+ At the sound of a bugle-call from the direction of the camp the hot blood dyed his olive complexion and tears of anger dimmed his large dark eyes. "Vandals!" he muttered. "Self-communing, Al?" inquired a fellow-student, who had approached unperceived. the whole world for an audience. me. " Yes, self-communing," replied the Southerner, "but I wish that I had I'm cursing these invaders. What right "The right of, but, no! You, my dearest friend, are unkind to These 'invaders,' as you call them, are the soldiers of my dear State, New York, and I love it as dearly as you love Louisiana, Al, dear friend," and the Northerner grasped his companion's hand. "Pray, don't forget our truce. Don't forget our old agreement not to discuss our country's sectional troubles. We can never, never agree on that subject, Al. For three years the coming storin has been gathering around us, but our truce has been respected until our little brush just now." A Question That "Forgive me, Jim," pleaded Albert Lapointe, "but it's so hard to see these strangers at our very gates and to be oppressed with the thought of what their coming means. In a few days, perhaps, their progress southward may be marked by blazing homes and a desolate country. Ah! you cold Northerners love your section, but not with the burning devotion of our warm Southern natures. The thought of the fate that may be in store for everything that I love, drives me frantic," and the youth's lips quivered and his eyes were suffused with tears. "Don't let us discuss the question at all, Al, that's the only way to avoid a rupture between us," replied James Rogers. "Have you heard from home yet?" " I have, and I leave for the South to-night. a profound secret. I feel guilty, Jim, old friend. I'm going to let you into one I've ever had that you did not share, but, you know, I must regard you who was my friend an enemy now. I'll tell you all about it, because I know you love me too well to betray me to the canaithe Yankee soldiers out there." "I think you may safely trust me," answered Rogers, gravely. "Then come with me," said Lapointe. The young men ascended to the deserted dormitory. When they reached Lapointe's bed he pulled a package from beneath the mattress, and removing the covering, disclosed a new gray military coat, with shining brass buttons bearing the design of the pelican and her brood. • A ১ "My uniforım, Jim," said Al, proudly, holding it up for his friend's inspection. "My father is lieutenant-colonel of the Thirtieth Louisiana Infantry, and he has obtained a lieutenant's commission for me. I had this uniform made on the quiet, in the city, and I was lucky enough to find our State button. Our regiment left New Orleans some days ago for the front, and I am to join at Richmond. When will you leave for home, Jim?" "When the war is over, Al. I shall enlist in some New York regiment, maybe in the one out there on the campus. My parents will object, of course, but I know my duty to my country, and." tween Thee and Me. "The truce, Jim, don't forget the truce. May the good God grant that we Since sunrise the treble of the musketry and the bass of the artillery had united in the grand chorus of battle. At no place on the field had the The Union forces had wrested the position from their opponents, but "Halt!" Just a moment's breathing spell before facing the dangers in front, A musket ball tore splinters from the trunk of a tree not six inches ८. L "Close shave, Théophile," assented the Lieutenant. Then there arose above roar of battle the nearby clicking of the musket hammers, followed by the crash of a volley, and the gray line moved forward cautiously through the blinding sulphurous smoke, stumbling over the fallen and the obstructions that blocked the way. "Water! O, for the love of God, a drop of water," groaned a young wounded Union officer, propped against a tree trunk, the blood trickling between the fingers of the hand he pressed to his side. His weak voice was unheard, and the gray line passed by him. Wounded on the "Albert! Albert Lapointe!" gasped the wounded man, as the young officer hurried on. Lapointe heard the voice, and, turning, he bent and gazed at the quivering form. "Jim! Jim Rogers! O, my God, to find you in this plight," and quickly uncorking his canteen he held it to Rogers' lips. "My friend! My brother! What, what can I do to relieve you?" he asked, helplessly. "Nothing, nothing, Al. I'm about done for," moaned Rogers, "O, this pain, this agony !" Backward came the gray line in dogged retreat before the never-flagging blaze of flame in front. The two friends were left between the lines. "Go! Leave me, Al. God bless and protect you, brother. This pain won't last much longer. I'm I'm dying. O, how cold I am." Lapointe arose, tore open his coat, pulled it off, and tucked it about his friend's body as carefully as would a loving mother around an infant. Bending, he kissed Rogers on the forehead. One last long look through tear-dimmed eyes, and then he crouched low and hurried in the direction of his regiment. When night had fallen, and only the moans of the wounded broke the stillness of the battlefield, a squad of Union soldiers entered the wood and examined the bodies of the dead and dying. "Quiet now, men," cautioned the commanding