The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1884-06-12
ANDERSON, S. c., THURSDAY MORNING. JUNE H. 1884

Railroad depot that had been blown up
and with it a number of persons who hae
gathered there in search of provisions
Some were killed outright and their
mangled bodies and limbs were scattered
and buried under the burning ruins
Many were wounded, burnt and dis6gur.
ed for life. The flames spread rapidly t.
the adjoining houses and soon a fearfu
conhagration was in progress. Confusion
became worse confounded every moment
and the wings of the dark angel seemed
to have been outspread over every dwell
ing. The Rev. DR.. M had beer
| called to the wounded and We were
waiting on him to baptize our little babe
who was breathing life fast away. Fl
nally he came in great haste, and seizing
cup near by filled it with water and
performed the ceremony. He left i'm
mediately to attend Father Fillion next
door, and the child died that night.
The city was now scene of wild dis
order, and We were to be still more hu
miliated-it was to be given up to FEEDER
al authority. Quiet was at last restored
We had surrendered Old Charleston
hitherto ipvincible by land or nava!
forces, while her gallant sons could
remain to defend her, was given up; but
it was q ruined people and o shattered
city, and the sight softened and touched
the heart of the enemy.
The following day, Sunday, was quiet
and our little babe in it's coffin was car
ried to St. Lawrence Cemetery by three
gentlemen, relieving each other on the
route. It was impossible to obtain 9
vehicle of any kind, as every horse had
been pressed in service by the Govern
ment. Two days afterwards Father F.,
that true and tried soldie of the cross.
died, and NE buried him on the 22d OF
February, at midday, amid the booming
of guns from all the batteries.
THE FAMILY DEATH.RoLL.
Besides the Affections and troubles at
home, the condition of those of our fam.
ily who were in the field increased our
fears and an1ieties, and several of them
who started out with hope and promise
now lie "under the sod and dew awaiting
the Judgment day." My brother.in.la law,
John L. D., while in service in Virginia,
was stricken with fever, and while in the
hospital shell came very near striking
his bed, but unfortunately did not ex.
plode. The hospital was pronounced
unsafe, and my brother-in-]aw, being no
longer fit for duty, WAS sent home.
Having no means of transportation, he
walked his way home, and when arrived
his condition was such from exposure
that, Notwithstanding the most careful
nursing, he died in few months. My
nephew, Virgil D., young lieutenant
of only 19 years, and beloved by his
regimental commander, Col. Simonton,
who bad nicknamed him the "Virgin OF
the regiment" was wounded in fight
along the Weldon road in August, 1864,
and taken prisoner to Fort Monroe. His
sufferings were so great that he was COM
manded against his desire to return home
on parole. On his return home, his
youngest brother took sick with the
smallpox of which he died, and the
noble young officer, whose system had
already been exhausted from his wound,
contracted the disease and was buried
five days after. My cousin, John H., q
bright boy and the hope and comfort of
his widowed mother, entered the service
at the age of sixteen as corporal in the
Charleston Riaemen. he was taken
prisoner and confined in Elmira and
from the hardships of prison life soon
became prostrated. Like Gagged bird,
he pined for liberty, for he was anxious
to serve his country in the field. With
him, as far as this world is concerned, the
darkest hour of his life was just after
dawn, for when about to be exchanged
with the prisoners at Point Lookout his
strength was 80 much exhausted that he
was sinking rapidly. A cup Of tea was
handed him by companion who also
was to be exchanged; he drank it with
great pleasure, the last spark of life was
waiting upon the water, and in a few
minutes afterwards the youthful soldier
breathed his last, and now sleeps in an
unknown grave on the Federal side.
CLOSING SCENES.
After the close of the war, in the
beautiful month of May, when the troops
were returning home, l awaited anxious
" to welcome two survivors, an only
brother, F. D., and another cousin, L. B.
They had both served the Confederacy
to the end. What anxiety, what eager
ness, to behold the brave fallows-our
dear ones-who had suffered and endured
so much The glad tidings aGsast reach
ed me that my brother was coming on
horseback and the gates were opened as
wide as our hearts to receive him. But
alas What change That grand
colossal frame, which at one time seemed
constituted to bear the weight of hun.
dred years, was bent and worn, from the
hardships and: exposure of camp life.
His aged mother, who had become blind
during his absence, saw him again before
her "mind's eyea only like the sturdy
young oak that he was when he first
buckled on his armor and departed with
her blessing on his head. To us, who
were blessed with sight to look on, the
meeting was sad and touching in the
extreme. After such an embrace as only
q mother and son can give after years oi
separation, he exclaimed:
"My poor, dear mother, you cannot
see me p
.'Never mind, my son." she replied
81 can feel you, and have you with me in
the future"
But, alas this hope and comfort was
shortly to be crushed. On the 9Th Of
September of the same year, notwith'
standing the most careful nursing, be
died and was added to the silent majority
of our heroes.
The young cousin, too, L. B., of the
Washington Light Infantry, whose sys'
tenn was entirely shattered before he
reached home, was kindly, lovingly
nursed, but he dropped and dropped day
by day. He died in August of the came
year, aged twenty years. His name il
inscribed on the monument at magnolis
Cemetery.
She had the Last Word.