Soldiers' record, 1869-05-15

              I>e"voted to tlie Interests of the Soldiers audi Sailors of*the late W a r.
VOL. I. HARTrORD, OOOT., SATURDAY, MAY 15, 1869. NO. 45.
loiir^ a t i o m e .
OUB DARLIlfa.
"Wo wreathed about our darling's liead the morning
glory bright,
Hor little face looked out beneath, so full of love
and light,
So lit as with a sunrise, that wo could only say,
She is the morning glory true, and her poor types
are they.
80 always, from that happy time, we called her by
their name,
And very fitting did i t seem for sure as morning
came,
Behind her cradle-bars she smiled to catch the first
faint ray
As from tiie trellis smiles the flower, and opens to the
day.
But not so beautiful they rear their airy cups of bine,
As turned her sweet eyes to the light, brimmed with
sleep's tender dew.
And not so close their tendrills fine round their
supports are thrown.
As those dear arms, whose outstretched plea clasped
all hearts to her own.
We used to think how she had come, even as comes
the flower.
The last and perfect added gift to crown love's morn-ing
hour,
And how in her was imaged forth the love we could
not say,
As on the little dew drops round shines back the heart
of day.
We never could have thought, 0 God, that she must
wither up
Almost before a day was flown, like the morning-glory's
cup;
We never thought to see her droop her fair and noble
head,
Till she lay stretched before our eyes, wilted and cold
and dead.
The morning glory's blossoming will soon be coming
round,
We see their rows of heart-shaped leaves up-rising
from the ground,
The tender things the winter killed, renew again their
birth.
But the glory of our morning has passed away from
earth.
O earth! in vain our aching eyes stretch over thy
green plain.
Too harsh thy dews, too gross thine air, hor spirit
to sustain;
But up in grovas of Paradise, full surely "we shall
see
Our Morning Glory, beautiful, twine round our dear
Lord's kuee."
THE DOCTOR'S ADVENTUEE.
"And now we'll have a cosy, comfort-able
evening together," said my wife,
"And—but wliat's that, Irving?"
My wife started nervously as a sharp
peal at the bell interrupted our brief in-terval
of domestic quiet.
'Only the surgery bell, my dear. Some-body
wanting me, I suppose."
And I went down stairs, secretly won-dering
to myself if, after all, there was
such a very wide difference between a gal-ley
slave and a country doctor.
The surgery door stood wide open, but
nobody was there, and through theblind-ing
darkness without I could just discern
the dark outline of a close carriage, auc.
a man standing at the horse's head.
"Who's there?—what's wanting?"
asked, coming to the threshold and ID
stinctively buttoned up the overcoat I had
hurriedly thrown on.
" You''ro Avanced, doctor," said the man
speaking indistinctly behind the mufiling
that surrounded his face.
"Yes; but what for ? Who wants me?'
"I am not at liberty to tell."
I had already entered the carriage, but
this suspicious answer inspired me with
distrust. I made a step to descend, but
I was too lute. The vehicle was already
iu motion.
"It is quite unnecessary to alarm your-self,
doctor," said a quiet, measured voice
at my side. "Believe me, you are quite
safe; and I trust you will not feel any un
easiness when 1 tell you that you must be
blindl'olded."
And at the same instant a folded band-age
was de'tly slipped over my eyes.
" U old !"1 ejaculated. "It strikes me
that this is rather superfluous. The night
is dark as Erebus, and you have no lamp.'
"Fossibly," returned the dry voice
"but it is best to run no risks.
And then ensued a silence of some ten
or fifteen minutes, while the carriage
rolled swiftly along, and the low, meas-ured
breathing of my unknown companion
kept time to my own uncomfortable
thoughts.
At length my companion spoke, again
in the same soft, modulated tones.
"Doctor, one more little precaution is
necessary—your promise never to divulge
to human soul a word of this night's vis-i
t "
I hesitated.
"I cannot bind myself by any such cov-enant.
Tlie relations between physician
and patient are of course confidential;
but—
The carriage paused abruptly here, and
the door was swung open. At the same
instant something cold touched my tem-ples.
It was the muzzle of a pistol. I
recollect it in horror.
"You surely would not murder me7"
"Your promise, doctor'.^"
"1 promise!" I gasped, recoiling once
more from the chilling touch of the cold
steel at my temples.
"Very well. Come I"
I was led up a narro vv walk, through a
doorway, iijto a room whore the bandage
was remove^ suddenly from my eyes.
