'We was that anxious t' see him we'd set up an' talk o' nights Till the break o' day had dimmed the stars an' put out the Northern Lights; We waited an' watched fer a month or more, an' the summer was nearly past, When a letter come one day that said they'd started fer hum at last. 8042 “I'll never fergit the day Bill come—'twas harvest time again— An' the air blown over the yellow fields was sweet with the scent o' the grain. The dooryard was full o' the neighbors, who had come to share our joy, An' all of us sent up a mighty cheer at the sight o' that soldier boy. “An' all of a sudden somebody said: 'My God! don't the boy know his mother?' An' Bill stood a-whisperin', fearful like, an' a starin' from one to another; 'Have courage, Bill,' says he to himself, as he stood in his coat o' blue, 'Why, God 'll take care o' you, my boy, God 'll take care o' you.' “He seemed to be loadin' an' firin' a gun, an't' act like a man who hears The awful roar o' the battle-field a-sound- in' in his ears; Ten thousan' ghosts o' that bloody day was marchin' through his brain, An' his feet they kind o' picked their way as if they felt the slain. 8043 An' I grabbed his hand, an' says I to Bill, 'Don't ye 'member me? I'm yer father—don't ye know me? How frightened ye seem to be.' But the boy kep' a-whisperin' to himself, as if 't was all he knew, 'God 'll take care o' you, Bill, God 'll take care o' you.' He's never known us since that day, nor his sweetheart, an' never will; Father an' mother an' sweetheart are all the same to Bill. An' he groans like a wounded soldier, sometimes, the whole night through, An' we smooth his head, an' say: 'Yes, Bill, He'll surely take care o' you.' 'Ye can stop a war in a minute, but when can ye stop the groans? Fer ye've broke our hearts an' sapped our strength an' plucked away our bones. An' ye've filled our souls with bitterness that goes from sire to son, So ye best be kind o' careful down there in Washington.” 8044 Before us lay the peaceful valley, and on a far hill we could see the door-yard bordered with small trees and haunted by the ghosts of the battlefield. “We've had our lesson,” said Uncle Eb, “but there's some that havint. You 'member Lon Tracy—he was one o' the most peaceable men that ever lived. One day he went to the village, an' some mis'rable, drunken cuss pitched on him an' Lon set to an' thrashed him proper. “'I'm surprised,' said the Justice o' the Peace, when Lon come before him. “'So'm I,' said Lon. “'S'pose ye knew 'nough t' keep out o' trouble.' “'So did I,' says Lon. “'I didn't think you were a fighting man.' 8045 “'I didn't nuther,' says Lon. “'How did it happen?' “'Very easy—he rapped me an' I rapped back,' says Lon. “'An' you rapped the hardest.' “'Wal, when ye pay a debt o' that kind,' says Lon, 'ye ain't no way petic'lar how much int'rest ye allow.'