The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1901-08-17
FOUGHT WITH IRISH BRIGADE.
Interesting Episode Of the Civil War
Related BY Father Sheehan.

Interesting Episode Of tho Civil Wal
Related BY Father Sheehan.
Luke Delmege," the second Of the
Rev. p. A. Sheehan's stories of cleri
cal life, now proceeding in the Ameri
can Ecclesiastical Review, is in many
respects far more powerful work
than it's popular predecessor, ''My New
Curate." Its action is distributed over
a wider territory, it introduces great
er variety Of characters, priests and
laymen. 1t is of intenser feeling, and
more somber background. But it is
full of the Celtic charm, delicious bits
of humor and the loveliest incongru.
titles, catching the reader unaware, so
to speak, and delighting his soul.
\ Take the interview of the grave
young anglicized Irish curate, receiv-
ing on All Saints night the names Of
the dead who We're especially to be re.
membered in the Mass Of All Souls
with the Irsh-American Civil war vete.
ran.
For me parents and deceased
friends" said Il strong, rough man who
spoke in a rather superior manner, as
if he were offended by the want of tact
shown by his predecessor Luke
wrote the names.
Put down now, yer reverence" said
the man, "the name Of Martin Connol.
| ly, soldier Of the Federal army, who
died from wounds received in tn gal.
liant charge of the Irish brigade at
Fredericksburg"
THAT'S hardly necessary" said
Luke.
| ooh, but it is, yer reverence. want
me poor cummerade to get his rights
in the next world, as he didn't ge,
them in this"
"That was Meagher's brigade" said
Luke in a moment of forgetfulness and
enthusiasm.
The poor soldier smiled, drew him.
self up erect and put out his right
hand
"Ah, you know it, yer reverence. God
bless you! Put the hand there!''
Luke placed his hand in the big
broad palm. The old man raised il
reverently and kissed it.
"Put down the sowl Of Thomas Fran.
els Meagher, there, yer reverence
said he sobbing. "Sure it isn't I should
forget him. 1 was as near to him as
yer reverence this mint on that day
Boys seq he, reminder who We are
Sure it's I'm the proud man to be lad.
ing to death OF victory the bravest
and best min in the Federal army
Boys scz he, there's your flag, don't
disgrace it! I wish to God, boys seq
he, that had We on the slopes of
Slievamon. Wouldn't we make the red
coats fly?' He stopped thin, as if he
wor thinllin' of ould times and cum
merades. 'Dimpsey,' seq he to the
bandmastcr, play up Brian lsoru's
march. Slope arms, four deep-for-
| ward!' And we wint to our death.
Father Walsh, not this mans Father
Walsh" he said, jerking his hand con-
tcmptuously ut the last pensioner, "but
our own Father Walsh-God be wild
him, he was the fine man-sat on his
horse, as we passed by. He was big
man wild Il big black beard. and he
was raisin' his hand over us, as we
marched past. put me hand on his
| I 7 krr;s
a double blessin' for I'm double
blagard.' He laughed poor man, twas
the last we seen of him. Tor we weren't
twinty minits on the field, thryin' to
take that hill (surc we might as well
he thryin' to take the gates of heaven),
whin down 1 wint, with q splinter of =
shell in me calf; and down wint poor
Martin, with a bullet in his left lung,
We wor out on the field, all night in
the cowld watchin' the stars, widout q
bit, bite. or sup, only the wounded
moanin' ana groanin' all around us
About twelve we saw lights; and whjn
they ken near enough we saw they
wor the Confederate ginerals come out
to see after their own. Here goes,
says Martin, shown in cartridge
one shot at the rebclly rascals, and
thin l die aisy.' Dang yer sOwl, yel
ruttin.' sez l, and 'twasn't that l said
ayther. yer reverence-'do we want tx
go before God wild murder on yel
sowl?' They killed many a brave MAI
!, today sez he. spittin' blood. SFair play
, is bonny play sez I, taking the rifle
from the ruftian. An shure, if he free
that shot. yer reverence, all the rebel!
in camp wud be among us in mint
stabbin' and shootin' Nike the divil
But, I'm afeard I'm delayin' the ma
) bors," he said, turning around, "tha
, ould Crimcan pensioner KEEP We SIGH :
/ lang time"
!, "Thls Offering is too much for you,'
t said Luke, pushing back half-crown
'I'll keep just half"
. Not bit of it, yer reverence" salt
I the old man. pushing the coin bacl
n again. "We're not like these poo
h English angashores-on siXpence
s day."
@ He passed out triumphant, thougl
limping from that splintercd shell. Il
4 a few moments he returned, and push
ed his way through the crowd of won