[For Merry’s Museum.]THE LITTLE SOLDIER.(Concluded.)Mr. Merry:Your young readers will remember, I hope, that they left our “little soldier” at the commencement of his journey homewards. Weak and faint from his long confinement in the hospital, without money, and with the sad prospect of two hundred miles on foot before him, it seemed impossible to him that he could ever accomplish the journey. But “home,” that blessed word, at mention of which, “thesailor, clinging to the dripping yard-arm,” feels a glow of rapture, filled the heart of thesoldierwith hope, and he proceeded on. Children of the present day, cannot imagine the change which has been made in the country since that period. What was at that time a “wilderness,” has now become a “fruitful field;” and where our tired soldiers at the close of the day sheltered themselves beneath some large tree, may now be seen the splendid hotel, inviting the traveller to comfort and rest. Then, too, at the nightfall, whereourtwo friends heard only the mournful note of the “whip-poor-will,” may now be heard the shrill whistle of the locomotive, as it scuds over mountain and valley with the speed of thought. I cannot take time to give the details of adventures which cheered and discouraged our friends from day to day. They found great difficulty in supplying themselves with food; and I think it was in some lonely place, on this journey, that the sick soldier was fortunate enough to catch a young woodpecker, and he said nothing could be more delicious than the little bird. He pulled out the feathers, and ate itjust as it was! He said it was meat and drink too, for the blood was warm! If I am not mistaken, it was three or four weeks after they left New York, that the two friends reached a village, called Farmington, in the State of Connecticut. They had been a long time coming a short distance, as the strength of the little soldier had been gradually failing during the journey thus far. Just at dark, after a day of great suffering from exhaustion and fatigue, they came to a house which stood on an eminence rather difficult of ascent. Here, the poor fellow’s courage failed, and he said to his companion, “Let me stop at the foot of this hill anddie. I can never reach the house,”—and he sank upon the ground, entirely overcome. His companion, however, had strong confidence that if he could have food and rest, he would soon be restored. He accordingly went to the door of the house, which was opened by a very respectable middle-aged woman. He proceeded to an inner room, where an old man was sitting, reading the Bible. He made as earnest an appeal as he could for the friend he had left in the road; but the thought of having such a burden upon them, (for they were rather poor,) seemed more than they could bear. Now, whether the old gentleman happened to be reading in Matthew, the passage, “Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these, ye did it unto me,” I cannot say; but he did not hesitate long. “Let him come in,” said he; “we will do the best we can for him.” Here, then, new courage came to him, and, with the utmost exertion, he reached the door. Thetablewas spread for the evening meal; and such a sight our “little soldier” had not seen since he left his father’s house, where was “bread enough and to spare.” He has been heard to say often, that at no other period in his life, was he ever so much overcome, as at the sight of that table! He wept and sobbed like an infant. The utmost caution was needed, or he would no doubt have sacrificed his life in the indulgence of his appetite. At this house he remained several weeks,—and I would to God that this account might fall into the hands of some of the descendants of that pious family. The man was named Thomas Cowles. A maiden daughter kept the house, and took care of her father. They were unwearied in their attentions to the invalid, and he began to recruit at once. His companion came on to their native place, and a brother of the sick soldier immediately started on horseback for him, with money to remunerate the family who had shown him so much kindness. When the young soldier came to take his leave, which he did with many tears, the good people refused all compensation. Now, I hope, Mr. Merry, some of your young readers will know why this was. Our “little soldier” loved and feared God. They had taken “sweet counsel together,” and felt that they had their reward. Many years after these events occurred, and after the little traveller had been in the service of his Divine Master a long time, an opportunity was given to send to this daughter, who had survived her father several years. With deep emotion he took from his library a handsome volume, and presented it to Miss Cowles, with the simple quotation, “I was a stranger, and ye took me in.”Should any one of the name meet with this account—a branch of that family—“may the Lord bless them seven fold,” for their father’s sake.A Soldier’s Daughter.To make room for the remainder of the story of “The Little Soldier,” we are obliged to defer our Correspondence until the next number.
[For Merry’s Museum.]
