Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, February 06, 1868, Image 1
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"VOL. 14. YORKVILLE, S. C., THTJESD4-Y, FEBRUARY 6, 1868. NO. 6. :
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JU Original Jdotg.
Written for tbe YorkvUln Enquirer.
v THE LITTLE REBEL.
?
BY CLAUDE FORRESTER.
I ,
CHAPTER I ,
Oar extreme left rested upon the wild, hilly and
picturesque banks of the Appomattox, from whose
waters, thousands upon^housands of canteens were
. filled, during the last hours of the late "ao-called."
Immediately fronting the regiment, assigned to this
position, lay an extensive wheat field?the grain
ripening beautifully for the harvest Between us
and the Yankee lines were three trees and an old
abandoned ?ouse, near the river, all of which afforded
admirable shelter for sharp-shooters, who,
by the way, had been doing considerable mischief
in ourranks. We-surprised and captured these
"boys in blue," however, a few nights after our
occupation, of the lines, and a few well directed
shots, from' the callant Washington Light Artillery,
of New Orleans, soon rendered the old house uninhabitable.
Having disposed of this intolerable
nuisance, our boys availed themselves of the opportunity
of indulging in a good stretch: and, if
any of my readers have experienced the inconvenience
of a cramped, kneeling position, for four or
five, days behind an earthwork, no higher than his
cap-box, the luxury of an erect position can readily
be realized. The call for the' 'Ambulance Corps,1'
however, followed by an unanimous and instantaneous
ducking of heads upon our right, soon impressed
us with the necessity of "lying low'.' and
"grabbing a root;" for the Yankees had posted
anothe r band of sharp-shooters upon'an eminenoe
djrectly fronting our picket line, and their first volley
had given several of our poor boys an "unlimited
furlough."
I had been detailed, with others, to clamber
down the rugged and tangled banks of the river
upon our left, and procure water for the company,
of which I was a member. The danger lay on the
way to the river-side, and only there ; for, once at
the river itself, we were almost perfectly secure,
being, perhaps, thirty feet below the level of the
earthworks, and entirely out of sight of the enemy.
Passing cautiously down the lines in a stooping?
almost creeping?position, with a dozen, or more,
canteens slung over our shoulders, piled one on the
other, it was no unusual thing to find more than
half of them perforated with rifle slugs by the
time we reached the river, so terrific was the fire
from the enemies' sharp-shooters. Occasionally,
j the bearer, himself would go down, the canteens
fltnna in all directions, to be gathered, alas I by
some other hand.
We, however, reached our destination in safety,
and gathering around an old sunken barrel, which
the retreating tide had kindly left full of water,
we began filling our canteens?in no particular
hurry, I assure you. Many of my readers will
remember those old barrels upon the banks of the
Appomattox, and, without the outlay of any considerable
effort, can recall the pleasant meetings
and social converse there. Many and many a time,
in the dear, hopeful years which are gone, have
we sat together in that picturesque, quiet and
shadowy spot, talking about home, and those who
made, it home to us?our sweethearts, wives and
mothers. _ Let
me ask?those of you who wore the grey?
if there ever came from those groups by the river,
one word of discontent, one word of murmuring
or complaint ? Did an expression escape their lips,
that could possibly be construed into anything like
apprehension as regards the ultimatum of all their
self-sacrifice and hardships? Did we ever use the
words, il after the war" without coupling them
with independence, and all that is nationally good,
great and glorious ? Was a word uttered, calculated
to have the remotest impression upon your
mind, that we were prepared for the serfdom and
despotism, to which we have, alas I been degra
ded?
However this may be, we, at least, can recall
nothing of the kind. The men at the river-side,
upon the occasion about which we write, and upon
which our story opens, were hopeful, cheerful,
fearless and brave, and never experienced a passing
doubt, that the now "conquered banner,"
under which they had fought so gallantly, would
float triumphantly over Dixie's sunny land. That
it did not, is?thank God!?no fault of theirs.
Those penny-a-line contributors to "Bonner's
Ledger," who invariably represent our boys in
grey, as "low, villainous looking ruffians," and
those picture-makers in "Harper's "Weekly," who
do the same thing, have either drawn largely upon
the imagination for their subjects, or have gotten
up a painted lie for the mean gratification of a despicable
malice. .But, enough of this! Let us return
to our story.
I was listening to the gurgling water, rushing
through the necks of our canteens, as we held them
down in the barrel, and was meditatively corking
and laying aside those already filled, when a pair
of little white hands, beside my own brown ones,
caused me to look quickly up into the face of their
owner.
"What brought you into the army, youngster?"
I asked, looking the new-comer directly in the face,
and wondering at the extreme delicacy and beauty
of his features.
"What brought you, sir ?" was the prompt rejoinder,
with a slight curl of the lip and an almost
imperceptible blush.
"But you are a mere lad," I said, involuntarily
taking his canteen and filling it for him. "1 would
not take you to be more than sixteen or seventeen."
"Well, what of that ?"
"Nothing," I replied; "only you do not look
sufficiently able to endure the fatigue and exposure
of an active campaign."
"We'llsee about that, sir!" he said, rising from
his kneeling position beside the barrel and throwing
his canteen over his shoulder.
"Why do you say sir to me?" I asked, with a
smile. "That is not army fashion, I assure you."
"You don't want me to say ma am, do you?"
And, as he turned and looked upon me with his
saucy, roguish eyes, I found the memory of a face,
like his, growing up between me and the past, and
carrying me strangely back to the beautiful long_
ago.
m "What may be your name ?" I asked, an indefinable
interest growing upon me.
"It may be Harry, sir," he aaid; "but it is not."
"Well, what is it"
"Nothing, whatever, can induce you to ask the
question, but idle curiosity. I never gratify such.''
"Indeed!" said I. "'Pon my word I you have
a most exalted opinion of your little self. You
must first ascertain my motive before you divulge
your name, eh ? Wait until you see a little service,
mv vounester 1 Nothing like that for taking the
starch out of a fellow! You shall certainly have a
place in the very first story I write after the war."
"You are an author, then?" said he, turning
quickly, and surveying me from head to foot
"Not exactly an author," I said, "in the strict
acceptation of the title. I have written occasionally
for a few periodicals, however."
