The daily morning journal and courier., 1894-09-01
TALES OF TEN TRAVELLERS.
 Guidon Little Buttons of Battery D.
BY EDGAR l.. wAKEMEs.

6insly began thc otuueHs t'e'N'N'' VI" our Ten Travellers were all comfortably seated in their accustomed places. .seyerai detached divisions. brigades and even single regiments of infantry. fl few battalions Of cavalry and num- Der of field artillery commands. which had been hastily massed at Cairo. Illi- nois, were urged speedily forward by way of the Cumberland river and thence by rapid marches over the mountains Of northeastern Alabama into Georgia, to reinforce sherman. who was stubbornly fighting his way to the doomed city of Atlanta.
 "We joined him at Etowah river and participated in the hard-fought flank movements which resulted in the de- feat of the outnumbered Confederate forces under the gallant General Hood. and which made possible Sherman's subsequent famous march to the sea-"
 As there was yet scarcely a streak of silver in the Student Travellers hair and beard. his easy familiarity with the stirring events of so remote peri cd caused various expressions of sur prise to Ait across the faces of the as- sembled company.
 The Aimless Traveller, who had seen hard service in the Franco-Prussian war, seemed nettled at this apparently irreverent liberty with military history.
 "The Tanks and the Johnny Rebs." l" he observed with noticeable infiex- ion of satire in his tone, must have taken on their heroes at remarka ply youthful age?"
 "Oh. yes," pleasantly retorted the Student Traveller. "quite young enough to fight"
 Whereupon without further interrup- ton he related the following incidents of the American civil war:
 Late one sultry July afternoon, as our forces were about going into camp for the night after a severe days march over the hills of northwestern Georgia, our own company, Battery D, First Illinois Light Artillery, on ac- count of some temporary obstruction to the forces in advance, had halted abreast of an imposing country man. fo ,11y ioht tour, the marching columns had cut a . ruinous roadway straight across the planter owners beautiful gardens and lawn.
 The sappers and miners had demol- lshed walls and fences. Fountains had been overturned and broken. Statuary lay prone beside pedestals or, in shat tered pieces, had been crushed into the earth by the heavy wheels of trans port wagons and the artillery. Gro- tos and vine-laden summer houses were leveled as by tempest; and cost ly shrubbery, which another quarter cefltury's loving care could not replace, had been destroyed like wayside weeds beneath the trampling of frenzied herds.
 The general in command had merci- fully placed guards about the fine old mansion; and we could see upon its colonnaded portico few members of the household huddled together as if fascinated by the portentious scene. while gazing in stupefed hopelessness over the destruction which in an hours time had been so sadly wrought.
 Most of our officers, postillions and gunners had dismounted and flung themselves from an almost stupid ex- haustion upon the sward; and our faded horses, freed for few moments from rein and spur, lowered their heads Iistlessly or reached hungrily to one side or the other for the few smirched blades of grass which still lay half buried between the deeply sunken ruts.
 was the guidon or color sergeant of the battery; at this time a lad of scarcely fifteen years of age. While valorous enough in the foolhardy way of youth to have won in a years re- lentless service the liking of my off, cers and the friendship of my com rades, there was still a strain in me, unaccountable to many about me, which revolted at the inhumanly need
 
 me almost traitorous in heart to the power behind our own flag, when 1t waved above indignity to the innocent or cruelty to the feeble and helpless; and which fired my heart with intole- rable hatred for my own cause when ever I was compelled to look upon the wicked and wanton dissertation of homes.
 I shall never forget how the picture of this half ruined homeside-the utter destruction on every hand, the guarded shell of home, its few remaining oc- rupants, the old and the young, look Ing upon the invaders out of the very desolation of fear, while few faithful blacks crouched beside them-chilled and sickened me.
 I turned from it and leaned against my horse, mutely batting his neck, as though he must know this feeling, if the patriotic human souls around me could not, and with my face against his dusty shoulder almost sobbed:
 "Ah, Charlie, old friend!-" Charlie was the name of the horse who had carried me and our colors into many a 1ireful place of carnage and death; for Battery D. had gained name for savage work afield-"how long must this pitiful business last?'
 remember, too, that I thought old Charlie, tenderly Interpreting my boy sh mood of despondency, had turned his honest face to rumple my ragged