PS 3545 .fl57 08 1909 Copy 1 Class J?SBS±i Book .A^lO^ Goi)yiightN»J!log COPyRIGHT DEPOSm OUR BENNY OUR BENNY BY MARY E. WALLER Author of " The Wood-carver of 'Lympus BOSTON LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 1909 LISP.ARY of CONGRESS Two Copies RecervMl FEB 5 1909 CopyriKiit tntry CLASS CX, X.\C. 1^0 Copyright, 1909, By Mary E. Waller. All rights reserved. Published February 12, 1909 Electrotyped and Printed at THE COLONIAL PRESS: C. H. Simonds CS. Co., Boston. U .S.A. 0* TO THE PEOPLE OF ILLINOIS AND KENTUCKY IN MEMORY OP ABRAHAM LINCOLN DIVISIONS OF THE POEM PAGE I The Coming of the Letter . . .11 II Salus Patriae 25 III Hannah and Agatha .... 53 IV Lincoln 71 V Peace 87 PEOPLE OF THE POEM Gbanther Hannah, his Daughter Benny, her Son Agatha, her Niece The Parson The Dominie The Miller Time, March — April, 1865 Place, A Village in Vermont I THE COMING OF THE LETTER OUR BENNY THE COMING OF THE LETTER " Strange how the frosts of our winter get into the bones of us old folks! Here I be nigh on to eighty, yet play second fiddle to no one, When, in the height of the summer, I work side by side with the reapers. Or, later on, at the huskin' I fill the deep bins near to burstin'. Let it come freezin' o' nights though, an* thawin' right smart every midday, 13 OUR BENNY Let a crow call from the woodlot an' sap freely run from our maples, Then, as I sit by the fire a-nursin' my knees in the gloamin', Suddenly falleth the hoar-frost an' chills me clean through to the marrow. Hannah, 'tis then that I envy our boy on the distant Potomac." Thereupon answered the housewife, and turned to look over her shoulder Toward the old Windsor chair and the yet sturdy form patriarchal: *' Really, father, I think you would shoulder my granther's old musket. Were you but three score and ten, and be off to the war with our Benny, Just for the purpose of saying you still hold your own with the young folks." 14 THE COMING OF THE LETTER Lightly she spoke, but the tears were nearer the surface than laughter ; Sighing she kneaded her loaves, while drowning her sighs in a clatter — Rattling the pans and the bread-tray and making to-do out of nothing. Thinking to cover her woe from the keen, watchful eyes of her father. Quickly perceiving her wile, he bespoke her both gently and wisely: '* Surely to-night brings a letter; I'm thinkin' he'll have much to tell us: News from headquarters direct an', per- haps, of the inauguration. Likely enough our good parson an', mebbe, the teacher'U drop in here Soon as they know, for a certain, we've had our first letter from Benny. 15 OUR BENNY Agatha'U spread the good news much faster'n a bush fire can travel — Seems if I heard her a-comin'; it sounds like her foot on the gravel." Then of a sudden the door, with creaking and strain of its hinges. Opened full width in the kitchen and let in the chill wind of springtime; Let in the feeble white sunshine and, with it, so fresh in her beauty. Glowing in radiant youth and warm with the quick blood of girlhood, Agatha, waving the letter and crying aloud her rejoicing: "Oh, dear Aunt Hannah, it's come! — And now you will breathe again freely. 16 THE COMING OF THE LETTER See it, how pudgy and fat ! — like a manu- script, leastwise it feels so; Parson and dominie both are coming to share in our pleasure, Even the miller was saying — " But here the old man interrupted: *' Agatha, ever your tongue, like a mill- clapper runneth unceasin', Deafenin' when one would listen. Come, Hannah, make haste with the readin'.*' Into the face of the mother flashed joy and anticipation Trembling in firmly-set lips and quivering long in the eyelids. Carefully over the bread-board — 'twas laden with loaves for the rising — 17 OUR BENNY Snowy white linen she folded with some- what elaborate caution — Seeking more strength in deception and time to control her emotion. *' Now we will read it," she said, and, taking her seat on the settle, Opened it; laid on the cushions each sheet of the close-written letter. Till from the innermost leaflet, there fluttered two three-cornered missives. Mother was written on one (the paper beneath showed a blister), Agatha's own was the other; 'twas laden with scent of the jasmine. Close in her toil-worn hand, the mother guarded her message; Agatha, biding her time, thrust hers, when unseen, in her bosom. 18 THE COMING OF THE LETTER Then with expectance the three, with smiles and words of approval, Read, each in turn, the epistle — thrice over in special instalments; Noting a quip now and then, a description of places or people, Marking a page for the parson, a para- graph, too, for the miller; Reading again and again, until dusk over- taken; then lamplight Gleamed from the windows adown the steep highroad that leads to the village. *' Beats all how Benny remembers," said Granther, rising abruptly, *' Nary a neighbor forgotten throughout our Green Mountain village, 19 OUR BENNY Women, nor children, nor girls, nor man — nor beast, for that matter! Here I be settin* around, a-gawpin' an* starin' at nothin' ; Nary a chore have I done, an' the hens gone to roost 'fore 'twas sundown; Brindle an' Bessie unmilked an' a-lowin' to beat all creation. Nary a stick in the woodbox, Hannah, an' cookin' an' bakin' Goin' on just afore supper — it beats all, I say, how forgetful Eighty has made me! " He reached for the milkpails, down-turned on the dresser. Reached for the stout wooden yoke, hanging slack from a hook in the corner, Muttering still, as he passed to the wood- shed where hung the old lantern, 20 THE COMING OF THE LETTER Fretfully over his chores; he was wearied with all the unwonted Fusion of thought and of feeling, occasioned by Benny's first letter. Smiling, the girl and the woman turned each to her home occupation : Agatha laying the table and Hannah pre- paring the supper. Well could they both understand, for hearts can most surely interpret, Plaint and vexation