The free South. (Beaufort, S.C.) 1863-1864, August 15, 1863, Image 4
#
VOL. 1.
C .
A Bacbelor^ Soliloquy on the Conscript
Act.
To 1)0,
Or not to bo a conscript! is the question,
"Whether 'tis nobler in a mati to marry?
An able-bodied man of six-aud-thirty?
And enter upon the dread uncertainty
Of matrimonial life, with ail its accidents.
Perchance a fretfnl wife, a numerous family,
And bills interminable of grocer, baker,
Batcher, and doctor, (for snch things will follow
As sorely as the night succeeds the day,,)
Ot take np arms against a sea of traitors,
And, by opposing, end them all??To marry-TV)
sleep?no more. And by that sleep to end
???-*<w)in?Twl the thousand natural fears
'J UT IRWwnwv ?
That flesh is heir to, or on the field of battle?
The bnrstiug bombshell aud the whittling bullet?
The bayonet charge:?it were a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To marry;?to sleep; ?
To sleep 1 perchance to dream: ?ay. there's the rub;
Tor In that sleep what horrible dreams may come?
A country murdered through my negligence?
What terrible lectures may assail me there
By her who hath a legal right to "Caudle" me.
When thus by marrying, I have 'scaped the Draft,
Hart give me passe; There's the respect
That makes calamity of such a life.
Tor who would bear the whips and scorn of time,
Be pointed at through all the years to eome: ?
*IhT? goes a sneak who, when his country called him
To bravely battle in the glorious cause
Of Freedom and the Hope of all the world,
WA, like a treacherous Copperhead, behind
A petticoat!?Who, when he might have been
A hero in the final victory
"Where Right and Union vanquishedWrong and Treason,
Bid his quietus make with a bare woman 1"
But that the dread of something in the South,
That dark, rebellious country, from whose boara
Ko traveller returns?puzzles the will.
Thus marrying does make cowards of us all.
And thns the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale east of fear.
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn away.
And lose the name of action.
Soft you know:
My country calls. She of whom all I know
Most worthy to be loved, is whispering?"Co
Igo; nor will 1 press tho nuptial bed
UB ube; who loves me, with a warrior wed.
LOYALIST'S REVENGE.
A stoel* of the war.
We met in tlie beginning of the action,
I and my enemy, Richard Withers?he a
rebel, I a federalist?he on foot. I mounted.
It matters not now why I bated bim
with the fiercest wrath of nature. "The
heart knoweth its bitterness," and the details,
while most painful to me, would be
of trifling interest to you. Suffice it that
our fend was not a political one. For ten
years we were the closest intimates that
the same studies, the same tastes and the
same aim could make us. I was the elder
of the two, and the stronger, physically; j
comparatively friendless, as the world :
takes it, and had no near relatives.? j
Young, solitary and visionary, as we were, '
it is hard to make you understand what
ire were to each other. Up to the period j
of our estrangement, working together, ;
eating together, sleeping together, I can j
safely say that we had not a joy or grief, i
not a pleasure or a vexation that we did
not share with an almost boyish single 1
heartedness. But one day changed all.
We arose in the morning dear friends, '
and at night lay down bitter foes. I was
a man of strong extremes ; I either loved *
or hated with the whole strength of heart. J
_ The past was forgotten 111 tne present.?
Ten years of kindness, of congeniality, of
almost womanly tenderness were erased,
as with a sponge. We looked each other
in the face with angry, searching eyessaid
but very few words, (our rage was
too deep to be demonstrative) and parted.
Then in my solitude I dashed my clutched
hand upon the bible and vowed passionately,
"I may wait ten years, Richard Withers
! I may wait twenty, thirty, if von
will, but sooner or later I swear I shall
have my revenge!"
And this was the way we met.
