The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, February 22, 1903, Page 2

THE SUNDAY CALL. told m word or two.” slipped quietly in the back missy, I'se home at las d at him strangely r a mo- se, I've dreamed and dreamed always with him mg alone to tell me he is ve ¥ there is nothing r-away sound in 1t dreaming, 3 1 jes seed him— & marster—dem bright eyes, de se. de chin, de mouf' He walks s llke Marse Charles, he talks’ like n, he de ve'y spi't er him, en how he He'll be er man fo you I'se got er letter fum his er letter fur you, missy.” s moment “harlie entered the 8 i past Nelse and climbed in- s r's arms. He was a sturdy e fellow of & years with big brown eves ar nsitive mouth Y Ole Grant wuz er pushin’ us e r ter me lak Marse ¥ er figh him ev'y day for wix But he des keep on pushin’ en g Charles say ter . N been de me ent . in v en go rig wid him er writin' e had two letters e = we gwine ter g rge. 1 fee B 1 falls g marster, er mise me, t s worl’, en dat I'd rudder be his slave an be free If he's daid! En I say, ‘Dat Marse Charles ) nex Aay we up en charge o ars ter me 1 nebber see so m: e Grant ces on dis yearth ez € 3 whar we b s kep fetct er & ack er de one we br e swir 3 wr Den ver otter arster! le des kinder riz ear ter me lke he wuz er fi ne in de rear! Wall. sa at clean froo dem Yankees en er end den bout face ergin en gin ter walk backerds er fightir wilecats e ine We git mos back ter de trenc - Marse : = o i se en listen at his kes de swode ck- im anng wuz w ¥ ak A 1 ght sted n me ss h,’ sezz se "bleeg ter g € ket en & at T w see hung e first es Near R May 4 ve a presentin adows of def P s 1 am surer dav r cause ix lost and surrend e naver learned to sp: y see you for one ght tell you all 1 have thought ir atches of the night in cam fie ve never ver things 3 ] have learned in these dayvs age to you to fe < re heyond the wer of words to express. your love h your spirit o Spirit oo because of the w I am sick of it all. I ove you unte death 1 will f ever. w vour owr CHARLES " ter apen nable to move "t A h - the ‘ ressed to ““Charles ¢ Jr My T T ser Nelse rd. It will be all I from the wreck that w 1, war. This sword w father's. He held it the heights of Ki uson and helped of a wilderness ay for me when T draw that sword defenge of my You will live to v. Hang this eword old flag of our fathers as come, and always re- that it was never ‘drawn from ) s your her. or er who fought with New or your ther in e Revolution e cause of justice and 1 not fighting to held - T am fighting for the 1y people under the vers createds Tt may wn this constitution It fe Loty Gc 1 history is in its in- do in life, » what you be thing else is of Wits a heart full of Your father. “CHARLES GASTON." This letter she heid open s, for it ck in_the ping when a wild peal of laughter from her feverish lips and brought Eve and Nelse hurrying into the took but 8 moment for them to dis- cover that their mistress was suffering from a_violent delirium. They soothed ber as best they could. The noise and onfusion had awakened the boy. Run- c ning to the door leading Into his mother's room he found it bolted, and with his Jittle heart fiuttering in terror he pressed his ear close to the key-hole and heard ber wild ravings. How strange her voice emed! Her voice had al been 73 soft and low and full of soothing music. Now it was sharp and hoarse and seemed to rasp his flesh with needles. What could it all mean? Perhaps the end of the world, about which he had heard the preacher talk on Sundays. At last unable to bear the terrible suspense longer he cried through the key-hole, “Aunt what's the matter? Open the door K. ‘No, honey, you mustn't come in. Y ma's awful sick. You run out ter de barn. ketch de mare, en fly de doctor, while me en Nelse stay wi her. Run, honey: day's nuttin’ ter hurt yer.” ' His little bare feet were soon pattering over the long stretch of the back porch toward the barn. The night was clear and sky studded with stars. There was no moon. He was a brave little fallow but a fear greater than all the terrors of ghosts and the wt sheeted dead ith vhich n 0 Suy ition had filled his imaginath now nervel his il soul His mother was about to die very heart ce the thot ed to beat He must bring the doctor and bring I quickly He flew to the s ot looking te right or the left. The mare whinnied as he opened the door to get the brid “It's me, Bessie. Mama's sick. We must go for the doctor quick! The mare thrust her he stinct his