SCENE 3.

Waikato Times, Volume XIX, Issue 1634, 23 December 1882, Page 2 (Supplement)

SCENE 3.

Time, which waits on no man's passions, griefs, happiness, or ambition; had rolled on by some three years since Matthew-Osgood had parted with hia love. With people >of his temperament, the action of a passion such as that by which he had been inspired bridges over years, and makes the boy a man. War had broken out in his country. Grant was before Lee's enceinte - at Spottsylvania-. v The, great general shad carried out "his principle 'of "hammering continuously" for twelve days, with ''a result that the -J&eld' was heaped with the slain.

|6u^S^4^fcpbiißJ^ncle i JEanhiba^Kad 'shouldeiefr-jbHeir rifles at ;the b.eghiniiig*q|'{he -trouble, andh'e had no means then 'of aacer- 1 taining their— whereabouts. Heartsick, and eager t6 encounter danger and, if need- be, death, he had at once applied for appointment to a .regiment engaged at the front. And he was in time to -take part in the bloody assaults on the Confederate lines at Spottaytvania. His regiment was attached to Hancock's brigade. One morning, ere the sun had lighted up the western sky, orders were quietly given to advance upon an angle of the enemies' works. The men fell in with sullenness. They had fought for ten days, and might as well have battled with air. But they went now to what each man deemed his death, if not with alacrity, with obedience. The assault was gallantly made, and was successful. Indeed, it was the only success ol Grant's twelve days of " continuous hammering." The slaughter was awful — chiefly, however, falling upon the Federals. But in the hot eagerness of the struggle this was not regarded. And foremost in the fight was Matthew Osgood. With the activity of the sailor, ho was among the first to climb over the enemies' earthworks, and to enter his lines. And he was instantly met by a furious attack from a young Confederate officer, who was heard cheering on his men to the defence, the while he exhibited an example by his reckless gallantry. But having encountered Mat, he had enough to do to preserve himself from that young gentleman's active assaults. The rush came on, and for a moment separated them. Then they met again, a strange undefinod feeling animating each that they were known to each other. At last Mat, clubbing his rifle, dealt his opponent a fearful blow on his head, and as he fell a bullet crashed into his arm. Mat was thrown across his prostrate body by the furious onward press of his comrades. It was some time ere, bruised and dizzy, he was enabled to arise. The fight was over, and the angle of the enceinte to capture which had cost so many lives, was in the hands of Hancock's troops. Mat stooped over the soldier he had stricken, and pushing aside his hat, looked at his face. He uttered an exclamation of surprise and sorrow. For his enemy was no other than Mr. Folingsby, his rival in love. For the moment the baser nature of the

. j young man triumphed, and a savage etults ation inspired him, as he gazed upon the . man who had thwarted his love, and, who, as he now deemed, had died at hia hands. . Then a quick blush and frown followed, and . raising Folingsby in his arms, he sought to ; ascertain whether he were yet alive. He was, , and Mat carried him to a protected corner, . and procuring water, bathed his face. The s wounded man groaned, and presently opened i his eyes, with which he regarded Mat, long i and steadily. He smiled. ! " Well," he faintly whispered, " this is a queer meeting, Master Mat. 'Egad you've i cracked my skull I believe," — and he closed i his eyes and swooned. Matthew eagerly sought the captain of his | company. He asked permission to carry ; Folingsby into the Federal lines, so that he might be treated there. It was granted, and . at night time, the young Southerner was carried with other wounded men, to the Federal position. He was closely attended by Mat, who now experienced a high pleasure in the thought that he was caring for Helen's husband. Not content with seeing him safely in the hands of the Burgeon, he sought out a farm-house some little distance from the field of battle, and there arranged for Folingsby's acoomodation. Being quietly carried thither, there was little enquiry or obstruction to encounter, and this done, Mat felt easier. It was two days afterwards that he look part in one of Grant's mad assaults upon the lines of Spottsylvania. The struggle was fierce ; but the loss was all on the side of the -Federals, who, as usual, had to,fall back, decimated. It was while trudgirigiisullenly in retreat, that the young man was '"aroused by a shout hard by. He lotiked up: There, not ten yards away, blood- ( St'a-ined r andh6t<withthe toil of battle, was his unole. By his side, limping from a wound in his leg} was Hannibal. It was like witchcraft; ,-rThe delight which was felt by the honest negro, was expressed by an uncontrollable burst of laughter, For full a minute he gave way /to tfhis impulse, bending his body, throwing his head back, expanding his capacious rolling his eyes and clapping his ktfees alternately with ,his broad palms. ThS captain, his hand upon his nephew's shoulder, smiled gravely. v ' { " Neow look thar," said he.'r&'The critter takes no 'count of the muss esshe's jest come out on. That there streak ibross his forehead made by i a reb's rifle-buffet;- ain't'-' made •: no "impression" onvhim' no''tfs|s;, Happy is the nigger, Mat. And neow^tdp tell, when