I wonder if he thought of the day when
be laid his hand on my bridal-rein and .
looked up at me with his treacherous blue
eyes. I scarcely think he did, or he could j
not have given me that look. He was !
beautiful as a girl. Indeed, the contrast I
of his fail*, aristocratic face, with its regular
outline and red cursing lips, to my
own rough, dark exterior, might have
ItAen Dartly the secret of my former at
traction to him. But the loveliness of an !
angel, if it had been his, would not have i
saved him from me then. There was a !
pistol in his hand, but before he had time
to discharge it, I cut at liim with my sword,
Hud as the line swept on, like a gathering
wave, I saw him stagger under the blow,
throw up his arms and go down in the
press. Bitterly as I hated him, the vision
of his ghastly face haunted me the long
day through.
you will remember how it was at Fredericksburg.
How we crossed the river at
the wrong point, and under the raking
*
_ THE FREE SOUTH, SAT1
tire of the enemy were so disastrously repulsed.
It was a sad mistake, and fatal
to many a brave heart. When night fell
I lay upon the field among the dead and
wounded. I was comparatively helpless.
A ball had shivered the cap on my knee,
and my shoulder was laid open with a
sabre cut. The latter bleu profusely, but
by dint of knotting my handkerchief
tightly about it, I managed to staunch it
in a measure. For my knee I could do
? -ih??? Anon rvf fr\o 1.-o
IlUlIllIlg. vuunujuiioucao uiu uuu tuioauv
me, and the pain was intense ; bnt from
the moans and wails of those about me, I
judged that others had faired worse than
I. Poor fellows! There was many a
mother's darling suffering there?many
of my comrades, lads of eighteen and
twenty, who had never been a night from
home until they joined the army, spoiled
pets of fortune, manly enough at heart,
but children in years and constitution,
who had been used to have every little
ache and scratch compassioned with an
almost extravagant sympathy?there they
lay, crippled and gashed and bleeding,
crushed and dying, huddled together?
some where they had fallen, some where
they had feebly crawled upon their hands
and-knees?and never a woman's touch to
bind up their wounds, or a woman's voice
to whisper gentle consolation.
It was pitchy dark, and a cold, miserable
rain was falling upon us. The very
heavens weeping over our miseries. Then
through the darkness and the drizzling
rain, through the groans and prayers of
the fallen men about me, I heard a voice
close by my side :
"Water! water! water! Iam dying
with thirst?if it be but a mouthful?water
! For God's sake, give me water !"
I recoiled in dismay. It was the voice
of Richard Withers. They were once
those mellow tones ; the pleasant music
I cared to hear. Do you think they so
softened me now ? You are mistaken.?
I am candid about it. My blood boiled
in my v;iins when I heard him, when I
knew he lay so close to me, and I, powererless
to withdraw from his detested
i i "i i rn
neigllDOruoou. J. uere was water m mj
canteen. I had tilled it before the last
ball came. By stretching ont my hand I
could have given him water to drink, but
I did not raise a linger. Vengeance was
sweet. I smiled grimly to myself, and
said down in my secret heart, ' not a drop
shall cross his lips, though he perish. I
shall have my revenge."
" Do you recoil with horror ? Listen,
how merciful God was to me.
There was a poor little drummer on the
other side, a merry, manly, boy of twelve !
or thirteen, the pet and plaything of the I
regiment. There was something of the
German in him ; he had been watli us
from the first, and was reckoned as one of
the ablest drummers in the army. But
we would never march to the tap of Charley's
drum again. He had got a ball in
his lungs ; and the exposure and fatigue
together with the wound had made him
light headed. Poor little child ! he crept !
' ' w. ?.i i 1 i
Close 10 me in me uaraness anu iuytu mo i
cheek upon my breast. Maybe lie thought f
it was his own pillow at home ; maybe he
thought it, poor darling, his mother's bosom,
God alone knows what he thought ;
but with his hot arms about my neck, and
curly head pressed close to my wicked
heart, even then swelling with the bitter
hatered of my enemy, he began in his delirium
to murmur, <# Our Father who art
in Hear en."
I was a rough, bearded man. I had
been an orplien for many a long year ;
but not too many or too long to forget the
simple-hearted prayer of my childhood?
the dim vision of that mother's face over
which the grass had grown for twenty
changing summers. Something tender
stirred within my hardened heart. It was
too dark to see the little face, but the
young lips went on brokenly :
44And forgive our trespasses ax we forgio
those who tresjmss against us?"