alike; they gave to his loneliness voice. Out in the barn and the barnyard the octogenarian pothered, Making his usual rounds among the sheep and the cattle; 21 OUR BENNY Giving to each and to all the provident food and the bedding, Speaking to one and another as if the dumb brutes were mere humans Instinct with love and devotion, with courage and loyal persistence. Flashing his lantern, he went, athwart the wide stalls and the mangers Where stood the deep-breathing cattle, the horses nosing their fodder; Looked at the emptying hay-mows, and wondered whether the harvest, Filling with plenty the barn, would reach this year to the raftern; Fastened the doors for the night and, barring the gate of the sheep-pen, Stood for a moment thereafter, his wrinkled forehead uplifted, 22 THE COMING OF THE LETTER Feeling the way of the wind ; he scented the big thaw impending. Slowly he turned to the farmhouse and entered the old-fashioned kitchen, Cheerful with lamplight and fire, and fragrant with bread from the oven. 23 II SALUS PATRIAE II SALUS PATRIAE ** Not in the seats of the mighty, nor yet in the chambers of council Find we the sources, the well-springs, of national life and its leadings. No, but on high in the mountains, on water- sheds' forested ridges; No, but abroad on the prairies where root- lets of corn spring the earth-clods; No, but deep down in the cisterns, beneath the rough breakage of subsoil — There we may find the true sources, the feeders of public opinion, 27 OUR BENNY Varied in sound and in form as the steam and the rain and the crystal ; All of an essence the three, yet different as to expression, — Coming from furrow and glebeland, the quarry, the mine, and the furnace — Each in itself so benign when subserving the national welfare." Thus to his friends spoke the parson, when, climbing the hill-road together Up toward the clear-shining lamplight that sent forth its beam from the farmhouse, Miller and dominie, both, began in a mood disputatious. Freely to air their opinions on subjects of greatest importance, 28 SALUS PATRIAE Waxing full wroth, as they talked, with the Government, laws, and their makers. Then 'twas the parson protested, and, laying a hand on each shoulder. Utterance gave to these words which re- called them to sense and to reason. Well did he know his companions — their angles and humors and crotchets — Knew them and loved them right well, for sound to the core was the kernel. Straightway the miller made answer, ** 'Tis true; I confess your words shame me; Ever I'm mixin' my chaff with the wheat of our good constitution. Ever forgettin' that I, too, uphold it and share with all others 29 OUR BENNY That which has been to our country as bread of life to the Hvin'. Often I laugh to myself, as I picture the mill-wheels of Congress Grindin' away at the laws we home folks must furnish the grist for. Yes, and the water-power both — without gettin' thanks for it either! Still you are right 'bout the ' feeders ' ; I see plain enough what's my duty: Thirty-two quarts to the bushel; the old mill kep' at it a-goin' Right through the twenty-four hours, as long as the boys need the fodder. Ben, now — " He stopped, with his foot on the scraper, to listen intently, — '* Hark, what a voice! like a bird's; a thrush gives us nothin' much sweeter. 30 SALUS PATRIAE Surely all's well with our Benny, or Agatha wouldn't be singin'. When she has finished we'll give a surprise, and call for a — What is 't ? Wliat do you call it ? " " An encore," the dominie answered; '* Now listen! " Thy mountain peaks, dear Land, shall brighten With freedom's fires from sea to sea. The shadows in thy valleys lighten Till all the world shall look to thee. Thy bastioned mountains stand like towers To guard our homes from sea to sea; Thy Freedom's watchmen call the hours. And bid us hope eternally. 31 OUR BENNY We hope! — The dawn of freedom breaketh O^er all the eartJi from sea to sea; Thou art the pioneer who maheth. Dear Land, a home for all the free. Baring their heads, and in silence, the dominie, parson, and miller Listened just under the window; they feared to lose of that message Even a word, for it spoke to their patriot hearts, and emotion Momently held them in thrall. The song died away in the kitchen. Followed a resonant knock, a scraping and stamping of cowhides. Echoed at once by a joyful " Oh! " and within a commotion; 32 SALUS PATRIAE Wide flew the door to admit them; the welcome was triune that met them. " Come for that letter of Ben's, eh ? 'Tis well worth the climb from the village. Agatha, draw up the chairs. I'll set right here on the settle — Never a better place made to discuss the affairs of the nation, Also this letter from Benny. Come, Han- nah, produce the epistle. Agatha, set here by me and read 'bout the inauguration." Thus spoke the grandsire, rejoicing, renew- ing his youth in the present Pride and delight in his grandson, who " kept up the name " of his fathers : 33 OUR BENNY Seven generations of men, the sinew and bone of New England! Proudly the girl read the lines about the inaugural message: " * Oh, had you seen him, dear people of mine, as he stood there, bareheaded. Facing the throng that had filled all the Capitol's eastern approaches! Could you have heard him deliver that mes- sage so fraught with deep meaning — Wisdom condensed of the ages, at least, so it seemed at that moment. Black was the square beneath him; close- pressed stood the thousands of people; Every face was upturned and every eye was on Lincoln. Black overhead in the heavens the cloud- wrack was scudding to southward, 34 SALUS PATRIAE Blotting the sunshine from sight and casting a gloom universal. Oh, how the listening people were longing just then for an omen, Promise of light and of life — a symbol of " health for our nation," (Dominie knows what I mean), when, just as he spoke those immortal Words for all ages: With malice towards none, the