The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1895-01-19

ders took up the line of march, and fainter
grew the roar and rumble of departing leg
ions. rolling on irresistibly to match their
blue pillows with the blue waves of the
distant sea
Twenty years after the furling of flags
the battlefield at Jonesboro was corn field
and the rustling rows of the crested corn
hid from view the almost obliterated traces
of strife. Peace and plenty reigned, and
the one-armed veteran of the North was
hobnobbing with the peg-legged veteran of
the South as they laughingly recounted the
experiences of the war.
Asheville has become great resort for
summer visitors from all sections on account
of its quietudc. its healthful air and water
and its splendid scenic surroundings.
As the train slowed up at the little station
a man, apparently blessed with all the
activity of youth, but bearing about him
that unmistakable air of maturity that
indicates intimate knowledge of and rough
experience with life, stepped on the plat
form and strolled up the hill toward the
hotel.
The duskv twilight of the dying summer
day softcned the rugged outlines of the
gloomy mountains, and the tinkle of a
crystal stream made music in the thckets
below.
SnIIanl, tho CT StortlnI nv a
wild cry. and around a turn of the road
came horse at full speed, and in the
buggy. swaying to and fro at his heels,
there was a nuttcr of white.
Springing forward and dropping his be-
longings, the stranger cutched the reins of
the frightened animal and arrested his mad
the occupant of the buggy was tossed into
the bushes by the roadside.
Releasing the horse. which stood trem-
bling with fear and excitement, the
stranger lifted the PROSTATE form, and as
the crowd from the hotel came rushing to
the spot she 'opened her eyes in a dazed and
/ startled way.
| "Are YOU hurt much % asked the
stranger
ono. thank you, was only frightened.
| had lust gotten into the buggy and was
going for ride when he became frightened
and ran away. Oh. how can ever thank
you"
"Best by not mentioning it again." said
the stranger brusquelv, handing her his
card as he resigned her to her friends and
walked awav
On the following morning the stranger
arose late after his fatiguing journey. and
when he went down to breakfast beside his
plate was a little perfumed note and he
opened it and read it, half amused and hall
in wonder
"OTTO harden: Permit me to thank
Won and to convey to YOU the grateful feel
ings of my friends for vour brave action in
rescuing me { ON my pcrilous position
Yesterday As a partial recognition OF
vour kindness. I wish to extend to You an
invitation to a picnic excursion with us
TODAY. 1t is my birthday. Please do not
fail to come. Gratefully,
ANNIE FONTAINE.'
On blank leaf from his notebook Bar
den wrote line accepting the invitation,
and then leisurclv finished his breakfast.
The day was perfect, and as the special
guest of the heroine of the day, he thought
he had never felt quite so near at peace
with himself and all mankind as he did
| while loungng on the green grass beneath
the shadow of the tall hemlocks at the foot
of the mountain with pretty Annie Fon-
taine.
Chatting in desultory way, Barden sud
denly recalled the day and the drama of
twenty years ago.
'Do YOU know" said he, ''thta | was
one of those Yanks that marched with Sher-
man to the sea ~
Tndeed? Why, You must have been a
very youthful soldier"
IT was a drummer boy. and this day
twenty years ago was in the battle of
Jonesboro. ~"
"And so was |, " said she with saucy
smile, 'for that was my birthday and the
place of my nativity"
"Whatr' he cried, springing to his feet
escitedly. "Then you are, you must
be-
"Shell Annie" she replied.
There are some stories which ought to, be
concluded before they are begun, but this,
which is as true-yes, truer than most his
tory-reached its natural conclusion, then
and there and the Pennsylvania drummer
boy now owns one of the finest fruit farms
around ,Ionesboro, and the mistress of that
southern home is 'Shell Annie. Atlanta
Journal