St. Paul daily globe., 1888-05-22
THE BUGLER'S DEATH.
He Rode Over a Grassy Slope to
Glory's Throne.

Opie Read
The conversation had turned upon
the war, and the old soldiers fondness
for reminiscence had been freely in
dulged, when some one, addressing Alf
Billingsly, asked if he had served during
the war.
NO" Billings replied, 81 was not in
the army, but L was in one engagement.
| was boy and was living in Gallatin,
Tenn, when John Morgan dashed in
and m CAPTURED Col: Boon: Some time
had elapsed since the Confederate forces
were driven away, and the villagers.
especially the boys, were almost wild
with joy at the sight of gray uniform.
A season of feaSting followed, and then
there came the report that Col johnson,
daShing federal officer was. with LOCO
picked cavalrymen, advancing upon the
town. My mother gathered her chill
dren about her and took refuge in Gel
lar, but, feeling that my pride had been
trampied upon, | escaped and mingled
with the soldiers that were preparing
for battle. Old wine and whisky of
less venerable age had flowed dur
ing the feast. and many of the
men and officers were drunk.
Some were singing songs of more
implied patriotism than of actual tune;
others, with the rising fervor of tipsi-
ness, declared that they would not go
home till morning. All, before the next
morning came many of them had gone
hOme.I impOrtuned bugler to let me get
on his horse behind him and ride out to
the battle. He said that if L would take
his canteen over to the house of we'll
known old negro and bring it back full
OF peach brandy l might go home with
him. | did so, having left with the negro
my hat and jacket as pawned evidence
g of good faith, and took my place be-
/. hind the bugler. An officer ordered me
his reckless good humOr overcame his
soberer sense of discipline. With
shouts and songs of discordant loud
ness we marched out to battle.
The morning was beautiful. The
iron weed was in bloom, and
fitting on its purple top the drytiy
sang the,sOng of midsummer. Mocking
{ birds fitted inthe apple trees and the
bee-martin flew round and round, wait
ing for sight of hOney-laden laborer
that had just gone over into a field of
clover. The troops dashed out upon a
bluegrass plane, jeweled here and
there with rich setting of a long cared
for and magnificent tree. Over the brow
of a green slope-the chronological bump
perception on the face of the landscape
the enemy was seen advancing. 1t
was to be a cavalry fight. 1t was to be
a shock of horse and clash of Saber. |
looked to the right and saw that our
men were stretched out in long line,
and looking ahead, ] saw that the
enemy was in similar form. My friend
blew his bugle. Every horse dashed
forward. A line of blue dashed to meet
us. l felt keen sense of delight. My
friend blew his bugle. Clash! The
two lines had met with drawn sabres,
1t was beautiful sight. Not a shot
had been fired. There was no dust.
Crash! Far to the right, as the sabers
flashed there were two long lines of
brightness, broken into whirling glints
of sun ray-catching silver. l may not
have had the spirit of a poet, but the
beauty and not the, horror impressed
me. lost not an ADJUNCT failed not
to catch a single shading. | saw a
bee-martin catch bee. / saw
an irOn-weed bend its purple
head beneath the touch of a lark; l
saw man, with skull split open, fall to
the ground. My friend blew his bugle.
The horses leaped forward. The line
of blue began to grow ragged. Wild
shouts arose. Gun shots with, it seemed
to me, intruding noise like the yap, yap,
yap of stray dog, rang out here and
there. The enemy was retreating. My
friend, standing in his stirrups, waved
his bugle high in the air and then blew
upon it triumphant blast. The enemy
made stand and again the sabers
flashed, but the old wine and new
whisky made the confederates i'm
petuous. My friend blew his bugle.
The opposing line broke and then there
came gun shots with, it seemed to me,
sort of revengeful bark. My friend
lifted his bugle, but did not blow
it. l thought that he had taken
pity upon the vanquished line.
We bounded forward. My friend
began to lean back against me. He was
laughing, l could plainly see. He
leaned back farther. Don't lean back
so far said. Stop; don't you see
you are about to shove me Off?' He
leaned back farther. / moved to one
side-reached around and took hold of
the horn of the saddle. Blood spurted
from the bugler'S breast. Hooked up and
saw that death had thrown its film into
his eyes. reached down with my foot
and kicked the stirrup away. The
bugler leaned over and fell to the
ground. l got into the saddle, rode up
to fence, threw the bridal rein over a
stake, climbed down off the horse and
ran away. went back over the grassy
slope. l saw a bee martin catch bee.
/ saw the purple head of the iron weed
bend beneath the touch of the Iark.',