It went through me like a knife?sharper
than a sabre cut, keener than the ball.
God was merciful to me?and this young
child was the channel of his mercy.
44 Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive
those who trespass against us /"
I had never understood the words be
T' ? 1?A/1 oi\Alr/in i4
IOl'e. II UU uugt'l uau o^vntu m wiuu
scarcely have been more of a revelation.
For the first time the thought that I might
be mortally wounded, that death might
be nearer than I dreamed, struck me with
awe and horror. The text of a long forgotten
sermon was in my ears :?"It is
appointed for all men once to die ; and
alter death, the judgement,"
"Worse and worse. W hat means of mercy
could I expect, if the same was to be
meted that I meted unto my enemy ?
The tears welled into my eyes and
trickled down my cheeks ; the first I had
shed since boyhood. I felt subdued and
strangely moved.
The rain was falling still; but the head
upon my breast was gone. He Lad crept
> % '
[JRDAT, AUGUST 15, 1863.
awav silently in the darkness. His unconeonoious
mission was fulfilled; lie
would not return at my call.
Then I lifted myself with great effort.
The old bitterness was crushed, but not
altogether dead.
"Water?water!' moaned Richard in
his agony.
I dragged myself close to him.
"God be praised !" I said with a solemn
heart "Dick, old boy, enemy no longer.
God be praised ! I am willing and able to
help you. Drink and be friends."
It had been growing lighter and lighter
in the east, and now it was day Day
within and without. In the first gray
glimmer of dawn we looked into each others'
ghastly faces for a moment, and then
the canteen was at Richard's mouth, and
lie drank as the feavered only can drink.
T Ilim n-itli m ni atari Oil PV('<i lpflTl
J. \Y UICllCU IULU mvu uiviowuvvk vj w?j
ing upon one elbow and forgetting the
bandaged shoulder. He grasped me with
both hands.
Blood-stained and palid as it was, his
face was ingeneiotis and beautiful as a
child's.
" Now let me speak," he said, panting.
" You have misjudged me Rufus. It was
all a mistake ; I found it out after we parted.
I meant to have spoken this morning
when I grasped your rein, but?but"
His generosity spared me the rest. The
wound my hand had inflicted was yet
bleeding in his head ; but for the blind
passion of the blow, it must have been
mortal. Was vengeance so sweet after all ?
I felt something warm trickling down from
my shoulder. The daylight was gone
again?how dark it was !
"Forgive me, Dick," I murmured, groping
about for him with my hands.
Then I was blind?then I was as cold
as ice?then I stumbled down an abyss,
and everything was blank.
"The crisis is past?he will recover,"
said a strange voice.
" Thank God ! thank God !" cried a
familiar one.
I opened my eyes. Where was I ? How I
odd everything was. Rows of beds stretch-,
ed down a long, narrow hall, bright with
sunshine; women wearing white caps J
and peculiar dresses, flitting to and fro
with a noiseless activity, which, in my
fearful weakness, it tried me to watch.? !
,My hand lay outside the covers ; it was I
shadowy as a skeleton's. What had be- j
" * ?*? T I'll HI
come ot my llesli i \\ as l a eniiu or muu:
A body or a spirit??So light and fraildid
I feel, I began to think I was done with
material things altogether, had been subjected
to some refining process, and but i
now awakened by a new e^hrtence. But
did they have beds in the other world ?
I was looking lazily at the opposite one,
when some one took my hand. A face
was bending over me. I looked up into
it with a beating heart. The golden sunshine
was on it?on his fair regular features,
and the kindly blue eyes.
" Dick ?" I gasped, " where have you
been all these years ?"
"Weeks, you mean, said Richard, with
the old smile. "But never mind now,
you are better, dear Rufus?you will live
?we shall be happy together again.
It was more a woman's speech than a
man's, but Dick had a tender heart.
