,‘ ,,l lboked.up: into'hisoirefs, an''
,-- I says ,e Stophe4 :it'll' kill. me.' ; He
puphis. hauckp,,t
uer his face, p,n' il - heerd
him, Akoice, ge., ` .111,ary, l ',,says lie, f I
-e,0 3 4,91 1 Pr.t,Y ol :-, I never , see lihritkr
'afore: ai "hadn't never: been &lieu:fie
when he didn't' 81i8eV Me 143 'aekiss me
of any thin' vexed me—l hadn't never
born the least uv a trouble alon' sence
we was married. So I knew how it cut
inter his heart to hey the childern took,
an' how selfish it war in me ter forget
hd loved 'em jes' the same as I did. I
shet my lips then an' never said another
word.
"Dick went, fust. Katie she held out,
till nigh mornin', but I kis' sot, with the
boy stone-cold on my knee, an' never
telled Stephen. I see him bendin' over
the little thing in my alms his face
lookin' so - white, even in the'-dark, an' I
heerd him prayin', '0
.God! leave one'
on em—leave one -on 'em--doan't, take
'em both!' I couldn't: ha' telled him no
way. Katie were past speakin' then ;
but I could jes' see her little face from
whar I sat. Dick's hands was close in
mine—l hadn't never let go Bence they
gtowed. cold. I see after a while a bit
of light shinin' in the brook, an' I knew
the stars was out. But I never looked
up at the sky. He was-the,r as had
taken away my children. He was so
fur up, I thought He never cared. Et
He'd forgot me 'twarn't no use fur me
to be lo,okin' at His sky an' sayin' over
His prayers. So I sat an' see the
shinin' in the 'brook an' the two little
white faces.. I heerd Mattie hushin' the
babie ter sleep whar I'd left her under
the bushos..w The little thing crep up
once, an,', i putt_her warm fingers on my
face arid i kAssed me.
"I heerd Katie moanin', an' I see
Stephen holdin' uv her all night. When
the fust mornin' light come in through
the trees, we turned art' look.ld at one
another, an' they were both dead. We
made 'em two little graves by the brook
an' buried 'em than Then we tuk hold
of hands an' kneeled-down on the moss
an' Stephen he prayed sech a prayer as
I never heerd afore. It made me look
up ter the sky fur the fust time an' see
how blue it was, an' how, bright the
trees was in the sun, an' think how
ithey'd be blue an' bright over the little
cold things jes' the stole when we was
gone, an' how we'd leave 'em all yalone
so fur behind- us., Then .I dried-0,
how, I did,cry ; ! - I hadn't- cried, afore
fur weeks—l got, so frozen like=an' . I
hadn't dropped a tear sence.
" - We come ter safer travellin.'
an' found a honse by the road ,as tuk'
in an' hid us 'up garret, fur' a 'spell.,
They was good to us; God 'bless' 'eni!
an' guy u.s n enough 'to eat ; .but all' the
nussitesn';ivarm fires :was. too late fur
Mettle, They ; made, a bed fur her up,
in the loft, an' when the poor ~little
whiie thing put , her arms around me au!,
cried ter go, to sleep, 'cause she was so
cold an' tired, I.lnew to mice what 'it
`Meant. 'Twarn't only one sort o' sleep
as' would do her good, so I telled her
she' might, tryin' ter smile, an' say as
how God would guy her a nice nap. I
see her shet her eyes, an' I crossed her
little hands, an' I tolled God thar warn't
nothin' left but Stephen an' the baby,
an' ef He was_ goin ter tuk 'em He'd
better do it now While they had a roof
to die under. But Stephen pintad ter
the little dead thing on the bed, an'
asked me ef I'd get to what she whs,
sayin' sech things ter Him as :tuk her
away from sorrer an' sulterin', AEC ,made .
her a little angel to hum with Him
ever:, So he put the baby in my arms
an' made me say a prayer over after
him—he were oilers the best;bn ushoth,
Stephen were. It . was las learnedliin
ter read the Bible, but I didn't never
remember it as he. He -tuk it all to.
once .inter his heart, did what it
telled,lito fur himself7 , .an'; me ;Igo. I;
keep a deatOrk s are. a.:i.k . Ahtirkbat,. , ;%6-
Phen, he .takes ;.t:_ ie. B ' like - a:
litt>e,chil 1. Well, .41;) 4 , .sqp qqgfr a seme'ui
Ilattie'S: Yeller curls, an' he lard 'ein''iii
vitdri ter!kiss'em
I had to ``kiss see';"'ancl:.readl
the- promise `=Which' felled Me . how , I'd,
never:be .forsook.
