Newspaper Page Text
2 TIMES
A ***
. WEEK
VOL. 44.
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GUIDON LITTLE BUTTONS OF BATTERY 0.
‘■TALES OF TEN TRAVETERS”* SERIES.
By EDGAR L. WAKEMAN.
Copyright. 1394.
“A little over thirty years ago,” mus
ingly began the Student Traveler, as our
Ten Travelers were all comfortably seated
in their accustomed places, “several de
tached divisions, brigadesand even single
regiments of infantry, a few battalions of
cavalry and a number of field artillery
commands, which had been hastily massed
at Cairo, 111., were urged speedily forward
byway of the Cumberland river and
thence by rapid marches over the moun
tains of Northeastern Alabama into Geor
gia, to reinforce Sherman, who was stub
bornly fighting his way to the doomed
city of Atlanta. • ,
“We joined him at Etowah river, and
participated in the hard-fought flank
movements which resulted in the defeat
of the outnumbered confederate forces
under the gallant Gen. Hood, and which
made possible Sherman’s subsequent fa
mous cnairch to the sea.” '
As there was yet already a streak Os
silver ’n the Student Traveler’s hair and
beard, his Oasy familiarity with the stir
ring events of so remote a period caused
various expressions of surprise to flit
across the faces of tne assembled com
pany.
The Aimless Traveler, who had seen
hard service in the Franco-Prussian war,
seemed nettled at this apparent irrever
ent liberty with military history.
“The Yanks and the Johnny Rebs,” he
observed, with a noticeable inflexion of
satire in his tone, “must have taken on
their heroes at a remarkably youthful
age?”
“Oh, yes,” pleasantly retorted the Stu
dent Traveler, “quite young enough to
fight!”
Whereupon, without further interrup
tion, he related the following incidents of
the Ataerican Civil War.
Late one sultry July afternoon, as our
forces were about going into camp for the
night after a severe day’s march over the
hills of Northwestern Georgia, our own
company, Battery D, First Illinois Light
Artillery, on account of some temporary
obstruction to the forces In advance, had
halted abreast of an imposing country
mansion, where, to avoid only a slight
detour, the marching columns had cut a
ruinous roadway straight across the plan
ter owner’s beautiful gardens and lawn.
The sappers and minershad demolished
walls and fences. Fountains had been
overturned and broken. (Statuary lay
prone beside pedestals or, in shattered
pieces, had been crushed into the earth
by the heavy wheel* of transport wagons
" .■•titd’.jH*'ertitlerv Q: u>Wi>n m inoJaU”-.
summer houses: were leveled by a tem
pest ;and costly shrubbery. wl’ich-enot.ier
quarter century’s loving cam could not
replace, had been destroyed like wayside
weeds beneath the trampling of frenzied
herds.
The general in command had merci
fully placed guards about the fine old
mansion, and we could see upon its colon
naded portico a. few members of the
household huddled together as if fascin
ated by the 'portentous scene, while gaz
ing in stupefied hopelessness over the
destruction which in an hour’s time had
been so sadly wrought.
Most of our officers, postillions and gun
ners had dismounted and flung them
selves from an almost stupid exhaustion
upon the sward; and our jaded horses,
freed for a few minutes from rein and
’ spur, lowered their heads listlessly or
reached hungrily for the few smirched
blades of grass which still lay half buried
between the deeply sunken ruts.
I was the guidon or color sergeant of
the battery; at this time a lad of scarcely
15yearsof age. While valorous enough
in the foolhardy way of youth to have
won in a year’s relentless service the lik
ing of my officers and the friendship of
my comrades, there was still a strain m
me, unaccountable to many about me,
which revolted at the inhumanly needless
destruction of war; which made me al
most traitorous in heart to the power
behind our own flag, when - it' waved
above indignity to the innocent or cruelly
to« the feeble and helpless; and which
fired ray heart with intolerable hatred
for my own cause whenever I was com
pelled to look upon the wicked and wan
ton desecration of horiies.
1 shall never forget how the picture of
this half ruined homeside—the utter des
truction on every hand, the guarded
shell of a home, its few remaining occu
pants, the old and the young, looking
upon the invaders out of the very desola
tion of fear, while a few faithful blacks
crouched beside them—chilled and sick
ened me.
I turned from it and leaned against my
horse, mutely patting his neck, as though
he must know this feeling, if the patriotic
human souls around ine could not, and
with my face against his dusty shoulder
almost sobbed:
“Ah, Charlie, old friend!—’’Charlie
was the name of the horse who had car
ried me and our colors into many a direful
place of carnage and death; for “Batteiy
D” had gained a name for savage work
afield—“how long must this pitiful busi
ness last?"
I remember, too, that I thought old
Charlie, tenderly interpreting my boyish
mood of despondency, had turned his hon
est face to rumple my ragged artillery
jacket with bis'llps and teeth, and say as
plainly as faithful horse could:
"Don.t give way so. Little Buttons;
don’t!—’ this being my nickname, friend
ily bestowed by the battery boys, who
were really fond of me, on account of my
diminutive size. “It’s a dreadful shak
ing up, to be sure; but as I am consider
ably older than yourself and have seen
longer service, I hope you won’t mind my
mentioning that I have thought it all out
more dispassionately.”
“Oh, no, old Charlie!”
“One good thing'll come of it, anyhow •
the north and south’ll get a permanent
introduction to one another that'll lead to
lasting brotherhood and respect; believe
me. Little Buttons!”