" Where am I ?" I ai^ed, still hazy.?
" What is the matter !"
" Hospital in the first place," said Rch- :
* ? " ? \r .. I
ard. " lypnus in tne second, xou were
taken after the night at Fredericksburg."
It broke upon me at once. I remembered
that awful night?I could never,
never forget it again. Weak as a child, I
covered my face and burst into tears.?
Richard was on his knees by my side at
once.
" I was a brute to recall it," he whispered,
remorsefully ; "do not think of it
old bov?you must not excite you-self.?
It is all forgotten and forgiven."
"Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive
those who trespass against us ?" I
prayed from my inmost heart.
" Those words have been in my mouth
night and day, ever since you were taken,"
said my friend.
I lay silent, cogitating.
"Tell me one thing, Dick," I asked ;
"are we in the North or South ?"
"North?in Philadelphia."
"Then you are a prisoner?" I said,
mournfully, recalling his principles.
"Not a bit of it.
"What do you mean ?"
Richard laughed.
" I have seen the error of my ways. I
have taken the oath of allegiance.?
When you get strong enough again, we
will fight side by side."
4' And the wound in your head ?" I
asked with emotion, looking up at his
bright, handsome face.
44 Don't mention it. It healed up long
ago."
44 And the little drummer ?"
Diehard bowed his head upon his hand.
44 He was found dead upon the field.?
Heaven bless him ! they say he died pray
4
NO. 32.
ing, with his mother's name upon liis
lips !"
" Revere him as an angel!" I whispered,
grasping him by the hand. " But for his
dying prayer we had yet been enemies.?
Oh, Richard ! God's grace is with the simple
and pure of heart!"
Tobacco a Foe to Matrimony.?Qhe of
our exchanges inquires, with much alarm,.
how is it that there are so many nice
young girls in our cities unmarried, and
likely to remain so ? Our answar i3 comprised
in one word?tobacco. In oldtimes,
when you could approach a young'
man, within whispering distance, without
being nauseated by his breath, he used,,
when liis day's work was over, to spend!
his evenings with some good girl or girls,.
either around the family hearth, or ill'
pleasant walks, or at some innocent place
of amusement. The young man of the
Tvroconf rlav tillrpa liic cnlifnrv -mrm and
puffs away all liis vitality, till he is as
stupid as an oyster, and then goes to some j
saloon to quench his thirst, created by'
smoking; and sheds crocodile tears, every
time his stockings are out at the toes, *
that 44 the girls now-a-days are so extrava
gant a fellow can't afford to get married.""
Nine young men out of ten deliberately"
give up respectable female society to in- dulge
the solitary enervating habit of "
smoking, until their broken down constitutions
clamor for careful nursing, then
they coolly ask some nice young girl to
exchange her health, strength, and beauty,
and unimpaired intellect for their sallow
face, tainted blood, and breath, irritable
temper, and mental imbecility. Women
may well hate smoking and smokers. We >have
known the most gentle and refined ^
men grow harsh in temper and uncleanly >
in their personal habits under the thraldom
of a tyranny which they had not love
nor respect enough for women to break
through.
A Detroit paper tells a good story at
the expense of a Canadian billiard player
J who was unlucky enough to be the 44 champion
of the cue" in his vicinjty. Fully
appreciating his own abilities he went to
Detroit to try his hand with Seereiter.On
44 banking" for the first shot Seereiter *
won, took his cue, counted, and continued
to count until the game was finished, the
r ?l?__i?,i n J: i i.:
usiouisueu v^uuiHuuij luujviug uu wiw
mingled admiration and wonder. At the
conclusion of the game the foreign gentleman
was about leaving the room, crestfallen,
and the conceit entirely taken out
of him, when the boy who tends the tables
politely informed him that he had a small
account to settle for the game just played.
The fellow was taken somewhat by surprise,
but soon collected his scattered'
senses, and with the remark that he hadn't
played any billiards, and consequently
wouldn't pay, left the room, amid the up- roarious
laughter of those present.
~th eTreeso u t IT
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