Classic Poem

"I thought, Mr. Allen, when I gave my Bennie to his country, that not a
father in all this broad land made so precious a gift--no, not one. The
dear boy only slept a minute, just one little minute at his post; I
know that was all, for Bennie never dozed over a duty. How prompt and
reliable he was! I know he only fell asleep one little second--he was
so young and not strong, that boy of mine. Why, he was as tall as I, and
only eighteen! And now they shoot him because he was found asleep
when doing sentinel duty. "Twenty-four hours," the telegram said, only
twenty-fours hours. Where is Bennie now?"

"We will hope with his heavenly Father," said Mr. Allen soothingly.

"Yes, yes; let us hope; God is very merciful! 'I should be ashamed,
father,' Bennie said, 'when I am a man to think I never used this great
right arm'--and he held it out proudly before me--'for my country when
it needed it. Palsy it, rather than keep it at the plow.' 'Go, then, my
boy, and God keep you!' I said. God has kept him, I think, Mr. Allen!"
And the farmer repeated these last words slowly, as if in spite of his
reason his heart doubted them.

"Like the apple of the eye, Mr. Owen; doubt it not."

Blossom sat near them listening with blanched cheek. She had not shed a
tear. Her anxiety had been so concealed that no one had noticed it.
She had occupied herself mechanically in the household cares. Now,
she answered a gentle tap at the door, opening it to receive from a
neighbor's hand a letter. "It is from him," was all she said.

It was like a message from the dead! Mr. Owen took the letter, but could
not break the envelope on account of his trembling fingers, and held it
toward Mr. Allen, with the helplessness of a child. The minister opened
it and read as follows:

"Dear Father:--When this reaches you I shall be in eternity. At first it
seemed awful to me, but I have thought so much about it that now it has
no terror. They say they will not bind me, nor blind me, but that I may
meet death like a man. I thought, father, that it might have been on the
battle field, for my country, and that when I fell, it would be fighting
gloriously; but to be shot down like a dog for nearly betraying it--to
die for neglect of duty! O, father! I wonder the very thought does not
kill me! But I shall not disgrace you; I am going to write you all about
it, and when I am gone you may tell my comrades. I cannot, now.

"You know I promised Jemmie Carr's mother I would look after her boy;
and when he fell sick I did all I could for him. He was not strong when
he was ordered back into the ranks, and the day before that night, I
carried all his luggage besides my own on our march. Towards night
we went in on double quick, and though the luggage began to feel very
heavy, everybody else was tired, too; and as for Jemmie, if I had not
lent him an arm now and then he would have dropped by the way. I was all
tired out when we came into camp, and then it was Jemmie's turn to be
sentry. I would take his place; but I was too tired, father. I could not
have kept awake if a gun had been pointed at my head; but I did not know
it until--well, until it was too late."

"God be thanked" interrupted Mr. Owen, reverently, "I knew Bennie was
not the boy to sleep carelessly at his post."

"They tell me to-day that I have a short reprieve, 'time to write to
you,' the good Colonel says. Forgive him, Father, he only does his duty;
he would gladly save me if he could; and do not lay my death against
Jemmie. The poor boy is heart-broken, and does nothing but beg and
entreat them to let him die in my place.

"I can't bear to think of mother and Blossom. Comfort them, Father! Tell
them I die as a brave boy should, and that, when the war is over, they
will not be ashamed of me, as they must be now. God help me! It is very
hard to bear! Good-bye, father, God seems near and dear to me; not at
all as if he wished me to perish forever, but as if he felt sorry for
his poor sinful, broken-hearted child, and would take me to be with him
and my Savior in a better life."

A deep sigh burst from Mr. Owen's heart. "Amen," he said, solemnly,
"amen."

"To-night, in the early twilight, I shall see the cows all coming home
from the pasture, and precious little Blossom standing on the back
stoop, waiting for me! But I shall never, never come! God bless you all!
Forgive your poor Bennie!"

Late that night the door of the "back stoop" opened softly and a little
figure glided out and down the footpath that led to the road by the
mill. She seemed rather flying than walking, turning her head neither to
the right nor left, looking only now and then to heaven, and folding her
hands is if in prayer. Two hours later the same young girl stood at the
mill depot, watching the coming of the night train; and the conductor,
as he reached down to lift her into the car, wondered at the
tear-stained face that was upturned toward the dim lantern he held in
his hand. A few questions and ready answers told him all; and no father
could have cared more tenderly for his only child than he for our little
Blossom. She was on her way to Washington to ask President Lincoln for
her brother's life. She had stolen away, leaving only a note to tell
them where and why she had gone.

She had brought Bennie's letter with her; no good, kind heart like
the President's could refuse to be melted by it. The next morning they
reached New York, and the conductor hurried her on to Washington. Every
minute, now, might be the means of saving her brother's life. And so,
in an incredibly short time, Blossom reached the Capitol and hastened to
the White House.

The president had just seated himself to his morning task of overlooking
and signing important papers, when without one word of announcement the
door softly opened, and Blossom, with down-cast eyes and folded hands,
stood before him.

"Well, my child," he said in his pleasant, cheerful tones, "what do you
want so bright and early this morning?"

"Bennie's life, sir," faltered Blossom.

"Who is Bennie?"

"My brother, sir. They are going to shoot him for sleeping at his post."

"O, yes," and Mr. Lincoln ran his eye over the papers before him. "I
remember. It was a fatal sleep. You see, my child, it was a time of
special danger. Thousands of lives might have been lost by his culpable
negligence."

"So my father said," replied Blossom, gravely. "But poor Bennie was so
tired, sir, and Jemmie so weak. He did the work of two, sir, and it
was Jemmie's night, not his; but Jemmie was too tired, and Bennie never
thought about himself that he was tired too."

"What is this you say, child? Come here, I do not understand," and the
kind man caught eagerly as ever at what seemed to be a justification of
the offense.

Blossom went to him; he put his hand tenderly on her shoulder and
turned up the pale face toward his. How tall he seemed! And he was the
President of the United States, too! A dim thought of this kind
passed for a minute through Blossom's mind, but she told her simple,
straightforward story and handed Mr. Lincoln Bennie's letter to read.

He read it carefully; then taking up his pen, wrote a few hasty lines,
and rang his bell.

Blossom heard this order: "Send this dispatch at once!"

The President then turned to the girl and said: "Go home, my child, and
tell that father of yours, who could approve his country's sentence even
when it took the life of a child like that, that Abraham Lincoln thinks
the life far too precious to be lost. Go back, or--wait until tomorrow.
Bennie will need a change after he has so bravely faced death; he shall
go with you."

"God bless you, sir!" said Blossom; and who shall doubt that God heard
and registered the request?

Two days after this interview, the young soldier came to the White House
with his little sister. He was called into the President's private room
and a strap fastened upon his shoulder. Mr. Lincoln then said: "The
soldier that could carry a sick comrade's baggage and die for the act so
uncomplainingly deserves well of his country." Then Bennie and Blossom
took their way to their Green Mountain home. A crowd gathered at the
mill depot to welcome them back; and as Farmer Owen's hand grasped
that of the boy, tears flowed down his cheeks, and he was heard to say
fervently:

"The Lord be praised!"

--From the New York Observer



If I had a horse I would call him "Gay,"
Feed and curry him well every day,
Hitch him up in my cart and take a ride,
With Baby Brother tucked in at my side.