The Arkansaw traveler., 1883-07-21
THE BATTLE OF ARDMoRE.
Beng a Graphic Account of Fierce
 Domestic War.

Be,ng a Graphic Account of Fierce
 Domestic War.
 Robtr: l. Bur9c,;e. n Cincinnati Enquirer.
 The sunshine never kissed lovelier day nor blessed fairer scene. All the land. and the sky and the clouds were clad in the beauty of June. The lanes were fringed with emerald; the reuEd- eyed daisies peeped out from the billowy fields of grass. and dain,ier wild flowers oi the woods nestled like gems in the vel vet moss. Down in ;he meadows the but ,ercups cleaned Ike buttons of gold. 1ver the !ow hlils the soft wtnds whis- pered ,o the leaves about other summers. and down ,hfea sh the shado@y woods the lt,le brook laushed and surg and hao- bled ike cht.1 p.ayins hy itself Hefe and there ! cottage nestled among the trees. The dis;4n; calls 0: hildten carle ripping across he feids. The long road wound away. yellow and quaet. an'il | turned eat q sigh, beyond the ii,i.e church with i,> snowy walls and slender spire.
 How quie; ard peaceful all the world lay before the window of my prson that day in lune Far away the note of a meadow-lark came. and was heard no more. Now and then the whistle of a robin a, times the twi,te, of blue-bird l. was such an afternoon as you would wish to endure forever. White-winged peace smiled in the sunshine, and sang with the zephyrs and the brook. and the far-away calls and scaroely-heard laugh ter of the children playing somewhere unseen. Its music IS the crown ef the days beauty and tranquility.
 Clear. mellow. distant. four or hve notes of a bugle ring out over the low hills. and come echoing down the fores aisles. How my heart leaped al the sound of the bugle-call. How my blood went surging through my veins like tide of lava. Out of my prison window look with strange eyes. In the tiuier' ing leaves can see no glitter of bayo- nets. listen. but down the road ol across the meadow l can hear not the rumble of battery hurying into posi- .ion. How silent Is all this . And vel not silen, enough. want the wind tc hush. and the leaves .o keep still. and the brook 10 s,ifie is babble and laughter am listening for toot-fal. the cracking of twig. the rauftied tramp of a column ofmen stealth. through ihe woods under leaE cover. l an listening for the neig gh of a horse. claiier of rhythmic hoof beats. a ringing earbine-shot feerng ou, of the window of my lonely cell. ar iis,ening-ever since ,ha; frs; bugle call came winding over the hl. have been lis,ening-for s,erner music thar the robins note and the wood brook :: rnurrnur.
 "March''
 There n is at last. can see nothing from this window. The voice comes liks a far-away echo of ,he bugle-a boyisf voice. softened into music by the day anc distance. picture to myself the fair. haired lieutenan, who commands the skimishers. An. those days made men of boys the school-boy fought beside he veteran. and the adjutant of .c messed with the colonel of 70. Will the line never come in my sight:
 -Hal,"'
 Silence again, and once more the bugle. calls down the unseen line. Now car hear the tramp of feet amid all the ter rible hush of prepartion. All about me the tide of battle will sweep, save only where can see it and I-penned in this prison like a oaged rat, with ringing bugle and clanking sabre calling me out, shouting my name in words ;ha: burn and ring and ring again-and am here.
 ~March -'
 Away off the tap of drum. the fam, liam, fam, cadencing the step of the marching column. Nearer l, comes. and further away i, sweeps, faln,s into quie; at last.
 Tramp. tramp. tramp. Mufied. ye, distinct. and stepping nearer with every foos-fAll. There they come shouts some one. hold my breath press my hand on my heart and wait for the first shot from the skirmishers.
 Ready
 The click Of muske, SO close i, seems in the very room where am. Gods. Ii the robin would only hush his song. I listen for the sound of the boyish voice again. It seems to ne, in my excited condition. there IS childish treble 10 f. 1 wonder it.
 Fire
 How the cheers. peaiing up in waves of sound, drowned ,he crash ~as hs.en- ing for. Again the boyish voice calls. Fire.' and again the shrill cheers fol- low. They hush as the bugle-no.es come peaiing do~n the line again hear the wheels as a battery is hurrying forward. hear a drum beat. hear the tramp of hurying fee,. Some one is calling for the flag. Once heard-so close the tide of bat,le swep, to my prison "a saber spring rom its scabbArd with an angry sweep. And all this time could see only the golden sunshine-only the furering leaves and the playing shadows lengshening into ;he waning day: and floating in a: my window came the mellow whistle of .he robin.
 The cheers are fainter now. as the shadows grow longer The robins note A-. r.lx .-f.