cloud-wrack in flying Parted, and through the deep rift a sunbeam glanced straight as an arrow Slantwise on Lincoln's bare head, and rested thereon for a second. Oh, 'twas a joy to us all! A sigh, like the wind through our pine trees. Rose to the lips of those thousands and breathed itself forth as a prayer — 35 OUR BENNY Would you had lived it! Oh, mother, that moment was worth being born for! ' '* Only the click of the needles, as Hannah kept on with her knitting, Made itself heard in the silence. Agatha broke it: " Now, listen! Here is a message for you; " she turned to the dominie leaning Forward and half off his chair — he was nursing first one knee then t'other : — " * Tell my dear dominie pal that, at night, when I'm out doing sentry. Nearly asleep and dead-tired from digging all day the entrenchments. Often I spout to myself half a hundred lines of old Homer — 36 SALUS PATRIAE Tell him I'll bet three to one he knows what's my favorite passage; Little he thought it would help me to keep wide-awake on my sentry ! ' " *' He's got the grit, though, our Benny," the grandsire chuckled approving; '* Back in his boyhood he slept like a log, and hard 'twas to wake him. Many a time I've seen Hannah a-sousin' his face with cold water! " *' Luckily Ben was a student," the dominie spoke midst the laughter; " Took to his Greek just as easy as ever a duck takes to water; Latin he made just a play of, and fought through all Caesar's great battles 37 OUR BENNY Over and over again with the boys till they struck, and declared Roundly to me they would play at recess no longer with Caesar." Twirling the key on his watch-chain — the symbol of Phi Beta Kappa — Thoughtful he grew as he added : " This key stands for power through attainment; Made for a lock that will open the door to earnest endeavor. Many a time the boy asked me to give him the real explanation, Wherefore the letters S P — he was curious as to their meaning. * Wait, only wait,' I would say, ' until you yourself shall have worn it, Tlien you will know ' — but, ah me ! even now he is valiantly learning 38 SALUS PATRIAE All its significant beauty of truth, througli a deed sacrificial, Learning the values of life and of living, by doing his duty. Hannah, I envy your boy down there on the distant Potomac.'* Thereupon answered the mother, while pausing a moment in knitting: " No need to envy my boy. Who can say where to-night he is sleeping ? Not as you think by that river. See, here, in a postscript he tells us : * Monday we move farther southward.' Just look at the date of this letter Written full two weeks ago, and delayed all this time in dehv'ry! 39 OUR BENNY Who can foresee what has happened mean- while ? " She took up her knitting. *' Never say die! '* cried the miller, thus hoping, in his way, to cheer her; ** Long as we've got Abram Lincoln, this nation won't go to perdition. He'll see us through in good season, he and our staunch Constitution; Both on 'em sound to the core, nor rust nor mildew can blight 'em. . . . Speak to her, parson," he whispered, '* con- sole her with words of assurance." " Hannah," the parson said gently, " I fear I can speak but cold comfort Unto your motherly heart — we men can never be mothers ; 40 SALUS PATRIAE But let me say what I feel, that out of this struggle and trial — Death-throes or birth-throes, whichever they may be, these weeks must deter- mine — We, you and I, indeed all, our brothers in arms, and our country, Northland and Southland alike, shall issue the nobler the better. Ready with hand and with heart to further our national welfare. Benny is doing his share right manfully, as it behooves him — Hannah, the rest we will leave with Him whose time is not ours." That makes me think," said the dominie, fumbling about in his pockets, 41 OUR BENNY Ransacking notebook and wallet, " I've written a few lines expressing Something to that same effect — and it may be you might like to hear them ? " Promptly the miller responded : *' Out with it! I know it's worth hearin'." Then with a diffident *' Hem! " as a prep- aration for reading, Holding the sheet neath the lamplight, he said, half apologetic: " Rhythm and rhyme should agree I acknowledge both fully and frankly ; Shifting of accents, indeed, I never permit to my pupils Nor to myself; only once in a while I make an exception When a good rhyme, that I like, falls sac- rifice to an idea — " 42 SALUS PATRIAE "Come, that's enough!" cried the miller; *' it's just the idees that we're wantin'." Smiling, the dominie read to his audience small, but approving: America, thy praise I sing! Thy brawny arms the blessings bring Of love and life and loyalty: They fell the forest, blast the hill. They pile the granite, fill the till, They dig and delve with right good will — The very pledge of loyalty. Nor shall thy brows remain uncrowned; We sing thy praise the wide earth round. But when these hands to toil inured From out the scabbard draw the sword 43 OUR BENNY To '* seek for peace in liberty "; Then let the stroke be quick and strong That right may ever conquer wrong. That might may ne'er make right, so long As men " seek peace in liberty. ^^ When brothers* strength with brothers* mates. The blood that floweth consecrates. Ay, consecrates this Land of ours To nobler use of nobler powers For service to Humanity. The sword to ploughshare shall be ground, And earth with plenty shall abound. The mine shall yield the whole year round In service to Humanity; And brain, and muscle, hand, and heart. Each do for thee, our Land, its part. 44 SALUS PATRIAE " That's the right ring," cried the miller; and " Good! " said the parson, " we'll print it." Agatha, woman-like, flattered the poet by begging a copy. Saying she'd send it to Benny as part of the lengthy round-robin Ready to go on the morrow from all his young friends and well-wishers. Hannah alone made no comment, but ever her needles clicked faster. Proof of an inward