"And your name is?what ?"
"Nothing but idle curiosity can prompt the
question," I replied. "I never gratify such."
"Come, sir!" he said, his face very much flushed,
"we will compromise. Tell me your name and I
will tell you mine."
That was an inducement; so I told him.
He staggered back a few paces and grew so very
pale, that I sprang to my feet to save him from
falling, supposing that some chance bullet had
struck him. He reoovered himself, however, and
was about to walk away, when I called after him:
"Your name, regiment and company I"
Without deigning to look towards me, he replied
: "Call me Eddie Williams. I am connected
with no particular regiment as yet Am General
's orderly." And away he went
Our pickets were firing rapidly about the time ;
so, gathering up my canteens and hastily rejoining
my comrades, we began our hazardous return to
the lines. The moment we arrived at the breastworks
we were made aware of the fact that our
pickets were falling back. It was madness to attempt
to reach o.ur company, whose position was
several hundred yards down the line; so, dropping
our canteens where we stood?to the extreme left?
and providing ourselves with an Enfield apiece, we
fell into line and got ready for the enemy. In
spite of the order to keep well under cover, many
of us peeped cautiously over the works to watch
the movements of the enemy.
For my part, it was utterly impossible to keep
my face half buried in the muddy clay, when events
of such stirring interest were transpiring out
in the wheat-field; so, getting upon my feet?a
sturdy old pine between me and the enemy?1 obtained
an enlarged view of the diorama before me.
without subjecting my person to the danger of a
sharpshooter's ballet From my position, I could
see our brave boys steadily falling back under a
heavy and destructive fire from the enemy's skirmish
line, which had already advanced beyond our
rifle pits and were cautiously coming forward. I
was not a little surprised that our boys should have
abandoned-a picket line of so much importance to
us; but a moment after, the reason why was manifested
by a heavy column of Yankees, issuing out
of the woods and coming forward at a brisk double
quick. These had scarcely entered the wheatfield,
when a second column came in sight; while
the flashing bayonets, away back in the woods, revealed
the advance of a third column. An abrupt
rise of ground, between our lines and those of the
enemy, hid the advancing columns from our view
a moment after; and, as our orders were to hold
our fire until the word of command was given, we
awaited the appearance of the enemy and the order
to open fire, with breathless impatience. At
this juncture the enemy's batteries opened a vigorous
fire along our entire front, making some admirable
shots but doing no material damage. Our
batteries maintained a profound and provoking silence,
and shortly after, the Yankee batteries ceased
firing. Then came that oppressive and ominous
stillness?that solemn and impressive calm. I knew
very well what it meant and instinctively brought
my rifle to the "ready," intently scanning the rise
of ground about a hundred yards from our lines,
and expecting every moment to see the advance
column of the enemy rushing over it. Why our
artillery allowed the enemy to advance under cover
of this eminence, and to mass their columns in the
little valley beyond, is, to this day, quite inexplicable
to me. Between the edge of the woods and
the bottom-land or valley, the entire force of the
enemy had been in sight and within easy range of
our artillery. That space once over, the advance
was completely under oover and our arms and field
pieces of no use whatever. Nothing but a desperate
and overwhelming charge could have dislodged
them from their position, had they intended to remain
there. The silence was suddenly interrupted,
however, by the crash of artillery and the roar and
rattle of musketry upon our right Every man of
us arose to his feet and looked eagerly down the
lines where the battle was raging with an almost
unparalleled fury. Gradually the terrific din of battle
swayed from the extreme right to the centre of
our line, and the stray bullets were beginning tc
whistle over our heads even upon the extreme left.
Just then the command came, thundering down
the line, for every man to keep low and be in instant
readiness for an attack. I ventured to retail:
my position behind the pine, thinking it no violation
of orders?as my person could not be seen bj
the enemy?but, being ordered down, I dropped
upon ray knees among my comrades in the trenches,
occasionally stealing a glance over the frail and
low ridge of dirt, which we had mostly scooped up
and piled before us with our tin-plates and iror
spoons.
The shoulder that pressed against my own,
trembled so violently, that I very naturally looked
down upon the individual beside me. There, tc
my surprise, kneeled the slight and agitated forrr
of my new acquaintance, Eddie Williams. His
face was as white as marble and his little hand,
which grasped a rifle, shook like an aspen leaf in s
storm. With bloodless lips and chattering teeth,
he informed me?in reply to my question, how he
came there?that, like myself, his position was
considerably further down the line, but he had beer
ordered to remain in his present position until the
battle was over.
"Well, Eddie," I said, in an undertone, "you
are in for it now, old fellow! Keep as near me, aj
possible, and load while I fire. Take care hov
you insert your cartridge, however. Ball always
up?mind thatl Don't attempt to fire yourself;
but just keep one of the guns loaded tor me."
In a moment he became as calm and self-possessed,
as any man could be under the circumstances;
and, looking saucily up into my face, said, with
that peculiar curl of the lip, which always set me
wondering where else I had seen it, "Don't trouble
yourself about me: I can take care of myself."
The battle had continued to rage with unabated
fury upon our right, centre, and a portion of oui
left, to the right of us, and was now rolling down
so critically near us, that the brigade to the right
of us was keeping up a vigorous oblique fire upon
the flank of the enemy, now visible from our position.
An officer went down the line, in our vicinity,
ordering every man to lie low and hold his fire
until he gave the word of command, then to rise
instantly to our feet and pour a volley into the enemy's
ranks. I noticed, too, that the artillerists
near us were evidently preparing to open fire.?
Their pieces, which stood out a little in advance oi
the regular line, like the letter A, were ranged for
a raking flank fire, and the utmost activity began
to show itself in our portion of the line.
