Golden Grain Garnered from the World's Great Harvest-field of Knowledge: Comprising Selections from the Ablest Modern Writers of Prose, Poetry, and Legendary Lore
General
Golden Grain Garnered from the World's Great Harvest-field of Knowledge: Comprising Selections from the Ablest Modern Writers of Prose, Poetry, and Legendary Lore
American literature
"Dear Father," so ran the letter,
"To-morrow when twilight creeps
Along the hill to the old church-yard,
O'er the grave where mother sleeps,
When the dusky shadows gather,
They'll lay your boy in his grave,
For nearly betraying the country
He would give his life to save.
And, dear Father, I tell you truly,
With almost my latest breath,
That your boy is not a traitor,
Though he dies a traitor's death.
"You remember Bennie Wilson?
He's suffered a deal of pain,
He was only that day ordered
Back into the ranks again;
I carried all of his luggage
With mine, on the march that day;
And I gave my arm to lean on,
Else he had dropped by the way.
'Twas Bennie's turn to be sentry;
But I took his place, and I--
Father, I dropped asleep, and now
I must die as traitors die!
The Colonel is kind and thoughtful,
He has done the best that he can,
And they will not bind or blind me--
I shall meet death like a man.
Kiss little Blossom; but dear Father,
Need you tell her how I fall?"
A sob from the shadowed corner--
Yes, Blossom had heard it all,
And as she kissed the precious letter,
She said with faltering breath:
"Our Fred was never a traitor,
Though he dies a traitors death!"
And a little sun-browned maiden,
In a shabby, time-worn dress,
Took her seat a half-hour later
In the crowded night express.
The conductor heard her story
As he held her dimpled hand,
And sighed for the sad hearts breaking
All over the troubled land.
He tenderly wiped the tear-drops
From the blue eyes brimming o'er,
And guarded her footsteps safely
Till she reached the White House door.
The President sat at his writing;
But the eyes were kind and mild,
That turned with a look of wonder
On the sky-faced child,
And he read Fred's farewell letter
With a look of sad regret.
"'Tis a brave young life," he murmured,
"And his country needs him yet,
From an honored place in battle
He shall bid the world good-bye,
If that brave young life is needed,
He shall die as heroes die!"
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
THE MAID OF ORLEANS.
A sketch of the life of Joan of Arc.--Adapted from Guizot's History of
France.
There are few nations whose history presents so many examples of
bravery and love of country, as France. The romantic story of Joan of
Arc, commonly called the Maid of Orleans, has not a parallel in either
ancient or modern times.
This heroic maid was a farmers daughter, of good life and character.
She was occupied in sewing or spinning with her mother, or driving her
father's sheep afield, and tending them, a little shepherdess in fact.
In 1428, the English army had laid siege to Orleans, a city of France,
and in spite of all their efforts, the French troops found themselves
unable to hold the city.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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