excitement and feelings that needed expression. Stopping a moment in order to count up her stitches in '* heeling," Knitting and needles she dropped in her lap; and her heart, overburdened, 45 OUR BENNY Vented itself in her words that rushed forth in a surcharge of feehng: " What can you know, all you men, what we women, we mothers must suffer? What to a woman bereft, is glory, or fame, or ambition ? Often, before Benny left me, I used to lie hour after hour Sleepless from sorrow and trouble — my heart was like lead in my bosom Just at the thought of those others, those mothers afar in the Southland, Women who've given their all, their hus- bands, their sons and their brothers, Even as we who have sacrificed that which is drawn from our life's blood. Only 'tis worse for our sisters, those stricken ones down in the Southland, 46 SALUS PATRIAE Caught in the whirlpool of war, all its waves and its billows pass o'er them. Many a hearthstone is cold, the mistress and children in hiding; Many a lintel is sprinkled with blood, but no passover Angel Spareth the darling firstborn! And while at the North we're in safety, Many a battle is fought, almost, as it were, at their thresholds. Oh, they are heroines all! and sore is my heart with their bruising, Dreadful, too dreadful their fate — Oh, I don't understand it! " Appealing Straight to the parson she spoke: " How can you, how can you explain it ? Think of the prayers that are rising at this very minute to heaven! 47 OUR BENNY All this great country of ours like a Rachel, forlorn among nations, Mourneth uncomforted day after day, and the sound of her wailing Filleth the earth. Yes, from dark until dawn, from morning till evening Women are crying to Him for their loved ones, for help, for deliv'rance. Wrestling in anguish of soul as once they have wrestled in body Wlien a strong man-child they bore in pain and convulsion of travail — Bore him for this! Oh, I tell you it almost makes me a sceptic ..." ** Hannah, my daughter, be still," said her father, commanding, yet pleading; 48 SALUS PATRIAE *' Benny would go like the others; the rest is 'twixt him and his Maker. Surely 'tis in the boy's blood ; he's descended from three generations Ready to fight for their country if only peace was the issue. Look! here's the musket I carried when fightin' the British at Plattsburg; See on the wall just above it my granther's old flintlock; he bore it When for the birth of this nation he gave both his life and his substance. Fought in the patriot ranks — yes, fought till he fell there, a hero Fightin' on patriot soil, the soil of our dear old Virginny! Agatha, fetch me the button — 'tis in the tin box on the dresser — 49 OUR BENNY See, here the arms of Great Britain, a remnant of coat with the button : Grandfather's father's, 'twas worn when he fell at Quebec, duly cherished Year after year by his children, and children of three generations. Chip of the old block is Benny ; what's bred in the bone, you know, Hannah — " " Yes, yes, I know," she made answer impatient, while lighting her candle; ** Know it far better than you, for my heart is filled with foreboding — " Quickly she bade them good-night; her step could be heard on the stairway Laggard and heavy, for trouble was weight- ing her feet as it weighted Leaden her motherly heart that was seeking in vain for some comfort. 50 SALUS PATRIAE Smiling, indulgent, her father appealed to his guests just departing: ** That is the way with all women, God bless 'em! 'Tis 'gainst their whole nater Calmly to look at a thing through the eyes of us men, without reading Into the head-lines of life a trouble of some kind or 'nother. Hannah is worried, I see, about the receipt of this letter Late in the day, to be sure, but later is better than never. Wait till the second one comes; quite a different tune she'll be singin', Somethin' like Agatha's here! " And Agatha, laughing, responded Joyously clear and elate, and aware of the note in her bosom: 51 OUR BENNY *' Nor will there lack invitation for all these good neighbors, I'll warrant; You who have shared in our joy, you surely will come for the second ? " " Ay, we will come, rest assured," the dominie's cheery voice answered, Adding a word 'neath his breath: " God bless her, and pity the mother! " " Neighbors, good-night," said the miller; *' 'tis thawin' right fast, and I'm thinkin' Mornin' will show us bare ground and the ice goin' out of the river." Hearty the handclasp and fervent the words from the parson: " God bless thee. Thee and thy household; good-night." The three took their way to the village Just as the nine o'clock bell was ringing the New England curfew. 52 Ill HANNAH AND AGATHA ni HANNAH AND AGATHA Agatha sought her own nest, the low- studded room with the dormer; Maidenly white were its curtains, its cover- let woven with cunning, Product of grandmother's loom, its pattern was known as the " basket "; White, too, the jflooring well-scoured with finest of sand from the river. Dimity covered the bureau, and green- painted rush-bottom chairs Stood 'gainst the walls in due order, refresh- ing the eye with their greenness, 55 OUR BENNY Matcliing the apple-tree boughs that shaded the dormer in summer. Loosing the plaits of her hair, that fell to the hem of her garment, Rippling in golden-brown waves 'neath the candle-gleam's flicker and flaring. Quickly she drew from her bodice the three-cornered letter from Benny; Knelt by the bed, not in prayer, but to read the few lines from her soldier Lover, as yet undeclared; — oh, well did she know that he loved her! And, as she read, half in fear at the pas- sionate, loyal, outpouring. Quick-welling words from the depths of a soul that was conscious of manhood. There on her knees she remained, adroop 'neath the weight of her joy. 56 HANNAH AND AGATHA Stammering words of a prayer — 'twas love slie commingled with worship — Fell unaware from her lips ere she rose from her knees by that bedside. Candle-gleam flickered and flared, and sputtered at last in the socket. Then in the darkness she lay, her face on the pillow upturning, Into the darkness upsmiling, and dreamed waking dreams of the future. Sleep-overtaken at last, she still held the note in her keeping; Over her bosom it lay, her left hand was clasping it closely. Sleep is for girlhood aild joy, but not for the mother o'er-burdened. Anxious and weary and worn, her heart with its tenderness bursting! 