ijthe' .youtig^ttiaii; .•*'£< wenji^dowri'ilionie, but. •of. course, you'd goife /to fun," and I didn't know precisely, where to find you. So I thought that as the old "Union was in trouble, it was my duty — knowing you'd say so too — to lend a hand." "Eight boy," said the skipper heartily, " we must keep Uncle Sara's family together at all hazards and loss. Theta so. But it's awkward, -sir, derned awkward, to fight your own flesh and blood, so to say." " All must give way to the nation's good, returned Mat firmly. " Whether a man be brother or stranger, if he be a traitor he should find a traitor's treatment." j " Thefc's so," responded the captain, sadly, " but Mat, boy, these rebs don't consider themselves traitors. They're fightin* for what they think are their rights." " There can be no rights, uncle, superior to the good of the Union, or which threaten the stability and indivisability of the Union." Hannibal, standing by, laughed silently. He was overcome by Mat's eloquence. The skipper, too, was impressed. "Do tell, lad," said the latter. " We'll be hevin' you to Congress some day. Wall, why not? I reckon that you could politicate us as well as most." Mat laughed. Sufficient of the freshness and modesty of youth remained within him to impel a blush at the skipper's badinage. Presently he grew grave, and told the story of his encounter with Folingsby. The skipper listened with interest. " Wall, it was awkward, deuced awkward," said he, " but it 'd been a sight awkwarder ef you had been Folingsby," and he laughed in his silent fashion. " Howsoever," he continued, noticing Mat's pained look, " Folingsby is lander chipper. He ain't like to hand in his checlcs without protest. No, sir, I guess we'd better git up to the house, end see heow he is gettin' through." With this they proceeded, and after reporting themselves, they made for the farmhouse, in the best bed-room of which Matthew had placed his prisoner. The house itself, was situated in a little valley. A babbling stream ran along, within a hundred yards of the front door, and at the very edge of an orchard. A tall, wide-spreading oak, shaded the northern side ; a flower garden, rich with peonie3, sunflowers, and other gorgeous blossoms, flanked the eastern and southern angles ; while the back yard, enclosing an

ancient barn and some rude outhouses, absorbed the western aspect. A wood of maple, oak, and elm, now in full foliage, the earth richly garbed in green, and yellow, and blue ; the grass luxuriantly bespangled with wild flowers — banked up the hill sides ; and, looking through the little valley, the eye fell upon the plain upon which the great battle had been fought, amidst the yellow corn. Beyond this again / arose a long line of dim, blue mountain heights. The picture was exquisite, and as the three paused, at the entrance | of the vale, they turned, as if by one impulse, and gazed back upon it. " Deary me," said the skipper sadly," it's awkwa y d, derned awkward, Mat, to spile God's work this away. Lord forgive us ; whar will not the passions of man carry him !" The young man said nothing. Other emotions than those which moved within his uncle's honest breast, now prompted his reflections. The reaction of peace following upon the fierce lust of battle, had turned his thoughts to his own bitter disappointments and thwarted hopes. And he to whom he thought he owed his misery now lay, sore wounded, and a prisoner, within a few yards of the spot on which he stood. A hundred conjectures were excited by this circumstance. Had Folingsby married Helen Vigors ? If so, where was she now ? And if so, again.if he died, what possibilities but here, with a burning cheek, and keen feeling of shame, the young fellow thrust the thought from him, and turning abruptly, led the way to the cottage. It was a pleasant, cosy, homely homestead, of the genuine Yankee type. The first room entered was the kitchen, around the walls of which were hung utensils scoured to the perfection' of brightness. The floor was of bright red bricks.' ' A large stove stood in the centre, a long table at the end; while one side was occupied by a> dresser, upon whioh 'was arranged- a notabie display of delf and crockery. A woman, hard-featured and prim, sat by the stove. She looked up as they entered. "Pardon us, ma'am," said Mat. "We have taken the liberty to call up about the gentleman I brought here this morning." "You're welcome," said the woman. "I guess he's easy. Doctor- says he'll pull through. Reckon you'd like to see him. Thar'B the door," and she pointed with her knitting-needle to a door at the other end of the, kitchen. Mat, 1 waving the others to remain, entered the wounded man's room. - « It was a pleasant apartment,' well lighted and ventilated. , The windows opened upon a