"Oh, but old Charlie, the horror of it
while it lasts! I don't mind fighting
sure! You know that. The needless
suffering, the heartless cruelties and the
wanton indignities and destruction, are
what break my heart, old Charlie, and
sometimes make me long to sink into the
silent earth!”
We often had talks line these, old
* Charlie and 1. boyish and foolish as they
may now seem to some of you grizzled
travelers about me; and they were the
greatest of living comforts to me, when so
many of my comrades rather gloried iu
the ruin on every hand.
On this occasion 1 thought old Charlie
rubbed my shoulder a second time com-
cckln News.
< THE MORNING NEWS. ) fcx,
J Established 1850. incorporated 1888. > r.,
I J. H. ESTILL, President. f
fortingly and seemed to say in that brave,
cheery way he had.
“Little Buttons, brace up! When you
and I are old vets, all this rumpus will be
1 so sunnily forgotten that we couldn’t get
i a pension if we needed one. Besides, re
member we carry the colors, my boy!”
! This last seeming reminder from old
I Charlie brought <pe to something like “at
tention!” when I saw to my surprise that
it had not been old Charlie’s touch upon
] my shoulder at all.
I 1 was looking into the deep hazel eyes
I of the owner of the mansion, whom I had
; seen in the group upon the portico and
i who now stood before me with a white
face regarding my own features with a
more intent and inquiring look than I
had ever known rest upon them before.
It seeined to me for a moment that I
saw my own father’s face in his. When
he spoke, my father’s tones were in his
words. When he laid his band upon my
shoulder again, it was as my own father’s
losing touch.
“It can’t be possible!” he half whis
pered. “He would have no boy as young
as this. He would not permit them to
lead this manner of life, if he had.”
And then as if recurring to some hope
or purpose in his own mind, he looked at
me appealingly and said;/
“My lad, you have a heart, if you are a
soldier?”
“Oh, I hope so, sir,” I bashfully replied,
startled by the strange family resem
blance and the planter’s almost desperate
manner.
“I —I felt, when I saw your face,”'he
continued hesitantly, “because it re
minded me of one long separated from me
by the wall of political hatred, of a
brother I once loved devotedly, that I
might ask you to do a distracted mother
and father a very great kindness, indeed
the greatest kindness that human hand
and heart might do.”
I was almost overcome by the intensity
of his feeling and the homesickness every
tone he uttered evoked, and I stammered
forth some manner of confused assent,
while old Charlie turned his head and
seemed to nod approyingly. •
“We have a daughter in Atlanta—just
about your age, my lad. Here is her pic
ture.”
With an alert glance toward my tired
companions, as if to guard so sacred a
subject from intrusion, be placed a little
ambrotype in my hands.
I saw the sweet face of a lass of per
haps sixteen years—almost the image of
my own sister; a face with a radiant, up
looking smile, half hidden by a wealth of
golden brown curls; a face that looked
with tender eyes above a far life’s hori
zon where rested only cloudless, happy
skies.
VVe beard the dull chucking and thud
'■**'** yf wbcuM qp.voud, the »at-
tic of harness and fittings, the sluggish
tramp of weary feet, and saw the laggard
wave of restlessness and rustling creep
down the line which told us the columns
were moving on beyond, and that we had
but a moment more together.
“Here,” he said quickly, as he tremb
lingly pushed the packet into my pocket,
“her name and address and a little note
to her are all there. We cannot hear from
her. Your army is between us. She is
at a sort of music school, with an Italian
master—not in good hands, we fear. At
lanta will fall. Mv God, boy! what will
become of our darling Beatrice, iu those
hours of defeat, of victory, of pillage,
rapine and license !”
Capt. Cooper and the officers were
already in their saddles. The postillions
and gunners Were sulkily creeping to
their places. I saw the bugle raised to
Bugler Andy’s lips. Old Charlie was
already restless, and the clarion notes of
the order to mount half drowned the
planter’s almost despairing words.
He clutched at my foot as I reached my
saddle. I could barely hear him agoniz
edly plead:
“In heaven’s name, search her out.
Tell her of this meeting. Give her the
letter. Be to her as though she were
your kin!”
The infantrj’ beyond had been sent on
at double-quick to regain our lost time.
Capt. Cooper’s piping voice gave an im
patient order to Bugler Andy.
"Foward!—double-quick!” shrilly fol
lowed in blaring bugle notes.
My place was at the head of the column.
The officer of the day had turned in his
saddle and was scowling at me. I had
only time to bend to the pltious white
face and shout:
“Whatever I can—so help me God!”
