Soldiers' record, 1869-04-03

              D o v o t e d L t o t H o I n t e r e s t ® o t t l i e S o l d i e r s a , i i d g } a , i l o i * s o f t h e l a t e AVni*.
VOL. I.
„. \
HARTFOKD, COOT., SATURDAY, APRIL 3, 1869. NO. 39.
m at i o m c ,
AN IKCIDEOT AND ITS TBAOHING.
BY TUB UEV. WALTBR MITCHliLI,.
Suddenly back the refjimcnt rolled
Into oiu'slieltci iiig linos again,
So heavy their fire had told,
Tluit of every twenty returned but ten.
Up to tire foot of the foe's redoubt
Wc liad struggled ouward, but all in vain,
The bravest amoig us at Uxst gave out
Uuder the cross-tiro's plunging rain.
We held their ri(le-i)its for an hour,
Crouchiug breathless behind the bank,
Till the startU-.d foe recovered his power
And we saw him tbrraing on either flank.
Out from between each battery—
Tlie wild yell ringing from every tongue—
Tiiirty strong to our every tiiree,
Full upon us tlieir columns were flung.
No wonder they pushed us back once more,
—Behind us "lay tlie terrible track
Thnt a thousand "balls were glancing o'er,
Doatli in front aud death at our back—
Pushed.us wavering into tha fire,
Hushed upon us with shout and yell—
We tramped at the double-quick—but nigher
They pressed to charge—till our colonel fell.
The signal blast of a bugle rung
And the white smoke burst for a mile away,
As a hundred muzzles replying, flung
Their grape and canister into the fray.
Then as each rival column drew,
Sullen and shattered its lines within.
The storm incessant of bullets flew
Over the slaughter-space between.
Nothing moved on the crimsoned plain
But ever their guns to ours replied,
Tearing in mutual rage though vain,
The ground whore the dead lay side by side.
Grimly looked our chief on tlie spot
"Another repulse," was all he said,
Then muttered their victory's dearly bought,
"The gray coats lie thickest among the dead."
Two of our captains stepped to the front
With right hands raised to parade-salute,
Both of the two had borne the brunt
Of the desperate charge and the wild pursuit.
Two of our captains stood before
And in soldier phrases—stern and brief.
Asked to go forth to the field once more—
"Not with my will," replied the chief—
"Yet go we must"^cried both of the twain,
"Go, though it feost us both lih and fame,
One lies wounded on yonder plain
Who is m'lking the signal ouraid to claim."
"One who you know V Nay,' stranger ho,
We cannot tell whether friend or Ibe
Only his lifted arm can we see—
Tracing the signs that we masons know.
"The sign which no mason dare refuse
To heed when a brother calls for aid,
Wo cannot hut go though going we choose
Death and disgrace aud your will disobeyed."
"Go ! and God shield you !" the General saith.
Swift tiiey sped through the fiery storm,
And nobly daring escaped the death,
Bearing back with theiii the wounded form.
Brethren—there lie on the battle plain.
Where the world's wild bolts are iiercely shot,
Sutliiring souls in terror and pain,
Helpless, deserted, yet doubting not.
Those souls are clad in other attire.
The sal)le skin of the Alien race,
Above and around them rains '.he fire.
Of tlie world's contempt, and the world's disgrace.
They make appealing—a sacred sign—
No cabalistic and set mark.
But that whicli was traced by the hand Divine,
When tlie Paschal niglit on the Nile hung dark.
THE LOVE THAT LIVES.
BY IIIIS. J. D. CHAPLIN.
Love is the poetry of humfin existence.
But we must uot limit this holy passion
to that admiration of and alFection for the
young and the beautiful of one sex, and
the noble and brave of the other. This
is but the A B 0 to the science of love,
the first entrance into a path which
stretches beyond the reach of mortal vis-sion,
to the land whore nought that is holy
can ever die, and where our love shall be
purified till it becomes like the love of the
angels.
Such is re il affection—not that ephe-meral
fancy which is awakened by a bright
eye or a rosy cheek, and which waties
when these lade or are supplanted by
brighter and rosier ones.
The love that outlives youthful charms
was in the breast of Abraham, when he
" stood up fram before his dead and spoke
to the sons of Heth, saying, I am a
stranger and a sojourner with you ; give
me posession of a burying-place with you,
that I may bury my dead out of my sight."
And all down through the ages since then,
there have been beautiful and touching
examples of love, increasing in strength
down to 'the dark night of life. Heaven
looks not on a lovelier sight than two
hearts joined in youth, growing closer and
clcser together, until in their second child-hood
they are but as one soul, so that
separation is death, and the same knell
sounds for both. Like the ancient wife
immortalized in " John Anderson, my Jo,"
one can say to the other :
" We claml) the hill thegither,
And monie a cantry day.
