Connecticut western news., 1884-01-30
The Deserter.

 8 circumstance happened there which is worth relating. A friend named Collins was with me at dinner one afternoon. It was in the summer of 1842, and toward the latter part of August. As we arose from the board our host asked us if we were going up to the barracks. We in- formed him that we had made no arrangement of that kind, and asked him if there was to be any unusual parade.
 "Why, yes," he answered, with pe- culiar French shrug of the shoulders and twist of the features; ''there is to be something that we have not had before for more than a year. A deserter is to be shot,"
 Collins was "up and dressed in 8 twinkling for going but I had but little inclination that way. Only about 8 month before I had seen three Bedouin Arabs decapitated at Tripoli for the crime of treason, and had no desire to see any more blood shed after such fashion, and so told mine host, whom we always called Old Joe-and that was the only name ever knew him to possess,
 ''I suppose, now, you would rather see that deserter escape than not, eh ?" said Joe, looking me sharply in the face.
 of his only crime is desertion, of course should" said I.
 "Well, that is his only crime; and more still, his mother used to live over toward Atalaya, on the southern coast, and was sick. Philip wished to see her, and they would not let him go, so he made his escape. This he has done three times, and now they have tried him, and condemned him to be shot The last time they took him they found him by his mothers bed. He had thrown off his military garb and as- sumed the dress of common peasant"
 ''It's rather hard to shoot man for such thing" said I.
 "Ay," returned Joe, with the old shrng, "I know it but suppose sol diers could be their own judges of when they might leave, why, we shouldn't have soldier in month, you see; they must stick up to the rules, and so poor Philip Cervera must be shot. But l suppose you would like to have him escape"
 l assured the host that I should. He gazed very carefully about the room, and then stepping close to me he said, in tone almost reduced to whisper:
 Then come up to the parade-grou Just come up and see what you can see. Come"
 I knew from the mans manner that something out of the ordinary course ol such events was going to happen, and ] told Collins would go with him. Al we reached the place, we found the regi ment to which the deserter belonged jusEforming. Joe pointed out the spo where the execution was to take place This spot was close by the high wall. 4 stake was driven firmly into the ground within few feet of the wall, and half g dozen soldiers with corporal were there to guard the premises.
 Ere long the regiment was ready :; tht band struck up mournful dirge, anC the procession commenced to move First rode the officers of the staff, ther came the band, and then most of tht regiment following. Behind these came the six men who were to shoot the deserter, and next came the desertel himself. Following him were four mer bearing rough coffin, and last of all came the company to which the desertel belonged. The soldiers walked with slow and measured tread.
 The procession marched wholly around the place. Then the deserter his attendants and his company marched up close to the place of execution.
 At length the colonel rode up ant waved his sword toward the poor ser geant who had been appointed to con duct the fatal work. The prisoner looked up and saw the colonel, and witt frantic movement he rushed toward him.
 Senor colonel, he cried, sinking upon his knees, "I am not guilty never belonged to your regiment. I an not soldier. God knows I never wore uniform before i'
 ''Away with him r cried the colonel impatiently.
 Twill you not listen ?" the poor fel low urged, louder than before. 'cNever never, never was a soldier 1"
 'Carry him back, ordered the officel to the sergeant who had come up. Ane