He clutched me the -tighter, as if in
mute and desperate appeal. I touched
old Charlie softly with the spur of my
disentangled foot, and we tore ourselves
from the man—it was as though I had
struck my own father a blow—and in an
instant more Battery D. with its six
gleaming howitzers, was thundering over
the ruined lawn and on and on at a gallop
over the stony road to its place, in park
in camp. ’
Everyone knows the story of the At
lanta campaign; of the fiery conflicts at
Cartersville, at Allatoona, at Acworth
and at Big Shanty; of the investment, in I
blazing, .burning July days, of lordly I
Kennesaw mountain, where the attacks I
and repulses, the feints and sallies and '
the tremendous and savage maneuvers 1
were like the “jaws of hell” to those from
time to time engaged, and like maiestic
and terrible panoramas to those onlook
ers of both the blue and the gray
held in readiness for instant battle- of
the great flank movement which gave the j
federal forces the Kennesaw, and Mari
etta for a hospital camp and a secondary
base of supplies; of the weeks of thunder
and flame by night, in the terrible artil
lery duels across the Chattahoochee: of
the vast federal demonstration to the !
south, and the lightning-like flanking
stroke away around to the northeast,
where Peachtree’s banks opened to 10,(XX):
soldier graves and the brave MacPherson
fell; of the final investment of the beau- :
tiful city, the deadly assaults and re
pulses and their endless carnage; and
then that awful whirl and whirlwind of ,
half an hundred thousand desperate men
around to the south and southeast —a
solid advancing resistless front of half a I
score of miles in length, of raining lead,
of blood-red bayonet, of belching
cannon and of the all-consuming
torch—to the horrible slaughter
of Rough-and-Ready and Jonesbor- i
ough; until, just thirty years from I
our next first September day, a shout
went up that shook the earth and split
the. sky: “Atlanta is ours!” while the
brave but defeated confederates with
drew to Lovejoy's; and the face of the
earth, almost from Chattanooga to At
lanta, seared as with flame, blackedas bv
deadly frosts, was a putrid desolate des
ert. silent as its buried and unburied
dead I
On dress parade and in drill service
even ;casional gallant brushes with
an enemy, the field artillery guidon and
his tilt flag are well enough and pretty
enough as military trappings; but where
there are ceaseless battle and carnage,
the need is desperate for every human at
the guns.
As I pleaded for a place like this, Capt.
Cooper smiled grimly, took old Charlie
for an extra saddle horse and promptly
turned me over to our most doughty
fighter, Sergt. Dennis McGee, of the cen
ter section guns.
“Faith, I’ll put you where the inimy
niver’ll clap eye on ye fur th'smoke!”
said Dennis with a wicked twinkle in his
little green eyes. (
And so he did.
“It’ll be ‘Number 5,’ ye’ll be;” he
added sternly; “V thumb th’ vint, and
fire the gun. An’,’ mind me words, me
lad ; if ye iver let air in ’er (the cannon)
and cause a premachure dischare, or fire
away on yer lanyard, afore I guv th’
word, I’ll just simply impty th’ six bar
rels o’ me revolver into th’ small o’ yer
poreen back!”
With similar engaging rallyings from
Dennis, I took my place at the gleaming
twenty-four-pounder and kept it to the
end.
I do not know what the poet-sung
bravery of battle heroes is. I remember
it all as a terrible dream where 1 knew
that death was ahead and where I felt as
sure that death was behind. I simply
struggled with all the little might in me,
almost senselessly and altogether mechan
ically to accomplish my atom-like toil in
the measureless tragedies of the hour.
In such dolorous times there is no
chance for respite; no place for humaniz
ing companionship; no moments for more
than the dumb and ceaseless effort to do
and live and kill.
Yet if it were possible to intensify the
terrible strain upon mental and physical
being into keener activity, I know that
the added impetus ever came to me, not,
from the shouts of victory above the
groans of the dying, but from those hum
bler and to my boyish nature subtler
promptings to valorous savagery, in the
approving words, glances or smiles of the
officers and men about me.
“Look at the fire in Little Buttons’
eye!” Corporal Burr would laughingly
halloa to the men of the right or left sec
tion guns, as we were warming up to
some rattling engagement.
“We took thirty-seven positions at
Peachtree,” Corporal Ez Carter would
proudly retort, as he cut in two a bar of
“Daisy Dean,” which he was endlessly
and plaintively whistling or singing in
battle or out, “and Little Buttons never
lost his griV at the gun’s wheel, never
missed a tight vent and never got rattled
with his lanyard!”
“No, and he never squealed when the
big Johnnie yanked him, that day, over
his gun and was bringin’ his sabre down
on him like slicin’ ‘sow-belly,’ an’ Irish
Dennis shot the big confed over, him, an’
they stuck there in the blood on the siz
zlin’ gun together!” snorted Freem Har
ford, our brawny No. 1, chucking me un
der the chin and smiling encouragingly
into the already set features of my tiny
boyish face.
“Faith, if we’d had Little Buttons at
Aughrim —sure that’s over agin Ballinas
luv —” Serg. McGee would add with back
ward prophecy aifd a wise and' solemn
smile, “ould Ireland’d be ould Ireland
still, an’ not be beggared up!”
And so the running fire of half satire
and half compliment would flash among
the guns or between the limbers and
caissons, or be taken up by the sprawling
postillions; while Big Andy, the German
bugler, grave as a kaiser, would polish
his bugle on his sleeve or silently nip com
forting pinches of snuff, and Capt. Cooper.
Lieuts. Cunningham and Pratt, and even
handsome Orderly Sergeant Powers,
would look around upon their men as if to
say, “We're not all regulation size, nor
age, nor dress; but we're fighters, lads,
Little Buttons one and all!” or still be
stow on me a glance half of pitty and
half of affection; all of which—and never
the thrill of victory or tne triumph in a
brave enemy’s defeat—kept my diminu
tive being and childish spirit in dogged,
'loosest key.
I say these things because I always
look back upon that time and upon that
soldier lad almost as a separate and dis
tinct personality from those in which I
have ever really existed; and also in the
nature of confession of meritless boyish
foolhardiness which won me whatever
affection the rough and kindly natures
about me hact in their inclination or
power to bestow.