"After that . we Sound: :we was,.sus
:peoted au'lthe,folk
„could
n't keepp ; us e no. 'auger ; so ,`we,, was off'
agin'=us three alone.: 7 , : filien come
acroasfsome Unien s solers'm` us up
here bkki a chaplain as-1)111d
'our fare, ari''ls'o--wer come here'this morn
ire; --Steiletiplie'a , ,bleiiii;'beat out;
but ef' Eiod. &ain't forgoti:allatab?ut us,
gets well, are._ strong *ell , go ter
work an' zet- an honest ! honk, c..„ doan';._
?Mow asa cacti- ever 11 9, 03 :9,
them little things as was,playin' round'
thi old,Place,,by the river VW, pad . . an'
stilt in 'the aWimps." • '
rust then her baby wakenedand _lie'
gai tlitangli and Coo at mi.,. in its'pret~
ty''way, putting sip its tiny -hands' to
her face: There t-'was some:.
thing `So Wom,' and fender, and :full of
life in. - the touch.;• I saw; her, lipS . quiver.
I am notLashamed, to tell you, what , I,
did. I just ,went, l up to her ,put i both
my
,arns, g.roinoi.,her
on A l 4:. 1141.0. cr.Y.,
After a while found' that 'she iirdB'
crying too. I'kneW .e ttfat -was a 'Leroy.
to herT so' PliiCher down on the(4)ek
a nd knelt - -down and said son43-little
-- ghort m itraperiTto-.which.tsbe?seeined. .td-,
listen: NThen , I put T hcr 14y, key'
arma,:tl. l l4fing., 9 0 -m, fOr,f4er
bpa l shup the door i softly i ii,34,went
,teeken; Ttancl grew very,
T sicr. , Dr.'
a - ci I t o' 4nfie - 'lw4y l
be' Side'ldoking` S r 6r Vhatecier
The wif&T'saw' fge%en st did 'net
- compreherid, , • ellid:jtor sdnaii ;reason
Iter'. , ciwn did not .refleot rib.. 2,1 Every dayv,
'early and , late; morning anAltigh,t,.she
was beside him,1.41...e4 I*dow, her
patient face never turned from his r ,„ z
fOil her ae,..she
eitheiiireaCh morning. *Sercietibieithe'7
esirl
would per ,
cot for a plaything, or they would send
some cheery message to her in their,
PHILADELPHIA, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 15, 1864.
hearty, soldier fashion, seeming pleased
at her grateful smile. But as the days
went on, and they saw 'how the fever
was burning in her husband's' eye and
cheek, and caught snatches of the con
sultations the doctor and I hid over him
out in - the - entry, I noticed t how -often
they hushed their noisy jokes and laugh
ter when they looked over to the man's
corner, and how many anxious inquiries
for our refugees met me every morning.
• At puzzled me, at first, to' t see how- en
tirely nature seemed to have confused
her rules in the hearts of theselwo. The
man clinging to her, resting BO ' in her
strength and love, yet fancying still in
his delirium that he was again "
,her pro
tector in the dangers of their forest life ;
taking with such a childlike trust, the
truths from the Bible she had taught
him to understand, giving them back to
her with a faith as pure as a woman's ;
yet withal a brave man, no coward in
principle, no craven in danger.
I-used to wonder as I looked up often
at Sher from my work, and saw how
quietly she sat, "_the same loved, tireless
watcher," how her husband's eyes fol
lowed hers, and this voice called her, how
they clung to one another- - ---these two
from whom God had taken all else but
'the knowledge of what they were each
to each—l used to wonder how she could
bear it to have him go.
Out of those busy days I have saved
many a pleasant picture of her_ as she
sat fanning the hot air about the bed,
watching for all little cares for her
husband, hushing her baby,,or perhaps
bowing her head, her lips moving, as if
in prayer. And I thought what it would
be when, for, such tender offices, no voice
would, call to her..
Once,
• .
Once, I remember,
I was„ busy over
the captain, not far from her, and I saw
her turn”suddenly, in answer to her
husband's call. '
"Mary, whar's the baby ?" -
4 4 :Here,:•Stephen:"`..