A few moments after, the enemy appeared upon
the little eminence before us; advanced in splendid
order to within eighty yards of our line; and, delivering
a heavy, but harmless, volley over oui
heads, rushed towards us with deafening huzzas
and yells. Just then, the command thundered
down the lines "Up men! and fire!" and, we
sprang to our feet and poured a galling and destructive
fire into their very midst, which sent the entire
column reeling and staggering back upon the
reserve, and strewed the ground with the dying and
dead. Before the enemy could recover from the
shock and reform for another advance, our artillery
poured into the devoted ranks, load after load ol
cannister, grape, and shrapnel, with murderous precision
and rapidity. Finding it utterly impossible
to advance, under such a terrific fire, the enemy gave
way, and fell back behind the rising ground in admimViln
nrrlpr. Airain and apain the brave fellows
returned, and again and again were they repulsed;
until, after an hour's attack, the entire force turned
and doubled quicked across the field, under cover
of a tremendous fire from their batteries, which
soon sent us down in our trenches. Then came
that awful pause again?that impressive quiet;
broken occasionally by a dropping fire down the
line, or the despairing shriek or plaintive moan oJ
the wounded and the dying. -
Just then, an exclamation of acute pain from the tl
lips of my little comrade, caused me to look hur- b
riedly round. To my inexpressible sorrow, Eddie
Williams had been shot by a Yankee sharpshooter, "
and was lying at my feet in a state of unconscious- w
ness, and weltering in his blood.
w
fc
CHAPTER IL 1
Two months of hardship, anxiety and almost in- &1
cessant warfare had elapsed, during the sad and .
ever memorable hours of which, many and many
a poor fellow had passed into the spirit land. Many u
from our own company were missing. Some were
lying in the hospitals about Richmond and Peters- ^
burg, wounded or sick; others were asleep in their ^
blankets under the beautiful clover, and in the oool,
peaceful earth, and others were exposed to the
tender mercies of t!home-guards," away off in distant
prisons. '
Our brigade, which had left Charleston over;,
three thousand strong, had been reduced to the dimensions
of a full regiment, while some of our ^
companies?which had frequently paraded with
seventy to eighty men?now mustered about fifteen ^
or twenty, present, absent and accounted for.
One day in those sad years which are gone? ^
those years to which we now look back through c
our tears?I found myself away out in aoornfield? ^
and veiy near the enemy?as a vidette, or advance
picket Our division had halted, after a march of .
forty-five miles, and were hastily throwing up a
temporary line of defence. It was near dark when ,
the officer, who put me on duty, instructed me in
what direction to look out for the enemy; so, go- j?
ing immediately to work with my bayonet, spoon
and tin cup, I scraped up a respectable pile of dirt v
before me, and quietly "awaited developments." 01
* * - *1 1. . 1 i
me nig lit passed away quieuy euougu; uut tw own
as it became light, the developments which I had a
been waiting for, came hissing and howling over p
my head in the shape of cannon balls and conical 8
shells. The Yankees were evidently firing at some- e
thing considerably to my rear; but, knowing, from p
experience, that this storm of shot and shell was
the prelude to an advance, I began to get a tolera- j(
bly correct idea of the duty devolving upon one in ^
my situation. I arose cautiously to my feet and ^
looked to the rear, to discover, if possible, the ex- ^
act position of our pickets and to select the best ^
route for a retreat, should that necessity force fy- M
self .upon me. This done, I gave my undivided ^
and "prayerful attention" to movements of the a
enemy to my front It soon became evident that Q
the enemy had already thrown out his line of skir- ^
mishers, not, however, from any observation of
mine, but from the fact that our pickets, behind .
me, were firing rapidly. From their position, they 1
could see far beyond the field; while my view was a
so obstructed, by the growing corn and tho high a
ridges, that I was at a loss to discover what had
drawn their fire. I was debating in my mind the
propriety of falling back to the picket lines, when ^
my attention was arrested by an object lying in one _
of the furrows, not more than ten yards to my left.
A second glance revealed the fact, that?whatever a
was beneath the blanket?a rifle was leaning a>
gainst a corn stalk near by. Without a moment's 8
hesitation I sprang from my little earthwork, and
seizing the rifle Vith one hand and pulling away
the blanket with the other?what do you suppose g
I saw?
'Feeling quite satisfied, dear reader, that you
would never guess correctly, I will gratify your
very natural curiosity, by informing you, that a j,
' rebel soldier was sound asleep beneath the blanket,
, and that it was no other than Eddie Williams.? ^
; As I kneeled beside him and gave him rather a
. rough shaking, he started up into a sitting posi- ^
? tion and looked about him in much bewilderment
, and evident alarm. It was no easy task# to arouse j.
him to a consciousness of his situation, or to a
i knowledge of surrounding circumstances. .
"How long have you been out here, Eddie ?" I t
t asked in a whisper. t
"Don't know," he replied, rubbing his eyes and ]
r yawning. r
[ "Cornel" said I, giving him another shake,
. "wake up! The Yankees are advancing and we c
1 had better get out of this as fast as possible.?
i There! listen how our pickets are firing!"
i "Which way are we to run?" he asked, now t
fully aroused to a consciousness of his danger and a
i the necessity of prompt action.
I "Come in!" shouted somebody from the picket
> line, "the Yankees are advancing right upon you!" ^
i and, a moment after, a score of our men arose in f
> different parts of the field and rushed, a la two r
i forty, back to the picket line. I then discovered.
i and for the first time, that Eddie and myself had a
, been links in a chain of videttes, running the .en- y
tire length of our picket front r
5 "Follow me, Eddie, and stoop as low as possi- y
1 ble as you run," I said. "Now for it, then!? a
! come on!" And away we went, as though his a
satanic majesty, himself, was after us, 'with a
1 sharp stick.' This running over corn ridges, with e
J a shower of hot lead coming in the -same direction, f
and much faster, too, is, by no means, as intcres- j
* ting and laughable as it appears in print As a
i negro once said?when chased by a bull across a f
cotton field?it was "millions fuh de fence" upon t
' this occasion, and "not one cent for tribute." a
Before we reached the "fence," however, Ed- t
1 die stumbled and fell; and, as I turned to help y
! him up, I saw, not twenty paces behind him, a \
! Yankee soldier crouching amidst the corn, and ta- ?
king deliberate aim at his prostrate form. To my ?
great joy, however, his cap snapped and his rifle ?
missed fire, and, the next moment the unfortunate ?
