The sun. [volume] (Morris, Stevens County, Minn.) 1882-1895, 1885-01-08
MY DRUMMER.BOY.

since the sound of the last gun of the
war of the Rebellion died away in 81
aence. The enmities engendered by the
bitter struggle are buried with the ma
tons dead. The blue and gray who
fell lie peacefully side by side, and we,
the blue and gray who live, have clasped
hands together, and spoken loyal words
of courtesy and friendship.
But the children of that dark hour
have grown to be young men and wom-
en-, and know little of war but its noli.
day pomp and glory; SO 1 nave brought
this little sketch from meMory's port
folio that they may catch passing
glimpse of its stern reality, and part
ly, too, that they may see how suffer-
ing hssSoism sometimes finds its home
IN young, brave hearts.
Early in the year 1868 the Uuion for
ces, in one OF the regiments of which I
was an officer, lay encamped near Viii
mington, North Carolina, There had
bee1 an exchange of prisoners, and the
sick from Andersonville had been car
rled by boat down the Cape Fear River
TO Wilmington.
Partly from sympathy, and partly,
perhaps, from curiosity, I had como in
from our camp, which was located a
few miles out of the city, to visit the
hospital. An old brick warehouse was
utilized for this purpose. 1t was a long,
low, narrow building and the sick men
lay on the floor, with their heads to the
wall, in two rows up and down the
room. AS 1 entered from the street
and passed slowly along between them,
the wan, haggard faces of the sick men
seemed CHASTITY in t.e uncertain light.
1t was forlorn and desolate sick-room,
indeed, and I did not wonder that the
poor fellows were discouraged and al
most despairing.
As moved on was startled at see
ing what seemed to be the face of
mere child among the sick men-a lad
of not over thirteen years-propped up
against the Sall \ tattered old blan-
ket covered him. His hair was long and
neglected, his cheeks sunken and fever
ish, and his body emaciated almost be-
yond belief.
can give no idea of the pitiable.
skeleton like thinness of the little fell
low. On his arms was hard'-, anv
flesh. His knees pointed the worn
blanket sharply as it &C. >ered them. and
his diseased feet Lad become ntterlv
lifeless, with + .e toes and the ball of
the 1oot en- ..4relv gone from one of them.
was N horror at the sight; but as
the poor little sufferer noticed Inv
Startled look, he said, in a bright, CHEEKY
voice, They amt good for much, are
they, lieutenant? See here!" and to
my unspeakable dismav. with his fingers
he broke off piece of the dead flesh,
as one would snap off the end of IL chalk
pencil.
While I shuddered at the sight, my
heart was taken captive by the cheer
ful, undaunted spirit of the boy. OBJ
tanning permission, I bathed him,
combed his hair, and in short time
had him in clean clothing and under a
decent blanket. He was so patient,
grateful and enthusiastic over his new
possessions, that my admiration and af-
lection for the little fellow rapidly in
creased.
20 lieutenant, amt they just splen-
did," he burst out as he first saw the
new blue blouse with its bright brass
buttons, and felt of the soft blanket.
Amt [ glad to be clean again! I
wish 1 could see myself now. You're
right good to me, sir, and I thank YOU
very much"
He must have been beautiful boy
before prlvatlon and disease had enact
ated him, He had thick, curly, brown
hair, large, speaking eyes, delicate nos
trlls, and chin in which there nestled
the shadow of what must have been
charming dimple. Exposure and sick
ness had clouded, but not entirely
spoiled a fair, clear complexion, and he
still retsSaed frank and wonderfully
winning smile, and out of his eyes
looked dounriess spirit, which evil as
sociations had failed to corrupt or cap
tivity to subdue.
He was, in a word, boy whom every
woman would have been drawn to and
have loved, whom any man might have
been proud to call his son.
His name, he told me, was Arthur
Perry, his home in Ohio, his mother
widow. He was drummer boy, had
been captured some months before
while with an ammunition train, and
had endured all the pr1vations of prison
life ever since. Sickness had broken
his constitution, and reduced him to a
shadow. He was weak and feverish.
His one great desire was to get home to
his mother, whom he seemed to idClize.
Taking my hand, he said,-
ut was pretty hard, sometimes, when
there wasn't anything to eat and 1 was
sick, and it was wet and cold. Some
times l was SO lonesome and homesick I
couldn't help crying. and it seemed as
If never should get home. But It's all
over now. I'm going home to mother.
wish you knew her, lieutenant. She's
the dearest, lovelist mother in the
world, and oh, I do love her so! Do
you suppose she'll know me?"
why, of course she'll know you,
and she'll be very proud Of you, too" I
replied.
"Do you really think she will? You
don't think these will make any differ
ence, do you?" he asked, chokingly, os
he pointed to his crippled feet.
"No. no, no, my dear boy. She will
only love you thousand times the
more"
"I'm glad you think SO, lieutenant"
and he went on to picture his coming
home-how his mother would fold him
IN her arms and kiss him again and
again, and how his little brother and SIS
ter would listen to his stories with wide
open eyes, and how he would run out to
see his old school-fellows-h as the
thought of his poor, useless feet flashed
through his mind, his voice faltered, a
tear stole out from under the long lash
es, as he laid his head on my shoulder.
But it was only for moment. The |