quivering ad roused th the home was In gistress and her hc had come to hear @ In a moment her out sugh the gate, climbed he fence and sprang ack fly for me!"” he half whis- gh the tears he back he mare llop as she her echoed silent cav good. T am 1 robbed the nests last summer—I'll never do it Please, Lord, 1I'm such a wee boy €0 lonely. I can't lose my mama the voice choked and became a gr He looked across the square as he passed th ouse in a gallop and saw a light in the window of the parsonage and felt its rays warni his soul like an answer to his prayer He reached the doctor's house on the farther side of the town ang from the mare's back, hourded the steps and ocked at the door 0 one an- a How loud ball! Mayhe the He knoc e felt for a hegan to pounc < might @ the ol out calling matter? Who is tha « mama sick aid she All T in a nd waited. Tt weeks. ~yea the _doctor inute, sonny. in a m be emerged with his his horse he doctor s w. He fur ver. the t ctor. y so slow! 1 11, my boy we'll soon be old man kindly replied boy saw the doctor's horse geing quickly toward his home he square. rou en his s the st illness. Mrs Durhamn bov two vea s sobbing in night, were vou not scaree ed the tears from his 1 was scared. but doctor. 1 w to come as to go home hear her laugh that rd to-night rse we will come, dear We will be there almost a an get to the house slowlv along the silent back mnow and then for er and his wife. As he was pass 1 serted house he saw to his h ragged man peering into the o efore he had time to ru ped quickly up to the ma 1 lived here last, little man?" Miss Spurlin.”” answered the boy Ia she now?" sighed, and the saw ¢ 11iform that he soldier t back fiom the war quickly E s GRS AR Rn Sieon P m helpe lots wher I wa do vou w ‘\\I\r-| s that Jived with her in a little house down in th elow town. They say she's a and my mama would never le ar_her.” steadled himself for a mome with his hands on the mare's neck and re a brave little one to be out this time o' night—what's your s C ston.” re my Colonel's bov—-many vo! a e 1 followed him where men were fallin’ like leaves—I wish to God 1 was w him npgw in the ground! Don't tell® unybody v saw me—them that knowed me will think I'm dead. and it's better Good-by, #ir” eald the child, “I'm sorry fo yvou if you've got no home. I'm the doctor far my ma b =sick I'm afraid she's goin to dle and iL vou ever pray T wish you'd pray for her.” The =oldfer came closer. “T wish T knew How to pray, my hov. But it seemed to 1 forgot evervthing that was god war, and there’s nothin’ left but 1 hell. But I'll not forget you, gond-by When Charlie was in bed. he lay an Lour with wide staring eyes, holding his breath now and then to catch the faint- d from his mother's room. All was quiet at last and he fell asleep. But he was no longer a child. The shadow of a great sorrow had enveloped his soul and clothed him with the dignity and fel- lowship of the mystery of pain. est s CHAPTER IL A LIGHT SHINING IN DARK S In the rear of Mrs. Gaston's place, thera stood in the midst of an orchard a log house of two rooms, with hallway be- tween them. fThere was a mud-thatched n chimney at each end, and from k of the hallway a kitchen ex- e same material with anoth- er mud » The house stood in the middie ten-acre lot. and a woman was busy In the garden with a little girl, planting seed . “Hurry up, Annie; less finish this in time to fix up a fine dinner er greens and turnips an ‘taters an a chicken. Yer pappy’ll get home to-day sure. Colonel Gaston's Nelse come last night. Yer pappy was In the colonel's regiment an Nelse sald he passed him on the road comin’ with two one-legged soldiers. He ain’t got but one leg, he says. But, Lord. if there's a plece of him left we'll praise God an’ be thankful for what we've got.” “Maw. how id he look? 1 mos’ forgot —'s been 80 long sence I seed him?" asked the child “Look! Honey! He was the hand- somest man in Campbell County! He had a tall fine figure. brown curly beard. and the sweetest mouth that was al- ways smilin’ at me, an’ his eyes twinklin' over somethin’ funny he'd seed or thought about. - When he was young ev'ry gal around here was crazy about him. T got him all right, an’ he's got me too. Oh me! 1 can’'t help but cry, to think he's been gone so long. But he's comin' to- day! 1 jes feel it in my bones. “Look & yonder, ma what a skeer- crow ridin’ er ole hoss!" cried the girl Jooking suddenly toward the road. ) ““Glory to God! It's Tom!"” she shouted, snatching