The Union and journal. [volume] (Biddeford, Me.) 1858-1882, 1863-05-22
Gbe Storp Geller,
A LOYALIST'S REVENGE.
A STORY OF THE WAR.

We met in tho beginning Of tho action,
and my enemy, Richard Withen-he reb
Of, q Fedcralist; ho on foot, l mounted
II matters not now why hated him with
tho fercest wrath Of nature. "The heart
knoweth its own bitterness" and the dc.
tails, while most painful to me, would bo ol
trifling interest to you. Suffice it that our
foud was not political one. For ten year,
We were tho closest intimates that the
same studies, the same tastes and the same
aim could mako us. / was the elder Of the
two, and the stronger, physically; compara'
lively friendlcss, as the world takes it, and
had no near relatives. Young, solitary and
visionary, as we were, it is hard to make
you understand what we wcro to each other.
Up to tho period Of our cstrangemcnt, work.
ing together, eating together, sleeping to-
gothcr, can safely say that VIC had not
joy or grief, not pleasure or ve1atior
that wo did not share with an almost boyist
single heartedness. But one day changed all
We arose in tho morning dear friends and
lay down ut night bitter foes. was man
of extremes I either loved or hated with
the whole strength of heart. The past was
forgotten in tho present. Tho ten years Of
kindness, of congcniality, of almost woman
" tenderness were erased, as with sponge.
We looked each other in tho face with angry,
searching oycs-said but very few words four
rage was too deep to bc demonstrative) and
parted. Then in my solitude l dashed my
clcnchcd hand upon the bible and vowed
passionatcly.
81 may wait ten years, Richard Withcrs
I may wait twenty, thirty, If you will, but
sooner or later swear l shall have my re.
venge!"
And this was the way we met.
Iwonder il he thought of that day when
ho laid his hand on my bridlc.rcln and looked
up at mo with his treacherous blue eyes.
scarcely think he did, or he could not have
given mo that look. Ho was beautiful as a
girl; indeed tho contrast Of his fair, ariSto.
cratic face, with its regular outline, and rcd
curving lips, to my own rough, dark exterior
might have been partly tho secret OF my
former attraction to him. But tho lowell.
ness Of an angel, If it had been his, would
not have saved him from mo then. There
was pistol in his hand, but before ho had
time to discharge it, cut at him with my
sword, and as the line swept on, like gath.
ering wayc, saw him stagger under the
blow, throw up his arms, and 60 down in
the press. Bitterly as hated him, the
vision of his ghastly face haunted me the
long day through.
You all remember how il was at Fredcr.
icksburg. How wo crossed the river at the
wrong point, and under that raking fire OF
the enemy, were so dsastrously repulsed.
It was sad mistake, and fatal to many a
brave heart. When night foil lay upon the
field among the dead and wounded. was
comparatively helpless. A ball had shivcr-
ed the cap Of my right knee, and my shoulder
was laid open with sabre cut. The latter
blcd profuscly; but by dint of knotting my
handkerchief tightly about it, l managed to
staunch it in measure. For my knee, ]
could do nothing. Consciousness did not
forsako mo, and the pain was intense; but
from the means and walls Of tho men about
mo, I judged that Others had Jared worse
than I. Poor fellows thcro was many q
mothers darling suffering there. Many Of
my comrades, lads of eighteen or twenty,
who had never been night from home until
they joined tho army; spoiled pets of for
tunc, manly enough at heart but children in
years and constitution, who had been used
to have every little ache and scratch com.
passioncd with IN almost extrayagant sym.
pathy-thcrc they lay. crippled and gashcd,
and bleeding, crushed and dying, huddlcd
togcther-somc, where thcy had fallen, some,
where they had weakly crawled upon their
hands and knees - and never woman 9
touch to bind up their wounds, or woman's
voice to whisper gentle consolation.
It was pitchy dark; and cold, miserable
rain was falling upon MS. The very heavens
weeping over our miscries. Then through
the darkness and the drizzling rain. through
the groans and prayers Of the fallen men
about mo, heard familiar voice close by
my side::
"Water! water! water! am dying with
thirst-if 1t bo but mouthful-water! For
Gods sake, give mo water!"
I Irccoilcd in dismay. It was tho voico OF
my enemy, tho voico Of Richard withers.-
They were once very dear to mo, those mel.
low tones; once tho plcasantcSt music l cared
to hear. Do you think they 90 softened mo
now? You aro mistaken. i am candid
about it. Ny blood boiled in my veins when
I heard him, when ! knew that ho lay 30
close to me, and I, powcrlcss to withdraw
from his detcstcd ncighborhood. There was