The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1898-03-31
The Deacon Carries Out the Emancipation
Proclamation.

~ v>l$lAlS
The Deacon Carries Out the Emancipation
Proclamation.
Pap" said ST. as they we're riding back
comfortably seated on load of corn-fodder,
now that it's all over, I'm awfully scared
about you. l can't forgive myself for runuin'
You up agin such scrape. | hadn't no idee
that there wuz rebel in the whole County
If anything had happened you it'd just killed
mother and the gurls. and then I'd never
rested till I got shot myself, for / wouIdn't've
wanted to live minute
Pshaw, my son." responded his father
rather testify; ''you amt my guardeen, and |
hope it'll be good many years yit before you
are. I'm mighty glad that / went There
was something Providential in it. I'm a
good deal of a Quaker. l believe in the
movin's of the Spirit. The spirit moved me
very strongly to so with you, and | now see
the purpose in it. If l hadn't, them fellers
might've got the bulge on you. / seen them
their head devil, and L feel that | helped you
a good deal"
Indeed you did" said Shorty earnestly
You ought have a brevet for your con-
spicuous gallantry in action ] think the
Colonel will give you one. You put an ounce
o. lead to particularly good use in that feller's
karkiss. / only wish it'd bin little higher
up, where it'd a-measured him for wooden
overcoat"
8 I'm awful glad / hit him jest where
did, responded the Deacon. - | did have
his heart covered with my sights and then /
pulled down little. He was pizen, know;
but | wanted to give him a chance to repent"
He'll repent heap" said Shorty in
credulously. HELL lay around the house
for the next six months, studyin' up new
deviltry, and what he can't think of that She
cesh mother o. his'll put him up to- Co. Q,
and particularly the Hooser's Rest, is the
only place you'll find contrite heart and
Christian spirit cultivated"
THAT reminds me-" said ST. "we haint
licked the Wagonmaster yit for throwin' car
tridges down our chimbley'
Blamed if that amt so,' said Shorty.
I knowed I'd forgotten some little thing.
It's bin hauntin' my mind for days. I'll jest
tie a knot III my handkerchief to remember
that / must tend to that as soons we git
back
9 Pm quite sure that don't want another
sich tussle," medtated the Deacon. 81
never heerd anything sound so murdern'
wicked as them bullets. A painters screech
on dark night, or rattler's rattle wuzzent
to be compared to 'em. 1t makes my blood
run cold to think o. 'em Then, if that
Teller that shot at me had wobbled his gun
little to the left, Josiah Klegg's name
would we bin sculped on a slab o. white
marble, and Maria would We bin the Widder
Klegg. / wish the war wuz over and ST and
Shorty safe at home. But their giddy young
pates are so full o. dumbed nonsense that
how InTYN fn,. DIT
that Pm safe through it, I wouldn't we
missed it for the best cow on my place
After all, Providence sends men where they
were needed, and He certainly sent me out
there.
''Ihen, I'll have good story to tell the
brethren and sisters some night after prayer
meetin's over. It'll completely offset that
story bout my comm so near gittin' my head
shaved. How the ungodly rapscallions
would've gloated over Deacon Klegg's hayin'
his head shaved an bein' drummed out o.
camp. That thing makes me shiver worse'n
the whistlin o them awful bullets. But
they can't say nOthin' now. Deacon Klegg S
bin a credit to the church"
They We're nearing camp. The Captain of
Co. {, ordered:
Corporal klegg, take your wagon up that
right hand road to the Quartermaster's corral
oil mules, and bring me receipt for it."
ST turned the wagon Of, and had gone but
a few hundred yards, when he and Shorty
saw a house at little distance, which
| seemed to promise to furnish something
eatable. He and Shorty jumped Off and
cut across the fields toward it. telling the
Deacon they would reon him before he
reached the picket-lne mile or 50 ahead.
The Deacon logged on, musing intently
of the stirring events of the day. until he
was recalled to the things Immediately
around him by hearing loud voice shout
Stop, there, you black scoundrel! I've
kotched we. I'm gwine to blow your ornery
head off"
| He looked up and saw man about his own
age, dressed i'll butternut homespun, and
riding u fine horse. He wore a broad
brmmed SLOUGH hat, his clean shaver face
was cold and cruel, and he had leveled q
double barreled shotgun on q tine-lookine
negro, who had leaped over from the field
into the middle of the road and was stand
| ing there regarding him with 4 look of intense
disappointment and fear.
| You devils ape" continued the white
man, with torrent of profanity, "Fve
| ketched we jest in the nick O. time. Ye wu1
maxim for the Yankee camp, and d almost
got thar. Ye thought yer 40 acres aud g
mule wuz jest in sight, did We? Mebbe W
reckOned yd git white wife, and be an
officer in the Yankee army. Pm gwine tt
kill ye, right here, to stop yer deviltry, ant
skeer Off Others that air O. the same mind. ,
Pray God, don't kill me, massa," begged
the negro. Il hain't done muffin to be killed
foh.u
"Haint done nothin' to be killed for -
l~l.~ L.