We're seen wi' one anither ;
Now we maun totter down.
But hand in hand we'll go,
And sleep togither at the foot."
On one of our great thorough fares,
and within sight and sound of the whiz-zing
trains, there stands, under ihe shad-ow
of glorious old elms, a quaint little
black cottage, with a porch, from which
is the only entrance, and that through the
kitchen. The house and its^urroundings
are primitive in the last degree, and we
migiit go far Irom the great world to find
its equal in simplicity, as we saw it a score
of years ago, and as it stands to-day.
This house," The Saint's Rest,"as some
playfully called it, had its own little his-tory
humble as it was, and we will tell
the tale in the words of the gentle, holy
man who for more than fifty years called
it " home."
"It's a homely old place to ask city folks
to," the old man said, as we visited him
fertile first time ; "but it's a dear home
to us, and has as big a welcome for you as
the grandest one in town !" Aha then he
added, with a merry twinkle in his gray
eye. "We're going to add a front to our
house sometime—whenever mother's ready.
She has only to speak the word and its
done. I've been waiting more than fifty
years to do it."
A quiet smile lighted up the fine features
of the ay ed wife, as she said : "I think
this will do now for the rest of our pilgrim-age.
It's as comfortable as any house
and it satisfies our desires, and that makes
happiness you know."
" The wa\' we came to have such a
rough old place, when we could afforc
better, as well as our neighbors, was
thitJ." said the old man. 'iWhen ray
father married, the farm was divided to
give him h df, but he took my mother
home to grandfather's house, thafstood
between those two elms, where you see
the old cellar. By-and-bye there Avere
throe of us little fellows to romp and tear
round. Mother felt that ever so small a
home of her own would be pleasanter for
us. So my father, not wanting to invest
his money in a great house to the damage
of the land, put up this, just as it stands
now—that was nigh upon seventy years
ago—intending in a few years, to add a
front to it. We had scarcely moved into
it, when he fell sick and died. Then the
old people >vantiid us to come back to
them ; but my mother chose to lo stay here
with her children. As we grew up, grand-father
told her she had better build, but
she said the house satislied her, and that
when I vvas married 1 migiit build to suit
myself. A rich blessing rested on this
house then ; and the widow's God had
charge of us and of all our aifairs. We
wanted no good thing.
" I grew up to be a spruce young fel-low.
They said I was good-looking ; and
I know 1 was sm;irt at my work and kind
to my mother and the children. When I
began to talk about looking for a wife, my
mother said ;
"'You had better build a front to the
house first, and after the cage is ready
get the bird."
" And so I meant to do ;but my plans
about that time got all upset. I came a-cross
this lady"—and there was another
twinkle in his eyes—" when I was about
twenty two, and then 1 couldn't stop to
build. So I told my mother I'd brin^- the
bird home to the old cage, and let her
lave her own way about a new one ; and
it should be as fine as she pleased. Well
one day—it was a blessed moriiing in
June—when the trees were white with
blossoms, I started on horseback with a
million fastened to my saddle, and the
next day 1 came back with her behind me.
That was the oidy time she «*vas ever be-hind
me when any good was going on—
she's always been ahead encouraging me.
'After she got to feeling a little at home,
I broke the subject of anew front to the
house, but she said 'it was large enough,
as the boys—my brothers—were soon go-ing
away, and that if we were thankful it
was good enough for us ; and if not, then
it was too good ; that we had better wait
till we felt that we needed more room and
more show.'
''So I left it with her, and more than
half a century has flown by, and we've
been so contented here, both with our
children and without them, that we love
the old black beams overhead; and every
old door-latch, that other folks would
changc for brass knobs, has. music for us.
they loved still to live in and for each
other.
The wife failed first; and then he whose
manliness had never been lessened by
household work not his own, performed
for her the tenderest labors of love. And
Vfhen at length, another must make the
fire and prepare the food, he only could
nurse and comfort her. With his own
hands ho combed her long, silver locks,
bound them up, and, replacing her snowy
cap, would stroke her head, saying proud-ly
:
"Well, after all the years and sorrows
you have seen, dearest, there's not a hand-somer
woman now in L—."
And in a sense, he spoke the truth, for
her's was that beauty of expression which
never fades with youth nor dies in old
age. Her silvery hair graced her deeply-lined
face like the ivy which decks an old
aud honored ruin. She had "grown old
gracefully;" had not spent her time and
spirit fighting off the wrinkles or hiding
them under paint. Her's was, to the last,
a face of rare sweetness and beauty.
