Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 24, Number 48, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 26 May 1894 — Page 7

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ASLEEP AT HIS POST.

BY GILBERT PATTEN.

[Copyright, 13JH, by American Press Association.] With muffled drums and measured tread the little band of battle marked and time Jcarred veterans—honored heroes of the noble army that fought to preserve the Union —marched through the cemetery that lay Bleeping on the southward sloping hillside. The balmy breath of springtime was in the air, and when they passed onward, aftir pausing at the last resting place of somedead comrade, the sweet perfume of flowers rose from the green grass that grew above the departed soldier's breast, while a tiny flag—the dearly loved red, white and blue —fluttered beside the marble tombstone.

At length they halted by a white shaft that bore the name of "John Loring," followed by this strange inscription:

Pardon is granted because of his faithful service and splendid record as a brave and loyal soldier. A. Lincoln.

With a single exception every head was uncovered and bowed as the flowers and flag were placed on the grave. One there was among them, however, who stood up stiffly, with his cord encircled hat unremoved from his white head, his age lined face grave and emotionless, as if carved from adamant.

Never in all the years since they began decorating that grave had Uncle Dan'l Brlnton been known to remove his hat there or in any manner show he mourned for and honored the sleeping comrade with whom he had fought almost shoulder to shoulder in the same company. Publicly he made no explanation of his singular conduct, and when questioned he simply shook his head and looked grimmer than usual. Any other man of that company would have received the severest censure from his comrades, but Uncle Dan'l was acknowledged to be "a little queer" and "strait laced," so his act was passed over in silence.

There were those, however, who hinted that there had once been a feud between the two men, and that even death bad not softened the heart of stubborn old Uncle Dan'l but, if this was true, the facts were not public property.

At all the other graves where the veterans paused and uncovered he removed his hat and bowed his head with the rest, his grim features softening and something like a tender look creepinginto his eyes, ouce so clear and bright, but now growing dim with advancing age.

Among pilose gathered at the cemetery to watch itLkot demnontes-tvas

pretty girl U&& She

was uttin-TrfaT&mmon priu and the shoes on her feet were jnade for wear instead of beauty, but nothing could conceal the grace of her budding figure, the ladylike shapeliness of her almost delicate hands, the pearly whiteness of her small and even teeth and the Umpid sparkle of hi clear blue eyes.

There was something like a iook of min clod pride and pain on her face as she saw Uncle Dan'l stand up so rigidlyby John Loring'* grave, and she*glanced slyly at a manly young fellow a few years older than herself who stood with his hand on the bit of a spirited horse, restlessly tapping the tops of his high boots with the riding whip he carried. She saw the young fellow was watching Uncle Dan'l all the while, biting bis Up and occjwioually pulling at his light mustache.

When all the graves had been visited and the ceremonies had been completed, Uncle Dan'l saluted thecomnmnder and fell out. of the company, Immediately coming straight toward the girl, whose face brightened )is be approached. "I'm relieved from marchin back to town, little one." he said. Then his eyes fell on the young man in the riding suit, and he started a bit, a shadow settling on his faco while he went on, lifting his voice a trifle, "I'm gettin purt old fur marchin, but I've alwus done my duty in ev'ry campaign, and I never slept at my post."

The young man wheeled suddenly and looked straight at the old soldier, bu't Uncle Dan'l turned his back, still speaking to the girl "Come, Jennie, we'll go home now. Them as don't deserve it has been honored lik, them as do, and the decoratin is all over."

She took his arm, and they went slowly down the road together, followed by along log gaze from the dark eyes of the young

ivxnr HEAP was ujcoovkrkd save onk fellow in the riding suit Jennie glance: back and saw him looking. The color of ripe berries came to her cheeks.

Uncle Dan'l scowled, bat spoke no word, only quickening his pacv somewhat

Jennie Brlnton was the daughter of t. d* DanTs brother, who died in debt ant? left the sir! to be cared for the old sot dler. who had not even a nteagvr pension mid hini. He proved faithful to bis trust although it was anything but an easy task, while time and constant w«.f«oci*Uon led turn to love her a« tenderly as if she wer* hi«own child.

They lived alone in the little old cottage that stood in a quiet hollow by the "b«c mid," the Isolation of the place, togetbe. with Uncle DaaT* bermltlikc ways, pre venting many of the neigh bom from v&it

HfS!