Were,, The furniture7]was^pia||| l|| comfortable^ and the bed' in whiojnjalihe wounded man lay, was a proper typej^of, & country house couch. Folihgsby was;,ftj£ake.* He looked up as Mat entered, and smiled,. ' " Well, Osgood," said lie, " I reokon you've placed me hors de combat. . • "I'm sorry, very sorry," answered the young man. " Tut !" said the other. "No need of that. Believe me, if you hadn't got the be3t of me, I shouldn't have hesitated to get the best of you." "Are you in much pain, sir?" asked Mat. " Pain !" growled the other, "'tis no word for it. The d d doctor has been probing me for a full half-hour. He says he is glad I feel the pain — that it is a good sign, confound him. Whew ! I feel banged to jelly, man," and he writhed upon the bed. Mat stood silent. He was no man of the world in j a society sense ; and he did not possess the ease of manner and ready wit with which another more versed and educated in the conventionalities of society would have comported himself. Folingsby observed this, and smiled. " I do believe, Osgood," said he, " that you are ashamed of having knocked me over." " In good truth," answered Mat, " I wish somebody else had done it." "Then I don't," returned Folingsby. "Tut, man, where would I be now in that case? Nonsense. You're a good fellow, Osgood ; and I'm going to tax your kindness still further. You see my right arm is in splints. I can't write, and ili I could," he went on musingly, " I don't know how I could get the letter to her." Ho paused, and knit his brow. Presently he proceeded. "You see, Osgood, I want my wife to know I'm safe and sound. The little woman will fret her life away." Mat turned his head and looked through the window. Steadying his voice he said : " Where is Mrs. Folingsby?" " In Eichmond, man," returned the other. " It's a hard case, Osgood. You see we were only married six weeks ago, and " " Six weeks ago," echoed Matthew, turning square upon the speaker. " Why, weren't you married in Melbourne ?" " Married in Melbourne !" repeated Folingsby, with a stare. "Why, what is the mai thinking of?" " Then Helen — Miss Vigors returned to America ?" enquired Mat, eagerly. " Helen ! Miss Vigors ! She is not my wife, my dear fellow. Bless my soul, you're up a wrong tree altogether 1" "But she told me— that is, you were i engaged to Miss Vigors I" exclaimed Mat, ] excitedly. Foling&by smiled. " Fes, dear boy^ I was. Bat jou see, I found out that the lady had the bad taste to like somebody else better than me, and I didn't cotton to that idea. So I gave her freedom, and a kiss, and made my way back to the old land. There I found my cousin Amy Branscombe, just returned from a five years sojourn in Europe. When I had last seen her, she was a gawky, rawboned girl, of twelve years of age. She was now a beauty. Naturally, I fell in love with her ; she returned my affection, and all went smoothly — when just as we had made our arrangements for a passage through life, this confounded war broke out." "And you married her ?" cried Mat. i \ " Well, she married me, Osgood. You ssfe . there was the risk, and all that, besides every- \ thing was unsettled. So of course I nevw thought of marriage until matters became fixed again. But the dear girl came to me a few days before my regiment marched to the front, and put it plainly to me. She said that she wished to become my wife before I started. And why ? Bless her heart. She said she knew that being her husband I would be prudent and careful, that having the responbibility of her happiness and welfarein my hands, I would reasonably conceive that my life was not my own to risk. In a word, like a true woman she advanced selfish reasons for her insistance, in order to disguise her divine unselfishnebs. A splendid woman, Osgood, and I must get a letter to her." " That you shall," cried Mat with energy, I'll bring paper and pen and ink. Now lie back and make yourself comfortable, '> and he passed from the room, and thence out into the open air. His brain wag in a whirl. His heart beat under the impulse of his joy. Hope which had been dead within him, revived and filled his soul with joyous promise. He laughed aloud, and then he threw himself upon the long grass, face downwards, and wept from very ecstacy of happiness. Do not sneer dear reader. Men who can feel as he did have ofttimes heroes hearts.