The Vermont watchman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1883-1911, 1898-05-25
SELECTED STORY.
Saved the Baby.

Yankees"
Such was the cry which reused Nell
Tarleton from her bed that summer
evening when General Butler, at the
head of the Federal troops, swooped
down upon City Point, Va, and blocked
the road to Petersburg.
Nell Tarleton dwelt with her mother
and baby brother in their old fashioned
home on the James river. The father
of the family was away on the Potomac,
fighting the battles of the Confederacy,
and only few faithful negroes remain
ed to guard Mrs. Tarleton and her
children.
AS Nell sprang from her bed she
heard the rattle of musketry up the
river. A shell tore, screaming, over
the house, followed by another and
another. Then there burst forth from
the stables lurid glare, and she heard
her mothers distracted voice shrieking
that the negro quarters were afire.
Nell's fingers trembled violently, but
she managed to don her frock and
shoes before old Aunt Drusilla came
numbering up the stairs and drove the
child, shoes in hand, from the room.
"Doan' min yo' shoes till yo' gifts
out o. fiah," exclaimed Aunt Drusilla
resolutely, and so, barefooted and half
clad, Nell hurried through the confu-
sion of the hall and into the lawn be-
fore the house.
There she found her mother hysteri-
cal and helpless, and there, too, was the
baby, snugly wrapped up and carried
by his nurse, the mulatto Phoebe.
Some valuables hastily put together lay
in bundles on the grass-plainly reveal
ed in the ruddy light from the blazing
huts. Nobody seemed TO know what
to do till Aunt Drusilla swept upon the
scene. Then movement took the place
of inaction.
"Heah, yo' fool niggahsl,' cried the
old colored woman. "What for yo' star
in en- doin muffin. Want de Yankees
to cotch yo' huh? Grab dem bundles
an run for de woods. An yo' too, Miss
-, an yo' honey. Run, 1 tell yo'.
Phoebe, min dat ar chile, or l warm
yo' Ever'body's got to run"
And everybody ran--even fat Aunt
Drusilla herself. Down the dewey
lawn, with the Federal bullets whist
ling among the tree tops hard by, and
the flames spreading to the barns and
and stables, they fed. For in the night
attack no one was safe. Neither north
nor south warred against women and
children, but under cover OF darkness
the gravest danger threatened all with
in the area of attack.
At last they reached the dense woods
and the sound of firing came but faint
ly to their ears, though the glow of the
distant fire still showed its grim refec-
ton upon the sky line.
"Dis far 'nough," grunted Aunt Dru-
silla, who, despite her age and corpu-
lence, had kept we'll in front of the
race. 1--WE can rest now. Put dem
bundles down, yo' boys, an, . my
Lawdl Whar's Phosbe?"
Poor Mrs. Tarleton turned at the old
woman's frightened cry-turned to see
that the young mulatto was indeed
missing, together with her precious
charge, the baby! The unfortunate
woman's brain reeled at this last terri
BILE calamity, and she fell iainting upon
the path.
Kneeling by her side and chatting her
hands, Aunt Drusilla cried frantically
to the negro boys, who stood around, to
search the woods.
''Go back de way we come," she
shouted. "Phebe mus be captured or
shot. Go back an fetch young marse
fore de Yankees git him."
But the negroes hung their heads
sheepishly.
"We'se 'fraid, Aunt Drusilla. Deed
we'se drefful 'fraid," they moaned.
Wrathfully the old woman rose to
her feet.
SAN yo' call yo'selves menl" she ex.
claimed. "Yo's muffin but pack o.
cowardly possums. I'll 60 back NAH
self. Yassur! Ole Aunt Drusilla amt
Marse Halls lef' behin'"
True to her word, the stout hearted
Drusilla turned in the direction of the
burning outbuildings and shuffled down
the pathway as fast as she could 60.
But another pair of feet were lighter
than hers. A little girl in flimsy
frock, with her shoes clutched in her