her old faded sun-bonnet off her head and fairly fiying across the fleld to the gate, her cheeks aflame, her blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, her eyes wet with tears. Tom was entering the gate of his tensior hat, and a wooden ps where once was a sdhe hill roads, He was truly a modest home in as fine style as possible, *I don’t care—I'll get you another seated proudiy on a stack of bones that on had once been a horse, an old plece of “‘Look out there again you're smashing on*his head that once had been. a my game shoulder. Got a Minie ball in fitted into a stump that one.” His face was “Well, vour mouth's all right I see” pale and stained with the red dust of crj K 0 T insthe et aue ot Ccrisdghs ddel(ghled woman, as she kissed gray. and his ragged buttonless uniform “Say, * ere covered with dirt. Say, Annle, don't be so greedy, give sight to scare crows, if not of interest s NI oy ;fin:-rvne‘r:nti:em:;lnx the excited girl who swift feet were hurrying to his side, and were muttering half articu- & late cries of love, he was (he KRIghtiiest Tom. auti ing b2l 19 see him!" sald flgure that ever rode In the lists before the assembled beauty of the wofld. Tom, Tem, You've come at last. threw her grnl\! aroun‘;i{hlll neck, drew him from the horse and fairly smoth v w N S She 2 ly smothered him and cried over him. “My poor old ‘Look out, ole woman, you'll break new leg!” cried Tom when he could "' she,laughed through her tears. him, me a chance at my young one.” m's "‘Come and kiss your pappy and tell Tom, gathering her in his arms and at- tempting to carry her t) the house. He stumbled and fell. In a moment the old man! strong arms of his wife were about him as she and she was helping him into the house. She lajd him tenderly on the bed, petted man, he's all shot and cut to pieces. m{ You're so weak, Tom—I can't believe it Be You were so strong. But we'll take care of you. Don't you worry. You just SR sleep a week and then rest all summer and watch us work In the garden for you!"” He lay still for a few moments with & smile playing around his lps. nice it is to be petted like that, to hear a woman's voice, feel her breath on your face and the touch ¢f her hand, warm and soft, after four years sleeping on dirt and living with men and mui and fightin’ and runnin’ and diggin’ trenches like rats and moles, kijlin’ men, buryin’ the dead like carrion, holdin’ men while doctors sawed their legs off, till your turn came to be held and sawed! You can’t belleve it, but this is the first feath- er bed I've touched in four years.” ““Well, well'~Bless God it's over néw,” she cried. “S'long as I've got twe strong arms to slave for yous-as long as there's a nlecel fl' ymlx‘ l(efl big anoudgh to hold on to—I'll work for you,” an ain ga bent low over his pale face, -nd.‘e over him as she had so often done over ord, ole woman, you don't know how his baby in those four lonmely y war and poverty. Suddenly Tom pushed her aside and sprang up in bed. “Geemimy, Annie, 1 forgot my pardners —there’s two more peg-legs out at the gate by this time waiting for us*to get tbrough huggin’ and carryin’ on before they come in. Run, fetch ‘em in quick!" Tom struggled to his feet and met them at the door. “Come right into my palace, boys. I've seen some fine places in my time, but this is the handsomest one I ever set eyes on. put the big pot in the little one and don't stand back for expenses. Let's have a dinner these fel- lers'll never forget. It was a feast they never forgot. Tom's wife had raised a brood of early chickens and managed to keep them from being stolen. She killed four of them and cooked them as.only a Southern woman knows how. She had sweet carefully saved in_the mound agair kitchen chimney. There were turnips and greens and radishes, young onions and lettuce and hot corn dodgers fit for a king; and in the center of the table she deftly fixed a pot of wild flowers little Annie had gathered. She did not tell them that it was the last peck of potatoes and the ldst pound of meal. This be- longed to the morrow. To-day they would live. They laughed and joked over this splen- aid banquet. and toid stories of days and nights of hunger and exhs on. when they had fllled their empty stomachs with dreams of home. “Miss (‘amp. you've got the best hus- band in seven States. did you know that?" asked one of the soldlers, a mere boy. Of course she’'ll agree to that, sonny/ laughed Tom. “Well it's so. TIf {t hadn’t been for him, m'am, we'd a been peggin’' along somewhere way up in Virginny 'stead o' bein’ so close to home. You see he let us ride his hoss a mile and then he'd ride a mile. We took it turn about, and here we are.” “Tom, how in this world did you get that horse?” asked his wife. “Honey, I got him on my good looks,” of st the said he with a wink. ‘‘You see I was a settin' out there in the sun the day o' surrender. 