In the listless and idle September and
October days that followed Sherman’s
great victory, which was really the be
ginning of the end of the American civil
war, battery D. was encamped with
various other commands near the hamlet
of East Point, a few miles south of the
city of Atlanta.
Old Charlie and the little flag had been
returned to me; and to the trifling duties
of guidon had been added the more oner
ous camp life exactions of company clerk.
In this capacity I carried and brought the
mail to and from army corps headquar
ters, delivered and often received the vol
uminous reports and brief orders, and, in
fact, gradually became a sort of a gen
eral orderly for our officers and mounted
errand-boy for our droning roadside
camp.
This often brought me on various tri
fling missions within the captured city.
While its activities were very great
through Sherman’s reorganization of his
army and the extensive preparations for
his still secretly-planned march to the
sea. they were military activities alone;
and to me, boy though I was, the half
ruined public edifices, the dismantled
forts, the barred or silent and empty
shops, the avenues of leveled elms and
limes, the shell-ridden churches, schools
and warehouses,and above all the dreary,
ghostly homes, closely shuttered and
barred or transformed into slatternly
barracks for our soldiers, wereamongthe
saddest spectacles of the war.
This was intensified and still more
deeply embittered by the utter failure of
my chivalrous mission for the discovery
and rescue of Beatrice.
This charge had grown upon me as the
sacred Mecca of my childish aspiration
That white face of the father had haunted
me reprovingly. The beautiful and inno
cent face of his daughter had beckoned
me on.
Every shot or shell which had leaped
from our bellowing guns upon the doomed
city seemed to my overwrought fancy a
mortal challenge to her tender life. Even
when the cry, “Atlanta is ours!” went up
from an hundred thousand throats, it
stilled my heart and choked my tongue.
Beatrice hopeful and innocent, Beatrice
helpless and alone, Beatrice ground be
tween the merciless teeth of war, flitted
through my dreams, whispered encourage
ment in the very “ping” of bullets beside
my bead, hung like the flaming Virgin in
the rapt pictures of the masters, floated
spirit-like within and above the smoke of
our cannon and took on dolorous and
awful forms in every grewsome change of
cloud-hung I attle.
Never aid old Charlie's hoofs ring out
such impatient staccato as when he bore
me to the ancient mansion where I had
found Signor Bellini’s conservatory’ to be
located. Never did his laggard hoofs so
SAVANNAH, THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 6, 1894.
drive despairing echoes into rider’s heart,
as when we turried away from the place,
now transformed into army engineers’
headquarters, where smart sentries were
pacing the broad portico or loitering be
side the silent fountains.
Then followed weeks of fruitless, heart
deadening search.
The Hutter of every woman’s gown, the
flash of every woman’s hand, the balf
caught glimpse of every woman’s face,
startled me on and on with the thrill of
hope which ever ended in a desolate pang
of utter dread and loss.
Back at the camp, where I had become
haggard, moody and silent, one day Corp.
Ez Carter stopped his tender numbers of
“Daisy Deane” long enough to remark in
d melancholy tone to some comrades
near:
“The campaign was too much for Little
Buttons. He's going off all in a heap!”
Then the boys began to regard me more
closely. The rough fellows would edge
up to me with cheery and sympathetic
words. Some brusquely took from me
various portions of my work. Even the
best of our poor food found its way to my
plate, at mess.
They plied me with all manner of
fatherly questions. While the tears
welled into my foolish eyes, I could only
remain stubbornly silent. Then by a lit
tle ruse they brought me to the doc)tor’s
attention at sipk-call. . ' »
“Snammingl— Bah!—shamming !” was
his pleasant dictum with an oath, as he
mounted nis horse and with his assistant
rode away; but that brigade surgeon
would never have returned to head
quarters with whole bones had not his
steed taken him at a lively pace out of
the clutches of the fighting boys of bat
tery D.
“Faith, its shammers ye all are!” indig
nantly refnarked Sergt. McGee. “Can’t
ye see it’s th’ ache o’ th’ heart for th’
home behind, that’s aitin’ th’ life out o’
Little Buttons ?”
And so it stood at homesickness with
the men; and Ez Carter, loyal soul that
he was! sang himself hoarse and whistled
himself parched and dry from his efforts
to enliven my spirits with the saddening
strains of “Daisy Deane,” and even big
Andy, with protruding eyes and bulging
cheeks, vforked beside me for hours out
of the very goodness of his honest Ger
man heart with his ear-splitting bugle’s
blare: while Manzel Burr, Freem Har
ford, Doc Lewis and Seed Rogers, from as
many different squads—and bless their
generous tenderness to the end of their
civilian days!—endeavored to win me
back to comradeship, through cards, in
the adroit bestowal upon my fortunes of
various tempting “jack-pots!”
But I carried my secret and hurt alone;
the sorriest way on earth to carry a griev
ous load.
Added to its crushing weight yras an
other momentous secret which almost
frenzied my boyish heart.
At department and corps headquarters
my frequent visits had made officials and
attaches unmindful of my tiny presence.
I had seen enough and heard enough to
dimly comprehend the coming scattering
of Atlanta’s inhabitants and the complete
annihilation of the-city by tire.
Whatever depths of dolor this life may
have in store for me, there can never’
again gome, the dread , the' actual despair
of coniwsfiuu which I, as
that boy soldier, constantly suffered until
this measureless brutality of pretended
military necessity was partially complete.