57 OUR BENNY Buried in thought, long she sat in her bed- room over the kitchen, Reading with slow-dripping tears a-rain on her own precious message; Read, and re-lived in her thoughts the days since her Benny enlisted; Sighed 'twixt her tears as she read what he wrote about fame and Old Glory — Fame ? O thou breath of a moment that passes our lips as in sighing! Manhood's young dream, ere its prime hath burned seven times in the furnace Heated seven times by the tempering fires of experience dire! Rising, for ten was just striking, she opened her well-worn Bible; Laid the dear missive within it, just over that one simple passage .58 HANNAH AND AGATHA Pregnant with Life's deepest meanings for us as for past generations, Future as well, for our love remains death- less and human is human Always and ever : — the only son of his mother, a widow; Laid herself down in her bed, whereon she had brought forth her man-child Twenty short years before — and now ! She wept on her pillow. Wholly forsaken by sleep she lay for a while in the darkness, Picturing battle and bivouac, hearing the crackle of camp-fires. Footfalls of sentries a-pace, the quick- ringing ** Halt! " and the challenge. Once, as she lifted her head, it seemed as if booming of cannon, 59 OUR BENNY Borne on the rain-laden wind, had come to her ears from the Southland ! Raising herself on her elbow she listened intent to that booming . . . No, 'twas the ice in the river, upheaving, slow-crushing and grinding, Mingled with rushing of waters that broke from the ice-chains of winter! Wrapping herself in a shawl, she went to the half -opened window. Leaned to look down toward the valley, to hear from its depths the dull thunder Booming with splintering crash : the break- ing up of the river. Lo! as she looked, as she listened, she saw a light flash on the highroad! Steadily upwards it moved; like a glow- worm it crawled through the darkness; 60 HANNAH AND AGATHA Nearer and nearer it came — she heard through the uproar a wagon Jolting up over the bar, the crunching of wheels on the gravel. Leaning out into the night — her heart thrilled with strong premonition, Kjiowing her hour had come — she called : " Who is there ? " and the parson Sprang to the ground 'neath her window, and answered prompt to her calling : " Hannah, it's I — I have come with a mes- sage. Make haste with your dressing; Urgent the need for us both to leave on the last train at midnight." Waiting, impatient, he listened for move- ment and stir in the household, Counting the minutes as hours till flashed a light in the kitchen, 61 OUR BENNY Candle-light gleamed in the dormer — he heard some one coming and going. Drawing the bolt the old grandsire cau- tiously opened the door. Saw who it was and admitted his friend, but asked him no questions. Reached for his spectacle-case, and held out his hand for the message. Crumpled and yellow and torn: a word straight from hell for the loving; Read it at first without comment, while holding it near to the lamplight: Ben to be shot — found asleep on his sentry — must notify Hannah. Read it again; then, there burst from the lips of the grandsire: ** Damn him! Serves him just right for forgettin' his father's good name and his duty! " 62 HANNAH AND AGATHA Impotent rage swelled the veins so shrunken and blue in his temples, Horror of grief and disgrace was voiced in that oath and its meaning; But at the sounds overhead, of hurrying feet on the stairway, Knowing 'twas Hannah, his daughter, he staggered, muttered " 'Twill kill her," Caught at the powerful arm that was round him, supporting, upholding E'en as the strength of the woodman is braced 'gainst the oak that is falling. Sudden collapse overcame him; he sank, as if stricken with palsy. Into his old Windsor chair and shrivelled to age at that moment, Bowed 'neath the frost that was killing the youth, whom he loved, in his springtime. 63 OUR BENNY *' Father," 'twas Hannah who spoke as she entered full dressed for her journey, Agatha following closely, her blue eyes wide-staring in terror, " Give me the message I beg you; already I've guessed at its meaning. Hearing that oath and that judgment — I heard it e'en through the partition." " No, daughter Hannah, 'twill kill you," he murmured, withholding the paper. Quick, with a gesture impatient, she seized it, she tore out its meaning. Swayed for a second! That shot might have pierced her own bosom. Turning as if into stone, no tremor in face or in figure. Rigid she stood for a moment, as rigid as ever the noble 64 HANNAH AND AGATHA Granite-ribbed hills of Vermont from the soil of which she was nourished. " Agatha, I must be going; be brave for the sake of my father. Father, I'm going to plead for my boy, there's — time, yet, I'm hoping — Abraham Lincoln alone can speak the word of salvation; Straightway to him I am going; he'll hear the prayer of a widow. Come, I must go; our good friend here, I know, will go with me — don't worry. Agatha, see to the house and to father; the neighbors will help you. ..." Over the well-worn threshold the two passed out into the darkness, Darkness that made itself felt in a night that was cloudy and starless. 65 OUR BENNY Down the rough road to the village, the wagon jolted and rattled. Flashing its lights on the highway, the lantern swung from the axle. Dawn in the farmhouse, at last, for the two weary watchers for morning! Light of the coming dawn, and Agatha laying the table, Steadfast as ever in duty and care for the things of the household. Quietly hither and yon she goes from pantry to table; Sets out the pails for the milking and mixes the meal for the chickens; Opens the door of the kitchen and looks to the eastern horizon. 