Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1886-08-26


ton of having previously seen. She blows
her horn as signal to the bridge-tender
to open the bridge, and the whole crowd
passed down on the bridge to see who the
stranger is and where she is bound. As
she came near the bridge she was hailed
to this effect, when the answer came back:
Schooner Cordelia, Captain Trefethern,
bound to Haverhill." The coincidence
was startling to all except the bridge
tender, who seemed to regard it as mat
ter of course. The schooner passed on
with still freshening breeze, the bridge
was closed and the group returned to the
shady retreat they had left on her ap-
proach. Again, seated the bridge-tender
was urged to tell the story of his dream.
at was not a dream" said he, sand vet [
could not say [ was broad awake [ GER
tainly was not asleep. But the incident
of seeing the schooner Cordelia precisely
as we saw her just now was as wildly i'm
pressed upon me then as the fact that
have now seen her in my mind. Beyond
| this l know nothing. [ shall see the Cor
della again and then you will know if my
conviction or prediction comes true"
The next day the same group with one Or
two skeptlcal additions, met at the gate
tenders. The tide was at its height and
if the Cordelia was to fulfill the predic-
ton she would soon be seen rounding the
point few miles up the river. The
wind had changed and was blowing sea-
ward good eight-mile breeze. Presently
the bridge-tender exclaimed: ''There she
comes! Her tOpsail is visible Just above
the hill" The group watched her as she
became more and more VISIBLE until her
whole outline came plainly into view. She
was speedily at the point to demand an
open way, and as before the whole group
accompanied the bridge-tender on his
round of duty. The bridge was opened
and the schooner passed. As her rigging
cleared the bridge the bridgetender clos
ed the bridge, and walking a few steps
seemed to stumble and fall. His cOmpan-
ions thought him feigning in order to
brighten them, but on going to him he
was dead
The first days fight at Gettysburg had
been finished, and, after nights repose
such as a tired soldier alone can appreci-
ate, the preliminaries to another day of
toll and peril had been completed in the
hasty disposal of dipper of coffee with
its usual accompaniment of bareback and
cold beef, when Lieutenant Edgar, of the
Fourth Ohio Infantry, very energetic
and fearless young officer, approached a
brother officer and said to him: "When
tO-days fight is over I want you to take
my watch and sword, for which I will
then have no further use, and send them
to my parents in Ohio, and be sure to
tell them that to the last [ endeavOred to
do my whole duty, and that am all right
now and at rest" The days fight closed,
Lieutenant Edgar was among the slain,
hp
morning before could do no less, nor
could he do more, than comply with his
request to forward his watch and sword
to his afflicted parents.
Colonel Stevens, of the Excelsior Regi-
ment, New York. was visited on the day
preceding his death by a considerable
delegation of friends from his native val
ley in the western part of old Essex Coun-
ty; who, at his very urgent solicitation,
remained with him through the night.
All knew very we'll that battle was i'm
pending. Preparations for a march were
going on all along the line. Rat1ons for
three days had been stored in the haver-
sacks and extra ammunition in the belts.
Amid all the preparations for an advance
the Colonel remained as cheerful as ever,
talking of old friends at home, of ia
miliar scenes, of duties past and Of duties
to come. In the course of the night, for
at such time and amid all the surround
ing circumstances there could be but lit
tie rest for anyone, however weary, the
Colonel expressed his most solemn con-
viction that he would be found dead up
on the field in the next battle. When
called upon to explain his reason for
such belief, and whether he had been
dreaming, he replied that he could not
call it dream, nor yet a vision, but an
indeinable something, in his half-sleep
ing, halfwaking moments, very vivid,
very pleasant, and very enduring. 1t had
come to him over and over again, always the
same in beginning, the same in ending.
The scene was old, familiar, delightful
as ever eye rested upon. The birds, the
bobolinks, the robins, the sparrows, the
goldfnches all the feathered songster he
had loved to look upon and listen to when
boy, were still trilling and whistling their
melodious lays around him. He looked off
over the winding and widening valley of
the Merrimac, from hill where reposed
the dead of the village for at least six
generations, many of whom old and
middle-aged and young, while living were
known to him personally, and they were
all there in the familiar forms and faces
seen them dead. His own brother, the
bright, the beautiful boy who had laid
down his life for his country, was one of
the most conspicuous figures among them.
But they were all silent-silent as the
tomb in which they had been and, indeed,
were still reposing. He moved among
them recognized them, and then looked
around him for the living. But only the
silent were there. The living were afar
Off He fain would have gone here or
gone there to meet familiar form or
face, but there was an enchantment around
him and controlling him that rendered his
present position more agreeable and
pleasant. Presently the whole group
melted from his view, and he awoke to
realize that his duty was not yet fully
done, but approaching the end. In an
hour the order to march was received.
Colonel Stevens, still as cheerful as ever,
shook each of his companions cordially
by the hand, bidding each a cheerful
good-by, and mounting his horse, he
turned facing them and said: "Well, my
friends, am all right here" putting his
hand upon his curly locks, ''and all right
here. too" placing his hand uDOn his