Saint Mary's beacon. [volume] (Leonard Town, Md.) 1867-1983, 1894-08-02
m THE MOONLIGHT.

An army on the march is a mon.
ster so full of vindictiveness and
hate and destruction that those who
go to make up the number are ap-
palled afterward. 1t has cut lose
from it's camp to find the enemy.
1t thirsts for his blood. AS il
marches along it takes fiendish de-
light in destruction. Kill and des-
troy; destroy and kill. Nothing is
too sacred, nothing too trifing.
Flames and destruction mark the
advance; tears and ashes greet the
last stragglers.
We had captured . spy in our
midst as the column halted at sun
down. Perhaps he was not a spy,
but citizen making his way across
the country and car SHIT in the
crush Of marching corps, as he
claimed.
"a spyv shouted someone.
"A spy! A spyp shouted hum
dred others.
There was peril to him in their
tones. Al! day long they had
marched and destroyed and laid
waste and felt impatient to shed
blood. That one cry was like the
savage growl of hungry wolf. A
score of men rushed at the stranger,
and in a minute his arms were tied
and men were inquirlng for corps
headquarters.
Shoot him! Hang him, Make
quick work of him.
So they called after him as he was
led away. He was young man,
and the sudden peril seemed to stun
him. lie did not protest, but hung
his head and walked quietly along.
No one pitied him; no one hoped he
could prove his innocence. The
savage spirit of war was aroused in
every breast, and men laughed glee-
fully as they told him he would die.
A tent on a knoll-a sentinel
marching to and fro-a flag with it's
staff stuck in the earth. That was
corps headquarters. The General
was within, too busy except to try a
spy.
who is it?' he demanded as he
looked up. with frown.
Captured as a spy, sir!
'Who are you?'
George Johnson
'Of what placer
Charlotte County, SIR
what are you doing here:'
'On my way home, | have been
over to Amelia Courthouse
You are id spy! You have
been tried and convicted! Major
Jordan, see to it that he is shot
within Is minutes! We can't bother
to hang himv
Yes, sir. About face. Forward
march! You men stick close to
him till | can detail a firing party"
The man was white faced, but
dumb. He cast his eyes around
him like one who wonders if he is
not dreaming. Tents, cannon,
muskets. sabers--the monster of
war jingling his spurs around a
hundred baleful campfires. Pity?
No! Mercy? No! Not even an
investigation to prove the truth or
falsity of his statements. Had he
been discovered in camp he might
even have been sent to Washington
and given fair trial, but we had
cut loose from camp. No trial, no
jury, no delay. One single man
had adjudged him guilty and said
that he must die.
Fall in! Forward march! Haiti
1t was the firing party coming up
six men and a Sergeant, who had
been taken from their campfires and
their suppers. AS the sun vent
down the moon showed herself, and
one could almost count the leaves
on the branches above.
Forward march. Column right!
Column leftv
THAT way.' said the Major as he
pointed to the west and turned on
his heel.
Two Of us led the man in ad-
vance. We halted at spot not 200
feet from headquarters. The six
mon were brought into line, and we
stepped back and left the prisoner
alone. Not a word of protest, not
a word of entreaty, not a denial.
White-faced, hollow-eyed and dumb
terror showing in every line of his
face. the man did not appear 10
even breathe.
s0rder armsf T.oadi Garry ayms .