1 was sorter cryin’ and wonderin’ how I'd get home with that stump of wood Instead of a foot. when along come a chunky heavy-set Yankee eneral, looking as glum as though his olks had surrendered instead of Marse Robert. He saw me. stopped. looked at me a minute right hard and says, ‘Where do you live? “*Way down In ole No'th ( ny," 1 says, ‘at Hambright, not far from King's Mountain.’ ‘How are you going to get home?" says he. “‘God knows, I don’t, gene I gota wife and baby down there T ain't seed fer nigh four vears, and 1 want to see 'em =0 bad I can taste 'em.’ 1 was lookl the other way when I said that was purty well played out. and feelin weak and watery ahout the eves, an’ [ didn't want no Yankee general to see water in my eyes. He calle] a feller to him and scrter snapped out to him: ‘Go bring the best liorse you can spare for this man and give it to him.' ““Then he turns to Mme and seed I was all_choked up and couldn’t say nothin’ and says “‘I'm General Grant. Give my love to your folks when you get home. I've known what it was to be a poor’ white man down South myself once for a while.’ *‘God hless you, general. I thanks vou from the bottom of my heart.’ I says -as quick as I could find my tongue. ‘If It had to be surrender I'm glad it was to such a man as you “He never said another word, but just walked slow along smoking a blg cigar So ole woman. you know the reason I pamed that hoss, ‘General Grant It may be I have seen finer hosses than that one, but I cquldn't recollect anything about 'em on-the road home." Dinner over, Tom's comrades rose and looked wistfully down the dusty road leading southward. “Well, Tom, ole man, we gotter be er movin',” said the older of the two sol- diers. “We're powerful obleeged to you fur helpin’ us along this fur All right, boys. vou'll find yer train standin’ on the side o' the track eatin’ grass. Jes' climb up, pull the lever and let her go. The men's faces brightened. their lips twitched. They looked at Tom, and then at the old horse. They looked down the dusty road stretching over the hill and valley, hundreds of miles south, and then at Tom's wife and child, whispered to one another a moment. and the elder sa 0, pardner. you've heen awful good to us, but we’'ll get along somehow—wa can't take yer hoss. It's all yer-got now ter make a livin' on yer place."” “All I got?' shouted Tom, “man al ain't you seed my ole woman, as fat and jolly ‘and han'some as when I married her 'leven years ago? Didn't you hear her cryin’ an’ shoutin’ like she’s crazy when I got home? Didn't you see my Iit- tle gal with eyes jes ltke her daddy's? Don’t you see my cabin standin’ as pt as a ripe peach in the middle ne otchard when hundreds of fine houses are lyin' In ashes? Aln't I got ten acres o land? Ain't I got God Almighty me and all around me, the same ( atched over me on the battleflel got? That old stack o' bones ks like er hoss? Well I reckon not Pardner, it ain't right,” grumbled the soldfer, with more of cheerful thanks than profest in his voice. “Oh! Get off, you fools.” sald Tom ? Can't good-naturedly, “ain’t it my ho T do what I please with him™ So with hearty hand-shakes they parted, the two astride the old horse's back. One had lost his right leg. the other his left, and this gave them a leg on each stde to hold the cargo stralght “Take keer yerself, Tom!" they both cried in the same breath as they moved away ake keer yerselves. boys. I'm all right!” answered Tom, as he stumped his way back to theé home. “It's all right, it's all right.”” he muttered to himself. “He'd a come in handy, but I'd a never slept thinkin’ o’ them peggin’ along them rough roads.” Before reaching the house he sat down on a wooden beneh beneath a tree to rest. Tt was the first week in May and the leaves were not vet grown. The sun was pouring his hot rays down into the molst earth, and the heat began to feel like summer. As he drank in the beauty and glury of the spring his soul wa melted with joy. The frult trees were laden with the promlise of the trea of the summer and autumn, a cat-bird was singing