1 and rash Yankee was rolling in the dirt, mortally 8
' wounded by a slug from a rifle in the hands of one I
I of the pickets. Eddie and myself reached the line ?
in safety?both of us "very much affected," I as- &
sure you. ?j
The Yankee skirmish line appeared soon after e
and made some remarkable, desperate, and gallant I
efforts to drive in our pickets; but it being abso- tl
lutely necessary to hold the position, and having a
. been ordered to do so, at all hazards, we were com|
pelled to dispute the ground with a desperation, d
amounting almost to frenzy, and which resulted j]
in complete success. ?
"And, now, Eddie," I said, as I threw myself e
wearily upon the green clover beside him, about f)
an hour after the little fight, "let me hear what has a
, befallen you since we last met" 0
. "Nothing of any consequence," he said. y
; "Pshaw 1 you can toll me where you have been a
, since you were wounded; how it comes to pass that b
. you are no longer an orderly to General ;
. what company you have been assigned to, and a p
, host of other things, which I am particularly anx- t!
II ious to hear from you." fi
> He looked at me, with those roguish blue eyes, ti
- as I lay at his feet, and, with his cheek resting e
against the barrel of his rifle, said, u
"I cannot imagine how anything concerning n
myself can be of particular interest to you, Mr. o
i Forrester."
''Thereyou go again!" said I. "Don't mister v
i me, if you please?I don't like it. You remind me fi
of a certain sergeant, who, in drilling us on James tl
I Island, in South Carolina, used to make us all
laugh, by rcqnssting "the gentlemen upon the ei- h
i treme left" to dress up, and who stuok mister to a
> every man's name, when calling the muster roll" b
Eddie smiled, as the absurdity of the idea imi
pressed him, and, leaning his rifle against a neigh- h
'boring tree, said: "Well, then, I will call you
'Claude, 'old hosa', 'old codger', or anything eLjeJn
lat you may wish, and that may be most agreea- 1
le to you. Pray what shall it be ?"
"Call me either Claude or Forrester/' said I;
and, now?that matter being settled, tell me
here you have been sinoe you got wounded."
"To Camp Jackson," replied Edfie. "The i
ound was more painful than dangerous however,
>r I was struck upon the elbow by a spent bafl.?
have heard much talk about 'honorable scars' 1
ad the 'glory of battle', but the sensation experi- i
aoed when that ball came in oontact with my bent
Ibow, was so exquisitely glorious, that it deprived :
le of consciousness almost instantaneously. The i
ten at the hospital laughed at me, when I told i
lem that I had fainted in the trenches. I only i
ish that they could experience the inne pain for 1
bout two minutes every day, for sixfconths." <
"How long did you remain at thai&ospital?" I '
sked. }
"About six weeks," he replied. "Iwas under i
ledical treatment however, but a nlall portion
f that time. I might have remained there until <
ow, or obtained a 'sick furlough' to return home;
ut I gave the surgeons no rest, until they consenk!
to send me back to the front Upon my reirn,
I immediately reported to General , but
e had supplied himself with another orderly dune
mv absence. I prevailed upon him, howev
r, to allow i:ie to volunteer in your regiment, and
ius my presence among you is accounted for."
"And you were found asleep' upon your post
lis morning, ch?"
"How could I help it? I had marohed?or
ragged myself along, rather?nearly forty-five
tiles, only now and then getting a short ride in
le wagons," he said. "Don't you think it was
ery unfair to put me away out there, in that old
arn-field, and so near the enemy, too?"
"Anythingis fair in war," I said, smiling at the
rtlessness and thorough innooence of the unexected
interrogation; but, I must confess, that I'
bould never have selected you for a vidette, or
rpoeed you to the hazards of such a dangerous
osition."
"Why not?"
"Because, besides being over fatigued by your
>ng march, you are too young and inexperienced
)r such an important post. The fact of the matjr
is, Eddie, you have no business to subject yourjlf
to the hardships and dangers incident to a solier's
life. Any man will tell you the same thing,
rho will take the trouble to examine your delicate
rame. Why, that is a girl's face under that cap,
nd these"?here I took one of his hands in both
f mine?"are more fitted for service under Cupid,
ban old bloody, blustering Mars."
He looked confusedly down into my. upturned
ice, as I lay at his feet, and asked an explanation;
nd I noticed a bright flush upon the cheek and
slight quiver about the oorners of the mouth.
"I hope I have not offended you, Eddie."
"Notat all," he replied, hesitatingly; "but do
ou really think, that I look like a girL"
"I think?as far as I can judge from a slight
gure and an exceedingly delicate face?that you
re no more able to stand a campaign in Virginia,
ban a boarding school miss is to throw a back
omereet over the everlasting Alps."
Eddie laughed.
"Mind!" I said, "I don't say that you are a
iil"
Eddie laughed louder than ever.
As I lay at his feet ar.d looked wonderingly up
ato bis face, I found myself wandering away back
1 * l tt7l. ??? j t 41*a4 fnrto 9 wlanro
[I me past, rr were uau x accu uiau uw i?ruviv
ieard that silvery ringing langh? Why was it,
hat the presence of this boy-soldier set me thinkag
of Frank Miller?my comrade, now absent?
nd bonny Edith Harrison, his sweet heart* Perlaps
Eddie could enlighten me.
"Do you know a young lady in South Carolina,
ly the name of Edith Harrison?" I asked.
"I do," he replied, starting suddenly to his feet
eizing his rifle, and looking hurriedly between
he bushes towards the enemy; then, as I sprang
owards him?fully expecting an advance of the
fankees?he laid aside his rifle and said, "Pshaw!
lothing but a rabbit!"
"Did I understand you to say, that you were ac[uainted
with Miss Edith Harrison?" I asked.
"Yes," he replied, stooping down and tying his
hoe-strings; "and I know why you ask the quesion.
You think that I resemble her in personal
appearance. Everybody says the same thing, unil
they see us together."
"I never saw a more perfect likeness," said I,
rendering all the while why he grew so red in the
ace. "Of course, then, you are acquainted with
ny very particular friend, Sergeant Frank Miller?"
" Your friend?" he asked, looking suddenly up,
>nd with a countenance as pale as death, "then,
rou can direct me where to find him 1?can take
ne to him immediately! Oh ! Mr. Forrester, I
reuld ?.'' Burying his face in his little grey cap
.nd turning his back upon me, he burst into tears
md sobbed like a child
"Why, what is the matter now, Eddie?" I askd,
pulling the cap down from his face. "Conound
the luck I you'll make me believe you are a
prl sure enough, if you go on-in that style."
