Shenandoah herald. [volume] (Woodstock, Va.) 1865-1974, 1870-03-03
Select Story.
IT Am Alone in the World

The following touching incident is cx-
tractcd from the eloquent appeal for the
''Richmord Male Orphan Asylum de-
livered on its 22nd anniversary, by Major
Styles: -.z
One of .as batteries of eur old battsl-
lion was composed chiefly of Irishmen
from southern city-gallsnt fellows,
but wild and reckless. The captaincy
becoming vacant, a backwoods Georgia
preacher. named G., was sent to com
mand them The men at first half anus
ed, half insulted, soon learned to idolize
as well as fear their preacher captain, who
proved to be all in all, such q man as
one seldom sees, a combination of Praise
God Barsbones and Sir Philip Sydney,
and with dash of Headly Wears about
him. He had all tae stern grit of the
Puritan, with much of the chivalry of the
cavalier and the zeal of the Apostle. -
There was at that time but one other
Christian in his battery, a gunner named
Allen Moore, also, q backwools Geor-
gian, and noble, enthusiastic man and
soldier. The only other living member
of Moore's family was with him. s boy
of not more than twelve or thirteen years,
and the devotion of the elder brother to
the younger was tender as a mothers
The little fellow was strange, sad ;,
prematurely old child, who seidsln talked
and never smiled. He used to wear a
red zouave fez that ill-be6tted that pecu-
lar, sallo~, pallid complexion eff The
Pincy Georgian but he was a per-
feet hero in a fight. Twas at Cold
Harbor in 1864. We had been all day
shelling working party of the enemy
and about sunset, as adjutant of the bat
talon, was visiting the batteries, to
arrange the guns for night firing. AS l
approached C'.s position, the sharp shoot
ing had been almost ceased, and down the
line l could see the figures of the canon l.
eers standing out bodily against the sky.
Moore at the trail, adjusting his piece
for the nights work His gunnery had
been superb during the evening, and his
blood was up. I descended into little
valley and lost sight of the group, but
heard C.'s stern voice: '.Set do1R,
Moore, your gun is we'll enough: the
sharpshooting isn'to yet. Get down"
rose the hill, Gone moment, Captain,
my trials hairs breadth too much to
the right and the gunner bert eagerly
over the bandspike A sharp report
that unmistakaD.e crash of the bullet
against the skull, and all was over. Twas
the last rifle shot of the line that night
The rushing together of the detachment
INSTRUCTED my view bat as | came up,
the sergeant stepped aside and said, Look
there, adjutant" Moore had fallen over
on the trail. the blood gushing from his
wound all over his face. HIS little brother
was at his side instantly. No wildness,
or tumult of grief. He knelt on the
earth, and lifting Moore's head on his
knees, wiped the blood from his forehead
With the cuff of his own tattered shirt
sleeve, and kissed the pale face again and
again, but very quietly. Noore was
evidently dead,and none Of us cared to
to disturb the child. Presently he arose
quietly STILL fearless still-gazed down
on the dead brother, then around at us,
and breathing the saddest sigh I ever
heard. said just these words: "Woll, l
am alone IN the world" The preacher