Daily intelligencer. [volume] (Wheeling, Va. [W. Va.]) 1859-1865, 1864-01-11

his quiet beat, by the rustling of som,
. bushes near him. He stopped, listened
r heard nothing; and, concluding that he hat
been mistaken, resumed his walk Soou
, he heard the same sound, aud, in addi.
I. tion, the cracking of twig. who goes
therer he cried; and, receiving no answer
} called the corporal of the guard, who at
once sent out his men. They soon returned.
! bringing with them a youth dressed in
} citizens clothes. He was taken before th e
lieutenant in command; when it was dis
covered that he was an officer in the Con
tederate army, who had wealthy parents
living in New Orleans, whom he had not
seen for more than u year. Feeling ex-
tremely homesick, he determined to at
tempt to pass our lines.
He borrowed or bought suit of citizens
clothes; and, after secreting himself in the
woods a few days, found an opportunity to
pass our pickets. He had been with his
parents thirty days, and was now attempt
ing to repass the ptckets on his return
Foor fellow ! He felt badly enough at be-
ing caught for, according to the rules OF
war, he would be regarded as a spy, and
shot. Fearing this penalty, he begged
n9rd that his father might be sent for
Ehe lieutenant, at length, moved by his
entreaties, sent an orderly with u message
to the city. The father arrived in dEo
time; and, in an instant, saw the peril into
| which his son had fallen. He tried all the
arguments fond father could summon tn
persuade the lieutenant to allow his son To
go free. The faithful officer was deaf to
all entreaties; he seemed like stone, and
the hot words and eloquent entreaties
seemed like spray dashing against the gran.
ito Gnu AT last, in perfect desperation,
the father took out his note book, wrote a
check for ten thousand dollars, and pre.
sented it to the officer with-'Take this.
sir, aud the bank will give you the money
tomorrow. You have but to turn your
head, to leave the room for three minutes.
ana my boy can escape in the ddrkuess.'-
Then, with Roman virtue, his poverty up-
| moved by the tempting bribe,-his widowed
mother and lovely sisters in their humble
New England home seeming, but only
seeming, to plead for the life long comfort
which could be bought by moments in
adVertanoe,-he turned stcrnly 10 the temp
Ter Wlth-'No, sir, do my duty at all haz |
ards. wish that this was the end of the, |
incident. But the trail of the serpent ia !
over them ALL There seems to be no |
bright picture Of daring, of self. sacrifice, |
but 1t has on its back the stern traciups of |
something mean and base. This lieuten-
ant was taken to proper authorities in the |
city, and delivered up. Imagine the sur-
prise of the whole picket-force, when. three
days afterwards, he presented himself be- |
tore his captors, and showed n pass, prom |
erly signed, giving him permission to 90 II |
his pleasure beyond the federal lines One
thing is sure: the ten thousand dollars did |
not Ind the same unmOved virtue in the |
city, which marked the commander of the |
picket-guard. The persevering father had
found a man who had left his home. not
ior country, but for self; who did not care |
II the rebel officer did lead his company
against our flag; and who was ready to fill |
MS pocket.book with the price OF many n |
soldiers life. So the pictures stand side |
by slde,-the good and heroic the bad and |
coWardly. We iud engaged in the same |
work the apostle of Liberty, the young en-. |
thuslAst, and the Judas, who clutched the |
money. bag, and cares nothing for the cause |
OF the Nazarene. These contrasts all exist |
IN the community in time of peace but
they are down below the surface, and only |
the initiated know of them. In time of |
war, they are thrown suddenly, and in |
glaring colors, upon the canvas of our his |
tory like the magnifed pictures from |
camera"
One fragment more, and brief one.-l
Correspondents tell US of many of the
hardships of army life, but few have done
justice to one of its redeeming features, its |
close and benignant intimacy with nature
We pity the unsheltered sleepers, while |
some of them regard our close chambers
with feelings Of disgust They tell us:-l
This sleeping out of doors, lying down |
in the very lap of Mother Earth, is glo. |
ious habit. We, who have always slept in |
the third-story back of brick house, with |
no prospect from the window but four feet |
square of blue sky above, and, below, a CITY
grapevine, trying TO live in spite of the |
three cart-loads of loan which were de- !
posted years ago, aud have never been |
disturbed since, though they are now as |
hard as sand.stone,-l say, one who has |
sPeot the glorious nights in such a room, |
and who has never allowed the window to
be open more than three inches, eau hard
y conceive of the luxury of sleeping on
the broad bed of earth, which graciously
sends its fragrance of hemlock and mint to
lull yon to rePose, and of having all the
air there is to be breathed. l have often
felt that one of the heaviest prices we pay
for civilization, and the privilege of living
| in the temperate zone, is the necessity Of
| sleeping within-doors. In the East, the
beat room is that which has the roof of the
house for it's floor, and the wide heavens
for ceiling. The poor Indian, who knows
neither how to read or write, gets closer to
Nature than you or in our artificial lite.
He strikes out from the beach, and swims
for mile! cutting the life giving water
with his strong arms, and taking 10 health
and vigOr at every pore; and when night
comes he makes q bed of freshly cut hem
lock, under the protecting branches of some
old tree, and sleeps so sweetly and soundly,
that in the morning, he is young again.
1t is we'll known that our soldiers are never
so well as when on the march. The rea-
son is obVious. 1t is because they have
healthy exercise, generally good food and
pure air, and have DO. time TO indulge in