66 HANNAH AND AGATHA During that horror of midnight, of hours that were never forgotten, Girlhood had fled her forever; a woman stood on the threshold Whence she looked forth to a life as drear as the mountains around her. Spring frosts had touched her, and blighted forever her youth and its gladness. All through the night time her thoughts had been travelling steadily southward: Down the Connecticut Valley, that leads through the heart of the Bay State, Out to the Sound and the sea, through the tumult of populous cities. Over the marshes of Jersey, the Delaware's flood-swollen waters. Over an arm of the Bay and straight to the sluggish Potomac — 67 OUR BENNY E'en to the doors of the White House; but penetrate farther she could not. Now, as she stood on the threshold, without either willing or wishing. Back flew her thoughts from their roaming, like birds homing straight to the moun- tains. Over against the horizon, brightening swiftly to sunrise, Dark stood those mountains, impassive, unwitting of human life's sorrow, Motionless sentries, forever they guarded the Gates of the Morning Whence, as she gazed through her tears, the cloud-portals opening swiftly. Issued the life-giving sun in a splendor of radiant glory! 68 HANNAH AND AGATHA Hour after hour dragged its length till the afternoon of that morrow; Then e'en the minutes seemed hours alter- nate of hope and despair. Half of the village was gathered around the door of the station. Talking, to ease their suspense, of the pros- pect of favoring verdict. Just before sunset it came, with flash and click o'er the wires. Straight from the heart of the Nation, from Washington on the Potomac: Saved — and the air was rent with a mighty shout of rejoicing; Up from the valley it rolled ; the wind bore the sound to the farmhouse. 69 TV LINCOLN IV LINCOLN ** Only seven days, as the almanac shows, since we left and yet, truly, Sometimes it seems a whole lifetime, ay, more, an eternity even. Heaven conjoined with hell I have lived through this week," said the parson, Taking his seat on the settle; ** we scarce could have thought of a Sabbath Breaking like this on a week of continual storm and upheaval. Surely a day like the present brings with it a true benediction: 73 OUR BENNY Nature's own peace we hear speaking Be still to our soul's troubled waters. See, through the half -opened door, how the river, in spate, down the valley Glideth majestic and free! Not a trace of that terrible turmoil Raging within its wild flood when we left — it reminds me of Lincoln." Silent he gazed on the river, yet saw not; his keen inner vision. Fixed on the things of the spirit, was pic- turing Abraham Lincoln Such as he saw him revealed through a heart that was tender and mighty. Reading his thoughts in their course, the dominie urged him, insistent: " Tell us of him, I entreat, how he brought about Benny's salvation." 74 LINCOLN " Yes, I will tell you, for here in my heart every word is engraven. Time was so precious ! A few minutes only we stood in his presence Laying the case and its adjuncts, so bare and pathetic, before him. Listening with head as with heart, he grasped the entire situation; Ever his eye was on Hannah who stood like a statue, scarce breathing, Waiting in torment of hope for Abraham Lincoln's decision. Then, with a kindly, deliberate gesture, he moved a step nearer. Held out his hands to us both ('twas Hannah clutched his as the drowning Catch at a life-line ; but I — I felt strangely uplifted, ennobled, 75 OUR BENNY Thrilled by the touch of a hand that was guiding the course of our Nation!), While, in a voice that was tender as ever a woman's, he gave back Benny to Hannah : — * Your son shall live, as I hope, to rejoice Mother and countrymen both, through patriot love and devotion.' Knowing that parting was near, we men stood facing each other: Animate soil of Kentucky and animate soil of our Green Hills — Strange metamorphosis that, of perishing elements earthly ! — Hand gripping hand, and the spirit of each leaping forth to the other Just for a moment. . . . 'Twas over ... I followed him into the office. 76 LINCOLN Hannah was left by herself in the anteroom where he received us. Passive she stood. Not a feature showed even a trace of emotion; But, as I turned to look back at her, won- dering, somewhat uneasy, Suddenly broke up the depths of her being : her motherhood's passion, Agonized love and despair, and gratitude mingled with worship, Vented themselves in a sob that shook her as wind shakes a poplar. Trembling in every limb she fell on her knees; ever lower. Lower she sank as she bent 'neath the mastering power of her passion. Till she lay prone on the spot whereon, but a moment before, 77 OUR BENNY Lincoln had stood and had spoken the mighty word of deHv'rance. Lo ! he was first at her side to aid her, to cheer and to comfort." Nothing was heard in the room save the tick of the clock in the corner. Silently falling, the tears coursed adown the cheeks of the grandsire. Noiseless, with wrestle of soul, the dominie fought his emotion. . . . Brokenly, feeling his way, their friend, the parson, continued: '* Verily, now is the time to show forth the manhood of Lincoln. He who considers the least with the greatest is ever the leader; 78 LINCOLN He who forgets not the Hnk that is weakest most surely will conquer; All his resources he gauges — his power of will to accomplish, Power of sword as of spirit, power of mind as of cable — Allf that in pressure and labor of ever momentous occurrence Even that link which is weakest shall bear well the strain of adjustment. See now, my friends, what he did, this Lincoln of whom I am telling! Quickly the papers were signed, the mes- senger sent on his errand. Naught left for Hannah and me but to wait all day long in the city. Wait for assurance that Benny was still in the land of the living! 