Phillipsburg herald. [volume] (Phillipsburg, Kan.) 1882-1905, 1894-12-06

bauch.
"Whatlcharge?" queried the court.
Drunk and disorderly, your honor. "
Anything to say?" asked the court
turning to the prisoner. Then catch
ing sight of the G.. A, h. badge and
pointing to the one he himself wore,
he said in n gentler tone. what does
this mean, comrade? How came you
here? What regiment were you in|
"The Eighth New Hampshire, your
honor, Col, Gray Of Suncook. ] was
born there hfty-fye Years ago, ana
when the war broke out Joe and l
couldn't stay at home Joe was my
younger brother and had just grad
uated at law school and had begun
to practice law. Our parents had
been dead then number of years and,
as neither OF us had wives, you see
there wasn't anything to keep us at
home, though tried to have Joe stay,
and told him that one was enough for
one family. 1t wasn't any use, though,
for he was bound to go, and soon af-
the Presidents first call we We're on
our way to the south.
at the battle of Corinth the com
pany that l belong to was ordered to
make the charge on the Confederate
works. tell you, Judge, that was
the grandest charge ever made. We
got in, but it was too hot. Flesh and
blood couldn't stand the fire they
poured into us rs we huddled in the
trenches. When the boys finally re-
treated 1 was left on the ground with
bullet hole in my leg.
81 was picked up and taken to An
Jacksonville, where l stayed almost u
year. When 1 was finally paroled L
was taken, more dead than alive, to
Washington, where my leg was ampu-
tated. It was another year before l
could get out of there and in all that
time l had not written a word or
heard from home.
"When l was able to get back L
found that word had been received
there that l was dead, and that Joe
had gone west. l stayed at the old
town for some time, but it was too
lonesome there without Joe, and |
made up my mind to find him if |
could. Last night | met an old COM
rade that was in Andersonville with
me and we made a night Of it. l sup
pose we did drink little too much,
your honor, but it had been so long
since l had met any one that | knew
that I forgot myself. We did not
mean to be disorderly, but perhaps the
singing of the old war songs was lit
tie too loud, and maybe they didn't
sound as we'll to outsiders as they did
to us old fellows who had sung them
to an accompaniment that they don't
hear nowadays l will plead guilty to
being drunk. Judge, but | did not
mean to be disorderly. l hope your
honor will be as easy on an old soldier
as the law will allow"
The Judge remained silent mo-
ment as if in thought, turning mean
while the pages of a law book on the
desk before him. Then in tone of
voice meant to be more than usually
severe, he said:
"The sentence of this court is that
you be taken in my carriage to the
best tailor in town and fitted to q suit
of the finest clothes in his store. That
you be carried then to my house and
kept there the remainder of your life. "
The veteran raised his head as the
sentence was ended and looked at the
Judge. Then as memory shaped the
features before him into the face Of the
brother he had sought so long, he
cried ont, "Joe," and sprang toward
the bench.
The Judge met him over half way
with the work BILL" and for mo-
ment they stood locked in each others
arms, alternately laughing and sob
bling. Then the Judge drew his broth
er's arm in his own and the two left
the courtroom.