Of course, Eddie saw the necessity of an exilanation.
That which he attempted was by no
neans satisfactory to my mind?did not account for
11 that sudden and uncontrollable burst of emoion.
Frank had been a very dear friend, he said,
rhom he loved beyond anything in all the wide,
ride world. Before he?Eddie?left his native
State, it had been currently reported that Frank
lad been killed at Gettysburg. My mention of
tis name, so suddenly, and the intimation that he
ras alive, was what provoked those tears. As I
aid before, the explanation did not satisfy me; so
was about to question him a little further, and
lad turned to do so, when the enemy opened a
errific fire of shell and solid shot upon oar picm
ne, compelling ns hastily to get under cover, and
ffcctually putting an end to further conversation.
Ls was expected, our scouts reported, soon after,
hat the enemy were massing heavily in our front,
nd that the line of skirmishers were advancing.
About an hour after, our pickets were very juiciously
called in, it having been ascertained that
he enemy were advancing in overwhelming numers,
and with cavalry, artillery and infantry." The
xtreme left of our picket line had precipitately
illen back, thus affording an excellent avenue for
sudden flank movement of the enemy upon our
entre. Our Commanding General, therefore,
risely concluded to withdraw the entire picket,
nd allow the enemy to advance upon the line of
attle.
I will not needlessly encroach upon the time and
atience of my readers, by narrating the history of
he memorable battle, which soon followed. Sufoe
it to say, that the enemy were driven back to
heir works, after a desperate conflict, which lastd
the entire afternoon. Our loss was appalling?
rostly in prisoners and killed?but we succeeded,
ot only in holding our ground, but in advancing
ur picket line considerably nearer to the enemy.
The next morning, as I was meditatively sureying
an admirable India rubber cloth, which had
illen into my possession, who should slap me upon
he shoulder but Frank Miller, himself.
"Just a few hours too late for the fun, old boy 1"
e said, giving my hand a hearty shake. "I suoseded
in creeping up to the lines an hour or two
efore daybreak. Got a job on hand already."
ifD nohiw?" T asked, after returning
is friendly, greeting.
"The General wants a guard of one hundred
len to escort a lot of prisoners into Petersburg.
The detail for our company is one sergeant am
two privates. The captain has chosen me."
"And how abont the privates?" I asked
"Have they been selected?"
"Not yet," he replied; "that is left entirely t
me. Suppose I name you as one ?"
"That is precisely what I wish, Frank," said 1
"Ton cannot imagine how anxious I am to have i
long talk with you abont Edith Harrison and horn
matters, generally. Detail me, by all means."
Frank surprised me by a very long, deep sigh
and, telling me to follow him, walked moodil
down the lines. A dense fog was prevailing a
the time, and everything unusually quiet along th
enemies' lines, lie object of the commandin
General was to remove the prisoners under cove
of this fog ; so our preparations were exceeding!
hurried. Why the "prisoners had not been sent a
way during the night I did not ascertain. I aske
one of the officers for an explanation, but he ver
politely suggested the propriety of. minding m
own bunhess,"ana leSffiug" the General to conduc
matters according to his judgment
#* #** ?**
"And, now, Frank," said I, as we sat togethe
upon the pavement before the Provost Marshal'
offioe, in the city of Petersburg, "how did you fin
things at home ?" .
"If you mean, by home, the house in which m
parents reside, I fcrand things going on about a
usual," he replied, gnawing daintily at a "har
tack" and looking thoughtfully down upon th
pavement "There was the devil to pay up at ol
Harrison's shanty, however."
"How was that?"
"Edith has been missing nearly three monthscan
be found nowhere."
"Why, what do you mean, Frank?" I asked
starting to my feet
"Sit down again, and don't make a fool of youi
self," he said; "and, if we have sufficient time,
will tell you about as much as I could learn durin
my sixty days furlough. I wish you to understand
however, that we are about to engage in a littl
private conversation; so, don't drawa crowd aroun
here with your gestures and grimaces, ifyoupleas<
'Position is everything: attitude is nothing;' s<
just resume your place beside me, and don't mil
lead the populace with the impression, that wear
about to amuso them by grand tableaux."
I felt very much inclined to slap my comrade'
face for this impertinent little speech; but thei
was an unusual shadow upon his brow and an ui
mistakable evidence of mental suffering in his dowt
cast look; sor I forgave, what would have been a
insult, under other circumstances, and requeste
him to proceed. It is necessary, however, for tt
thorough understanding of what is to follow, thi
I should preface Frank's story by a few introdm
tory and explanatory remarks of my own. In s
doing, I shall consult the reader's patience by b
ing as brief as possible.
I must inform the reader, then, that prior to tl
breaking out of the war, Frank Miller had becon
acquainted with a lovely girl, by the nameof Edit
Harrison, with whom, upon intimacy, he fell de
perately in love. The passion was reciprocated
and, without the knowledge of her father, she b
came my comrade's betrothed. Mr. Harrison wi
a coarse, vulgar, fellow?a cattle dealer, by trac
and by nature.
"The gold, that gild*
The atralteaed forehead of a fool,"
ilnnfl mimli fni- li!m linirOTer: and faff mt
I1UU UVUV tuuvu *v? J
in the settlement, in which he resided, could coui
upon receiving as many bows during the course i
the day as the wealthy "Job Harrison, Esquire,
as he had the bad taste, and unwarrantable pr
sumption, to sign himself. He ascertained, 1
some means, how matters stood between Frank ar
his daughter, Edith; and, more from personal ar
mosity to my comrade's family, than love for Edit!
opposed the marriage, on the grounds of her e:
treine youth. Frank was rudely thrust out of b
house and forbidden to enter itagain upon pain of
cowhiding, for which gentlemanly conduct and la
guage, "Job Harrison, Esquire" was made i
measure his full length upon his piazza by an i;
dignant blow, administered by Frank. Of cours
this made matters worse than ever. Public indi,
nation was aroused, and public opinion decided,'
course, in favor of the rich fool. About this tin
the first battle of Manassas was fought; and Frar
immediately volunteered in a regiment, then o
ganizing for service in Virginia. After passii
through some very severe campaigns, his "regime!
became so "badly cut up," that it was amalgam
tedVith ours, which had but lately arrived in Vi
ginia. Here, in the course of events, he becan
wounded by a fragment of a shell, which had e:
ploded within our lines?was furloughed for six
days, and went home. During his absence fro
Edith, he occasionally received a letter from he
and these were emphatic in declarations of faithf
love and unalterable devotion. Latterly, howeverand
for some months prior to his return home, c
furlough?the correspondence had abruptly cease*
and nothing whatever was heard from his swee
heart. And now, as Frank had returned, we clo:
our introductory, and allow him to speak for hin
self.
