Fisherman & farmer. [volume] (Edenton, N.C.) 1887-19??, 1889-10-25
WAS IT A CRIME?
A CHAPLAIN's STORY.

A CHAPLAIN 5 STORY.
1t was with that question on his lips
that Corporal Jack fell out of rank in
the march of life and deserted to the
majority.
He has been answered by now, but for
me it Is still question, and as such
tell my story and in my turn, ask my
readers
What is a crime!
1t was during the first year Of the war
that John Holiday enlisted IN the
Twenty fifth Georgia Infantry, of which
regiment l was Chaplain, and from that
hour until his death, two years after, at
the battle Of Antictam, the Confederacy
never had more daring, reckless de-
fender.
He was a stern, reserved man among
his companions, never joining in their
conversations around the camp fire, or
taking part in their frOlics, but becom-
ing almost cheerful on the eve of
battle.
In appearance Jack was not PROPOSES
ing-over six feet in height, and of mag
niticent build, he was the very beau ideal
of a soldier, but his face was positively
ugly. Small, deep set gray eyes looked
out from under a bush of reddish eye
brOws, while his high, thin nose and ca
daverous complexion, emerged from
second bush Of reddish beard, which hid
the rest of his face, and left his mouth
an impenetrable mystery.
But if Jacks mouth was a mystery
Jack himself was an enigma, and ac-
cepted as such by his comrades. For my
own part, |, too, accepted him, but not
until after several futile efforts to solve
the riddle
Jack always met me with the same re-
spectful manner and same blank wall of
reserve, but it was owing to those kindly,
if mistaken efforts OF mine, that [ owe
my present knowledge of his story.
The year of suffering and hardship had
passed, and it was the eve of the battle
of Antietam We had had a busy day.
and had just thrown myself down,
worn out with fatigue, to get a little
sleep, when | was sroused by Corporal
Jack. He had pushed open the fly of my
tent, and stood in the opening, his form
dimly outlined against the summer twi-
light sky
. Beg your pardon, Mr.. Botelcr; may
{ have word with you, sir?" he said,
saiuting me respectfully.
had by no means lost interest in the
regiment ''enigma, as he was called,
and signifed my assent, motioning him
to a seat on the ground by my side. He
took it in silence, and in obstinate silence
| waited for his confidence. | knew my
man too we'll by this time to attempt to
hasten it, The result proved my wis
dom. After apparently a last, sharp
struggle with his habitual reserve, Jack
plunged in one sentence into the very
heart Of his story.
Mr.. Boteler, " ne said hoarsely, ''three
years ago | committed what the law
would call crime. | call it an act of
justice. Will you hear my story, and
Judge between the law and me?"
sat up, startled out of fatigue; here
was story with vengeance. But imi-
tating his conciseness, | said quietly;
. y am ready to hear the case, Cor
poral.
TO make you understand my story, l
must 90 back fifteen years." resumed
Jack, calmly. AT that time was a boy
of twenty, experimenting the home
plantation for MY father, who was a
small planter in Mcintosh County There
were only three of us-father, brother
James and |.
MY mother was dead, and for years
we had seen no white woman in our
house, except our housekeeper, an elder
ly maiden lady, and distant relative Of
my father. \ on can imagine the reveal
ton it was to us then, when Aunt Mile
Payne died and her little orphan daugh-
ter came to live in our quiet old house.
Dorothy-her name was Dorothy-was
only ten years old when she came to
us. lovable, headStrong little creature,
with great brown eyes, and mass of I'M
tidy, red brown curls, that were the trial
of the child's life.
She was not pretty then; her face
was 100 thin and brown, and in manners,
| am afraid she was tOmboy, but even
then loved her and thought her beau
tiful. She was fond of me, too, in s.
way, and was always with me, indoors
and out. When my father wanted to
send her away TO school, it was through
by persUasions that he was induced to