She held;up the little things° that he
could see; it, her eyes on him, Ind not on,
the _child. He put up his thin hand and
touched its face.
" all we've got left, Mary, , ain't
it 2»"'
Hush, S'tephen, min I Ter took&
ter -think On% new." , •
"No. I , &Hers think when I'm awake
the rest is better of I like ter think
who's tall 'cm!' -
"1 doan't in a quick, sharp' tone.
" Mary! Mary ! yer must. Yerpight,
tempt Ain', to lip, Nyu,i thing?!
' he made, no answer, but T could' see
her 'thin lips compress Suddenly, and I
marked how the purple veins Were 'swell
ing on her. forehead. •
Her husband passed his hand: ver the
baby's puny face, and then looked up at
her:
"Mary, of I'should be took"—
She stopped him with a' low, sharp
cry, and caught both his hands in hers.
" Stephen, yer won't," she, said.
• A bit of sunlight had fallen across the
bed and touched the three, dropping off
from her dark hair and deep-Set, glowing
eyes, cloWn on the sunken face upon the
pillow, and then on the little ohildi _who(
saw it with a bubbling laugh, and put
up itslands to catch the golden ;notes
that 'floated past. • ',.
Shcy'eat,ight - at it quicklY,as if it were!
a promise.
" Yer've been drearains, tephen,
she said, with a nervous laugh. " The
coirie - - ter wake Wliy,-inan,:l i
yer, most. Well:,. I haven!t seen. yer luk
. L Bo,natursl 7 like sence yeriwas sick." ,;. ; y -
She , bent, over .with a long look into
her hushand's eyes and ,pressed
dips to'hid. • She did not' notice that,
cloud had dimmed the warmliklit 'Ouch
c iasiliire'thiCa'nFernerit'Vefore, andilicit
the face- - Wh - reh 'it'-had for the instant
touched , with a'glow - of lietilth,:ias pallid
a gain: iii gray •• of" the :dull: afternotiti:,
ThskKwas,sume,•strange contraidiction
Jon h9r,i'TIPPIr-: - - 7 - t4 1 *.W0MP4744 t!he des- „plate, v a cs .andtrozen r. mice 7 l .which,
while ii accepted all life apyilthout, i hop a e o
for the had just
above it, yet was so blind 'to' the 'NO
that - she - sfecidtpon the brink of an4her.'
.:erdrgitti,§ost - eicai - aatyno the one rove'
•yet left to her—feeling so sure that God'
not _take away,:herdiudband-,-whit
coUld.wake,ber -ber ;I:Tref - CM ?,,,Not
f urely, I watched he; the; low
, 1- s9P
dayspassek 7 the ruorning sun,- the,t,wii
li&ht,itlie night, Jhat_fell with such heavy,
shadows On the hoSpital - fine c rLL-finding
,her'alike ihat 'Steady lOok
'eyes and'fillti•fiiiiirliand Whidli :betoken
,ed as yet-no Aide of-fear Or dOUbt.
Semetimeathought •a glimpse of what
was .coming: darkened before iher for, a
mol 3lB . l ii , There 1 7 , 5'a§ one (1-#.7 , whqn he.T.
husl?alld liilJ l .
k aeOn 44Fiao,
gh r t.;,mi'4:themorning Jima,
in a 'State of half-stupor.' 'shilod 'stood
long beside 'hitr,r Watching - h - 1.0 - ;almost”
lifelessTicelii 4 Silenbe - Y-I' Caine
'last, anal -begged - -her stairw
into -thni yard!. with, me -for few. inoracnts
• %for; a chreagi, of fresh-Air. '
A‘TAkai'll-s°Pike busy4.l"s grier
,I‘;ere, i were two ,cLeatl4o - Anift, fresh
4,-.?t.wounded; a i i,uong,whcaa.,,wee a aunt
Vet of felAptis'enei 4 o-Lvilio l 4lfient,:b - 4,
tlin44; I acquit
inlyielf{nf' 9 6,11 : GAO §lflifidliTgei . i6
this arrarigeinent: I that Ilr'4a6
Serving my•eOuntry ;sending lei die
mieg to the.mest--uncomfortabie,
bacl,at commancl,(,i i -
After the.first gloom causecl. by the
tw,o empty, beds and, the sight of „fresh,
sufferinghadpaised away theboys r#l-
liedfionkii, into such alprOgiimine - Of
;Ides aialangliter' as quite' 'filled' tfie'
day. I began to think they had forgot
'ten their sympathy with our refugees,
and was musing upon the fickleness of
human nature, while I sat one morning
in a medit4ive attitude before the
kitchen fire,: my sieeveS rolled up, my
eyes fixed reflectiyely upon a basin of
arrow-root, and blessed with the con
sciousness thert-my face WAS sloWly-, bait
surely, turning, to " celestial rosy. red' , '
over the coals. 'While thus occupied, I
was told by an attendant that the doe
tor wished to see.me.
