The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1898-04-06
ORIGINAL STORY.
Donald Eastman, Or a Glimpse into
the Past.

the Past.
1t was cold, bitter cold. For two
DAYS and nights, q heavy snowstorm
had ragged, and now a keen north wind
blew the lightly fallen snow into fam
tastic shapes aud huge drifts; drifts
that came to the windowsill of many a
farmhouse, and made country roads
well nigh impossible. The thermome-
ter dropped lower and lower all day
long, until by night it reached thirty
degrees below zero.
1t was the Oh of January, 1862, and
my story opens in one of the towns in
northern Vermont, in what would now
be called a low, old-fashioned farm
house. The farmer and his wife were
just sitting down to their evening meal.
"You'll hardly be able TO get to the
village tonight, father" Mrs. Eastman
said, as she added a plate of hot biscuit
to the already tempting repast, and
poured out a brimming cup OF hot tea
for her husband.
81 must CO." Mark Eastman answer
ed, with especial emphasis on the word
must. "The drifts are 30 hard, l think
i can reach the turn on my s%nowshoes,
and beyond that the road will probably
be open."
There was little more said, but these
two understood each other perfectly.
Each knew that the other felt a con-
Stunning anxiety to receive some It'd
ings from Donald, their youngest, and
now their only son, who had Joined the
Army of the Potomac six months ago.
A longer time than usual had elapsed
since he had written, and "strange fore
bodings of ill, unseen and that cannot
be compassed," Swallowed their hearts
this evening.
Eight months before my story opens,
their eldest son, Elliot Eastman, had
left Middlebury College, to serve his
country. Since that time, through sum-
mer's heat and winters cold, and al
ways after a hard days work his father
had been to the village, four miles dis
tant, after the evenings mail. He had
done 10 more than many another.
Army news, both public and private,
was counted very important by those
who had sons or relatives in the Wa
of the Rebellion; indeed, by nearly all
who stayed at home, was counted too
dear too obtain it.
Supper over, Mr.. Eastman made
rapid preparation for his evening walk.
He was q tall, broad s%houldered, finely
proportional man, of almost massive
build. A mar who carried his sixty
years lightly, and but for heart trouble,
would have responded to Abraham
Lincoln's first call for troops. Had he
done 80 he would have added one more
to the long list of Vermont soldiers,
sometimes called the "Goliaths of the
Green Mountains" who during the war
so we'll sustained the fame of their ma
tive state, for the production of stall
wart, kingly men, men also of great
moral power. "More formidable troops
fought not with Allen, or Stark, or
CROMWELL" than these, the IONS of
Vermont.
Don't worry about me, Elizabeth"
Mr.. Eastman remarked, with his hand
upon the latch, "if / don't get home
till late. l am strangely tired tonight,
and the walking will be slow and diff
cult, at the best" With these parting
words he was gone, and in due time
reached the post-office, as he had plan
ned.
A sudden hush fell upon the group
gathered there, as he entered, and
many a heart felt a throb of pity and
sympathy as he received his own and
his neighbor Trent's mail, which con
sisted of a letter and paper for each.
His letter, he saw to his great relief,
was in Donald's handwriting, and leav-
ing it unopened, that together he and
his wife might enjoy it when he reach
ed home, he turned to his paper. He
only thought to skim the latest army
news, as he stood beside the huge box
stove to warm himself before the long
uphill walk home. No man could
have been less prepared than Mark
Eastman for the following lines upon
which his eyes instantly fell:
"Donald Eastman, a private in Com
pany &, Third Vermont, was found
asleep while on picket duty the night
of the End of January. He has been
tried by court martial for the crime,
found guilty, and sentenced to be shot.
The execution of this sentence is set
fUr the morning of the Sth. This young