softly to his mate in the tree over his head, and a mocking-bird seated in the topmost branch of an elm near his cabin was leading the oratorio of feathered songsters. The wild plum and blackberry briars were in full bloom in the fence corners, and thic sweet odor filled the air. He heard h's wife singing in the house. “It's a fine old world after all!” he ex- claimed leaning back and half closing his eyes. whila ‘a sense of Ineffable peace filled his soul. ‘“Peace at last! Thank God! May I never see a gun or a sword or hear & drum or a fife’s scream on this earth again!" A hound came close wagging his tail and whining for a word of love and rec- ognition. ‘Well, Bob. old boy. you're the only one left. You'll have to chase cotton-tails by yourself now. Bob's eyes watered and he licked his master's hand. lnrlrenfly understanding every word he sald Breaking from his master's hands the dog ran toward the gate barking. and Tem rose In haste as hé recognized the gturdy tread of the preacher, Rev. John Durham, walking rapldly toward the house. Grasping him heartily by the hand the preacher sald: ‘Tom, you don't know how it warms my soul ‘to look fnto your face again When you left, I felt like a man who had lost one band. I've found it to-day. Yeu're the same stalwart Christian full of joy and love. Some men's religion didn’t stand the wear and tear of war. You've come out with your soul tried in the fire. Colonel Gaston wrote me you wera the finest soldler jn the regiment, and that you were the only chaplain in the regiment he had seen that he could consult for his own soul's cheer. That's the kind of a deacon to send to the front! I'm proud of you, and you're still at your old tricks. 1 met two one:legged sol- dlers down the road riding your horse away though you had a stableful at your command. You needn’t apologize or explain, they told me all about it.” *“Preacher, it's good to have the Lord's messenger speak words like them. I can’t tell you how glad I am to be home again: and shake your hand. I tell you it was a comfort to me when I lay awake at night on them battleflelds, a wonderin’ what had become of my ole woman and the baby, to recollect that you were here, and how often I'd heard you tell us how the Lard teripered the wind to the shorn lamb. Annie’s been telling me- ‘who watched out for her them dark days th ‘was nothin’ to eat. I recko you and your wife knows the way to this house about as well as you do to the church.” Tom had pulled the preacher down on the seat beside him while he said this “The dark, days have c gun, Tom. I've come to see you t e cheer me up. Somehow you ways seemed to me to be closer to God than ar in the church You wi all your faith now. to me that every second wom Is a widow. H no seed to plant we no men who will work if they had h What are we to do? dren In every h you and me. As long everything will come ¢ earth “How's' your pantr dog waggin' his tail a b em flowers, at I'm done Millin’ men, and th a bed to sleep om, a v _head woman to pet me 1t and handsome, I ar need anything b ould live a whols t eatin’ a bite fo the prayer meet 2 few things lke Il belleve they have juare meals every " T ain't asked Annle what she’s got I know she's got greendd and turnips, onions and collards and strawber. r sarden will be t n a few s ackberries plums and peaches and apples are all on the rdad preacher, it's my soul that's been starved away from my wife and chila”” “You dofi't know how much I need help sometimes I am always giving, giving myselt sympa and help to other I'm famished ow and then. I feel faint and w t. You seem to fill me again with “I'm glad to hear you say that, preach- er. I get downhearted sometimes, when T recollect 'm noth but a poor white man. I'll remember vour words. I'm go- fn' to do my p ¥ ‘ch work. You know where to “We that's partl what brought me here this morning. I »u to help me look after Mrs. Ca 1 her boy. She is prostrated dea the colonel and Is hanging een and death. She is In a delirio all the time and must be watched day and night. I want you tp wateh the first half of the night with Nelse, and Eve and Mary will wateh the. last half.” ‘Of course. I'll do anything In the world iy e He was the bravest 1 a regiment and he was a bovs. Tl be there. But [ wor th that nig B He can go to bed om, It's a funny thing to me that as good a Christian as you are should hate a nigger so. He's a human being. It's not_right ‘He may be human, preacher: T don’t it tell you the