Ing them. Their lives passed peacefully and rather monotonously, but they seemed content with their humble lot, apparently caring little for things beyond the bounds of their tiny world.

On the night of this Memorial day Uncle Dan'l sat by the open cottage door and smoked his pipe, the light of the setting sun showing a troubled look on his face, while Jennie moved briskly about the room, attending to her light household duties and humming a bit of a song.

All at once the.old man removed his pipe, struck it against the edge of the chair to knock out the ashes, straighted up and cleared his throat, speaking with an effort: "Come here, little one."

She approached, a wondering look on her face, for she saw by his manner he had something serious to say. He took her hand and pulled her down beside him. She sat on the floor, resting her arm on his knee and her head on her arm, while his once sinewy fingers sought her curls, which the last slanting bars of sunlight made bright with a golden tinge.

The man hesitated about beginning, but suddenly plunged into his subject in an abrupt and awkward manner. "You're gettin to be purty nigh a woman now, Jennie, and I know it ain't long before you'll be thinkin of gettin married. It's natteral—it's natteral. I hope to see ye tied to some good man ere I go to join my comrades who have been mustered out before me, which time can't be fur away." "Oh, Uncle Dan'll" she cried in genuine distress.

"Please

don't talk of that."

"I've got to talk of it," was his stubborn retort. "Something I saw today makes me feel it's needful and right. My old eyes ain't so sharp as tbey used to be, but they saw that young Nat Loring looking at ye. little one, in a way that meant a pile—and them same eyes saw ye blush. That's why I feel it's needful to talk now, for I want to warn ye ag'in any one with the Loring blood in bis or her body. Keep clear of that young man, Jennie." "What have you against Nat Loring, uncle?" "He's the son of a man who slept at his post and was condemned to be shot." "But was pardoned by the president 'because of his faithful service and splendid record as a brave and loyal soldier.'"

The old man's face darkened and became still harsher. His voice was not steady as he cried: "That sounds very well, but let trie tell ye there was a wonderful influence brought to bear on the president to obtain that pardon, or John Loring would have died the death he deserved. His son is a chip of the old block! Don't let him fool ye, little girl! He has money, but there is treacherous blood in his veins, and why should be— as he can have the pick of the young ladies

"SAT YOU WILL MARRY ME, JENNIE." in the village—care for a poor girl like ye? Oil, Jennie, you must see liis love is not honest!" "I think you are prejudiced against him, uncle, as you must be against his father. Nancy Jones told me you and John Loring had trouble over a woman, and"

Uncle Dan'l arose quickly to his feet, his face working with the anger he could not suppress. Clinching his hands, he literally grated: "Nance Jones is a busybody—a gossip—a meddlin woman! She had better mind her business and keep her nose out of other folks' 'fairs! Mind what I tell ye, Jennie, and steer clear of Nat Loring. If you don't, yfe'll regret it lis long as ye live." And then lie walked out of the cottage, leaving a dismayed and downcast girl behind. 7,

Spring slipped into summer, and thelonjr warm days of July and August passed away. September came to turn the forest leaves from green to brown and crimson. The smaller song birds had already departed, and in stubble fields the robins wengathering ip flocks preparatory to the flight they would soon take to a milderclime. In the long dead grass crickets chirped mourn fully, and there was a brooding sadness in the smoke blue air.

Uncle Dan'l came to the cottage door, shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed across the hollow toward the spot whenthe winding stream disappeared iuto a grove that had been touched here and then' by the lurid brush of Jack Frost. Then* was a troubled look on the old man's face as he muttered: "Wonder why Jennie goes over there, so often? She don't seem like herself no more acts like she had a secret from me. I don't like It—I don't like it. She oughter know I'm the best frieud she's got in all the world. I'm jest goin over and see if I kin find her.'-

With something like a look of shame on his wrinkled face he took a stout cane from behind the door. Until that present mouth he had never carried a cane, but a severe attack of rheumatism came with the first warning of cold weather and forced bin^to it at last. HHP1

Away across the hollow be slowly trndg ed, finally reaching the grove. The sound of volees came to his ears, causing him to halt and lift a shaking hand to bis heart, while bis face grew gray. Then he stumbled forward with almost frantic haste, sud denly coming upon a young man and a girl, who were standing beside a great tree that grew close by the soft flowing stream.