Contemplation of the monstrous Inhu
manity, coupled with its certain extinc
tion of my last hope to succor the ill-fated
Beatrice, so maddened my childish soul
that I would almost have committed mur
der to have averted it. For the few days
between the promulgation of the order
for the city’s depopulation and this sad
dest exodus of modern history, I was half
beside myself with impotence and grief.
The highway leading from the city to
the. confederate lines above Lovejoy’s,
trailed alongside our camp. Sherman's
huge army wagons were utilized to trans
port such as had no other means of con
veyance. A double line of federal guards
fenced in the highway to a point where
the flags of the the confederacy,
with the white emblem of truce between,
stood almost side by side.
Here confederate guards carried oil the
bristling fronts of soldiery to the picket
and main lines of the southern army.
Nearly 30,000 souls, driven ruthlessly
from their homes, were forced through
this infamous Highway of Despair; and
with flashing eyes and heart of shame
for my cduntry and its cause, I believe I
looked into the face of every refugee that
passed that way. May God spare the
world another such frightful panorama
of human woe!
Toward evening on the third and last
day of that dreadful exodus, all but a
half score wagons had passed our camp.
Interested and curious comrades, in sol
emn-faced squads, from time to time had
kept me company. *
“Come on to mess, boys. That’s the last
of ’em!” cried one of the artillerymen;
and all but myself, who was watching
the cavalcade to the last laggard refugee,
and Sergeant McGee. whß was regarding
me gravely and quizzically, departed has
tily for their suppers beside the camp
fires.
I had risen from my seat on the old
stone wall abutting the road to return to
my tent with Dennis; but at that moment
I saw two faces which set my little body
a-trembling.
One the dark face of a man of
Latin blood. Jolted from side to side by
the heavy wagon, he was wheedling and
scowling and half supporting as best he
could the slight figure of a maiden. The
other, when the violence of the wagon’s
jolting had for an instant tossed her curls
aside, I knew was the face of Beatrice.
“Ye have a bad chill;” said Dennis
curtly, turning toward the tents. “Come
along, Little Buttons, an’ we’ll bate that
agy wid a drop o’ th’ rale right sort!”
In the mpment his back was to me, I
had sprung into the open end of the
wagon benind the one containing Sig.
Bellini and Beatrice, a wagon filled with
.singing and wailing negroes; and in an
other moment Sergt. McGee and the
pleasant camp of Batterv D were sh ut
from sight by the blinding dust of the
road.
All roads may be alike to the madness
of youth; but the road that led to the
possible rescue of this helpless girl was
the only one then open on earth to me.
All the transport wagons belonging to
Gen. Sherman had been rapidly returned.
The last few which were being hurried
forward belonged to the enemy. I could
see, from occasional glances as we passed,
the guards, done with their sad work,
deploying into squads and the squads
gradually forming in dark blue masses
for impatient return to the friendly en
vironments of their own camps.
The point of truce was soon gained.
Here cavalry from both forces had been
stationed. The formalities of their final
separation were trifling? As the flag of
truce was furled, the hostile flags moved
in opposite directions. With grim salutes
and right-about-faces, the soldiers of
each flag fell into marching order and
went their separate ways. Our wagons
were shortly beyond Hood’s outlying pick
ets ; and here I suddenly realized that I
was a union soldier, in full uniform and
without warrant, inside the confederate
lines!
Ido not think that this startled me at
first. It simply spurred me to action. I
remember that my instant impulse was
to in some manner change my apparel.
Some of the blacks were stupid from
drink, and effecting this was not difficult.
With one I exchanged my hat, with
another my jacket, with this one my
padded artillery vest and with another,
in the darkness, my tidy artillery trous
ers.
Hardly had this been done, when we
came upon a belated refugee’s camp, out
side of Hood’s main lines, but close under
the confederate advance redoubts. Here
a few hundred humans were huddled,
without shelter from the night, beside a
small stream. Some were dejectedly
munching scanty food; but most had
fallen spiritless or from exhaustion be
side their pitiably meager belongings
where the wagons had hurriedly left
them.
Noticing these things, but with my at
tention fixed upon only two human beings
I followed the latter to the edge of the
stream beside an abandoned campfire,
where, after almost threatening*injunc
tions for the girl to remain where bidden,
the Italian left her apparently to make
provision for food and for the night.
In an instant I was beside her, ex
citedly whispering:
“Beatrice! Beatrice!”
She was not even startled. She seemed
merely listening as in a dream for surer
token of kinship and affection in the half
aspirated calling of her name.
“Beatrice! Beatrice!”
I bent close to her wan and haggard
face.
“Oh, God! Have one of you come at
last?” "«
“Yes. yes, yes!—from your father.
Hush! Here, see this picture he gave me.
Read the words with it. I will take you
from this villain to him.”
She sprang to her feet; but I gently
though instantly forced her down.
“No.no! Not now; Not until a few
hours later. Seem docile and obedient to
Bellini. Can you swim?”
“Yes, yes!”
“Are you brave?”
“After to-day, there is little to fear.”
“Will you obey me implicitly to reach
your home?”
“To the limit of my life!”
“Then, when you are certain your
black devil of a companion and the camp
are asleep steal to the bank of the
stream. Move fearlessly down stream,
until you meet me. Bellini is returning.
Remember!”
