The morning call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1878-1895, 1891-12-27
A WARTIME CHRISTMAS.
There Hung the Home Knit stockings
Death Stalked About.

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There Hung the Home-k Knit stockings as
Death Stalked About.
Some of the scouts had brought word tn at
a guerrilla leader whom we had long sought
to kill or capture was at a farmhouse five
miles away, having only a man or two with
him. The orders were 10 take fifty men and
seek his capture.
1t was the night before Christmas in one
of those last bloody years of war. There
was light snow on the ground and the
wind had an edge that cut like knife. In
some of those old Virginia farm-houses,
with their big fireplaces, Christmas had
come and gone for children and their
children. The red hand OF war had burned
some to the ground; in others there was
mourning and those who mourned thought
not Of the day.
As we rode off up the mountain road and
saw the farmhouse lights twinkle here and
therel wondered if Santa Claus would be
forgotten in all of them There were chill
dren there. and, though wars musketry had
kept them fearful and wars blood-stains
had paled their faces, they surely would not
forget the legend OF the RENDERS and the
chimney. So | hoped, at least
1t was cold, dreary ride, but we reached
the old farmhouse at last. 4 scout sent on
ahead came back to report that our man
was there. 1t was his home-hs roof-tree
CduStlOuS dS he klltW IL 10 Dt. he Hdu
stolen back on this night before Christmas
to spend few hours with wife and children
with the gray-hared father and mother
who sat in the chlmney-corners on this
night and smoked their pipes. |
saw them through the window as
we moved up TO surround the house.
| saw, too, couple of children seated to-
gether on the knee of the man we had come
TO surprise, and beside him. with her hand
on his shoulder, was his wife. And l saw
tl,n,- i'll I
sight that struck me like a blow There be-
side the old-fashioned fireplace hung two
little stockings, waiting the coming of Santa
Claus! Others saw it, too, and they groaned
cut as if wounded
Well, the man refused to surrender. He
did not know our strength. and perhaps he
hoped to beat us off. He killed two of our
men and wounded third right on the start.
Then our men began firing into the house.
1t was all over in five minutes. We entered
to find the man lying desperately wounded.
Beyond him lay one Of the children gasping
its last, and at the right of the fireplace the
old gray-haired father with his lifeblood
yelling out Of wound in his side.
We had captured our man, but there was
no cheering. There lay our dead under the
leatless pear trees, but no one stood over
them with words Of regret. We stood there
and looked at those little stockings untihthe
memory Of them was burned into our very
souls forever and forever. The wife shrieked
curses upon our heads. The aged mother
knelt and prayed God to punish us, and now
and then the dying father groaned as his
life ebbed away. And yet we neither
seemed to see nor hear. There against the
mantel hung the home-knt blue stockings
which we had filed with woe and wretch
edness and sorrow as our gifts. They were
the last things we saw rs we silently drew
away from the house-they seemed TO hang
before us as we rode back in the storm
and darkness to our lines-M. Quad, in Chi
capn Tribune.