The young man was holding the girl's hands, speaking earnestly, while her head was bowed and her eyes were fastened on the ground. These wen the words heard by Uncle Dan'l: "Say you will marry me, Jennie. Yon bave confessed you love me. Say you will marry me, and I will go to your uncle and ask for you."

Sh« shook h« bead, crying out in a frightened voice: "No, no you must not do that You don't know Uncle Dan'll He has forbidden me ever speaking to yon, and be would be very angry if be knew I came here to meet yon. I feel guilty and wretched erery time I bave done so, but I can't help it, Nat—1 can't help it!" "What have I ever done to make him fee! thus toward me~wbat baa he against me?" cried the young man. "I'll answer that question!" broke in a hoarse voice a* Uncle Dan'l suddenly ap pearcd before them. "Wre the eon of a ttan aa forgot his duty and slept at his poet'

TERRE HACTTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL, MAY 26,1894.

That's enough fer Dan'l Brinton. Jennie, Come here!" Pale and trembling, the girl left Nat Loring and advanced to her uncle's side. He took her hand and drew her close, his eyes fastened on the young man all the while. be continued: "I hev tried to protec' this little lamb from ye. I warned her, but ye found a way to sneak around and lead her inter dedeceivin the best friend she had in the world. That's like a

Loring—they're

ceptions." "There was no deception intended, Mr. Brinton," protested Nat stanchly. "I was urging her to let me go to you and ask for her hand when you appeared. I was in earnest, for I love her." "Love, her! Bah, bah, bah! I

know

the

kind of'blood there is in yer veins. It's treacherous. If ye think ye love her today, tomorrow ye may think ye love some other girl." jjl&l "My love is true. It will never change: I will marry her today." "Marry ber!" almost shouted Uncle Dan'l, his face now dark as a stormcloud. "Yon marry my little lamb! I'd rather see her dead and buried." Then healmost dragged the girl from- the spot, urging her away with passionate words and earnest entreaties. "You may change your mind some day, Mr. Brinton," called Nat.

The old man turned to fling back, "Never, sir—never, never!" and the unfortunate lover was left alone by thetrysting tree and the murmuring brook.

Winter came, and the little cottage in the hollow was nearly buried beneath the drifts of snow that blew down from the hills. At times the back road was quite abandoned, leaving the old man and the girl shut off from the rest of the world.

To make matters worse, Uncle Dan'l was not very well, for the time was past when he could welcome cold weather and enjoy it. Still he was brave, and he tried to be cheerful for the sake of Jennie, whom he often saw sitting by the window where she could look out across the hollow to-

"I HAD A VISION."

ward the spot where the winding brook— now icebound and buried by snow—disappeared into the grove, a plaintive sadness in her eyes.

At last the great storm of the winter came on. For four days snow fell steadily, and the wind howled down from the hills. Three days $£ter the storm had ceased Nat Loring cameolown the back road on snowshoes. He paused where he could see the roof of the cottage in the hollow peeping from a great bank of white. There was no sign of life about the place, not even a trace of smoke rising from the chimney.

With a heavy feeling of dread iu his heart, Nat hurried down to the cottage and made his way round to the door, against which the snow had drifted high. He rapped again and again, the knock being answered after a time.

The door opened, and a white faced ghost of a girl stood there, clinging to the latch for support. She saw him, and her lips moved, but made no sound. He leaped iuto the room »nd caught her in his arms barely in tiu.*t.o keep her from falling. "Merciful heaven, Jeuniel" he gasped. "What is it? What has happened?" "Uncle Dan'l—he is so ill—I dared not leave him a moment. There Are no matches in the house to build a fire." "And you are nearly perished of cold! This is terrible! Why didn't I come before?"

He disengaged his feet from the snowshoes and assisted her to a chair near the bed on which the sick man was lying. In a few moments he had afire built \^ithe stove. "You look hungry, Jennie. I believe you are nearly starved," declared Nat. "I have not eaten anything for two days," was her confession. "The only food in the house I kept for uncle. We are out of provisions, and there was no way of getting more."

