The pioneer express. [volume] (Pembina, Dakota [N.D.]) 1883-1928, 1885-01-02
MY DRUMxER.BoI.

since the sound of the last gun Of ths
uar Of the Rebellion died away in 81.
ieace The enmities cngendered by The
bitter struggle nre buried with the no.
TONS dead. The blue and gray who
tell lie peacefully side by side. and We,
the blue and gray who live, have clasped
hands together, and spoken loyal word.
OF courtesy and friendship.
But the children Of that dark hon,
have grown to be young men and WON.
an, and know little Of war but its holi.
day pomp and glory; SO / have brought
this little sketch from memorys port.
folio that they may catch apassine
glimpse of its stern reality, and part.
", too, that they may see how suffer.
ing heroism sometimes finds its home
IN young, brave heartss
Early in the year 1868 the Uuion for.
ces, in one Of the regiments of which I
was an officer, lay encamped near vii.
mington. North Carolina. There had
been an exchange Of prisoners, and the
sick from Andersonville had been car.
ried by boat down the Cape Fear Rive,
to Wilmington.
Partly from sympathy, and partly,
perhaps, from curiosity, I had come in
from our camp, which was located &
few miles out of the city, to visit the
hospital. An old brick warehouse was
utilized for this purpose. It was 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 I entered from the street
and passed slowly along between them,
the wan. hsggard faces of the sick men
seemed CHASTITY in tic uncertain light.
1t was forlorn and desolate sick-room,
indeed, and did not wonder that the
poor fellows were discouraged and al-
most despairing.
As I moved on I was startled at see-
ing what seemed to be the face of a
mere child among the sick men-a lad
of not over thirteen years-propped up
against the wall. A tattered old blans
ket covered him. His hair was long and
neglected, his cheeks sunken and fever
ish, and his body emaciated almost be-
yond belief.
I can give no idea of the pitiable,
skeleton-like thinness of the listle fels
low. On his arms was hardly any
aesh; His knees pointed the worn
blanket sharply as it covered them, and
bis diseased feet had become utterly
lfeless, with the toes and the ball Of
the foot entirely gone from one of them,
was in horror at the sight; hut 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 dismay. with his fingers
he broke off piece Of the dead flesh.
rs one would snap off the end of u chalk
pencil.
While I shuddered at the sight, nv
heart was taken captive by the cheer.
tul. undaunted spirit of the boy. Oh.
tanning permission, / bathed him.
combed his hair, and in short time
bad 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-
dld?" he burst out as he first saw the
new blue blouse with its bright brass
buttons. and felt of the soft blanket.
Amt l glad to he clean again! 1
wish 1 could see myself now. You're
right good to me, sir, and thank yon
very much"
He must have been q beautiful l,ov
before privation and disease had enact
ated him. He had thick, curly, brown
hair, large, speaking eyes, delicate nos.
tr1ls, and a chin in which there nestled
the shadow of what must have been q
charming dimple. Exposure and sick
ness had clouded, but not entirely
spoiled, fair, clear complexion, and he
still retsi,ed frank and wonderfully
winning smile, and out of his eyes
looked dountiess spirit, which evil a.
sess.ions had failed TO corrupt or cap
tivity to subdue.
He was, in q word, a boy whom every
woman would have been drawn to and
nave loved, whom any man might have
been proud to call his son.
ais name, he told me, was Arthur
Ferry, his home in Ohio, his mother a
widow. He was a drummer boy, had
been captured some months before
wnile with an ammunition train, and
had endured all the prlvations of prison.
life ever since. Sickness had broken
his constitution, and reduced him to a
SHADOW. de was weak aud feverisb.
ms one great desire was to get home to
his mother, whom lie seemed to idolize.
Taking my hand, he said,--
1T was pretty hard, sometimes, when
there wasn't anything to eat and 1 was
sick, and it was wet and cold. Some
times I was so lonesome and homesick I
couldn't help crying, and it seemed as
ii l never should get home. But its all
over now. I'm going home to mother.
L wish you knew her, lieutenant. She's
the dearest, lovelist mother in the
world, and oh, do love her SO! Do
you suppose she'll know me?"
why, of course she'll know Won.
and she'll be very proud of you, too" /
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" '- WIG
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-here, as the
thought of his poor, useless feet flashed
through his mind, his voice faltercd. a
tear stole out from under the long LASH
es, as he laid his head on nv shoulder.