officer, " or you'll have that hellish battery on the hill yonder dropping shells on us." "It must 'a' been about here I saw the lieutenant tumble over, captain. I sot him up agin a tree, an'-here he is, jest as I left him. We're too late, I guess. Seems to me he's a goner." "Here, you men stand about me to shut off the glare, and I'll strike a match," said the captain. "Jove! It is poor Rogers. Poor boy! and a rebel's coat wrapped around him. Good! The heart beats yet. Lift him. Gently now! Throw away that old gray coat." : "Can't, captain! He's got the clutch o' death on it." over there to the field hospital. We may be able to save him." "Another of the old boys in blue laid at rest to-day," sighed Colonel Rogers, as he put down the evening paper and gazed around at the family group in the cosy sitting-room. "It is sad to realize that so many of the vigorous fellows with whom one touched shoulders thirty years ago have answered the last roll call, my children." "Whose death caused you the keenest sorrow, papa?" asked the colonel's eldest daughter. "Well, my girl, I was deeply grieved when dear old 'Uncle Billy,' as we called General Sherman, died, but the keenest sorrow I felt was to hear that a boy in gray was no more. "Ah! the death of my old college chum, Albert Lapointe, was a terrible blow. I have often told you about my meeting Lapointe on the battlefield, where I was lying desperately wounded, and how he stripped the coat from his back for my comfort. I never heard anything about him again until Appomattox. Of course, like the rest of the Yankees, I was jubilant over the surrender, but let me tell you, boys and girls, I was full of sympathy for the brave soldiers of the South. There was mourning in many homes in the North, but down in the southland thousands had no homes in which to mourn their dead. Everything relatives, friends, homes, possessions, prospects-all swept away. "After the preliminaries of the capitulation had been arranged, I hurried to that part of the Confederate camp where Lapointe's regiment was quartered. I found there only a handful of men. I asked an officer to tell me where I could find Lieutenant Lapointe. Oh, for the Touch Lieutenant ""In the wilderness, sir,' he answered. of a Vanished Hand. Lapointe fell with his face to the foe. I wish to God, sir, that I was lying beside him this day.' "When I heard the fate of my friend, children, I grieved as if I had lost a beloved brother. "If John will bring down the cedar case from my wardrobe, I will show you a hallowed relic, my children." When John, the eldest son, had deposited the case upon the table, the veteran unlocked it, removed the protecting coverings, and took out a worn and weather-stained blue coat, with tarnished buttons. "This, my children, is the coat I donned in '61, when I enlisted. You'll value it when I'm gone. This," he continued, reverently, lifting a shabby 424 THE DESERTER'S STORY. coat of gray, while tears glistened in his eyes, "this is the coat that my dear, dead friend, Albert Lapointe, exhibited so proudly to me in the college dormitory; the coat that he stripped from his shoulders to protect me from the cold on the battlefield. "John, my son, it is my wish that you place it beneath my head when I join the bivouac of the dead." THE DESERTER'S STORY. BY LEIB PORTER.. T is night, and a dying fire makes dimly visible the interior of a miserable room. Its walls and floor are bare; a bed drawn forward for warmth, a table at its foot, and a low splint-bottomed rocking-chair before the hearth complete its furniture. Outside, the snow is falling fast and the wind moans, while at intervals a dull roar, which shakes the hills with its hollow reverberation, proclaims that darkness has not entirely quieted the sounds of a battle which has been raging not many miles distant. A woman's figure moves upon the bed, restlessly but feebly; she is white and wasted, as if with illness, and it is a task almost beyond her strength to lift and hush the wailing child lying by her side. Presently she rouses herself with a painful effort and staggers to the chair, holding her baby to her breast. Its feeble cries are stilled and soothed by the slow motion of her rocking figure. She shivers as a sudden blast shakes the cabin, and putting forth all her strength, lifts a log of wood upon the fire. The effort seems to exhaust her, and she falls back white and gasping; the infant slides down upon her knees, where it lies sleeping. Presently life seems to return to her a little, and bending forward with her clasped hands resting over the child, she watches the fire-light gleaming. on her wedding ring, and words, low and tense, escape her white lips. "All day I have heard the guns; the battle must be near. Oh, God! if Jim is with them spare him to come to me; let me see him once more before I die," and she raised her clasped hands imploringly. "Jim, Jim, I have struggled against it for your sake-for the sake of your parting prayer to me. I have fought it off so long. I promised you not to give up, I promised to live for you, to pray for us both, to believe that God would preserve you to me, that he would let us meet again; but I can struggle no longer; my strength is gone; the shadows are closing over me, and I'm too |