Nat was horrified. On the bed the sick man was muttering deliriously of his army days. He saw the visitor, but did not recognize him.

It was late that afternoon when Uncle Dan'l becamehimself once more, to find the village doctor by his bed, with Jennie and Nat close at band. The old soldier looked long and steadily at the young man, and then he faintly said: "I thought it was a dream, but I see ye bave really come in time to save my poor lamb. I've been an old fool, but" "There, there," broke in the doctor soot hingly "you must not talk now. It will weaken you." "I've got to talk now, doctor, or never. Pro made my last campaign, and I'm goin to be mustered out right away. The commander in chief will soon give me an honorable discharge." Then be turned to Nat and Jennie, motioning them to approach. When they were close by the bed, he went on, his voice growing weaker with each moment: "I alwus thought the one thing I held against John Loring was that he slept at Ids post. I thought I bad forgot he won the woman who once« promised to marry ma. But as I lay here I had a vision that told me what a selfish, revengeful old wretch I have been.**

The girl's fingers touched bis lips, and she whispered entreatlngly, "Hush, uncle." "I can't hush—I won't hush," he gasped, shadow settling on his weary old face. "My strength is goin. Nat, will ye marry my little one? Will ye love and protec' her as if she was yer own life?" "Heaven knows I will," was the reply. "Then take ber. She'll soon need another to guard ber. I've—Fve been falthfnl to—the end—faithful to my duty. Ere stood by my post to the last, but now**' I'm tired—and I—must—sleep."

With the weeping girl's loving kiss on his lips. Uncle Dan'l closed his eyes fix that dreamless slumber that comes when the campaign of life

xis

endfl

When another Memorial day came around, the fading band of veterans found anew

grave on which to place a tiny flag and fragrant flowers. Uncle Dan'l slept not far from where John Loring was buried, and little Jennie, with her husband at her side, dropped a tear for both. But through the shadows of ber sorrow shone the sunshine of perfect love. 1

MAY 30.

Hang out the flag, the dear old flag, upon the outer wall. I hear again the fife's shrill notes, the bugle's mellow call. Once more the veterans fill the ranks, in flies not serried, though, As when they marched into the south some thirty years ago. I hear the sound of marching men, the tramp of myriad feet, The steady footfalls echo all along the paved street. They follow where "Old Glory" leads, with solemn step and slow. Not light and springy as they marched some thirty years ago. Year after year they fewer grow, their ranks are thinning fast, And more graves dot the hillside slopes as every May goes past. And gray heads nod along the line where dark hair used to grow When marching down in Dixie's land some thirty years ago. I seem to view again the scenes when men went marching forth 1 seem to see again the grand uprising of the north I hear again the echoing cheer, the plaudits of the crowd, And see the boys march to the front with valiant mien and proud. I see the father's brief farewell, the mother's fond embrace I note the lover's sad goodby, the lorn ^wife's tear stained face The children's half bewildered look so suited to their years. When tinsel and display so ill seem cause for mother's tears. I hear the ringing cheers for those who're marching forth to meet Honor and fame and victory, perchance death or defeat. Some went to meet a shattered life, with valiant hearts and brave. And some, like those who march today, were marching toward the grave. I seem to see again arise the clouds of sulphurous smoke I hear again the clanging hoofs, the saber's vigorous stroke I hear the p-i-n-g of minie balls, the cannon's loud mouthed roar. The clash of steel, the human yells, the fiery hate of war. *,* I see the bloody pictures made upon a landscape green I see the comrades' parched lips wet from the same canteen I see men die for other men I see the true and brave Form comradeship and brotherhood that lasts beyond the grave. I hear again the battlecry that rang at..'Maivern Hill," The cheer that rose at Round Top, the Mont at Chancellorsville I see again the sailor men sweep up through

Mobile bay

I see the sights on Lookout Heights and Allatoona's fray. I

Bee

the famous seaward march I see the bummers' forays I see the mine at Petersburg burst up with columns gory. The panorama passes on, with shriek and yell and rattle, & The pandemonium and din ancrjiarnage of the battle. Now all goes calmer once again, and Johnnies homeward march, And flags are waved, and cheers are given, and towns their highways arch. Sweet peace smiles on the land once more, but many sad tears flow For those who staid in Dixie's land some thirty years ago. The panorama's passed away the years have sped along I hear again the tramping feet, the murmur of the throng. 'TIS not a gala day parade, nor yet a martial show, As when they marched to Dixie's land some thirty years ago. Hang out the flag, the dear old flag, upon the outer wall When sounds again the shrill toned fife, the bugle's mellow calL Once more the veterans fill the ranks and tramp with footsteps slow To honor dead who tramped with them some thirty years ago. They hide no hatred in their hearts for those who wore the gray, Bnt comradeship of bygone years will bind brave hearts for aye. With those who struggled side by side fraternal love must grow As rank8 grow thin of those who marched some thirty years ago.

