The Placer herald., 1865-04-08
From the Philadelphia Sunday Mercury.
The DYING Rebel Boy.


On the right Of Colonel Chapman Biddles
brigade, and near to the headquarters OF
Gen. Bowley, at Gettysburg, was tenn
porary hospital. 1t was not hospital in
the common acceptation OF the term, for
there was neither building or tent about it
no shelter, save from the large branches Of
the trees of the grove in which it was
Here our own and the enemyS wounded
we're carried, and laid upon the ground to
await the surgeons examination aud atten-
ton. Beyond and around it all was activity,
energy and life. Corps and divisions were
preparing TO advance; struggling bands OF
soldiers were washing .heir clothing at q
brook near at hand; some were busy prepar
ing supply of ra,ions for what promised
to he an extended march; others were busy
at various empoyments in this houseless,
movable city.
On the edge Of this grove lay little boy,
fair and fragile looking; he had been mort
tally wounded; his brown chestnut curs lay
matted upon forehead Of pearly whteness,
and his tiny fingers were clutched convul
svey in pain. Near him lay other wounled,
and around stood brave men who had passed
through the fight unharmed. The boy was
scarcely in his teens, and was Of delicate
build and girish features. He had been
wounded late in the fight, and had been
examined by one Of our surgeons. who pro
nounced his case fatal lie had been in
formed that all hops was gone, and soon lie
would be with God.
| Our soldiers were drawn to him from the
sweetness of his features and the sad specta.
Gle Of witnessing a child exposed to such
rude surroundings. Raising bis large brown
eyes in temporary ,nomen: of relief from
pain, be gazed beseechingIy upon those abou,
him, and asked to have his head raised
A dozen pair of arms were outstretched to
give the desired relief. His little blanket
was doubled for him, and on it his head was
laid. lie again asked if a drink Of water
would not be given him. A canteen was
placed to his lips, and he revived some from
the draught. Turning to soldier who was
looking upon him with swimming eyes, he
said: rub my hands, please-,hey cramr
So" His tiny hands were rubbed, and be
was asked if he desired anything more.
Yes please" he said, tell my mother,
whose name and residence he gave, ",hat
died happy; and tell her TO meet me il
Heaven" lie appeared composed.
Opening his eyes wide, so as to take &
full view Of all who were standing around
him, he cast upon each a look of grateful
recognition, conveying, without the lnerpre.
talion of words, his thanks for their kindness
to one who had lately been arrayed in arms
against them.
The loud shril notes Of tho bugle were
heard, those who watched over him in the
last few moments are bade prepare to march
The summons reaches them about the same
time summons comes from on high. and
wings the soul of the dying boy to a home
where there are no wars, and where faslngs
are unknown. The bugle had not ceased to
call ere this child was cold in death. uis
features were lifeless, were beautiful, ant
wore look of unuterahe sweetness.
A soldier, touched by compassion, lay
his broad hand upon that puseless forehead
brushes back his matted ringets, heaves with
emotion, as he contempla,es picture a.
strange as it is affecting.
lie sleeps at Gettysburg, where hundreds
of his companions repose in death. No loud
cheers of victory greet him now. His ears
are husbed to the call of duty. No sound
will again awake them u~ll the last grand
and final trumpet, which proclai,ns to those
who sleep, IL am the resurrection and the
life,"