79 OUR BENNY Meanwhile the morning wore on. In con- ference Lincoln was hourly Planning for this and the other; the mes- sengers coming and going. This that I tell you, as follows, was told to me twelve hours later: During the Cabinet meeting, assembled at noon in his oflSce, Lincoln was seen to grow restless, his hands working one with the other. Soon he appeared to be gazing abstractedly out of the window. Presently rising, he straightened himself, and, thoughtful, with sighing. Stood with his back to the window, his form 'gainst the blank silhouetted; Spoke 'neath his breath : ' I must go ' ; and then, to his councillors turning: 80 LINCOLN * Gentlemen, you will excuse me; I find I must drive to the outposts. Wliile we are planning together, the fate of a youth, a mere stripling Under death-sentence — an only son of his mother, a widow — Weighs on my heart. / confess I can hear and see naught but that mother. Midst all this turmoil, who knows if, in time, the reprieve may have reached him! ' Whereupon, short on his heel he turned and issued his orders; Ordered the horses, the swiftest; ordered the carriage made ready; Flung himself in with a word of command, or of prayer, to the coachman. Southward they bore, ever southward, mile after mile to the southward; 81 OUR BENNY Came to the outposts — the forts — the camp — the colonel's headquarters ; Found the boy saved through reprieve, yes, saved, and in truth, as by fire. For, when that message arrived, our Benny stood face to the muskets. Back to the ready-made grave in the soil that his ancestors fought for! " Friends, I have preached all these years humanity in the Divinely Human, but henceforth I preach how divinity, such as we know it, Dwelleth within the great soul of a man like our Abraham Lincoln — He, the exponent of brotherhood, type of America's noblest.'* 82 LINCOLN Silence again in the kitchen; the three were in deep meditation. Softly above in the bedroom — her footsteps were heard in the stillness, — Agatha went to and fro in sweet ministra- tions to Hannah. Slowly, with quavering voice, the grandsire, breaking the silence. Showed forth his spirit's contrition in words that are found in the Scriptures: *' * Lord, now thou lettest thy servant de- part hence in peace,' and," he added, *' Thankful of heart that his house has been saved from the stain of dishonor." Gently the dominie spoke, as he rose and went to the doorway, 83 OUR BENNY Standing awhile there to look at the sunset over the valley: " We who belong to the people, the race of the suffering Human, We who have known the deep meaning of sacrifice toiling and constant. Who with our hearts' blood are feeding the flame on Humanity's altar — Lighting the dark of the Ages, wherein are no Past and no Present, Sometimes with flickering gleam that seemeth to threaten extinction, Sometimes with wild-leaping fire that lights all the centuries' darkness — We know full well that each drop which feedeth the flame on this altar. Is, in the work of the Race, accounted equal in honor, 84 LINCOLN Each in itself emblematic of patriot love and devotion. Such is the meaning, to all generations, of Lincoln's great manhood. Centuries hence shall the glow of his flame on Humanity's altar Steadily lighten the Race, as it treadeth the devious pathways Leading to ultimate goal: a Union in Love — which is Freedom! " Straightway the parson drew near, and, laying a hand on his shoulder, Leaned both to look and to listen: a robin sang from the orchard; Down through the darkening valley our noble Connecticut River Glided majestic and free. The sunlight played on the hilltops. 85 V PEACE PEACE Peace! from the green-crested heights of Vermont to the shores of the level, Slow-swinging tides of the Gulf, to the cypress of swamp and of bayou. Peace on the slopes of the Blue Ridge, the plains of the swift Illinois. Peace ! and the earth-mother richer with blood of a million of brothers. Peace! and in homes of the millions the ashes of heart desolation. Peace! and yet wounds by the million that fester and burn in the living. 89 OUR BENNY Heralded Peace, who, at last, comes wan with waiting; all wraithlike Southland and Northland she roams, over mountains, o'er plains, through the valleys, Fearfully placing her feet, under which there should bloom only lilies. Lest unaware she might step on the number- less graves of the heroes. Lying in blue or in gray beneath the all- mantling earth-green. *' Finally, peace for us all," the dominie murmured devoutly. Drawing a long deep breath and letting it forth in explosive Power, as if from his shoulders the night- mare of War, horror-laden, 90 PEACE Loosed of a sudden her hold and left him freed of her presence. There on the postoffice steps he paused to look at his paper; Noted the date first of all, a world-date: the ninth of an April Promising much for the planting that cometh so late in our mountains. Noted the headlines, and then the lists of the dead and the wounded, Reading adown the long columns with glance both swift, comprehensive; Feared to rejoice prematurely lest some well-known name be among them. Lo! as he scanned the last column, just midway his eye was arrested — Eye not alone, for the blood e'en congealed for a moment its current — 91 OUR BENNY Dead! . . . The line blurred on his vision, and further he could not, or would not. Action, and action alone, could stir the chilled life-blood within him; Action alone could bring back his pupil, the pride of his manhood. Back from the banks of the James and the soil that his ancestor fought for; Back to his home and his mother, back to the hills of his birthplace. Back to the grave in the churchyard — the patriot's *' life everlasting." Straight through the