THE LITTLE SOLDIER.
(Concluded.)
Mr. Merry:
Your young readers will remember, I hope, that they left our “little soldier” at the commencement of his journey homewards. Weak and faint from his long confinement in the hospital, without money, and with the sad prospect of two hundred miles on foot before him, it seemed impossible to him that he could ever accomplish the journey. But “home,” that blessed word, at mention of which, “thesailor, clinging to the dripping yard-arm,” feels a glow of rapture, filled the heart of thesoldierwith hope, and he proceeded on. Children of the present day, cannot imagine the change which has been made in the country since that period. What was at that time a “wilderness,” has now become a “fruitful field;” and where our tired soldiers at the close of the day sheltered themselves beneath some large tree, may now be seen the splendid hotel, inviting the traveller to comfort and rest. Then, too, at the nightfall, whereourtwo friends heard only the mournful note of the “whip-poor-will,” may now be heard the shrill whistle of the locomotive, as it scuds over mountain and valley with the speed of thought. I cannot take time to give the details of adventures which cheered and discouraged our friends from day to day. They found great difficulty in supplying themselves with food; and I think it was in some lonely place, on this journey, that the sick soldier was fortunate enough to catch a young woodpecker, and he said nothing could be more delicious than the little bird. He pulled out the feathers, and ate itjust as it was! He said it was meat and drink too, for the blood was warm! If I am not mistaken, it was three or four weeks after they left New York, that the two friends reached a village, called Farmington, in the State of Connecticut. They had been a long time coming a short distance, as the strength of the little soldier had been gradually failing during the journey thus far. Just at dark, after a day of great suffering from exhaustion and fatigue, they came to a house which stood on an eminence rather difficult of ascent. Here, the poor fellow’s courage failed, and he said to his companion, “Let me stop at the foot of this hill anddie. I can never reach the house,”—and he sank upon the ground, entirely overcome. His companion, however, had strong confidence that if he could have food and rest, he would soon be restored. He accordingly went to the door of the house, which was opened by a very respectable middle-aged woman. He proceeded to an inner room, where an old man was sitting, reading the Bible. He made as earnest an appeal as he could for the friend he had left in the road; but the thought of having such a burden upon them, (for they were rather poor,) seemed more than they could bear. Now, whether the old gentleman happened to be reading in Matthew, the passage, “Inasmuch as ye did it unto one of the least of these, ye did it unto me,” I cannot say; but he did not hesitate long. “Let him come in,” said he; “we will do the best we can for him.” Here, then, new courage came to him, and, with the utmost exertion, he reached the door. Thetablewas spread for the evening meal; and such a sight our “little soldier” had not seen since he left his father’s house, where was “bread enough and to spare.” He has been heard to say often, that at no other period in his life, was he ever so much overcome, as at the sight of that table! He wept and sobbed like an infant. The utmost caution was needed, or he would no doubt have sacrificed his life in the indulgence of his appetite. At this house he remained several weeks,—and I would to God that this account might fall into the hands of some of the descendants of that pious family. The man was named Thomas Cowles. A maiden daughter kept the house, and took care of her father. They were unwearied in their attentions to the invalid, and he began to recruit at once. His companion came on to their native place, and a brother of the sick soldier immediately started on horseback for him, with money to remunerate the family who had shown him so much kindness. When the young soldier came to take his leave, which he did with many tears, the good people refused all compensation. Now, I hope, Mr. Merry, some of your young readers will know why this was. Our “little soldier” loved and feared God. They had taken “sweet counsel together,” and felt that they had their reward. Many years after these events occurred, and after the little traveller had been in the service of his Divine Master a long time, an opportunity was given to send to this daughter, who had survived her father several years. With deep emotion he took from his library a handsome volume, and presented it to Miss Cowles, with the simple quotation, “I was a stranger, and ye took me in.”
Should any one of the name meet with this account—a branch of that family—“may the Lord bless them seven fold,” for their father’s sake.
A Soldier’s Daughter.
To make room for the remainder of the story of “The Little Soldier,” we are obliged to defer our Correspondence until the next number.