..lie Diet me with'a grave face.
" Well ?" I said, stopping short.
" Stephen Rand---he can't` last
through the night, unless there is some
change. I see no reason to expect."
"Who'll tell her ?"
"You must."
" Dr. Joyce, said said I, "I'mno coward,
and I never disobey ' ,orders ; but I wish
you'd find me a few moments tozo away
and cry first."
"Why—why, really,"' said the good
man, whim :I puzzled every day by my
feminine developments, "I don't see
how you cane be spared just ; now.
There's the man who came .last night,
waiting fOr a fresh bandage • and Jcines
and—l don't see how there's time just
at present." -
Of course there wasn't. I knew that
Very well I. must face duty if it- put
.mp in the front, and held ma under the
I found the boys quite sober as I
passed along ftishing all most pressing
work, and
,prolonging it, I - am afraid,
rather,,more than was necessary; for
which ~
I • eXpect combat my asser
tion that -I was not a coward.
"So he'd going at last !" the captain
said, with a sorrowful glance' into the
corner. -, " I-I, - call that hard, poor
thing r, , , •
The sergeant caged softly as I went by,
"14aVe you told her ? If it was my
wife---lif I Was you, I'd rather be under
fire than have it:to'do !"
"I day; Muin"—and Pat i the warm
hearted, was-tugging at 'my. sleeve with
his' one arm: Dsay hoirlong'll he hold
out.r:
" Tianight."'
• ":*ay the ilanly Irargin an' all the
saint's_havemarcy on her I . s ' he ej acnlated
fervently, She s,
.a sech poor, young,
critter, sure V,' • - -
But the . thing thatmost unmanned me,
More than all the anxious' questions that
met me from each bed as I ; passed along
—the massages from : Jones and Brown,.
or, the condescending f sympathy; , of ,the
rebel-,---was the entreaty of my _ little
drummer boy,, who had lain in agony
with his.wound for many weeki'and was
„ ,
himself marked with'-the touch of that
Unerring finger that no human care or
loVe can parry ;° an'-orphan child, to
whom now I alone was a mother, and so
it was that even to look at. him as he
turned his .patient face so mutely on the
pillow, brought the
.quick. tears. Put
ting up his - 6nd into rnine, he said, softly,
” Is the chaplain here?"
The chaplain was sick that morning,
and. so I told him.
" Who'll-pray for that nian?v
",My bOy, :he isn't 'afraid to die ; he
needs no.chaplain."
".But his wife ; she has such a white,
white face .1.!:
I was , silent I could not tell him
how she needed prayer—purer, better
prayers than mine could be.
"I rementber how mother felt, when
father' - died," he said, and spoke no more
then, but .turned-his face "quietly away.
I: saw: that, he,foldeclihis hands, and -I
heatd.theeclio a of : a.,whisper „on his. lips.
I, is+Tertt.up at last to ,Mary Baud and 4er shoo der< -
4stnt to see you a nionient," sai . d.
She turned look off' Surprise;
'Stooped bAioineent to trincli he lingo:n(l's
foteheitds iv li tier `
'hand,'illen'rose and
ollowed ;tab:
satldown under- a. large; •entry
3 window, - remember ;; the
f ar i, B 4 Blll2 4oP - IkYCdr,4 l) - 0 4t=40,' -WM?
ao . e and linw-itte wind blew in gnsts up
JIM :stairs - and through the. delie f f i te,
.v aBsag gr:l.. , .1T
r'j"i'have sod ethmgto tell you,'" e
gan'll Bulith4e rstebppe4lteld'fisiliy
Jere look in,her: eyes..!',Oark,i 'filled" ,
! pith the :depths ,of some glowing i light .;(
:Irillnsfq(Ailike one- who EAk@fithe:q.es,
r an ,mtcrnit,y.