Ido not remember how long I waited
for Beatrice ; but, sure of her bravery
and prudence as she was unquestioning of
my loyal guidance, these were the only
calm and certain hours I had known
since our forces crossed Etowah.
I knew she would come; as she did. I
knew that the approaching stealthy foot
steps were hers. I knew that the unseen
form I felt near me was that of Beatrice;
and it was the happiest moment of my
life when her outstretched, groping hand
grasped mine, and without even a whis
pered word, we stepped softly into the
placid stream together—two children,
seeing through blindness, going forward
as in the broad day by night, upheld in
their infinite innocence and ignorance by
infinite trust and faith!
What were my plans? Ihadnpne. The
stars told me the stream flowed toward
the blessed Northland. Silent as our
water-fowl and reptile companions, hand
in hand we waded, walked and swam.
Silent as the preternatural silence
brooding between opposing armies, we
halted where a huge sycamore had fallen
across and almost dammed the stream,
and listened breathless to a measured
ghostly tread. '
It went and came, from sward and covert
and copse to fallen sycamore trunk. It
beat hollow and solemn and portentous
across this. Thence it swished and
brushed over sward to covert and copse,
and back again echoingly; a terrible
pendulum of fate across our way to
safety.
An hour or an age thus passed, when
other footsteps approached the left bank
of the stream. Then a muffled rattling of
musket in dew wet hands above our heads,
and this challenge:
“Halt!—Who goes there?”
“Grand rounds!”
“Advance, grand rounds, and give the
countersign!”
Straight to a leveled gun above us came
another muffled form. It bent over the
bayonet ond whispered:
“Remember—Atlanta!”
The musket clattered to the sentry’s
shoulder. Then it clattered to the posi
tion of “Present arms!” The officer of
the guard passed slowly on; while the
musket clattered back to the sentry’s
shoulder, and the ghostly tramp, tramp,
tramp, was again begun.
Two dripping figures lay for a time to
gether in the rank grass beside the
stream.
When they arose they stepped fear
lessly toward the sentry’s path. A stern
command rang out:
“Halt!—Who goes there?”
“Friends, with the countersign!”
“Advance, friends, and give the coun
tersign!”
Two figures bent over the sentry’s lev
eled gun.
“Renjember—Atlanta!” they whispered
as cheerily as when giving the touch
word of some pretty children’s game,
while with a gruff “Pass on’’’the sentry’s
musket clattered back to his shoulder
without salute.
We sped across an open field, and when
we had at last gained the highway over
which I had so strangely come, clasping
the girl in my arms, I murmured ecstat
ically in her ear:
“With God’s help, we are outside the
confederate lines!”
Not a wisper nor a shudder, nor even a
ripple of emotion was evoked. Just an
answering pressure from the brave girl’s
hand, and we were away ttf the north
again like two winged wraiths of the
night.
After perhaps two miles had been tra
versed, I saw tne stream we had followed
now winding closely beside thg highway;
and remembered that at a place where
the transport wagons crossed the stream
on the previous evening I had noticed a
stone bridge, with parapet-like copings,
then occupied by federal outposts. Reach
ing this, our dilemma now seemed insur
mountable.
Here we flung away our shoes, and hug
ging the coping wall, opposite the side
where I had seen the pickets in blue, we
began moving stealthily across. One of
my hands held, fast to Beatrice. The
other groped from stone to stone along
the rotten masonrj’. a false step caused
me to stumble, and sent my hand forward
with unusual force. It missed the wall,
and the next instant a lance-like bayonet
passed entirely through the flesh of my
left forearm.
No challenge or word followed, and I
made no outcry. Dropping the hand of
Beatrice for a moment. I bent forward
and saw that that the figure holding the
musket behind the bayonet was strangely
silent. I peered again and listened. The
picket was grimly and valiantly gripping
bis gun, which was pointed toward the
enemy, but this hero of perhaps half a
hundred buttles was snoring peacefully
in sleep.
I grasped the gun barrel gently below
the bayonet lock; pulled my wounded
arm from off the steel, as the blood
spurted down upon the soldier’s leg;
grasped Beatrice and pressed dizzily for
ward ; when at a safe distance hurled a
stone back upon the sentry that he might
escape death from being diecovered
asleep upon his post; in another half hour,
without interruption or observation, had
shut the girl securely within my own
little white tent, which danced all manner
of ghostly antics before my eyes; and
then, half fainting from exertion, excite
ment and loss of blood, fpll in an uncon
scious heap upon some near bags of fod
der—when all the world was still.
Always like a troubled yet gladsome
dream have remained with me the events
of the morning following.
Indistinct were the notes of the reveille.
Far and whispered and almost like sound
less lip-movings, were the shouts in my
ear by Sergt. McGee of “Little Buttons!
Little Buttons I —Out o’ this, t’ yer tint,
or th’ divil’s own sorra ye’ll see!”
Incomprehensible, too, were some
strange flight of mine, with seeming
clanging, sabre-like wings, to the head
quarters’ tent and the shadowy guards,
the scowling officers, the half heard ques
tions and the impatient orders that meet
me there. Dim and torturing was a great
placard I seemed to see, every letter of
whose words like flaming fire burned
worse than death into my whirling brain,
of
Little Buttons.
DISGRACED!
For Absence within
the Enemy’s Lines
WITHOUT LEAVE!
