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2 TIMES A *** . WEEK VOL. 44. —— - - * 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.