village he passed, unheeding each glad recognition; Straight up the highway he strode, nor paused on the bar for a breathing; 92 PEACE Straight to the door of the farmhouse where Agatha stood in the sunshine Waving her hand, and, in wonder, marking the pace he was keeping. " Oh, you are welcome! " she cried; and then as he neared her, perceiving Signs of unwonted excitement: his Hps hard-set, yet the features Wrung with a fearful emotion, the sweat that ran from his forehead. Straightway her eyes opened wide, the pupils enlarging affrighted; Dimly foreboding the truth she stood there stock-still in the doorway. Only uplifting her hands, palms outward, as if in foref ending Blows that must fall and must shatter, ay, shatter forever and ever 93 OUR BENNY Idols of youth and of love — our woman- hood's nearest and dearest. White grew her lips and her cheeks as snow- drops that drooped in the dooryard; Scarcely a breath could she draw as the dominie, gently, but urgent, Laying a hand on her shoulder, passed with her over the threshold Closing the door on the spring — and a tragedy old as Life's drama. Spring in the hills of Kentucky, spring in the Cumberland Valley! Spring in the two Carolinas and deep in Virginian forests! Ever with hastening feet, with largess of joy universal, 94 PEACE Cometh glad Spring to the South, and tarrieth long in her Southland, Flinging her prodigal mantle — embroidered with jasmine and hawthorn, White with magnolia blooms and briUiant with Judas-tree scarlet — Over the teeming earth-mother that throb- beth with life at her coming. Slowly, with seeming neglect, our Spring Cometh here in the Northland, Coyly, with wilful caprice, now cold, now warm in demeanor; Hiding her shy, dainty grace from weather and winds that might chill her. Trailing her delicate garments along the edge of the meadows, 95 OUR BENNY Showing her fair winsome face where the ferns uncurl in the woodland, Vanishing wholly if wooed, but giving her- self when unsought for; — Thus comes the Spring to the North, the typical spring of New England, Comes with a grace all her own, and maketh of springtime a heaven Filled with the running of w^aters, the sing- ing of thrush and of sparrow. Laden with scent of the pine and the fra- grance of trailing arbutus. Thus in the year '65 came the spring to a Green Mountain valley, Blessing with bloom and with sunshine memorial day of Good Friday. 96 PEACE Deep in the woods, in the meadows, afar on the hillside the children Sought for the blossoms of spring : anemone, cowslip and mayflower; Gathered the myrtle, the ground pine — and all for the grave of their Benny. Early on Saturday morning, before the dew dried on the grasslands. Up from the village they fared : the women, the men and the children. All who had known him, had loved him in boyhood, in youth and young manhood, Gathered by groups in the churchyard to wait for the coming of Benny. Bared was each head, as the parson, preced- ing the little procession. Entered the wide-open gate, and stood with his friends by the maple 97 OUR BENNY 'Neath which the flower-Hned grave was glowing with dehcate color. Service of church there was none, nor of creed or belief was there mention; Only the parson spoke briefly with rever- ence tender and loving: " Truly no service is needed to show forth our love for dear Benny, Him who hath died in his youth, whose living and dying were service. No, my dear friends, we are met here to lay him away 'neath this maple. Wrapped in the flag of his country; to say one short prayer, and one only. That which our Benny repeated when, first in the charge on the breastworks. Pierced with seven bullets he fell and knew he was mortally wounded. 98 PEACE Gallantly holding his own, for a minute of living and loving, Low, 'twixt the laboring breaths, he spoke to the comrades about him: * Boys — did I fall at the head ? . . . Thank God — it may blot out the — wretched Stain of my sleeping — on duty. . . . O Father in heaven, I beseech thee Guard him and guide him — sustain him — my President, Abraham Lin- coln Who, in his mercy, has saved me — for this — O bless him forever ! — ' Death interrupted that prayer; yet, he, being dead, still saluteth Us, and in spirit he biddeth us hope on, stand fast — and endure." 99 OUR BENNY Borne upon shuddering breaths, a solemn Amen responsive Broke on the soft April air like a sob from the hearts of the people. Slowly the church bell began to toll off the age of the hero, Stroke after stroke until twenty. . . . Scarce had its final vibration Ceased, ere there came from the village up on the run to the hillside. Breathless, a-tremble, the messenger boy from the station, and rudely Broke to an unwitting people the news of a nation's bereavement — Awful that blow! Had the sun, wheeling high in those clear April heavens Suffered eclipse then and there, and the face of all nature, distorted, 100 PEACE Sicklied and darkened, been changed 'neath the eyes of the people affrighted — Less were their terror, their horror, than that which portended the future. Blanched were men's faces; and, question- ing dumbly, they gazed at each other, Questioning mutely, despairing, the meaning of this to their Country ; Fearing their good Ship of State — which, battered, dismantled, had nobly, Grandly, her colors still flying, outridden the hurricane's madness — Failing to make in such darkness abysmal her home port, might suffer Shipwreck through loss of her faithful Captain when most he was needed. Dumb was their grief, their despair. . . . The church bell began to toll slowly. 101 OUR BENNY Over the hills, through the valleys, the sound of that bell in its tolling Echoed from valley to hill from morning till far into midnight; Ever its deep, mournful note, resounding afar in the mountains. Bore to the listening folk its message of direful import: Abraham Lincoln is gone, our Lincoln, the Friend of the People. 102 FEB E 1903 m