HARRY J. S bellman

A Housekeepers' Club.

There i9 a Housekeepers' club in this city, I am told, consisting of 26 members, who meet once a week to tell the truth, the entire truth and nothing but the truth about their housekeeping experiences. They share with each other their secrets of good and bac^management with money, with servants, talk over menus that are attractive, nutritious and economical discuss the most approved sanitary ideas and try in every way to learn how to become not only housekeepers, but homemakers. Plans for daily work as it is carried on in various households are given, and in time pmh one of the 25 hopes to found a circle of 25 more to spread the secret of good housekeeping. The members of the society are pledged not to mention the doings of the servant girl, the affairs of the kitchen nor their own physical woes except at the session of the club.—New York Post

Repairing With Court Floater If your best black silk has broken in an exasperating fashion under the arm, dampen apiece of fine black court plaster and put on the under side of tho silk, then draw it carefully together and smooth down on tho wet plaster. The result will surprise and please you. This same method is an excellent one for those horrid fnnga that one gets in gowns, sometimes in the most conspicuous places. Use court plaster that is the same color as the dress and do not make the court plast&r so wet tK«t riin comes through to the eotside of the doth.-—New York Journal.

Th« Spring Medlclae

'•All run down" from the weakening effects of warm weather, you need a good tonic and blood purifier like Hood's Sarsa pari 11a. Do not put off taking it. Numerous little ailment*, if neglected, will soon break up tbe system. Take Hood's Sarsa pari 11a now, to expel disease and give you strength and appetite.

Hood's Pills are tbe best family cathartic and

liver

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reliable, sure. In Paris, when a shopkeeper advertises to '•sell at cost," he has to keep his word or the government knows why.

Father and Mother.

There can be no more dignified title than "father" or "mother," and the change from that term to the more formal Mr. or Mrs. can only be condoned when the parents and children are in business together. The president of a large insurance company once electrified a meeting of directors by emphatically denying his paternity when his son broke into the room and said, "Father, a gentleman wishes to speak to you." "Young man," exclaimed the incensed parent, "'I'm not your father—that is in business hours." Why the precious title '"father" or "mother" should be changed to ''the governor" or •'the mater" is beyond the understanding of the sensible individual, and when sons and daughters go so far as to refer to their parents in the same fashion that they would employ for total strangers it seems to us that formality and fashion are crowding out affection and common sense Respect, love and cheerful obedience are the parents' due, but the more formal bearing that may for the time being appear very elegant in the eyes of an artificial world is really too hollow and senseless to be oommended.—Philadelphia Times. »,

To Amuse Baby.

A little homemade toy, something that one of the family lias invented and fashioned, will generally amuse a sick child better than the most, costly toy from tho store. Paper dolls cut from pasteboard and fitted with heads cut from advertisements area great deal funnier and more jolly than the "dollies" and "Susies" with elaborate changes of ccfetume that come in neat little paper boxes. Ono forgives the villain in "Marcella" f£ many things when you read how ho fasnioned from bits of paper little animals that the sick boy treasured through days of pain and weariness, at the last fastening his dying eyes affectionately on them. A pretty idea for a child familiar with fairy tales is a crib spread made of gay printed handkerchiefs, with scenes from "Cinderella," "Red Riding Hood," Jack and the Beanstalk'' and all the stories so dear to childish hearts.

Entertained,

Aurelia (anxiously)—Have you seen George this evening, papa? He promised to call.

Papa—Yes, lie did call, and I entertained him for an hour before you came down stairs.

Aurelia—You entertained him, papa? Papa—Yes I gave liim a list of all the new dresses you had last year and the cost of each. I never saw a man more interested, yet he left very hurriedly.—London Tit-Bits.