"I have strange things to tell you, Claude, aboi
Edith," he began, pulling nervously at the colh
of his jacket "Upon my return home, tworaontl
aco. I was informed by my mother, that tho poo:
persecuted girl had been missing for nearly a montl
and had disappeared under very mysterious ci
cumstances. Her father, sometime previous I
my return, had betrothed her to old Dan Eldridg<
against her wishes and in spite of her protest;
tions, tears and entreaties. The day for the ma:
riagc was fixed to a period scarcely covering a wee
from the time the announcement of her father's ii
tentions were made known; and, for greater secur
ty, the brute actually locked her up until tho ver
hour before the marriage ceremony was to be pei
formed. She was released then, to make a few n<
cessary changes in her apparel, but when the grooi
and parson arrived, the bride was nowhere to b
found. Every effort was made to discover he
whereabouts; but, up to my arrival, nothing, whai
ever, had been seen or heard of the poor girl."
"Very remarkable I" I said, feeling myse
bound to say something.
"So remarkable," continued Frank, "that I in
mediately called upon Mr. Harrison and accuse
him of having had a hand in this mysterious dii
appearance?that he had, in some way, destroye
* . * t c ii._ :_j.
her, and paimea or me siory ui iue juwmucu ujui
riage and subsequent disappearance, to avoid th
consequences of his crime. The man, I had ti
ken, all my life, for a brute, surprised me by
burst of. emotion, which was too palpably sincer
to question. He wept like a child ; accused hire
self of having been a monster, a tyrant and an ur
natural father, but fell down on his knees, and
with uplifted hands and streaming eyes, called uf
on his Maker as witness to his innocence of th
crime imputed to him. It was evident to m
mind, that I had wrongfully accused him; that
had done violence to his feelings, as a father, am
my own judgment, as a man. We sat togethe
nearly the whole afternoon, talking about Editl
and the impenetrable mystery of her sudden dis
appearance. As I arose to leave, he assured me
that should his daughter return, or should I, h
any concievable way, ascertain her whereabout
and inform him thereof, he would oppose our mar
riage no longer, but gladly expedite the realizatloi
of, what he knew to be, my highest ambition am
and dearest hope. We parted as friends?I am
the man whom I had hitherto despised with a ha
trod, as bitter as death.
3 As far as my wound enabled me, the entire eixty a
days leave of absence was occupied in diligent I
L search and inquiry. Everything was done, that a 8
man, in my condition could do, to asoertain some- ^
0 thing definite in reference to poor Edith's fate, if $
not her whereabouts. The very day before that, <]
1 upon which my furlough expired, an old Jew?a
a clothes dealer?informed me, that a young lady, f
e answering to my description of Edith, had purchas- j
ed a suit of men's clothes from him the very day ^
; that she was so suddenly missed from her father's ^
y home. Of course, this only intensified the rnys- \
t tery." i
e "And you have returned without a knowledge 1
fc of her whereabouts ?'' I asked,
r "There was no possibility of acquiring that know- ?
y ledge, Claude; and I have returned, with the over- ?
i- whelming conviction upon my mind, that all fur- c
d ther effort is useless?that Edith has committed 8
y suicide." . 6
v "I do not believe it Frank." I ventured to say. j
% "Had she intended to resort to eelf-dostruction, [
why did she leave her father's house and?as it (
would appear?disguise herself in male apparel ?
ii" Her evident object was simply to escape and avoid
s pursuit. You will possess her yet, old fellow 1"
d "Did you ever see' this Dan Eldridge, whom
they intended to compel Edith to many?" asked
y Frank.
& I replied in the negative,
d "He is a widow of about sixty years of age; has
e but one eye and is terribly marked with small-pox.
d His visage is odiously frightful. His character is
that of a miserable drunkard and a professional
gambler. He has spent one third of his life in
- jail for burglary, bigamy and theft. Now you,
that knew my poor Edith so well, must be aware,
I) that she would resort to any measure to prevent an
union with a man of such a despicable character.
- She would die, sooner than thus sacrifice herself?
I and you know it, Claude."
g "I know her well enough, dear Frank," I sdid,
l> "to wager my life that she would never resort to
!e suicide, as long as less desperate remedies were at
d hand. Her object, in thus mysteriously vacating
). her father's house, was, ostensibly, to avoid the
), forced marriage which was about to be performed; ;
J- but, may not she have gone in search of her ab e
sent lover; and can either of us believe, that any
amount of hardships and suffering could divert her
's from the thorough execution of whatever plan she !
'e may have adopted?"
?- "Nonsense 1" said Frank, in a tone of impa
i- tience and incredulity. "They reported me killed 1
n at the battle of Gettysburg, and Edith had more 1
d sense than to start out in search of a dead lover." 1
lO T woa oVu->ii+ fn vominrl liim tlinf )|A tr.ittpn '
it to Edith frequently since the circulation of the re>
port of his death; but, at that moment, the officer j
)o in charge, ordered us to 'fall in" for a return to the ,
a- front, the prisoners having been transferred to the
provost guard and there being no further demand <
ie for our services.
ie On our way bade to the lines, I pondered over 1
h the strange intelligence communicated by my com*
s- rade; and, somehow or other, my mind instantly ,
1; reverted to Eddie Williams. His personal beauty;
e- his shy, timid and modest demeanor; his effemiis
nacy?and, more than all, his profound emotion at
Ie mention of Frank's name, had impressed me with
a vague, undefinable suspicion before; but now,
all this, taken in connection with Frank's startling
story, cameupon me with all the potencyfaf ademon!n
strated fact Was it possible? Was such a thing
3at all likely ? The answer came thundering through
,, my brain, echoed in every pulsation of my heart,
that it was possible?that Love, coupled with Selfe"
Preservation, could do anything?everything!?
