P.S.- Its supposed to be haunted...

301-492-6246

 

"I can't vote because I am still classed with idiots, criminals and the insane. But be honest, gentlemen, don't you think that after fooling a lot of wise men a whole year into thinking that I was a man, I am capable of handling the vote when I do get it?"       ~Mary Shellman

 

The Dying Soldier: by Mary Shellman

All day long the battle raged, but now, the thunder of the cannon, and the din of the battle had ceased, and a silence, as of death, reigned over the battlefield. One by one, the stars had come from out their hiding place, and shone like so many jewels, on the bosom of the night. The moon had been hid for some time, behind a cloud, but now, she shone forth in all her glory. But ah! she seemed loth to look upon the field beneath her, and half hid herself behind a passing clou, but as though a happy thought had struck her, she shone forth again in her full glory, gladdening the heart of many a dying soldier. In an obscure corner of the battle plain, by the side of a little stream, lay one youthful form. His clothes were torn, and stained with dirt and gore, his broken sword lay by his side, while a dark purple stain on his forehead, showed he had fought bravely. The groans of the wounded and dying could be heard all around him, but he seemed neither to heed them ot his own pain, but had raised himself up on his elbow and was trying to read from a small book, by the light which the moon aforded him. Oh! how earnestly he seemed to read. Presently he closed the book, kissed it, and placed it in his bosom, then drawing from his bosom, a picture, he gazed earnestly on it for a long time, and then passionatly pressing it to his lips he cried, "Emma my own Emma! shall we never meet again. Little did we think when we parted it was forever, but no! not forever, for oh! Emma, I die a Christian. I have cherished the little book you gave me, and have found much consolation in its pages. Tell my mother and siter not to grieve for me, we shall meet again, in a land where there shall be no war, no parting. And now, may God bless and comfort you." So saying, he pressed the picture to his lips, gazed on it for a moment, then placed it in his bosom, the weary soldier cast one look toward heaven, then, with a smile of joy folded his hands, and died.

Westminster, MD 21157