Too Severe.

Police Magistrate—This case shows unusual depravity. The sentence of the court is that the prisoner be confined in jail for 80 days and fed on bread and water.

Penitent Vagrant—^Jedge, for heaven's sake, make it jist bread!—Chicago Tribune. -,

Honest.

In these days of adulteration and fraud, in all branches of business and pursuits, it is pleasing to know that tn~t,re is one .medicine prepared wnieh is strictly pure. Such a medicine is Sulphur Bitters in curing scrofula you can depend on them every time. W. B. Everts, A. M., Charleston, S. C.

MYSTERIES!

The Nervous System the Seat of Life and Mind. Recent Wonderful Discoveries.

No mystery has ever compared with that erf human life. It has been the leading subject of professional research and study in all ages. But notwithstanding tills fact it

MAw «n at ttmtaeiii««i

IflTERCHAHCE

Cot*CLiKfsding

colored

not gener

ally known that the seilt !of life is located in the upper part of tlra spinal cord, near the base

sr—, the brain,

-fcsSri 3 and so sensitive is this portion of this nervous system that evea the prick of a neealo will cause Instant death. Recent discoveries have demonstrated that al 1 tho organs of tho body are under the control of the nerve centers, located in or near the base of the brain, and that when these ai» deranged the organs which they supply with nerve fluid are also deranged. When It Is remembered that a serious injury to the splnaj card will cause paralysis of the body below the injured point, because the nerve force to prevented by the Injury^from reaching.the paralyzed portion, it will be understood how tiie derangement of the nerve centers wl* muse the derangement of the various organ* which they supply with nerve force.

Two-thirds of chronic diseases are due to the imperfect action of tbe nerve centers at the base of tho brain, not from a derange-

I _1_ 4m

treating these diseases Is that they organ rather than the nerve centers whl are the cause of the trouble.

Dr.Franklin Milks, the celebrated snecialist.has profoundly studied this subject

tot

over 20 years, and has made many Important discoveries in connection with it, chief among them being the facts contained in the abo~ statement, and that the ordinary methods treatment are wrong. All headache, »nfa Vitus dance, etc.. are nervous aiwww mj matter how caused. Thei wonderful success Ot Dr. Miles* Bestorative Nervine is due to the fact that it is based on the r. ilks' RbstorattvsforeKolngprincinlfc

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For the Midwinter Fair now being held aA San Francisco, the Big Four Route has placed in effect very low rates from all points on Its great system of railroads to Ban Francisco^ Los Angeles, San Diego and other principal points Tn California and the West, North* west and Bonthwest, and will sell tickets via either of its three gateways. 8t. Louis, Chlcaae or Peoria, with return limit until April 80th, 1804. Tbe excellent facilities of the Big Four Route from all points in Ohio, Indiana and Illinois, place it in the lead for this busineas. Solid vestiouled trains run daily to St. Louis with elegant sleeping cars, parlcw caas and dining cars, from Cleveland, Cincinnati, TerreHaute,

Indianapolis and intermediate

points. The route to St. Louis has always been the favorite from Terre Haute, Cincinnati, Indianapolis. Columbus, Dayton and Springfield, with Wagner sleeping cars, private compartment buffet sleeping cars, reclining cnalr cars, parlor cars and dlnln cars. Throngh sleeping cars leave Clnclnnal fttf and Indianapolis daily for Peoria. This excellent service is unexcelled by any other line, and all persons going to California this winter should by a!) means consult thenearw est representative of tbe Big Four Route for rates and all other Information pertaining te the great west. E. B. SOUTH, OenT

AgU

oTmooormick. d. b. Marti nT Pas s'r Traffic Mgr. Gen'l Pass'r Act.

Established 1881. Incorporated

188a,

QLIFT A WILLIAMS CO., Successors to Cllft, Williams A Oo. J. H. WtxxxAMS, President.

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"IX

J. M. CJUCTT, 8ec»y and Tress^.

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Sash, Doors, Blinds, etc.

GLASS, PAINTS, OILS JlND BUILDERS' HARDWARE.

Mulberry street* eorner 9th.

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lb" AXD dkaxjcbs rsr I kr%

LUMBER, LATH, SHINGLES

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