A LOST LIMB.

Evening Post, Volume L, Issue 36, 10 August 1895, Page 1 (Supplement)

A LOST LIMB.

It was a strong brown leg, and, doubtless, had often tramped many weary miles in search of the hated Pakchos who had come from distant lands to take possession of the fair one whioh the owner of that limb had loved so well. It leant against the side of the marquee, and appeared of a great size, and very dark colour, as shown in contrast with the white canvas that was stained in parts by the blood which streamed to the ground. Opposite, on a bed of fern, lay the possessor of that stalwart limb— a brave young warrior, whose powerful frame indicated great strength. Plenty of difficulties and dangers had he faced, for his brown skin showed many a scar, but none so severe as the wound he had received that morning of June, '61, which bad caused him the loss of his leg. I fancied that his eyes were fixed very earnestly on my face, and I felt strangely uncomfortable under their persistent gaze, until I saw that he was not looking at me, but at the leg, which, unfortunately, had been left resting against the canvas, for all were too busy to think of removing it. My attention was soon taken up by the other occupants of the marquee. At hist, my duties being ended, I looked again at that quiet figure, when the hospital orderly, entering, went over to it and exclaimed, "My God, he's dead!" How the brave heart that had never quailed before bullets or bayonets must have felt the loss of that strong leg to have yielded without a struggle ! Had existence seemed worthless when he could no longer fight for home and country pp — bo, at least, I thought as I went my way through rain and darkness across mud and fern to my tent. —"Hope."