ca„ - ughtlav-liandqni,eoy, andlfield it in
both of mine. I could not Speak. She
'Understood the answer. ' ,
: 1
"I kndw , ==- slowly; iii'a
"Speikirig
*oice that': froi# nie—" I know, :whit
yer'vccOme ter sgy. How l'ong'll•they
give •him•?" • • ', . •
doctor says ; the ,crisis must
• , f-t; r ,r.•
." - Tanight." She repeated ihe..word,
ski lo 7 l i, ,4ke one WhoSe, mgMory
Coming tretieVeron4:""l6,-iiight. Ef
3s - Z.e'd a,..66.1 h0. 1 1,i I hdpe 'jle l ll
re46iiibei He's takiii' all 'II-el:get left—
Pali fr‘ kora&
Her hand Jay like linOin mizie -She
did. of hear my' , words.i: . f,she-ildid not
eel AtyLtench f which,tried:,..tp,cletain her.
§ I 3eARIPIFI-4 yn115 4 ,
uneertain step, i f she walked Hillis
d 5. k. ,;L)
)n A.
I,l'ouncther ' when cameback her
.oldthe` sime ' attitude df :;quiet.
waeiatig, the Sainci 'infaltering
Wok-, shade' tpaleiji =the= liriest about her
mouth sharper, birtdker , Voice i .!wheiii
spoke tcit her husband, ;cleat and, low in
it,ti4o7o k AO 1: 1 91 cry orisp,b
bing that might disturb, his last few,
hours ; Thatt was,, P•r rwm Aing ,
pnceshe left go to. the., ; kitchen
.Aa' ',feed het 'that' as - all.
broad stiiibk-at last in
flakes of gold upon the floor. I brought
up A. little dinner, and tried gently to
make her eat. She only shook her
head, pushing it away. Through all the
hot afternoon she did not seem to move
her eyes from her husband's face. He
was tossing on the bed in frenzy, calling
for her, catching at tier hand, but still
he did not recognize her.
Her ,41? y, slept quietly on her -arm.
She did`not seem to know it, holding it
mechanically. Toward evening it wak
ened and cried. She paid no heed to it.
I - went up and took, the child gently
from her. Her arm remained in the
same position as before. I could - hear
her quick, sharp breathing ; but she did
not look at me nor speak. I took the
little thing away, and found a negro
girl to take care for it, wondering, as I
went and felt the clinging hands about
my neck, whether its warm touch could
ever comfort her and if God. would not
in mercy take them both.
The evening came at last. The boys
were very quiet, and we sat watching
through the windows the gorgeous hues
of purple and gold that were in the sky.
The great warm sun dropped at length
behind the - hills. The - twilight began
to creep in at the windows, and fell
heavily on the.. hospital floor. It wrap
ped her figure where she sat, one white,
thin hand fanning her husband, the other
lying clenched in her lap, her head bent
toward the bed to listen to his ravings.
Once; when he had called her name
many times, I saw her drop the fan
quickly,' and creeping np, lay her head
upon his arm with a long wail.
" 0, Stephen, it's me! it's yer, wife,
Stephen ! I hain't never left yer. Ef
yer'd only kiss me once !"
Perhaps he understood her, > for he
put up the hand he held to his hot lips.
She put her arm about his neck and
kissed him once—twice=almost fiercely.
Then she baried'her'faee in the clothes.
I ebild just hear her stifled cry, "0,
my God !my God ! my= God three
tiines- - --a cry that- made me tremble.
The , evsening wore away. Stephen Rand,
lay panting and weaker as the night
came on..
•
I ; sat watching: the. ; forms -about his
bed, and the, flickering of , the newly
lighted lamps above the facei of my
boys; Now and then.some one called
me, 'aridl'Werif silently to meet their
. Often I could hear a groin
from some sufferer, or the captain's
cough, but nearer and more distinctly,
Stephen Rand's-labored breathing, and.
his "wife's low voice soothing his
Once the little drummer called
faintly for some water: I went up to
give it to him. He smiled as I left him,
looking over to the corner.
"I haven't
,fOrgotten her," he said.
