Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1886-09-02

blue sky in which there is one bii
star shining. and several little ones
But all around me there il something
lark and high; those are bushes. nn
derbrush. | am still in the bushes
they never found me.
] feel a quivering passing over my
head, at the roots of my hair.
Pale, pink lights commence to quiv
er about me. The big star il faiinI
out; soon the little ones have disap
peared altogether. 1t is the rising oI
the moon! How pleasant it must b,
at home now
Strange sounds reach me-souhdl
as if somebody was moaning. Yes, q
groan, is there another wounded man
near me, with his feet also broken, or
with ball in his entrails? No, the
groans seem to be SO near, and still
there is nobody beside me, Nv God
why, it is myself, Low means, com.
planning means. Am really SO much
hurt as that | must be. Only
cant Just tell how much pain | feel
because my head seems to be all full
of lead and confusion. Better lie
down and sleep, sleep, sleep. But If
do will | ever wake up again? Well,
IT certainly does not make any differ
ence 10 me whether | ever do OF not.
At the moment | prepare to lie
down broad streak of moonlight
clearly illuminatesf the spot where l
lie, and see something long and dark
on the ground about FIVE PAGES from
me. On the dark subject | can dis
tinguish little points which catch the
light; they are buttons or decorations
of uniform; the dark thing is either
? corpse or poor wounded soldier.
"Help-help,"
Wild, mad, hoarse cries escape me,
and receive no answer. They re-echo
and rise in the night air; everything
else is silent. Only the crickets drum
continually, just as they were doing
before. The moon looks at me, and
seems to pity me with its round face
If he were only wounded-he, the
other fellow, my cries would certainly
L ---- --~.--.-a@nila. nat Is a uead
man? One of our men! no, a Turk?
Oh, my God, As if it was not all the
same thing. And sleep weighs down
my burning eyelids, and for time |
am iorgetful.
All this while the heat is growing,
the sun burns. | open my eyes; !
see the same bushes, the same sky,
only now in the brightness of day.
All, there ia my neighbor. Yes, a
Turk-a corpse! What huge fel-
low, recognize him. II is the same.
Before me lies the very man | killed.
Why did | kill him.
He lies there dead and all bloody.
Why did tate ever bring him here?
Who is he? Perhaps he had all old
mother just like me. She will be
waiting many long hours, evening after
evening, at the door OF her poor little
hut, straining her eyes toward the far
north. He won come; she will Won
der why he does not come-her sou,
her strong help, her support.
And l. But ! would be glad to
change places with him. How hap
pv lie il now, He does not see any
thing: he does not feel the pain of his
wounds, no, the misery of despair, nor
tue torture Of thirst. The bavonet
went right through his heart. | can
see great black hole in his uniform,
with blood all around it. 1t was |
whoSnade that
Well, but what am guilty OIL
that killed him? Why should l be
tortured with thirst in this way?
Thirst How many know what the
word means? Even when We were
passing through Roumania, making
forced marches OF fifty versts under a
terrible heat Of one hundred and four
degrees, | never felt what | feel row.
Oh. if somebody would only come!
Ny God but surely he must have
water in that immense gourd OF his /
must Get there. What price / will
have to pay for doing it, Never mind
I'll get there.
And | crawl. My feet catch on
the ground. and every time | move
the pain is unbearable. | scream,
horrible screams: still, | crawl all
the same. At last Here is the
sourd There is water in it t! And
what a lot there Is in it More than
hall full, should say. oh, water
will have enough to last nae long
time-until | die.
Thou, my victim. savsst me- +! try
to detach the gourd, while leaning on