The Monitor. [volume] (Woodstown, N.J.) 1884-1892, 1885-11-06

DEATH ON THE PICKET LINE.
How the Sensry's Count of Nine Bead
Mem was Made Good.

HOW the Sensry's Count OF Nine BEAD
Mem was Made Good.
As the sun went down and darkness be-
gan to creep over the face of the earth tile
angry roar of artillery died away and the
erackle of musketry was less spiteful. For
a while the fighting on the extreme right
hung on, to settle the question Of who
should occupy the old ~earthworks, bat at
length dead silence fell upon the whole
field.
Silence? No. 1t was silence compared
to the awful roar of the long afternoon,
but it was a silence broken by the screams
and groans and prayers of wounded men
by the movement of wagons and artillery
by the subdued voices Of IS, 900 men as
they camped for the night without fire
and anxiously debated the chances for the
morrow.
A sergeant marches off to the left at the
head of half a dozen men. He drops a
man at post No. l" and gives him wills
pered instructions. It is the same at post
two, three and four, ETC., until the last
man has been stationed.
There must be vigilant, wakeful men be-
tween friend and foe while the long night
wears away.
'Post No. g. is under a great beech
tree. Shot and shell ave SCARED and
riven its trunk, and shot and shell have
shattered and riyen its thick limbs. A
quarter of a century hence this tree will
bear witness of the terrible struggle Of to-
day.
From this tree to the edge OF that
thicket, and the countersign is Justice. .
whispered the sergeant, and as he passes
on the picket takes up his beat. He counts
as he passes them by-one, two, three. fonr,
five, six. seven, eight. What9 Corpses!
They are lying on the grass SO near
the path he travels that be can touch any
OF item with his foot. There are others to
the right and left, further away. It was
here that the enemy charged a battery
here our forces rallied to preserve it.
Grape shot and canister. bullet and bayo-
net, found victims here. Some lay as If
asleep, worn ont with the tremendous con
hiet-othcrs raved and prayed and cursed
God and man before death released them
from their sufferings.
The picket counts them as he walks, and
a sigh escapes his lips. Tomorrow night
some sentinel may number his mutilated
corpse with others on this same meadow.
Tomorrow night the autumn winds may
vainly seek to rouse him from his death
sleep.
From tree to thicket and turn. From
thicket to tree and turn. He must watch
and listen and be on his guard, but by and
by he finds time to count again: One
nine, What. He counted only eight
before. Was he mistaken, or can the
dead of the battle field creep and crawl ?
Observation-Disclosures Yes, there are
nine. Ia the darkness he had made a
mistake. Nine! Well what matters one
more or less corpse on the field of battle >
To the tree and turn. As he heads for
the tree again the ninth corpse assumes a
sitting position and looks after him. A
moment later it struggles up, and a figure
goes creeping after the picket. The grass
on the meadow is thick and matted. His
football gives ont no sound. S~oftly-softly
silent as the shadow of death-ereeping
creeping and now he is close upon the
lone picket. There is a CLEAN of steel in
the darkness swift and powerful blow,
and he who was placed to watch will
watch no more.
Through the gap spies will pour in and
skulk about the camps; a regiment will be
silently advanced to the key position;
the ghouls will scent plumber and creep in
to rob the dead.
The picket had counted: "-seven-eight
-ninei'
The ghouls will creep from the thicket
and count: ACKNOWLEDGMENT
There is no missing corpse, The nun
Der has been made good,-Detroa Free
Press.