The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1895-07-12
Told by a Brass Button.
By BENJAMIN NORTHR0P.
Copyright, 1895, by American Press Associa
ticnn |

Copyright, 1895, by American Press Associa-
tion.
The floor of the library looked in the
twilight like battlefield in some san
culinary Liliput. A small forest of
stunted cedars, carved out of wood and
painted green, surrounded the fort on
the STOOL In the clearing in front of the
fireplace there was a broken circle of
wooden soldiers, and at one side lay a
brass button, old and dented, which had
come from a real soldiers coat Scatter
ed through the woods were the pros
trate forms of other wooden soldiers,
lying where they had fallen. Clarence
had been playing the battle of Lookout
Mountain all afternoon. Twice the VIC
torious bluecoats had cut their way
through their opponents, and thrice the
fort where the cannon were planted had
been captured in the face of sure defeat,
and Clarence was tired. 1t had been a
hard day. Napoleon himself could not
have done better with the same troops.
So, as the light faded out of the win
dows and the Pickering Goals on the
hearth sent alternate shadows and lights
through the woods, Clarence leaned his
curly head ON the soft fortress, closed
his eyes and dreamed of more battles
and fresh conquests.
1t was then that the captain of the
Union forces spoke up.
'I'm afraid" said he, "that few
more brushes like this will end me. 1t
has been a hard day."
"Brushesr" replied the leader of the
vanquished from the thicket ''I'd call
it regular battle. I'm sure that both
of my legs are broken. 1 don't believe
real war is any harder. -
"Neither do for that matter. How
is that. Mr.. Brass Button? You were
in the war, weren't you?"
eyes, I was in the war;" answered
the button modestly. "Iwas i'll the bat
tie the little boy has been playing
l and his father.
"And was it as bad as our battle to-
day?" asked the defeated warrior.
sit was very different You see, he
was only drummer boy and not real
soldier, yet in that battle he fought as
handsomely as any man could have
fought, and he won the battle alone.'
While the button paused to catch it's
breath, not being accustomed to story
telling, the Union captain said
H-s-s-s-h" to his soldiers, and all be-
came as quiet rs the trenches where the
dead were lying, and the button went
on:
"He had run away from home. He
lived in Ohio, on the banks of the Guy
ahoga river, where his father had farm.
He ran away from home when he was
Is years old and joined regiment that
was recruiting in Cleveland. This was
in 1868. He was not big for his age,
| but he was sworn in as drummer boy.
Uncle Sam was not asking many ques-
tions at that time when boy wanted
| to give his life for the nations All that
spring and summer he drummed with
| Grant and Hooker and Sherman until,
in the fall Of that year, he was with the
army at Lookout Mountain. We were
in camp OH the side of the hill, with
just such trees as those, not much high
er, either all around us and big rocks
set in rough gravel. Our command was
quartered a short distance from the
main troops, and we did picket duty.
All day we marched up and down the
rough sides of the hill in o long scat
tered line and kept our eyes and ears
wide open for tho advance guard Of the
enemy. 1t was harder than real fight
ing, and more dangerous, too, or at least
it seemed so at the time-this fighting
alone in the woods with men you could
not see, firing at gray shoulder or an
arm or the brim of hat from behind
a tree or over a log or from the side OF
bowlder.
"The first night we saw, he and I,
the torch signals of the enemy flashing
over the valley from the top of the
mountain. The general and his staff saw
them too. And they filled them with a
nameless, speeohless dread Those sig
nails which they could not read were
messages to the rebels from other rebels
who were slowly but surely closing in
on our men to be ready the next day tc
kill them. This fear spread through the
ranks. Candlelights tWinkled in The