The spot was very familiar to me—a
ruinous cottage, long since abandoned to
decay, in the very heart of dense, swampy
woods. How the carriage had ever reach-ed
it I was at a loss to know. Upon a
pile of straw, hurriedly thrown into the
corner of the mouldering floor, lay a pros-trate
figure, moaning at every breath.
His face was Concealed by a handker-chief,
and the blood was slowly dripping
from a gunshot wound just above the an-kle—
a wound which had been clumsily
bandaged by some unskillful hand.
Moreover, there was a dark red stjvtn on
the straw where his head lay, and his
light brown hair was matted with coagu-lated
drops. Two or three men stood a
round, with rude masks of black cloth
drawn over their faces, in which three
slits were cut for the eyes and mouth;
female figure knelt behind the heap of
straw, veiled closel3^
The men silently made way for me as
advanced into the apartment, and held
their lanterns so that the lurid light
should fall upon my strange patient. As
I silently stooped and examined both
wounds—
"Well ?" asked my carriage companion,
"lean do nothing. The man must die."
"Nonsense ! A mere bullet through
the leg; what does that amount to ?" hur-riedly
gasped the man.
"In itself, not much; but that blow up-on
the skull must prove fatal. "
A low, half suppressed cry broke from
the Avoinan opposite. She tore the veil
from her face, as if she could not breathe
through its heavy folds, revealing features
as white and beaiitil'ul in their marble
agony as so much sculptured stone. She
did not seem more than thirty, but I after-wards
knew that she was indeed ten years
older. But in spite of her present
anguish, how grandly beautiful she was!
Large dark eyes—hair like coiled gold,
catching strange gleams from the shifting
lanterns—and a broad, smooth brow—it
was a face you see but once in a whole
life-time.
And yet iu the midst of her distress,
she never spoke.
"At least you can do something for him,
doctor T' said my interlocutor impatient-ly.
"Don't let us waste time here."
As I proceeded in my ministrations,
the moaning grew fainter and fainter, the
convulsive movements became scarcely
perceptible. A faint gleam of hope light- particulars of the attempted burglary
ed up the face of the woman who knelt ^^ Haddenleigh,
that fell upon us as ray accents died away
—shall I ever forget it ? And five min-utes
afterwards the breathing, spasmodic
and painful to hear, died into eternal still-ness.
The young woman lifted the corner of
the handkerchief, and gazed into the
ghastly face. It was that of a young man
of about 22, and who had evidently been
marvelously good-looking.
"0, heavens! he is dead!"
Her clear agonized voice was ringing
in my ears, as they led me back into the
darkness of the night. I felt a bank note
pressed into my hand as I entered the car-riage
once more.
"Doctor, you have done your best; it is
not your fault that your efforts have not
been more succe:^sful. Remember thai
you are pledged to secrecy."
The next moment I was whirling along
through the November midnight, with the
strange, unquiet feeling of one wakened
suddenly from a startling dream. Yet it
was no dream—alas! it was a startling
reality.
The carriage stopped at a cross road
near the village.
"Please to alight here, sir," said the
driver. "You are not far from home."
I obeyed, and stood listening in the
middle of the road, while the noise of the
carriage wheels died away, losing its dis-tinctne^
ss in the shriek of the restless wind.
And the clock in the village, church toll-ed
out'the hour of one.
Late as it was, however, my surgery
was still open and lighted up; the servant
from Haddenleigh Hall had just ridden
up to the door.
"If you please, doctor, you are wanted
immediately at the Hall. The Colonel
said you were to ride my horse, if yours
were not already saddled, and 1 can
walk, so there will be no time lost.''
I mechanically mounted the nobld ani-mal
that stood waiting for me, and rode
off rather glad of au opportunity to re-volve
in my mind the singular adventure
that had befallen me during the evening.
Haddenleigh stood a little back from
the road, on a magnificent knoll crowned
with century-old cheonuts and beeches;
and I reached the broad steps in about
half an hour, by dint of rapid strides.
As I entpred the vestibule, Colonel
Hadden, who had been pacing up and
down the hall in a perfect agony of im-patience,
came to meet me.
