Clarksville weekly chronicle. (Clarksville, Tenn.) 1873-1890, 1878-04-20
THE LITTLE DRUMMER.
youths companion.l

During the civil War 1 noticed IL
a Louisiana regiment in camp neal
my place a boy about 10 years old
He was a drummer, but a more at.
tractive face l have never seen
fair complexion. with short curly
chestnut hair, and brown eyes that
sparkled and danced with mirth.
1t was pitiful to me to see sc
young a boy in the army, and
often wondered how he got there.
He had an unmistakable air of re-
finement, which seemed to set him
apart from his rougher companions.
with whom, however, he seemed to
be great favorite. They used to
mount him on a barrel, where he
would stand and sing tothem lively
j or sentimental songs, but seldom the
rough camp melodies which were
favoriteS in the army. His voice
was clear, pure, and of wonderful
compass for one of his age, and in
spite of his flow of spirits, it was
full of pathos.
He came to the house on some
errand, one day, and / determined
to crafty my curiosity.
You are very young to be in the
army" i said.
Am I?n-with a short laugh.
81 never thought l was. / haven't
much to do, ma'am, you know, and
the men are very good to me-"
"But how came your father and
mother to allow you to join~
+" / have no mother, ma'am. My
father is Col. Singleton, of the Sth
Louisiana, and he's been in Vir-
ginia for over year. He left me
at school, and one day the large
boys made up their minds to join the
army. / wasn't going to be the
only sneak among them. Every
and we have fine times laughing
over old DIR. Duclos's face, as it
looked when we marched in one
day and told him that we were
going out"
Does your father know ?"
60, guess SO, by this time.
Letters are very uncertain during
blockade, but / wrote to him the
very day joined, and to Eugene,
too"
Eugene? Who is hep"
40, my eldest brother"
His whole face lighted up as he
mentioned his brother.
6 He was at Princeton when the
war broke out, and he's never come
home. He was to have graduated
last year. | wish you could see him. /
He's a splendid fellow, there's moth
ing in the world he can't do. He's
as good as he's handsome, too. But
they say he's Union, and that's the
reason he don't come South to help
us. But that's all nonsense, you
know. Why, he's my own brother'
-as mutch as to say, 'sThat settles
the question"
Perhaps he is with your father"
/ suggested.
"I've thought of that. Anyhow,
wherever he is, he's all right, Eu-
gene couldn't do wrong if he tried"
Il wish he was here to advise
you," / said, my heart yearning
over the motherless boy, who, / |
plainly saw, had taken up arms to |
avoid being called sneak, not |
dreaming that of the dreadful pos
sibilities which lay in the war-track |
his young feet were treading. "In-
deed, my child, you are too young
for the life you have chosen, What |
is your nance"
Kenneth, ma'am-oh, no, Pm
not too young. Why, Col. Mills
has promised | shall be color-bearer
in short time. Won't that be
splendid 20
'Splendid !" All me! how we'll
remember one as bright, and
more beloved than the boy before
me, who went out in the early |
morning with the Pelican flag
waving over his head, and was
brought back at noon with its
bloody folds wrapped around his
dead body.
" You would not think it splen-
did if you had been in BATTLE" /
said.
"I've been in two sharp skir-
at Yellow Bayou, and
one at Inglewood. / just longed to
be in front all the time. When Pm
color bearer, promise you the flag
won't be in the the rear. But |
must 90 ma'am"-rising from his
seat. at seems like being at home
to have talk with lady, and to
see pictures and books again. Pve
almost forgotten how they looked
since I've been in camp" He
laughed gaily, touched his cap, and
was gone.
saw a great deal of Kenneth
after that. l encouraged
him to spend all his spare time at
my house, which he seemed glad to
do. He found listener for all the
wonderful tales he had to tell
about his hero Eugene, and i think
that was what ne most desired. He
never wearied of talking of him.
But at length the regiment to which
Kenneth belonged left the neigh
borhood, moving up Red River,
and for some months | heard moth
ing of my little drummer.
The battle of Pleasant Hill was
fought and won; the Southern
forces fell back, and one morning /
rose to see the white tents of Col.
MiIl's regiment pitched on their old
camping-ground, just outside the
front fences of Willow Glen.
Kenneth will be here immedi-
ately," | thought, glad at the pros
pect of meeting him again. But
the day wore away and no Kenneth
Towards evening Col.
Mills rode up, and after the first
asked about my friend.
A grave expression settled upon
the stern face of the soldier.
"Ah, remember the boy was
favorite of yours. Poor little man,
he fell at Pleasant Hill He carried
the colors. We had sharp work for
a few hours, and of course nobody
of the boy. After it was
over, / heard he had been shot. But
the flag never fell for you know
when one color-bearer falls some
one is always at hand to take his
place. Poor little fellow it was
sad thing. But everything about
this war is strange and unnatural.
/ had buried my face in my hands
as the Colonel spoke. ] saw Kenneth
before me, his bright, handsome
face all aglow with enthusiasm as
he spoke of his beloved brother. i
when / thought of that
same face trampled in the dust by
horses hOofs. But | must know all.
'Did he die immediately" / ask
ed, when ! could speak.
"NO; Pm coming to that; bat
you seemed so distressed, thought
I'D wait before telling the story.