The Press., 1891-04-16
AIR

 THEHORSEMANINTHEAIR
 One sunny afternoon in the autumn of the year 1861 soldier lay in clump of laurel by the side of road in western Vir- ginia. He lay at full length upon his stomach, his feet resting upon the toes, his head upon his left forearm. His extended right hand loosely grasped his rife. But for the somewhat methodical disposition of his limbs and slight rhythmic move ment of the cartridge box at the back of his belt he might have been thouglst to be dead. He was asleep Ut his post of duty. But if detected he would be dead shortly afterward, that being the just and legal penalty of his crime.
 The country was wooded everywhere ex- cept at the bottom of the valley to the northward, where there was small nat ural meadow through which flowed 8 stream scarcely visible from the valleys rim. This open ground looked hardly larger than an ordinary door yard, but was really many acres in extent. Its green was more vivid than that of the inclosing for est. Away beyond it rose line of giant cliffs similar to those upon which we are supposed to stand in our survey of the say age scene, and through which the road had somehow made it's climb to the summit The confguration of the valley, indeed, was such that from our point of observa- tion it seemed entirely shut in, and one could not but have wondered how the road which found way out of it had found 8 way into it, and whence came and whittier went the stream that parted the meadow two thousand feet below.
 No country is so wild and difficult but men will make it theatre of war. Con cealed in the forest at the bottom of that military rat trap, in which half a hundred men in possession of the exits might have starved an army to submission, lay five regiments of Federal infantry. They had marched all the previous day and night, and were resting. At nightfan they would take to the road again, climb to the place where their unfaithful sentinel now slept, and, descending the other slope of the ridge, fall upon a camp of the enemy at about midnight. Their hope was to sur prise him. for the road led to the rear of his camp. In case of failure their position would be perilous in the extreme, and fail they would should accident or vigilance apprise him of the movement.
 The sleeping sentinel in the clump of laurels was young Virginian named Car ter Druse. He was the son of wealthy parents-an only child-and had known such ease and cultivation and high living as wealth and taste were able to command in the mountain country of western Vir- ginia quarter century ago. His home was but few miles from where he now lay. One morning he rose from the break fast table and said quietly but gravely: Father, 8 Union regiment has arrived at Grafton. am going to join it."
 The father lifted his leonine head, look ed at the son moment in silence and re piled: "Go, Carter, and whatever may happen hope that you will do what you conceive to be your duty. Should we both live to the end of the war we will speak further of the matter. Your mother, as the physician has informed you, is in a critical condition; at the best she cannot be with us longer than 8 few weeks, but that time is precious. It would be better not to disturb her." .
 So Carter Druse, lowing reverently to his father, who retul ned the salute with a stately courtesy which masked: 8 breaking heart, left the home of his chi dhood to go soldering. By cons. fence and courage, by deeds of devotion and daring, le soon com mended bimself to his fellows and his off cers; and it was to these qualities and to some knowledge of the country that he owed his present peTilous duty at the ex- treme out post. Ney yertheless, fatigue had been stronger than resolution. and he had fallen asleep. What good or bad angel came in dream to rouse him from his state of ,rrl ,lnll ment, without a sound, in the profound silence and the languor of the late after noon, some invisible messenger of fate touched with unseaiing finger the eyes of his consciousness-whis into the ear of his spirit the mysterious awakening word which no human lips have ever spoken, no human memory has ever re- called. He quietly raised his forehead from his arm and looked between the lau- rels, instinctively closing his right hand about the stock of his rife.
 His first feeling was keen, artistic de light. On the colossal pedestal of the cliff, motionless, at the extreme edge of the cap ping rock, sharply outlined against the sky, was an equestrian statue of impress i've dignity. The figure of the man sat the figure of the horse, straight and soldierly, but with the repose of 8 Grecian god carved in the marble which limits the suggestion of activity. The gray costume harmonized with it's aerial background; the metal ot accouterment and caparison was softeneEl and subdued by the shadow; the animals skin had no points of high light. A car bine, strikingly foreshortened, lay across the pommel of the saddle, kept in place by the right hand grasping it at the "grip;'' the left hand, holding the bridle rein. was invisible. In silhouette against the sky the profile of the horse was cut with the sharpness of a cameo; it looked across the heights of air to the cliff beyond The face of the rider, turned slightly to the left, showed only an outline of temple and beard; he was looking downward to the bottom of the valley. Magnified by its lift against the sky and by the soldiers testi- flying sense of the formidableness of neaz most colossal size.
 For an instant Druse had strange, halt defined feeling that he had slept to the end of the war, and was looking upon nobls work of art reared upon that commandina eminence to commemorate the deeds of an heroic past of which he had been an in. glorious part. The feeling was dispelled by 8 slight movement of the group. The horse without moving it's feet had drawn it's body slightly backward from the verge. The man remained immobile as before. Broad awake and keenly alive to the sig. nificance of the situation Druse now brought the butt of his rife against his cheek by cautiously pushing the barrel forward through the bushes, cooked the piece, and glancing through the sights cov- cred vital spot of the horseman's breast. A touch upon the trigger, and all would have been well with Carter Druse At that instant the horseman turned his head and looked in the direction of his crouch ing seemed to look into his very face, into his eyes, into his brave, compas- sionate heart. EE*S fEEr
 Is it, then, so terrible to kill an enemy in war, an enemy who has surprised a se- cret vital to the safety of one's eelf and comrades, an enemy more formidable for 1ndr %h4 ~I1 ls