5 j What had it not done in the long-ago years behind
'. us??what barrier had it not overleaped??what
I1" opposition had it not swept from its path ? What
' ocean has proven too wide, what river too deep??
what mountain too lofty, or valley too dark and
I18 low? What Rubicon, between I/)ve and its oba
ject, has not parted its waters and opened up a
n" path of safety to the desired haven?
It was possible!
D" As we neared the lines, a heavy bombardment
e' was progressing and our advance became hazardous
in the extreme. Our commanding officer,
0 therefore, ordered us to deploy as skirmishers, and
in that manner, to advance at a double quick.
1 This disposition of the men?if we succeeded in
r" reaching the lines at all?would throw Frank and
lg myself considerably to the right of the position
Q occupied by our company. We advanced leisurea"
ly until we reached the summit of aa eminence
r* between ourselves and the lines, and upon which
16 the whole guard would be exposed for a moment
s" to the enemy. Here we broke into a double-quick
* and rushed breathlessly down the slope ; and just
m as we leaped into the trenches I heard that pecur'
liar "thug," of a minnie balLbeside me, and saw
u Frank hastily clap his hand to his breast, stagger a
? few paces and fall heavily to the ground. A mo- '
'D ment after, a piercing shriek rang along the line,
' and my little friend, Eddie Williams, rushed for- i
ward, and, bursting through the group around the 1
'e prostrate man, flung himself upon the bleeding 1
bosom with the wildest expressions of grief and i
despair. . ]
I saw a momentary gleam of ineffable joy flicker i
lr across the pallid countenance of poor Frank; I ob- <
13 served the effotf to speak?to draw the head of
r' Eddie closer down upon his bleeding breast; but
the next moment they bore them both away on
r" "stretchers"?Frank supposed to be mortally |
? wounded, and Eddie utterly deprived of conscious- |
ness. ' i
l" As soon as it became at all practicable, I hasten
l'~ ed down the lines, and resumed my position in our
company. Here I remained, day after day, for
?" many a long week, without a word of tidings from 1
Frank or Eddie, until one May afternoon I saw a '
y letter thrown down the lines, from man to man.
r' The letter was fastened to a stout stick?the usual '
mode of conveyance?to facilitate its passage down (
11 the lines; and, as it fell at the feet of a comrade, (
,e opposite to where I sat, he read the direction upon ]
!r the envelope, and throwing it over to me, said : {
"Here's something for you, Forrester." <
Hastily tearing away the envelope and opening
If the letter, I read as follows:
"Dear Claude :?I am about to set out on j
i- another sixty-day furlough, and, before doing so, ;
d felt tailed upon to apprise you of the existence of j
certain circumstances, which will add material en- ^
I ioyment to my second visit home. First of all,
a nowever, let me inform you that my wound is dor*
ing remarkably well. Tne Yankee that brought
- J 1.,'n minnli, V>q11 ^nfirplw fllTYlllffh mV
V U1C UUYYIij pui IliO Ulitiuiu wwu e? -?m
i- body, but, thank God, it proved about half an ,
a inch from being mortal. I will be able to travel in
a few days. Your little friend, 'Eddie Williams'? 9
e so-called, has been acting in the capacity of nurse. 5
'* He recovered from his fainting fit long before he 1
i- reached the hospital, and they wanted to send him a
I, back to the front the next day. To the Surgeon's a
surprise, he refused to go anywhere, until it suited ?
. him. A general flare up was the consequence, in 1
the progress of which, Eddie bid fair to be pretty v
Y roughly handled. 1 sought a private andconfidenI
tial interview^ with the senior Surgeon, however,
d and put him in possession of certain facts, which 0
r had such a soothing influence upon his excited 1
h nerves, that he consented to succumb to the wishes ?
h of Eddie, and allow him to do as he pleases. He ?
has promised to 'keep dark' with reference to the b
facts revealed, and to furlough Eddie, just like any
n other rebel. c
s And now, Claude, need I inform you, that in the ?
- person of our little rebel, I have diaoovered my ?
a long lost darling, Edith Harrison ? Beaide myself, b
j nobody here is aware of the feet, except the matron
and the senior surgeon, who maintain a judi1
cious silence on the subject, even tp her. She ex- 8
presses herself in the kindest manner when speak- ti
ing of you, and feels half persuaded, that you were c:
.ware of 'full particulars' for sometime bade. She
>romises to 'kiss you for your mother,' as soon as
he has the pleasure of resuming her customary
ipparel Poor little soul! what hardships and
[angers she must have brought upon herself I
remble to think what might have been the consciences
of her rashness!
Her story can be briefly repeated, and amounts
o about this: She bad no intention whatever, of
oining the army when she first left home; but,
inding herself so suddenly and unexpectedly de-'
indent upon her own resources, she donned the
prments of our sex, in self-defence. She had no
rell-defined plan of action. Her object simply
teing to escape the fate that threatened her. Natlrallv.
she thought of me in her emergency, and.
without counting the cost, or taking into consideraion
the perils incident to such a rash step, immeliately
came to Richmond in search of me. God
mows what uanble motive influenced such mad
onduct, but nferobabilhy is, that, feeling herself
done in the vond, and not daring to ride the am* *
lequences of a return to a home from whence the
jersecutious of her father had driven her, she instinctively
turned to me for assistance andomtection . ^.
n her peiiloue situation.?Wtila.Ja Ktannaond,? ?
General of our brigade secured her services
ls orderly, and, to her consternation, was immeliately
taken jto the front Fearing to divulge her
sex, and hearing that a sergeant of my name was
)n duty in one of the regiments of the brigade,
she made the best of the Bargain, and determined
jo remain with the General, until further developments
should decide the path of duty. Some weexs
ifter, she received a slight wound, while ende&vjring
to procure water for the General, and was
mken to Jackson hospital for medical treatment
Upon her convalescence, she reported to the General
for dnty, but found her place already supplied
by another. Of course, she was assigned to some
regiment?no one isupposing her to be a woman?
ind, fortunately for all parties,, she was sent to
)ura. Such is the sum and subkanoe of her story,
is related by herself What must have been her . .
siperiences 1 Thank Godl she has been so nnexnectedlv
restored to me. and that she has nasscd
inscathed and unoontaminated through an ordeal
so severe. -We, dear Claude, can have no conception
of the severity of that ordeaL Let us magnify
that wondrous goodness and tender mercy which
i kind Providence has so gradSously manifested towards
the little wanderer. Affectionately yours,
Frank Mtt.lto." '
And, now, dear reader, we leave the sequel to
pour imagination. " . :
ROW IN THE 8. C.' CONVENTION.'
