The Bolivar bulletin. [volume] (Bolivar, Hardeman County, Tenn.) 1865-1888, 1872-07-12
WHAT WAS T3

my profession during the day, and at
night drove out to the old home
/ stead, situated on one of the breezy
hills in the rear of the town, over
looking Long Island Sound. We
lived quietly, undisturbed by any
unusual experiences, cOntentcd IN
each other, and never dreamed oi
the brewing storm which was soon
to waken us from our dull routine
and drowsy existence. The crash
came, and with it away went books
and papers, and L started for the
seat of war. Every soldier might
write book full of personal expert
ences of weary, anxious nights on
| picket-of long, tiresome marches
of Jolly evenings round camp-fres-
of bdttle-felds, red with the blood
and heart-breaking with groans OF
wounded and dying heroes; but all
these, interesting as they might be,
have nothing to do with my mys-
terry.
In 1864 part of my regiment was
stationed at Jacksonville, Florida
pretty town, on a magnificent river.
Here, after much hard fighting, little
rest, and no recreation. we enjoyed
ourselves like boys during vacation.
These halcyon days were darkened
somewhat by the illness of my old
classmate and present comrade,
ChaIlie LIE Mar, my sisters afianced
husband. Though debilitated, he
would not forego active service, and
spoke cheerfully of a reconnaissance
he intended to make up the st.
Johns River. in the gun-boat Maple
Leaf. The expedition started on a
bright March morning and, going
to the wharf to see the boys of, I
was surprised to find Bob Severance
among the Off ers in con- mand of
the troops Bob was from old New
London-a good fellow, but with a
| drop of Indian blood In his veins, I
sometimes thought, as 1 looked at
his swarthy skin, straight, coal-black
hair, and high cheek bones, and re
membered the pertinacity of his ha-
tired toward a poor little chap who
had done him a childish injury when
we were all boys together. He had
been n devoted admirer of my sister,
but she cared nothing for him and
although never quite sure that he
forgave her her refusal, he always re-
membered me with his old affection,
and was very glad to meet him.
The hour for starting having arrived,
LIE Mar waived his cru oh cheerfully
by way of farewell, and the boat
steamed away from the wharf.
Five days later came the news
that, on her le'urn trip. the Maple
Leaf had blown up by a torpedo,
some Fl teen miles up theriver. "Sev-
en- men," said the messenger, Elm
Guiding LIE Mar, had gone down with
soon be in JacksOnville."
[ met Severance twice after the sad
termination of the reconnaissance.
The first time, I congratulated him
on his escape, and asked for an ac-
count of the disaster, which he gave
hurriedly, and with the hesitation
apparent in one communicating sad
news. The second time, he came to
bid me good-by, having effected an
exchange into a regiment stationed
in the Shenandoah Valley, where the
heaviest fighting was then being
done.
The months passed by quickly,
and brought us to the winter of
1867. My mother was dead, Bessie's s
health very much impaired, and I
had been laid one side with an old
fashioned attack of rheumatism. At
ter due consultation, we concluded
to spend the remainder of the winter
in Florida and ten days after, we
we've blowing through the sandy
streets of Jacksonville. Since my
last visit, the town had become liter
ally Yankeeized, and showed it's re-
generacy by an air of bUsthng activi-
ty and prosperity very unlike it's for
mer life and that of most Southern
cities. After few weeks residence
in Jacksonville, we accepted n kind
and pressing invitation to visit Mr.
Burt's cotton plantation, few miles
up the river. An hours sail on the
Dictator, commended by a Jolly Cap
tain, of blockade notoriety, brought
of Spanish oaks which surrounded
Burts house. Our friend, accom-
/ panied by Il usual crowd of black
| tOddlers in tOW-shirts, met us at the
wharf and, led by them, we pro-
1 ceeded to the house, which was large,
rambling, and dilapidated, but IN its
day was considered quite palaltial.
There was nothing beautiful about
the place, saves the trees-grand old
oaks, whose branches waved count
less pennons of long, gray moss. Re
! calling old time memories and relat-
ing our latter experiences-for Burt,
too, had seen hard service IN the ar
my-found us hardly ready at mid
night to be lulled to sleep by the not
unmusical croalling of frogs down In
the swale, accompanied by an occas-
ional dull boom, boom, of an alliga-
tor. Upon reaching the river, early
the following morning, the first
thing that attracted my attention
was tall, black, singu!arly shaped
object, raising out of the water, per
haps a mile and n half from the
shore.
What is it ?" 1 asked.
"The wreck of the Maple Leaf" an
swered Burt; "blown up by the rebs,
in "a"
Surprised and not little confus-
ed, hurriedly told him the circum-
stances of my sisters sad affliction,
and requested him to make no allus-
ion to the s carer in her presence.
/ Tt was strange, too, that I had not