The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1897-03-04
THE WAR WIDOW.
why sNiNss Mary" Had Cause to Remem-
ber the struggle of Long Ago.

why sNiNss Mary" Had Cause to Remenn-
ber the struggle of Long Ago.
What a dear little old maidw said
the Northern visitor, as the charming
Ssutherner tripped down the garden
walk, prim little skirts gently stirred
by the autumn breeze shawl neatly
folded over shoulders which had the
slope Of the true Virginia aristocrat,
dark hair banded beneath the close
little bonnet-an ideal type Of spin
sterhood.
Everyone laughed. Miss Mary an
old maid? Why, she's the fercest war
widow in the whole Shenandoah Val
ley. She bit a Union soldiers arm
clean through to the bone once. You
must get her to tell you the story, It's
very interesting" The story was In
teresting-decidedly so.
"You see," said Mary, bending down
to pick an invisible thread from the
spotless rag carpet rug, you see, there
had been a good deal OF trouble all
along the valley because certain OF our
people we're said to be giving signals
by means of lights in the houses at
night to the Confederate troops in the
Blue Ridge heights. Sheridan was en-
camped all around us, and he had is
sued an order that any house showing
a light after dark should be burned to
the ground. 1t was a regular curfew."
What did you do?" murmured her
hearer syrnpathetically.
Miss Mary's laugh was delightful
thing to hear. No one would have sus-
peoted her Of misfortune. and certain
ly rot Of the tragic experience OF war.
"OA, it wasn't pleasant, but we all
stumbled into bed in the dark-those
who didn't go to sleep with the chick
ems. Well. one night, just at mid
night, a messenger rode up to our door
with a note for me- 1t was note
from one of my relatives, telling me
that my favorite aunt was dying. OF
course, had to have light for the
purpose l went up into the garret
and lighted just one little candle"-
ah. Miss Mary, what meant that odd
eleam in your keen, dark eyes at the
recollection ?-"but it was seen, and
early the next morning a regiment of
soldiers filed into the yard marched up
on to the gallery and into the kitchen
and proceeded to turn the kitchen stove
upside down. and set fire to the
house. My father eXpostulated with
the captain, showed the letter about
my aunt, told him my mother was old
ard feeble and liable to die from the
shCck-it did kill her. Nothing avail
ed; the house was ablaze in a dozen
places, and the soldiers began ran
sacking everything.
81 rushed frantically up stairs and
down, trying to secure the most valu-
able things, our money-we hadn't
much-and the silver and jewelry. My
two children were asleep on the third
floor, taking their morning nap, when
the excitement began; my little girl OF
3 years and my baby boy. My first
thought, of course, had been for them,
and the negro nurse was directed to
take them to place of safety.
Il could see her in the distance my
little girl running about, so l took it
for granted they were all right. But
suddenly l had an nspiration-you
know things are told you just as
though a spirit spoke-I was dragging
small trunk out when the voice-it
was nothing less-said, GO to your
children
Il dropped the trunk, ran down to
he quarters; there was the nurse, there
was my little girl, but-there was no
baby. Law, Miss Mary, said the STU
pid black creature, wringng her hands
and crying, he was so heavy l could
MT done tote 'em bofe.'
Il never stopped. / fairly flew back
to the house; the nursery floor was al
ready in flames. On the stairs big.
burly soldier barred the way, l tried
TO dodge past, but he caught me by the
eAbows-I'm not very big, you know
and held me out at arms length.
Il couldn't stop to argue; time was
precious. just ducked my head down,
bit at the fleshy part of his wrist and
let my teeth meet. He dropped me
with an oath. scampered past and
caught up my baby just in time. The
bed clothes were ON fire."
A fash OF the old bitterness and
storm stirred Miss Mary's mobile fea-
lures for the moment; then she leaned
back, with her own musically South
ern ripple OF laughter. well, we'll,
those days are past, and my baby's a
father. and I'm grandmother, and
you, my dear. were invited to eat Sally
Lunn and drink tea. which is a heap
more polite than telling tales against
the Yankees. Let's go and have our
supper. New York Tribune.