Faint and far were the bugle notes of
roll call; the droning summons of the
orderly and its responses; the salutes be
tween officers and men; the reading of
some hateful order; the instant murmur
of disapproval which followed; the im
petuous protests and half-frightened re
proofs. .
Dim and unreal still, the signal to my
guards, who grappled with me to force
the placard over my shoulders. Like a
whirlwind the maddened struggle then;
the breaking of the lines; the wild rush
upon the headquarter’s tent; my own
rescue; the rending of the placard to
tatters; the sudden vision of a shoeless
maiden spring from a tiny white tent,
clasping me in her arms, crying
piteously, “He saved me from worse than
death!” the silence of the strong men
and the mists in their eyes as they gazed
on the ragged, torn and blood-stained
children; the flight to our camp from the
refugees’ roadway of a venerable and
haggard civilian who burst through the
throng with cries of: “God be praised!
My Beatrice is left to me! —saved to
us,” this as he clutched me, too, in
his trembling arms, “by my own broth
er’s son! —and then, still as in a dream,
the wild huzzas, hand shakings, embrac
ings, mingled songs of the “Star Span
gled Banner” and “Dixie;” officers and
men indistinguishable from each other
through the ecstactic tears trailing over
their war-grimed faces; with big Andy
perched on the artificers’wagon, sound
ing great blasts from his bugle, and Ez
Carter endeavoring to drown the deliri
ous notes with his pean to “Daisy Deane
brought us all to a pandemonium of joy:
until thq very cannon seemed wreathed
in g|ittering smiles along the pleasant
camp front of fighting Battery D."
“Over all this blessed, sorrow-sweet
dream there never rested but one tiny
patch of shadow,” concluded the Student
Traveler, with a quiet sigh. “Sergt.
Dennis McGee has never quite forgiven
Little Buttons because his kindly Hibern
ian diagnosis of the ache o’ his heart was
for the curly-haired maiden before him,
rather than for the dear old farm home
behind!”
CONTRACTS AWARDED.
Five Buildings Go to a New York
Architect and One to Atlanta Men.
Atlanta, Ga., Septz s.—The building
committee to-day selected plans for the
six principal buildings of the big exposi
tion to be held next year.
Five of the six buildings go to a New
York architect, J. H. Gilbert, and
one—the smallest in the lot- to an At
lanta architect, W. F. Downing. There
were fifty different sets of plans for the
lot and naturally there are many disap
pointed architect,'in various parts of the
country to-night. There are some in At
lanta who are especially Sore over the
award. The plans of Mr. Gilbert, the New
York architects they think are much in-,
ferier to the local designs and it is
strongly hinted that there was partiality
shown on the part of the awarding com
mittee. The five buildings awarded to the
New Yorker are the manufacturers’, ma
chinery, electricity, agriculture, forestry
and mining buildings. The one awarded
to Mr. Downing is the administration
building. They are to be of wood, except
the administration building, which is cov
ered with plaster, §150,000 to be the cost
of the six. There will be no gallery, but
all exhibits will be on the ground floor. In
accepting the plans. President Collier said
the committee acted with a view of giv
ing employment to home workmen, se
lecting designs that could be built of
materials without going abroad for any
special artisans. While President Collier
was delivering himself of this paragraph
a big gang of convicts was at work out at
the exposition grounds, and the disap
pointed home architects were ready to
call an indignation meeting. The gen
eral style of Gilbert’s buildings is Roman
esque. The administration building will
be Corinthian in style.
THE FEMALE FORGER.
A New Chapter in Her History Comes
From Florida.
Atlanta. Ga., Sept. s.—Chief of Police
Connolly to-day received a letter from.
W. M. Brown, cashier of the Indian River
State Bank of Titusville, Fla., identify
ing the clever female iorger now in Fulton
county jail under the name of Mrs. M. E.
H icken as Mrs. M. M. McFadden of Mel
bourne, Fla.
A new chapter in the swindler’s oper
ations, including §l5O obtained from the
Exchange Bank of Macon, is brought out
by Mr. Brown.. The woman’s first crime
was in forging the name of her son to a
check on the Indian River bank while in
St. Augustine. The son kept the identity
of the forger a secret for some time, but
it finally leaked out. Mrs. McFadden’s
career was rapid from that time. She
went to Macon and passed as the wife of
E. L. Brady of Titusville, Fla., and then
got $l5O out of the Exchange Bank. From
there she went to Boston and Chicago be
fore returning south. She operated suc
cessfully for some time in Atlanta before
being caught and is now under indictment
for forgery.
Fight at a Meeting.
Baltimore, Sept. s.—At a political meet
ing at Wayne, West Virginia, last night a
fight ensued between Camden and anti-
Camden adherents, in which four men
were shot, one fatally.
The minister who had difficulty in keeping
his parishioners’ eyes on him during the ser
mon solved the difficulty by placing a large
crock directly behind him.—Providence News,
( WEEKLY, (8-TIMES-A-WEEK) 81A YEAR.
X 5 CENTS A COPY. >NTO AO
I * DAILY, 810 A YEAR. OU.
MONDAYS
AND
THURSDAYS
THE GREATEST ON EARTH.
The Gigantic Syndicate Whose Cash Is
in the Southern Railway Company.
The Vanderbilts, Drexel, Morgan dk
00., the Rothschilds and J. S. Mor
gan & 00., Each Own a Quarter In
terest—A Railroad Owning 4,000
Miles of Road—The Great Enterprise
Formed Under Most Favorable
Auspices.
