The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1896-07-08
A Wounded General.

There is a Grand Army post in one
of the Southern states which on Me-
mortal day includes in its flower strew-
ing a grave too short to indicate the
resting place of a man. Beneath the
little heap of earth is the dust of a boy
who performed as splendid a service as
any man who shouldered a musket or
welded a sword. The story is told in
different ways, but none of them is
exactly correct. l can tell it as it hap
1t was on the Atlanta campaign.
Sherman, having more men than Johns
ton, could always overlap him. Johns
ton would make a stand and intrench.
Sherman would throw his cavalry
around his enemy's TANKS, get in his
rear and force him to retreat. AT one
of these periodical maneuvers an Of
icer commanding a brigade of cavalry
on the extreme Union right-a cracker
to the whip with which Sherman drove
his enemy was pushing forward to
flank them. He was one of the rough
est generals in the army. A swearing,
snarling, irritable man, with a square
mouth, an eagles eye and beetling
brows. But he was as good a fighter
as cursor, and in an emergency was
sure to be called on for some perilous
service. His men, though in constant
dread of him, would have followed him
to the crater of a volcano. On this
particular occasion he had more of the
devil in him than usual, for his efforts
to flank the enemy were thwarted by a
river which protected the Confederate
left. He had been hunting for a ford
by which to cross, then ride forward on
the opposite bank, recross, and get in
the enemy's rear. But he was not
posted as to the crossings and had been
disappointed in finding any one to en-
tighten him.
At last he pulled up before a cabin,
on the doorstep Of which stood a boy
about twelve years of age. He was
planted square on both legs, which
were covered with Georgia mud, his
hands in his pockets, a lock of light
curly hair protruding through a rent in
his hat and overhanging his forehead,
looking at the troopers with all the in
tensity of childish interest and admi-
ration.
"Boy," said the general, show can
/ cross the river?"
ora u Whb luc quiCh iopiy.
81 know that, but where is the fordp"
SHOWN thar" pointing.
Chow can l get thar?"
$50 long the road bout five min
utes, n take the cross road that-a-way.
Cross lots behind the hill, N VII git
mother road wot -
"Orderly," cried the general impa-
tiently, dismount and give him your
horse. Come, show US the way. And
mind, if you don't take us to a ford,
III cut off your ears"
The boy came running up, the or
derby lifted him into the saddle, thrust
his little feet between the stirrup straps,
raising the leather bands to serve for
supports, and the child rode off beside
the general, his hat rim tapping, the
stirrups dangling.
Are you a Union or Confederate
boy?" asked the general.
81 dunno"
Don't know? Well, it doesn't mat
ter. If you guide us wrong you'll wish
you'd never been born. Do YOU know
the roads on the other side of the
river?"
Reckon"
The boy did not seem to be at all
afraid of the general; on the contrary.
he rode close beside him, looking up
into his rugged face admiringly. He
led the way to the ford, across it, and