On Monday, of last week, just after the Con- ^
mention had adjourned, a fracas oocurred between
Roswell T. Logan, a reporter for the Charleston
Mercury, and E. W. M. Mackey, a member of
the Convention, and son of Dr. A. O. Mackey,
the President The News of the next day, gives
an account of the affair, together with the cause
of the difficulty.. The Newt says: ' ' '
"As the events transpired in the presence of the
writer of these paragraphs, we speak of what we
biow, and not from information of any other per?n.
Mr. Logan was in conversation with the reporter
of the News, relating to the* action of the Convention
on th6 report of the finance Committee,
and in the act of rolling up his papers, when Mackey
approached and inquired: "Are "you the writer
of the article in the Charleston Mercury concerning
my father?" Mr. Loam replied: "lam."
Then, said Mackey. drawing back with a curse,
"take that," and delivered a blow. Mr. Logan
threw up his arm as a fence and struck back, and
at the same moment was seized by one or two persons
nearest to him. Mackey, being more powerful,
although the attempt was also made to hold
him. by Mr. Whittemore and others, was not so
easily restrained, and he succeeded in striking and
kicking once or twice," but only" onebtowtook effect,
and that was upon the forehead of the assaulted
party.
. By this time?in less than a minute?delegates,
white and black, were pitching frantically forward
towards the reporters' table,-and soene of affray,
and in the pressure of the crowd which followed
Mr. Login, held in the arms of F. J. Moses, Jr.,
white, or Sumter, was foroed down the hall nearly
to the middle, and aeainst one of the windows.
The excitement now became intense. Cries were
heard "kill him"?"cut the villian's throat"?
"throw him out of the window." "No! let him
alone"?"the dignity of the convention is at stake"
?"don't let him be hurt"?"keep back"?"keep
back"?"order"?"hands off" &c. Mr. Moses,
meanwhile still clasped Mr. Logan, and declared
that if "any man struck the reporter they would
have to strike him," doing all that lay in his power
to quell the now fairfy aroused passions or the
crowd. At this juncture, the president of the
convention pushed his way through the crowd, and
while Logan was thus surrounded by forty or fifty *
persons, standing on tables, chairs, and filling every
space that coula be occupied by a human body.
Dr. Mackey opened "battery" on him, and as an
old lady would say, gave him a piece of his mind."
He said that he did not hold him responsible for
his abuse, so much as the persons who employed
him, that he was engaged m a mean, contemptible
and dirty business, ana that if any retribution was
to be meted out, it belonged to those who paid him
his salary to come there and defame the character
of members of the convention, &c., &c., &c.
We do not, of course, pretend to give the exact
language, but the above, strongly infused with adjetives
and expletives, expresses the opinion of the
ebullition of Dr. Mackey.
During this address, which occupied pejhaps'
two minutes, the excitement within the bar among
the members of the convention and without among
the colored spectators, many of whom climbed over
the bar, reached a dangerous pitch. Cries were
beard of "throw him out of the window"?"cut
bis heart out"?kill him, it serves him right," and
the most bitter and vengeful threats, indicated a
disposition to commit murder on the spot
The behavior of Mr. Logan, thus surrounded,
was most commendable. Calm, cool, and perfectly
nnquenched, he held his tongue and waited for the
excitement to subside. During this period, it is
but just to say, the leaders of the convention of
both races did all in their power to preserve order
and prevent what was most feared?bloodshed.
Among these may be mentioned C. C. Bowen,
who, like Dr. Mackey, was the subject of descrip- ,
tion in the Mercury ofyesterday; B. F. Whitteraore,
Dr. Newell, R. C. DeLarge, J. J. Wright,
IV. E. Johnson, W. J. Whippor, C. M. Wilder,
L Hurley, and others#The
counsel of these parties, and their associates,
inally prevailed. It gradually stole over the minds
)t memoers, tnat toe "dignity or toe convention
vas at stake, and Mr. Logan was permitted to reire
again to the vicinity of the reporters' table;
ETere a policeman made his appearance. Mr. Lojan
requested his company to the office of the Merrury
and protection from the mob.
At this point Dr. Mackey again came up, and,
learing the request of the representative of the
Mercury, said tnat he himself would accompany
Ur. Logan from the hall, and afford him protecion.
B. F. Whittemore, Hurley, J. J. Wright,
Randolph, and others, likewise offered their escort,
thereupon the parties left the hall
SCENES WITHOUT.
There is no doubt that had not the temporizing
aeasures of a few of the calmer and more sensible
aen in the convention prevailed, the affray would
tave resulted in a serious manner. Only the presnce
and counsels of delegates possessing the conidence
of the outside throng prevented bloodshed.
.Tie threats made were loud and sanguinary, and
, spark only would have ignited a spirit ripe for
,ny evil. Dr. Mackey, however, took occasion to
ay to a crowd outside, that he did not hold Mr.
" .ii ?l1. i* a\ i.u a? 1 _
jogan at an responsive ior uie puuucauon, ana in
imperative language, charged it upon Mr. Rhett,
he editor of the Mercury.
Mr. Logan has but a single bruise, and that is
n his forehead. The only wonder is that, under
he circumstances, first of being assaulted by a
auch larger maa than himself, and secondly of
eing threatened with still more severe punishment
y an excited crowd, he escaped so welt
Hie above facts are written in the same fair and
an did spirit that has prompted all the reports
oncerning the convention in this paper. They are
he observations of an eye-witness, and therefore-? .
ruth. :
Bgy In describing a new organ, a country editor
ays; ' The swell died' away in delicious suffocaion,
like one singing a sweet song under the bed
lothes."