Savannah morning news. [volume] (Savannah) 1868-1887, 1884-01-06

battles and hardly yet as many years,
a mixed and motley lot; ragged,
wretched, hungry. They lay on their
bellies before the fire, munching roasted
corn, gnawing it off the cob greedily,
husking it, roasting it, rolling it in the
ashes on the coal, smuggling it in the blaz-
ing fire of old Virginia fence-ralls. Now
and then shot rang out in the clear still
night away where the tired pickets met
too closely for peace, and now and then
better disposed men on the picket lines,
or more favored and fortunate met to-
gether and reached each other on their
bayOnets tobacco and old ragged news
papers in a sort of exchange of prisoners
of war. The moon rode high and white
in the great blue sea above, and all the
stars of heaven looked down in pity and in
peace.
Then a song burst out. The black men
wara singing louder, ovVootOr, with moro
pathOS and memories Of home, than the
white men. 1t was a sad, grOtesQue,
weird and unique picture. Suddenly Stu
art stood in the midst of the ragged and
uprOariOus lot.
discipline! Look here, Sergt. Zeb. /
want discipline or death. Discipline. l
sayl Do you expect me to fight battles
and win victories with a bowling mob
like this and the enemy right here waiting
TO recOll on us the moment we give him
chance? Discipline, | say! Hang YOUR
| blacks and shoot your whites, or have dis
ciplinev
SILENCE OVER THE WHITE AND BLACK.
Silence in a secOndl And the long, lean
men and the sleeping lads pulled them
| selves together and tried to look and act
like soldiers, while the blacks, at the sug-
! gestiOn of their being hung up, melted
! back from the fitful embers into the night,
as if they were part Of it.
Then the weary, bearded chief threw
himself on heap Of saddles at hand and
forgot his sternness as he looked about
over the wretched group of poor fellows
gathered there for a little rest under the
| oaks.
boys, I'm hungry-hungry as wolf.
| What have you got to eat?'
A dozen men sprang up, half-dozen
young, beardless troopers rushed for
ward, and from out the night back under
the trees there came many black forms.
And each and every one, black men and
white men, old men and little BOYS,
reached up and thrust into the chieftain's
face, with generous alacrity, an ear of
| roasted corn. Some Of these ears of corn
| had only few teeth marks in them, being
| almost entirely intact. Others again were
pretty we'll gnawed down to the cob. But
they were all alike offered with prompt
generosity.
Comp and the Confederate chief
shook his head with a grim and sIckly
smile as he muttered to himself: ''COrn,
| billed corn, roasted corn, raw corn, white
corn, red corn-all kinds of corn. No, no,
boys, Pm hungry, but l can't eat corn any
more tonight"
The men melted back in respectful ST.
lence into broad circle. And there, sud
denly, somehow in the centre of that cir
Gle, stood child, little boy who had
been aroused from his sleep on the pile of
saddles in the commotion that attended
the chieftaIn's coming. And now, wide
awake, with little toy flag in one hand
and red apple IN the other, this little boy
stood there in the midst of these wild and
, ragged men with cheeks as rosy as the
apple he held in his dimpled little hand.
THE INNOCENT's RED APPLE.
'If yer hungry, mister, capten, general,
here's my yed APPLE" and with this the
little boy toddled right up and stood al
most between the booted legs OF the sur
prised soldier.
Sergeant Zeb, where IN all Jericho did
this child come from? Is it yours? /
won't have children around me here. l
left my babes at home; cant't YOU do the
sane?'
faint my poor little chickie, Gen.
Then take it to its mother" Numbered
the Chief.
Its mother is dead, General
'sTo its father, then"
''lts father is dead, too, General.
"Dead?"
Dead. Killed in the battle Yesterday
when you led over that stone fence by the
farm house on the hill, sah.'
The Confederate General bit his lips.
Then, muttering to himself as he rose up
and turned half away: s'Killed at the
farm house where l led. Some poor far
mer defending his home and little ones.
can't stand thisp'
'Please, sir, Mister General, won't you
take my yed apple? Papa grOwed it in his
orchard. And he buyed me that, too"
Here the child reached its little flag,
trying hard to make friends with the
seemingly hard man, who was turning
away as if to avoid it.
sergeant Zeb, where did that flag come
from ~
Had It in it's hand when l found it,
sab, and it won't give it up, sab; says its
father gave it to it for the Fourth of July,
sab"
"Foff of july" pipes the little waif
waving the little fye-cent stars and
stripes overhead, there in the midst of the
dark and gathering circle Of soldiers I'M
der the oaks.
The General turned, stopped and caught
the child in his arms.
keep your pretty little flag, and wave
it when and where you like. You don't
know the difference, and l wish | didn't
know the difference. Here, Zeb, take
care OF this kid. Boys, we killed its
father by chance yesterday. Let's take
care of it. We can't do less; and may
be it will bring us luck. What do YOU
say, boys"
THE INFANT OF THE REGIMENT.
The wild shout that shook the leaves of
the oaks overhead startled the advocate
for iii Spinlinn INN 70 III I,
strobe away in the night tor another part
of his camp, he shouted:
'Silence! and, Zeb, discipline, discip-
linel Damn it, discipline or death, l say ~
and he was gone.
They gather about the wide-eyed, rosy
faced orphan with its little flag and red
apple, and many black and white and
not over-clean hand reached out to toy
with and stroke the hair of gold that hung
heavy as corn silk in summer time over
the lads shoulders.
Il found it in the fence corner" said
Zeb, ''all shiverin' and its daddy and it's
nanny dead, shot down by stray bullets
when we stormed the place."
"Yes, and dar war a rabbit right aside
ub him." said black face back in the
dark, over another mans shoulder.
San golly, we kotched and eat der rab-
Bit" chuckled another black man.
oval, Wen keep the kid; keep i'm till
the COWS come hOme.0 And with grunt
of universal approval from all as they
gradually melted away, old Zeb hoisted
the little one high up on his colossal
shoulders, and turned suddenly to look
and to listen, for there was shout down
the hill and a sudden sharp volley of shots
above, beyond the hay stacks. 1t began
to look as if this little squad
of raiders had got into a bite
Shouts of the enemy down the hill;
shots Of the enemy up the hill be-
yOnd the hay stacks. Which way should
the surprised and panic-stricken soldier
fly? The colossal old Virginia Sergeant,
with the child on his massive shoulders,
was the only officer in charge. The blacks
were hiding about behind trees, behind
each other, under saddles, blankets, any
where. The shouts from the advancing
enemy came loud aud clear from below
and very near. The campfire, the song of
the soldiers had done the mischief. This
little squad of ragged, panic-stricken
night-ralders was doomed. The leaves
began to fall like autumn time over old
Zeb, the tall and angular old Sergeant.
A BATTLE AND BABY ON HAND.
What plight for a soldierl A battle
on hand and a babe in his arms. The old
Sergeant came near throwing it away
with the heap of negroes hiding away I'M
der the saddles, Where was StuartY The J