Chattanooga, Tenn., Sept. s.— The
greatest combination of private capital
ever before enlisted in one enterprise in
the United States, is supporting the
Southern Railway Company. From a
thoroughly reliable source, the Times is
informed that the underwriters, as they
may nbe termed, of the reorganization
scheme of the Richmond and West Point
Terminal and the East Tennessee, Vir
ginia and Georgia railroad companies are
none other than the Rothschilds of Lon
don and Paris and the Vanderbilts of
New York—Cornelius and William K.
THE FOUR GREAT INTERESTS.
The reorganization, as is well known,
was undertaken and successfully consum
mated by Drexel, Morgan & Co., of New-
York, and J. S. Morgan & Co., of London.
These two great banking houses inter
ested their richest clients—the Roths
childs and Vanderbilts. The syndicate is
really very small in numbers, for it Is
divided into four portions, but is colossal
in wealth, representing the greatest ag
gregation of capital in the world—mora
than half a billion of dollars.
§30,000,000 NEW CAPITAL INVESTED.
The Rothschilds have one quarter, the
Vanderbilts one quarter, Drexel, Morgan
& Co. one quarter and J. S. Morgan &
Co. one quarter. The reorganization plan
provided for $30,000,000 of new capital,
and it is this sum that the quartette has
agreed to supply, and more if necessary.
The money to be used in heavier rails,
new bridges, new equipment, terminals,
extensions, etc.
The Southern railway has now acquired
in complete ownership 4,500 miles of road
and by the reorganization has reduced
the bonded indebtedness from $185,000,000
to $90,000,000 —just one-third, and the
fixed charges from $7,500,000' per aunum
to $4,500,000—a saving of $3,000,000 per
annum. The bonded indebtedness of the
road Is now less than $20,000 per mile.
The first annual meeting of the stock
holders is to be held in Richmond, Va.,
Tuesday, Oct. 2, and bonds to the amount
of $120,000,000 on the entire property will
be authorized. Thirty millions* of bonds
are to be used in improvements. The ex
penditure of this large sum of ffioney .
in the south along the line of the South
ern railway will be far reaching te Its
effect.
EXTENSION OF THE VANDERBILT SYSTEM.
There is now very little doubt that tbo
Southern railway project is simply an ex
tension of the Vanderbilt system into and
throughout the south. The Chesapeake
and Ohio will, no doubt, become a part of
the system within a short time and the
Queen and Crescent system will ulti
mately become a part of the system,
whatever may be the immediate plans of
the Cincinnati, Hamilton and Dayton peo
ple. Through the Cincinnati Southern
the Big Four of then Vanderbilt sys
tem will be reached at Cincin
nati. The controlling stock of
the Central Railroad of Georgia is held
by the Southern railway, and when the
property finally gets into the hands of the
security holders, which is only a question
of a short time, it will be discovered that
the Rothschild-Vanderbilt system is in
control. The plans of the Drexel-Morgan
people are now so near fruition that it is
now no longer a matter of speculation.
The greatest railway combination on
earth is near completion. Twenty-five
thousand miles of the best railroad prop
erty in America will soon be under the
control of the Rothschild-Vanderbilt com
bination.
UNDER FAVORABLE CONDITIONS.
It has been an open secret for some
months that the Rothschilds were be-*
coming interested in American railroads.
While the re-organization plans of the
Richmond Terminal and East Tennessee
give Drexel, Morgan & Co. supreme con
trol for five years, by the expiration of
that time it is confidently believed that
they will continue the control by virtue
of the fact that they own the controlling
interest. The beginning of the Southern
railway is under the most favorable con
ditions. While the properties have
been re-organized on a basis that
would enable prudent management
to make fixed charges during a depressed
business period, such as the south is just
emerging from, the prospects for busi
ness greater in volume than the south
ever before enjoyed are now of a most en
couraging character. The cotton crop
will yield nearly 10,000,000 bales, and the
south will not only have enough corn for
its own use but a great surplus to sell.
The general condition of the planters and
farmers in the south was never better.
They were never before so little in debt.
Factories and furnaces are resuming in
every direction. One order for 20,000
tons of pig iron has just been given the
Tennessee Coal and Iron Company by
Matthew Aady & Co. of St. Louis, and in
consequence the Cowan furnaces has been
put in blast, and the South Pittsburg fur
nace will also be in blast in a few days.
Every factory in the city of Chattanooga
is at work, and the greatest activity pre
vails among the boiler makers.
A PROPITIOUS TIME.
A very marked improvement in the
general tone of business throughout the
south has been apparent for some time.
The feeling that th6 south is on the
threshold of a great era of prosperity
seems to be daily increasing in the north
and west. Eastern banks are freely of
fering money at low rates of interest to
their southern correspondents, and large
mercantile houses are crowding the south
with commercial travellers. The South
ern railway has its beg inning at a propi
tious time. ,
Incendiary Fire.
Washington, Sept, lx—A special from
Knoxville, Tenn., says: “Tne tobacco
factory of W. C. McCoy and a livery
stable owned by J. N. Mcßee were de
stroyed by a fire of incendiary origin this
morning. The total loss is $35,000; in
surance $15,000.”
Wrecked and Drowned.
London. Sept. 5. —The British bark
Cambuswallace, Capt. Leggat, from Glas
gow, May 5 for Brisbane, has been
wrecked off Stradbroke Island. Six of
her crew were drowned.