The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1895-05-31
RISING sun, CECIL COUNTY, Md FRIDAY, 81, 1885

bragg SCaH ana was now on q sick
leave. Dennis recalled the death of
Snow and the mysterious disappearance
of Coleman, and it did not take much
reasoning to convince him that his old
acquaintance was spy in the Federal
service. At Calhoun number of Off
GERS questioned Coleman. but he refused
to answer on account of the pain in his
head.
You will have worse pain in your
head before long, l am thinking, :" said
Captain Dennis. "You might as we'll
prepare for the worst, Coleman, for you
are id Yankee spyv'
To this Coleman made no response.
He fully realized his position, but he
still remained cool and passive. That
evening he was sent on to Atlanta, or
rather he was handouffed, and Captains
Dennis and Hill accompanied him.
On the outskirts of Atlanta and near
the place now occupied by the barracks
there was, in the winter of 1864, 1.
bull pen, " or stockade, inclosing about
an acre. On the surrounding wall,
which was made Of logs set on end,
ohO1O was u WIFI
sentry boxes for the use of the guards.
The inclosure was divided into two parts
by fence of ordinary boards, between
which were spaces that enabled the men
in either part to see and converse with
the others.
was captured soon after the battle
of Missionary Ridge and sent on with a
number of other unfortunates to the At
lanta bull pen. reached the place on
Wednesday, but it was not till Thurs
day night that my attention was par
tlcularly attracted to the Confederate
half of the stockade. 1t was a bitterly
cold night, and. with some equally mis-
cradle men, Twas crouching for warmth
against the dividing wall, when heard
singing and praying on the opposite
side. In reply to my inquiry as to the
cause of this unusual devotion one of
my companions told me that man in
the adjoining pen was going to be
hanged on the morrow, Friday.
Interested so much that forgot I was
cold and hungry, knelt and looked
through the space between two boards
I saw group of men only few yards
away, and their forms were thrown into
shadowy relief by the glow of fire
burning short distance beyond The
accent convinced me that the men who
were singing and praying were noun
taineers, possibly Union men from east
Tennessee. They were grouped about a
man who sat OH the ground with his
hands clasped before him. Isubsequent-
ly discovered that they were bound. AS
listened one of the men called out:
80 God, our heavenly Father, grant
that the soul of our brother, James Cole
man, may be prepared this night for the
better landH'
The name startled me- and l called
in to the condemned man. He recognize
ed my voice and dragged himself so near
the separating fence that l could feel
his hot breath on my cheek as he told
me his story. On our first meeting the
calmness of his voice and bearing i'm
pressed me, but they had not changed.
Without tremor in his voice or word
of reproach for his prosecutors or of re-
gret for himself he told me his story.
He willed me his journal and papers,
and his mother, when met her in 1865,
complied with his request.
I tried to whisper of hope, but he did
not permit himself to be deluded He
was certain that the inevitable had
come, and the prospect of death in the
morning did not affect him. He took no
active part in the prayers and songs of
the sympathetic mountaineers, and he
was by all odds the most self possessed
man in that wretched stockade.
At daylight Coleman raised his man
acled hands TO the space between the
boards, Our finger tips touched in an
eternal farewell
The bugles were sounding the reveille
in the surrounding camps when I, still
peeping into the other half of the stock
ade, saw sergeant and six men ap-
preaching the place where Coleman sat.
Something that l could not overhear
was said, and he rose and walked off in
their midst with strong step and his
head erect.
THE END.