truth, T have my 5 iy - 2. help ft. God . s T hate ke I do Neiss theyd A rattlesnake. say is a good one. He was faithful to the colonel, 1 know, but I couldn’t bear him no more than am the rest of ‘em. I always hated a nigger since I was knee high. My daddy and mj xmy hated ‘em before me. mehow we always felt like tney was crowdin’ us to death on them big plantations, and the little ones too. A then 1 had to leave my wife and baby and fight four vears, all on a count of their sti hides, that never done nothin' for me except to make it rder to live. Every time T'd go into harder E ! & ~ battle ear them Minie - gin to sing over us, it . Could see th a grir tes. At nin’ and ms A T e to help the night when tF ambulance cor the dead and A sme powder. It always made me_sick give me, I hate "er more than I can th al |‘r‘lklflr! it with Nelse, then. You taks the first part of the night tiil 12 o' clock I'll go down with you from the church to-night,” said the preacheras fe shiole Tom's hand and teok his | e. CHAPTER IIT DEEPENING SHADOWS. On the second day after Mrs, Gastor en a forlorn boy sat in t help it any slor of my skin or was stric the kitchen watching Aunt Eve get sur she worked per. He saw whi the dough for_the biscuits. “Aunt Eve I'm go and every gets well hours. 1 lie awak her talking till T feel do something to help “Laws, honey, youse can’t keep 'wak me and I e all you,” 'h":\l("r‘;rv( mammy’s darling boy, but you git tired e 't stan’ it So that nigh midnight he took his e by the bedside. His mother was sleeping at first. He sat and gazed with aching heart at her still, white face. She stirred, opened her eves, saw I and imagired he was his father. e “Dearie, I w you would come,” she murmured. ‘They told me you wers dead; but I knew better. What a long, been away. How long time have brown the sun has tanned your face, but ft's just as handsome. I think hand somer n ever. And how like you s Iittle Charlie! T knew you would be proud of him! While she talked her eyes had a glassy look, that seemed to take no note of any- thing in the room The child listened for ten minutes, and then the horror of her strange voice and Jook and words overwhelmed him. He burst into tears and threw his arms around his mother ck and sobbed. “Oh, mama dear, it's me, Charlle, your little boy, who loves you so much. Please don't talk that way. Please look at like you used to. There! Let me ki your eyes till they are =ol again.” A §ie coversd her eves with kisses The mother seemed dazed for a mo- ment. held him off at arm’s length, and then burst into “Of course w you. You Kiss me good must run to night.” “But you are sick, mama; I am sitting up with vy Again s i his presence. She was back In She was Kkiss left her for old days with her love ) ng her hand to him as he Jay's work. Charlie look ed at the was time to give her the soothing drops the doctor left. She took it, obedient as a child. and went on and on with interminable dreams of the past., now and then uttering strange things for a boy's ears. But so terrible was the angulsh with which he watched little impression on d to him some one s ma her the w his mind. It see was strangling to death, and a great stone was piled on his little prostrate body When she grew quiet at | and sed. how stiil the house seemed! How loud the tick of the clock! How slowly t hands moved! He had never poticed this before. He watched the hands for f minutes. It seemed each minute wa hour, and five minutes were as | aday. What strange noises in the | Suppose_a g id walk ot sh room! Well, he wouldn't run ea his mama: he made up his mind to tha Some nights there were ot ot more ominous. The town was crow with strange negroes. who were hang around the camn of the garrison ) night a drunken gang eame shouting screaming up the alley close heside house. firing pistols and muskets. T stopped at the house, and one of them yelled ¢ Burn the rebel’s house down! It's cur turn now!" The terrified boy rushed to and called Nelse. In a minute 1 on the scene. There was 5o Mm@ that night “De lasy black debb he mopped the perspi brow, “T'l teach ‘em +The next day when the ham had an interview un ant af the troovs, he succeedel in get- ting a consignment of corn for seed and to meet the threat of starvation among some families whose condition he repor ed. This important matter settled, he said to the officer: “Captain, we must look to vou for pro- tection. The town is swarming with va- grant negroes, bent on mischief. Thers