So he tinned away, and once more fold
ed his hail&
I came' back_ and sat down again. I
could do nothing for him. His wife
jealously watched for every care which
now .remained. I watched her face,
wondering who would dare to comfort
her when the morning came.
I Presently her husband grew more
quiet, and fell at list into an uneasy,
slumber, fitful and restless at first, but
gradually, he became quite. still. The,
doctor, with his, finger on the pulSe,
looked, I thought, .sur i prisecl.
Was it stupor, or rest ? was, it death,
or life.? The woman's eyes asked him
'mutely, but he could not tell her. '
The light fell full 'upon her.Vrhere - she
was crouched on the floor by ' the bed,
, her. hands ip...her ..husband's. Her,thin
hair :had ;fallen - down about her neck;
her face, with itsdrawn lips and, ki - ieless,
,cheeks, lookednor's.likeileath,than.the`
one on which she gazed. A soft, natu
ral heat seemed to color thatat last, ea'
he — stirretrin'''hiji The I docttii
passed his' hand man's forehead,'
and , lisias 'sure his face . hrightened,P° - ==
Lti-Speak-toihim,” he said, to the wife.
~ ,,,She!beritr - over,l with her Jr Ailing
ab,o3z_t: her face, so .I could
f§tePke . l ll " 4..
He oftene4k, eyes,and smiledy
a s Arhar are ye, • Mo7l' l ' I t=" l
, -.
Ice w i a,s T • quite him elf 'now -0, as
an' - 'infant, Voidelseeareely above )a
'f.Whispertiut nattratiihjits -tend rarol.the,
thand which, his WM; helikhad groWn sOft .
aramOist6 :11 t •
She elaaped: it ' tightly, holding it up
against, her brioakt, and i dropped:lm.face,
_upon .hqT. hair falling,
over ; them-both. -Her-whole,slight frithe'
was vivernNa one couldseeleer -
face. Thiene theiftnentStUtpaised
'
beforT 'she `spoke, ' her hUsband touched
her" hair eareigngly, - and smiled.
last-itta,inei=aqittlo, low cry, like a pen,
itent child.
-P 0, , Stephenl,i He's guy yer
,back,
.en! r lwso never, say :hard_ Ah,ings ,on
3 E4Pa-'.4gip , tigit!glAt r ----I thouolitt 4
my linsbanol tsth§ught He'd yer,,
an' left meall. alone!" - 6 '
I heard the 'sergeint'S sobs from-the
btfeer 'end of the toonr; the boys who:
had -iiattuplin:bed,illolding.ltheir breath
.
to, listen; akam.: and :turned,
theirfaces to the wall; the doctor cliokT,
,eC 2 .aj'All'pi r fer.,±a 6 i: l l,..fiAti out of
Teem, .10eW MY,PeI, I An - TR
cried like a,:baby for fift - een,tamuteA.
went, to the, il:riimi46 l l,
Whilf.afecr;:*l - 4Pu9h 4 ed his f9YibiLead,-4'
started at the' chill. His hancl , were ,
still folded - da when he nought from the
orplian"s 70Od a blessing for this Jim
:bled, . gritteful. Ilvomegt ;- andevq4 whsle
he asked,
„StoOli., face s to ficel
as a' stranger, but he took:lei ih--liato
his pure child's heart , ' , ‘•
, Who can. ,
ligencieg that praY
er set at work nowir what s 'e
•
owed to the boY4ying' with'
such a smile before her ?--sarper's
Magazine. - -
LEARNING A LESSON
"It is exquisitely wrought, Mrs.
Marsh, and in true Parisian style.
Shall Lput it up for you ?"
"How much did you say it was ?"
" Ten dollars."
" Ten- &liars ! I don't know as I
had better take it to-day."
_ Yet she turned not, from the counter,
nor once took her eyes .from the fairy
lace creation, though breaking the tenth
coMmandment at every glance. The
clerk - was not Slow to perceiie his ad
vantage. Gathering an elegant silk in
pyramidial form, he adroitly placed the
collar over the, shining folds. In vain
is the snare spread in' the sight of any
bird ; but to this rule woman forms the
sole feathered exception. The collar
was sent home.
Mrs. Marsh was not perfectly happy
that evening, as she had fancied the
owner of such a collar must be. Do
what'she would her thoughts flowed in
alliterative measure: "Baker, butcher,
and Bridget—Bridget, buteher and ba
ker "—for there was a little amount due
each, and neither would like to, wait,
But they must, was her ready conclu
sion, and they did.