"Is that you. Dr. Meller? I thought
you would never come. We're in a pret-ty
state of confusion here ! Burglars in
the house—my Avife's set of diamonds
gone—nobody knows what else—but old
Hopkins left his sign manual upon one of
the fellows. They must be caught;
They can't escape far. For, you see—
"Yes, but Colonel Hadden—"
"Oh, ay—I understand you—you want
to see your patient ? It's Hopkins the
butler; he got an ugly blow on the left
arm—and afterwards my wife went her-self
for Dr. May nard—no (>ffense Meller,
but he lives nearer than you—but he was
out. She has only just returned,
couldn't very well leave Hopkins—and
Mrs. Hadden is such a kind, good soul,
she insisted on going herself to fetch May-uard—"
"But, my dear sir—"
"Ah, true ! Come along to Hopkins's
room."
Hopkinn the butler, was voluble as his
master, and ten times as circumstantial ;
and by the time I had set his broken fore-arm
I was pretty well in possession of all
with clasped hands opposite; she looked
appealingly to me.
•'He is better—he is surely better?"
"Ho will be better soon," I answered,
moved to pity in spite of myself. "He
cannot live half au hour longer."
The horror of that sepulchral silence
And thinking of my midnight patient,
whose life had ebbed out upon the pile of
straw, I felt a strange guiltiness as I lis-tened
to Colonel Hadden's sago conjec-tures
as to the whereabouts of the despera-does
who had fled.
"And now, doctor, you'll take a glass
of wine," said the hospitable old gentle-man,
ushering me into his library.
It was brilliantly lighted, and warm
with the crimson glow of genial fire, be-fore
which, in a singulajly graceful atti-tude,
sat a lady, wrapped iu the gorgeous
folds of an Indian shawl.
"My wife, doctor. Isabel, my love,
this is Dr. Meller."
We stood before one another in silence.
I could not speak, for I knew that I was
looking into the startled, agonized eyes
of the woman who had knelt scarcely an
hour ago by the dying couch in the deso-late
cottage—Co). Hadden's new wife, of
whose beauty I had heard so much.
The Colonel talked on, but I heard not
a word that he said. I could not but
marvel at the wonderful self-possession
of the woman, who smiled and looked
grave, and said "Yes" and "No" in the
right places."
"To be sure," the Colonel was saying,
as I awoke into a sort of consciousness of
his voice, "the loss of Isabel's diamonds is
something serious, but of course we shall
recover them again. Ohdy, my love, it
was rather careless of you to leave them
on the drawing room table."
"It was careless," replied Mrs. Hadden,
calmly. Doctor, you are not going ?
Colonel you have forgotten that curious
old book you were wanting to show Dr.
Meller."
As the door closed behind the honest
old gentleman, Mrs.' Hadden glided up
to me and placed her cold hand on mine
it was like the touch of an icicle.
"Doctor,you have my secret—you sure-ly
will not betray it."
"1 am pledged to silence, madam," I
returned coldly; "biit this deceit—"
"It is not my fault, doctor," wailed the
woman, "it is my fate. How I endure it
I scarcely know; were I to pause and
think I should go mad. The man who
died to-night was my son ! Colonel Had-den
knows nothing of my first marriage,
nor of this dreadful secret of my sou's
criminal life that has weighed me down
for years. Over and over again I have
thought to escape from it, but it has fol-lowed
upon my footsteps like a doom.
To-night closes that chapter of my life—
oh how dreadfully ! but my secret is safe
—the diamonds provided for that."
"But your husband, Mrs. Hadden !"
She covered her pallid; beautiful face
with her hand.
"I know what you would say, Dr. Mel-ler.
I love and honor him beyond all
men; but what can I do ? Believe me, I
have never vvillingly wronged or deceived
him. I tiever dreamed of—of—"
She paused abruptly. Colonel Hadden
was entering thb room, and the smiling
casual remark sluj addressed to him filled
my heart with amazement—almost ad-miration.
I rode home to my blue eyed little
Eleanor, feeling as I entered the snug
sitting-room as if I were returning to the
homely, happy atmosphere of every day
life. But 1 never forgot the terrible ex-citement,
the fearful suspense of that No-vember
night.
The desperadoes who had attempted to
rifle Haddenleigh Hall were never detect'
ed or taken—all traces of them seemed
to have utterly vanished out of the earth.
And were it not for the bank note which
most liberally recompensed my services,
and the everlasting witness borne by Mrs.
Hadden's lovely, startled face, I should
abnost have been tempted to fancy that
all the events of that marvelous Novem-ber
midnight were the fragments of a
dream.
This was ray adventure—the first and
last that ever crossed the pathway of my
life.
Knee-high-miah is not the shortest man
mentioned in the Bible. Bill-Dad of Shoe-
Height (Job 18 :1) causofi him to knock
under.