It was only the faint echoes of the mighty1 struggle that, faintly reverberating2 across prairie and mountain, reached the little mining settlement nestling among the solitudes3 of the Sierras. Vose Adams made more frequent journeys to Sacramento, in order to gather news of the terrific events, which were making history at an appalling4 rate. Upon his return, the miners gathered round Parson Brush, or some other one with a good voice, who stood up, with every eye centred on him and every ear keyed to the highest point and they listened with breathless interest until the thrilling story was read through to the end.
The same diversity of sentiment that appeared at first continued to the last, but the parson’s earnest words and his insistence5 that no quarrels should take 101 place among the neighbors prevented any outbreak, though more than once the point was perilously6 near.
“If your sympathies are with the union or with the South,” he said impressively, “there is nothing to prevent your taking up arms, but it must be on the battle field and not here.”
And this wise counsel prevailed. Now and then some ardent8 partisan9 shouldered his rifle, bade his friends a hasty good-by and hurried away. One by one, they went until the new recruits numbered five. Thus the population of New Constantinople dwindled10 to about one-half, and retaining its exclusive tastes, permitted no new comers to join them, so that the boom which in its early days was so confidently looked for sank to zero and vanished. In truth it looked as if New Constantinople was doomed11 to die of dry rot.
Strange news came now and then from the men who had gone to the war. Maurice Dawson wrote often to his daughter Nellie, whose letters, it can well be understood were the bright spots in his life of adventure and danger. She had improved wonderfully under the careful tuition of Parson Brush, who, gaining experience, as he saw the brightness of her mind, found his work of the most pleasant nature conceivable. She displayed a thirst for knowledge and made advances which astonished him. The books needed for her instruction were procured12 by Vose Adams in Sacramento, and 102 she valued such presents more than anything else. The teacher declared many a time, with a certain pride, that she put him upon his mettle13 to make clear the abstruse14 problems with which he wrestled15 when in college.
“How she will surprise the boys and her father when they come back,” reflected the parson; “it won’t take her much longer to reach the point beyond which I cannot lead her.”
To her friends who remained, the growth and improvement of the girl were astonishing. Probably no one of her sex ever gave nature itself a better chance to show what she can do with a healthy frame, when untrammeled by the fashions and requirements of modern usages. Her lithe16, comely17 figure was perfect. She never knew an hour’s illness. The cheeks had the rose tint18 of health, the eyes were clear, the teeth perfect and her spirits buoyant. As one of the men expressed it, she was like a burst of sunshine in the settlement.
But Parson Brush was thoughtful. He saw that she was crossing the line into young womanhood, and that her own interests demanded that she should go out into the world of which he had told her so much; that she should meet those of her own sex and learn the mysteries of her own being. The affection of her friends could not make up for this lack. It cost the honest fellow many a pang19 when he thought of this, but his consolation20 lay in the inevitable21 conclusion that 103 nothing could be done until the return of her parent or until his wishes were made known.
“If it so happens that he shall fall in battle, then a grave problem must be met. It will not do for her to remain here; I will talk it over with the others and we shall make some arrangement for her good,” and with this conclusion he was content to await the issue of events.
Occasionally the parson received a letter from the father. The missives were models in their way, telling of his experiences in the service of the battles, of the prospect22 of victory and his faith in the final triumph of the great struggle. He thanked the teacher for his interest in his child and assured him that his kindness would never be forgotten by father or daughter.
Vose Adams continued his frequent journeys to Sacramento, for those were stirring times and he was as anxious as his friends for news. Always on his return he was met by Nellie some distance down the winding23 trail, and, as soon as she was in sight, he held up the plump letter for which she yearned24, and over which she was made happy beyond expression, and he never failed to carry back with him the reply of the child, who knew how much it cheered the brave soldier in the distant East and South fighting the battles of his country.
For two years and more there was not a break in 104 this correspondence. Dawson must have been a good soldier, for, though he enlisted25 as a private, he was soon promoted, and before the close of the two years, was a full fledged captain, with the brevet of major. It was about this time that one of his letters gave the story of Gettysburg. In the hell-blast of Pickett’s charge two of his old friends, who had left New Constantinople to fight for the South, were riddled26, and another, marching at the captain’s side, had his head blown off by an exploding shell. Thus in one engagement three of the old residents of the mining settlement were wiped out.
Only once or twice was any news received of Al Bidwell. It was known that Ruggles was with the Army of Northern Virginia, but no tidings came of Budge27 Isham and Ike Hoe. The continued silence was accepted as almost certain proof of their death, and yet both were well and unharmed.
Join or Log In!
You need to log in to continue reading
(Left Keyword <-) Previous:
CHAPTER IX THE CLOUD OF WAR
Back
Next:
CHAPTER XI WAITING
(Right Keyword:->)