No one,_ on entering the elegant par
lor of the Marshes,, would have supposed
that the husband ( was only a book-keep
er with a salary of fifteen hundred, out
of which must come house rent as well
as house expenses. Yet it was even so.
Literally taking no thought for the mor
row, and scarcely for to-day, they lived
a little faster than their income and
were, constantly incurring small debts
and deferring the time of payment.
Love of display was the worm at the
root of their prosperity—the quicksand
that was fast undermining the hearth
stone. But even now dawns the day of
reckoning.
That evening Mr.. Marsh could not
enjoy his' paper—the gaslight strangely
uffee,ted his ,eyes. Morning found them
acutely painful, and on the following
day the presence of light was intolera
ble. A physician was called and reme
dies applied, but the inflammation stead
ily progressed. Meanwhile the rent be
came due, and one after another, like
verging spirits, tame those little bills,
till not a dollar was left - in the purse.
Notwithstanding her one great foible,
.Mrs. Marsh possessed the elements of
true womanhood; and in the light of her
present distress her past conduct seem
ed, culpable in the extreme. Tying on
her bonnet and taking from a drawer
several articles of dress for which she
was owing; she hurried to the store, and
with a burning cheek told the merchant
that she could not meet the payment.
A weight was taken from her mind
when these were disposed of, and with a
light step she reached the place of bus
iness of her husband's employer. The
venerable principal met her at the door.
" Ala ! good morning, Mrs. Marsh—
.
I hope to hear that your husband is bet
ter.-"
"No better as yet, sir. He wishes
me to say - that you will have to fill his
place, as the physician enjoins perfect
rest for many weeks."
" We shall not readily find his equal."
" May / take' his place, sir ?"
"Feu ! Mrs. Marsh ?"
"Yes, sir. It, is necessary that I
should exert myself now, and I think I
could do ,this. I studied bookkeeping
when I was at school."
, Well, madam, if you can do your
hUsband's work, you shall receive his
Baal. /When" can you Make a begin
.
"'‘ 4 :litis'Socin. as he is betterttext Mon
.
day,f4ethaps:". •
- 41:Very.:Iwell,. we will depend upon
you; ' !". 1 . : i H' , " . 7 , , e
And the young wife hurried home
deeming that, every one she met could
Bear the wild ; throbbing of her heart,
for site' had taken We — Step without con
'silting her husband": - '
-43ut'feeling his otter helpreskiess, Mr.
=Marsh could -Make no objectidn to his
plaisy and - ucdordingly.the
tie-let:we given up, and
enough , was 4hllA i rqAlized,te„meet their
,ruostpresSing ,; wants. Pleasant board
wdi i engaged the fd-riiilY - Of a worthy
and . MondiYMorning found Mrs.
`Mdfsh blending anxiously' over the pon
derous .ledger of Smith; Wells & Co.
Her "'husband ,was better, and in his
darkened room. needed , not her dare, but
ihe would ~"neeti her earningsi , and in that
d;mgy, counting-room the young wife first
.learr.ecllhollessedness of toil for those
her -
.we love. rom occupiedmind the
Clem* vaniiy - fled away, and When at
- -the' - ekpiration of the second month Mr.
Mdriih would hav,e - resnmed his labors at
the desk, ''-the merchant -expressed him
self:more than - Satisfied•witiithe present
incnimbent, and offered his-lotm,er clerk
a situatidn in the. salesroom.:ffhe wife
begged to, be. .allowed to, continue her
tp}l till their.uited earnings; ,would suf-
Acete purchase a home and her wish
:w 64 gra#tetd; .'1 , 4 0. •
It r ears i fiftei - , ; ilignirgiress'oPthe pret
lieldt ciittage - hillVithaiikedrheaven that
far aite,ysiil the past- the. '.A.41 - gel +of
, wardrid c.taught her a
biAtor - VisksAutaizy lnsOnnr.--.2. 1 4,4! Chris
•r;
''PRAYER :is an exercise which has the
property of incorporating itself with
every other; npt only not impeding, but
advancing . i it. There. is no crevice so
sinall .: 4,Which devotion. may not
,slip
• -Do we; - net% `sometimes unplore God
to hear a prayer to which we ourselves
are not attending ?