The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1892-07-13
Soldiers Budget.
Was IL SecOnd-Sight.

amOnR thO ludLy CuIlOuS INSTANCES
of seeming second-sight may be placed
the following incident of that saddest
tragedy of modern days-the death of
Custer and his gallant followers.
The love existing between Captain
Blank and his blue-eyed, golden-curled
boy, little Buster" the pet and dar-
ling of the whole garrison, was some
thing to be remembered. Wherever
the tall soldierly figure of the young
father was to be seen, unless on duty,
that of the child was sure to be close
beside, sometimes riding on his fathers
shoulder, sometimes cliuging to his
hand, always lifting to his eyes full of
passionate love and content. When
the dreaded day came that was to sepa-
rate those fearless men from the
women and children who so loved
them, Buster could hardly be torn from
his father, and my husband told me
that long after, the child's shrek of
utter misery, unchildlike in its inten-
sity, rang in his ears. For some days
after the command had marched across
the low purple hills, out of the reach of
loving eyes, Buster dropped and pined;
but he was a child, and the old childish
gayety came back to his eyes, and his
laugh, which rang out as happily as
ever, almost jarring upon his young
mothers ears.
One warm June day at Fort Lincoln,
Mrs. Blank sat sewing in her tiny par
lor, her baby creeping about the floor
at her feet, while she chatted with two
or three more lonely wives, perhaps of
the beloved ones far across the plains
and their possible return. Suddenly
Buster rushed in through the open
door, eyes sparkling, hair flying.
Mamma" he shouted, my papa's
s'ooting his 'volverl heard himl"
Did you, darling?" his young
mother said, STOPPING to kiss the little
flushed, eager face. GLOW very nice!
/ wish he could come home and SCOT it.
Don't you?"
"He's s'ooting Injuns," the child
went on, and he'll SCOT 'em all, and
zen he'll tome home"
Pm sure / hope he WILL sighed
Mrs. Blank. Run out and play, Bus
ter, and don't go in the SUM-"
How Buster does talk about his
fatherW some one remarked. "I often
meet him running along with some one,
and, child or man, soldier or officer, you
can always catch the words, my papa
if you listen to him."
Then the talk wandered on, always
in minor key, for there had been quite
an interval of time since the last letters,
and there was always unacknowledged
anxiety, though all felt unbounded faith
in the powers of the gallant Seventh
Presently the sound of a child's bitter
crying brought them all to their feet,
and Buster ran into his mothers arms
at the door, sobbing wildly
Mamma" he sobbed, " the Injuns
has dot my papa. He's dot no more
scots in his 'volver; he's s'ooted it all.
On, want my papa, and the bad Injuns
has dot him.
Mrs. Blank knelt down on the floor
beside her boy, drawing him close to
her heart. Hush Buster" she said,
very gently, but firmly, "you must not
be such a silly little boy; the Injuns
can't get your papa. General Custer
is there; he will take care of papa and
all the men. Do you think F troop
would let the Injuns get papa? See,
you are making us all feel very bad,
and papa would say that you were not
his brave little lad. Now stop crying
and go and play; you could not hear
papa's 'volver so far away.
eyes," the child exclaimed earnestly,
" tan hear my papa's 'volver, and l
know he's s'ooted It'll" But army dis
cipline prevailed, and the boy choked
back his sobs, nesting in his mothers
arms and resting there, strangely quiet,
for the rest of the long summer day.
That evening, when the children were
both sleeping, and the daily bulletin to
her absent husband had been written,
Mrs. Blank sat for some moments in
silent thought, then drawing a sheet of
paper to her, wrote down the date, June
26, and poured out to her only brother
the aching of her heart and the sense
less anxiety caused by the child's fool
ish words, the memory of which still
stirred him in his sleep, for he sobbed
and tossed all night.
On the 9th of July, when the whole
army writhed and cried out in agony at
the news that had come to us, we to
whom Mr.. B. had shown his sisters
letter knew that on the Goth of June
Captain Blank had dearly sold his life,
and had been found pierced with many
wounds, his empty revolver clasped in
his stiffened hand. And far away, in
his quiet home, his baby boy had seemed
to know it.-Harper'S Weekly.