The last day came, when flesh and
heart failed her, and when, leaning, on
As A°e've waited solong,!guess it's hardl her Beloved, she let g-o the hand which
ly worth while for us to make any change
now till we move into the house of many
mansions. God grant,'the break' between
us may not be a long one ! I'm not look-ing
for any such mighty change as t^
happiness, as most people expect in heav-en.
She and 1," he ^aid, laying his hand
tenderly on the shoulder of his faded beau-ty,
"won't love each other any better nor
be any kinder than we've been here.
We've tiied to love and serve God here,
and we shull do so there; all the difference
will be that we shall do it day and night
without weariness or sin."
"You have had a lot favorable to peace
of mind," remarked one who listened.
"Your life has been so smooth, with no
poverty or sorrows to cause murmuring or
rebellion against God."
There was a moment's silence. A faint
sigh escaped the old man's lips. Then
wiping a tear from his eye, he said slowly:
"We are God's children, and haven't been
left without chastening. Many a night
we've sat here between hope and fear,
watching and praying over cradle and bed.
Many a tear we have shed in yonder room
over coffins both short and long. And as
to poverty, I might have had plenty of
that if my wife had been like women who
struggle to outshine their neighbors. My
experience has taught me that there's
nothing like a contented, godly wife to
lead a man to heaven."
"That will do for him to say," replied
the old wile; "but it would be an evil-minded
woman who could be othewise
than peaceable and contented with such
a husband for an example. I make great
allowances for the errors of women who
have not such a strong arm and kind heart
to hold them up as I've had these fifty-five
years. I've had an easy life, with
not a care that mortal could relieve me
ol; and even my alllictions have been so
mingled with mercy that what sometimes
looked like a curse in the distaitce has
had so long upheld her earthly steps.
Her last words were to him: "Only a
step before you—only one stop before
you, dearest. His rod and His staff they
comfort me, and they will comfort you.
Good-night—good-night!"
There were no more shadows for her.
She slept, and her rest was glorious; her
awaking was in the land of immortal
youth.
And do you think he who was as
her other self sat down dumb with aii'
guish, refusing to be comforted? Far
from it. He thanked God that she, the
frail one, had passed over the river first,
and was not left standing on the cold
shore alone. He smoothed for the last
time those white locks with his own
hands, lifted her for the last time in his
arms, laid her in the coffin, and compos-ed
her head on its cold and lonely pillow.
So well he loved her that he grudged to
other hands the sweet privilege of per-forming
these last offices of affection.
When he had laid his lost treasure
among her buried children, he returned
to spend his inch of life in the cause of his
and her Redeemer. A few lonely months
a few more sacrifices and labors, a few
more days of light and shadow, and the
severed ones were again united.
The quaint old cottage, whose very air
seemed like the breath of heaven, and
whose portals used to shut us out from
the world, has passed into other hands;
but hallowed memories still cling around
it for those who there saw the lo^e that
lives forever.
How to " serve" a dinner—Eat it.
What is that which no man wants,
which if any man has he he would not
part with for untold wealth ? A bald
head.
Those who endeavor to imitate us we
like much better than those who eudeav-or
to equal us. Imitation is a sign of es-proved
a blessing when it came near. 11, t^em, competition of envy,
there hadn t been so much happiness here
if I hadn't been loved so well and taken
such tender care of, 1 suppose I should
have wanted a fine house, and grand
clothes and jewelry, and the like, as some
of my neighbors have, and might have
run my husband in debt, and crippled him
so that he couldn't bear burdens in God's
TOMMY, my son,' said a fond mother,
• do you say your prayers night luid morn-ing
V ' Yes, that is nights, but any
smart boy ca;i take cave of himself in the
daytime.'
An officer who had lost his hand by a
grape-shot, was in company with a
house nor help to send the Gospel abroad. who remarked that it was
1 tell you, friends, real love works won- ball which deprived him him of
1 • i :, 1 ders in a house. It h as ffi.ilil ed1 my 1h eart1. his h:inn. " A ntthln uill nisiH'iivi "o.iSrl
so full that 1 haven't had to depend for
comfort on what my neighbors said or
thought of me."
And the years flew on, and the shad-ows
gathered after this, and still the old the
pair, tottered on alone in the cottage.
They might have had yonger hands to
perform their simple domestic labor, but
his hand. " A noble ball, madam," said
he, " f o r it bore away tile palm "
At a recent naval court martial the
following dialogue is said to have taken
place between one of the witnesses and
Court: "Are you a Catholic?''
" No, .^ir." " Are you a Protestant ?"
" No, Sir." " What are you, then ?"
" Captain of the foretop."