The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1883-09-12
THE BATTLE OF ARDM0RE.
BEING A GRAPHIC ACCOUNT OF A FIERCE
DOMESTIC WAR.

The sunshine never kissed lovelirr
day nor blessed fairer scene. All the
land, and the sky and the clouds were
clad in the beauty OF June. The lanes
we're fringed with emerald the round
eyed daisies peeped out from the billowy
fields of grass, and daintier wild flowers
Of the woods nestled like gems in the
velvet moss. Down in the meadows the
buttcrcups cleaned like buttons of gold.
Over the low hills the soft winds whis-
pered to the leaves about other sum-
mers, and down through the shadowy
woods the little brook laughed and sung
and babbled like child playing by it
self. Here and there cottage nestled
among the trees. The distant calls OF
children came ripping across the fields,
The long road wound away, yellow aud
quiet, until it turned ont of sight beyond
the little church with its snowywalls
and slender spire,
How quie, and peaceful all the world
lay before the window of my prison that
day in Junel Far away the note of
meadow-lark came, and was heard no
more. Now and then the whistle Of n
robin; at times the twittcr Of blue
bird. 1t was such an afternoon as you
would wish to endure forever. White
winged peace smiled in tho sunshine,
and sang with the zephyrs and the
brook, and the far-away calls and
scarcely heard laughter of the children
playing somewhere unseen. Its music
10 the crown of the lays beauty and
tranquility.
THE BUGLI CALL.
Clear, mellow, distant, four or five
notes of bugle ring out over the low
hills, and come echoing down the fores
aisles. How my heart leapcd at the
sound of the bugle call How my BLOOD
went surgipg through my veins like
tide of lava Out of my prison window
| I look with straining eyes. In the nut
tering leaves / can see no glitter of bay
onets. I listen, but down the road o.
across the meadow l can hear not thu
rumble of battery hurrying ilto posi-
ton. How silent is all this And ye
not silent enough. l want the wind t.
hush, and the leaves to keep still, an'
the brook to stfo its babble and laugh
ter. / am listening for q foot.fall, til
cracking of a twis, the muflled tramp c
a column OF men stealing through tn
woods under lcafy cover. am listcnin
: for the neigh of a horse, q clatter {
rythmic hoof-beats, ringing carbin'
, shot. Peering out of the window OF m
lonely cell, l am listening-ever sine
that first bugle. call came winding ovt
: the hill | have been lis stening-forsternt
music than the robins note and tn
wood brooks murmur.
"Marchl !"
: There it is at last? I can see nothin
# from this window. The voice CONF
4 like far-away echo of the bugle-a bo..
;, ish voice, softcned into music by the dc
u and the distance. picture to mys'
= the fair haired Lieutenant who cor
IS mands the skirmishers. All those da
r made men of the boys; the school-b'
lought beside the veteran, and the a
l. infant of 90 messed with the Colonel
40. Will the line never come III n
l. sight?
"Halt |" :,
l. Silence again, and once more the i
t, cle calls down the unseen line. Now
n can hear the tramp of feet amid all I
:, terrible hush of preparation. All aho
me the tide of battle will sweep, sa
lS nnly where can see it; and I--penn
0, in this prison like Gagged rat, with iii
II ing bugle and clanking saber calling !
q. out. shouting my name in words IL
burn and ring and ring again-and
here.
THE MARCHING HOSTS.
list "March!'
ii Away off the tap of q drum, the fla
10 liam. liam, cadencing the step OF
YES marching column. Nearer it comes,
,of Iurther away it sweeps, faints into qr
M At last. arm,
o. Tramp, tramp, tramp. Mnilled,
u, ~ listinct, and stepping nearer with eV
"a football. "Thero they Gomez sho
ng, .ome one. hold my breath; pr
est nv hand to my heart and wait for
~ 6rst shot from the skirmishers.
ird The click of musket so close it se'
slli- in the room where I am; Gods! l
de. ten for the sound of the boylsh " v
M ~. again. 9 It seems to me, in in my ny,,fa exc e,
the ceudii condition, there is childish treble tt
oe- wonder if
dus "Fire p r., IN w,
wa How the cheers, pealing up ,nns 49, ,;s %
tb; Of sound, drowned the crash WAS was 10 %
TIL u, %r % for Again the boyislh,, voice .'cers C.
t re, "F;re ~ and again the shriIi , cneers !,
and rio mn, h,,eh "a the bugle-n