The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1902-11-28

Virginia girl read the secret of her Wiscon-
sin would-be friend, and melted TO her IN
stantly. 1t was that, though they rarely
spoke his name, that led to the letters now
passing frequently between them. 1t was
through that correspondence the sisterhood
began that, despite trial and trouble, proved
eventually so sure an alliance In time OF
need.
But though Elinor wrote in many a page
o. her brother. and in only few referred
to Paul-and then only he or him n
Rosalie would write only OF the latter.
Ordinarily this would have led TO resent
ment and a breach. Now IT did not Tor
what Rosalie had to say was stirring new
hope into the sombre current OF the West
ern girls monotonous life. Rosalie had
amazed and reJoiced her, about the end or
October, by the assurance that she be-
lieved Captain Lamar TO be totally mis-
taken. II was true, she admitted, that
Paul Ladue had not been seen with Ewells
division, but neither had Ewell, as yet-for
the latter had not become accustomed to
cork leg-yet she had tidings from
friends"-who, she would not say-that
Paul Ladue was still alive when borne
from the awful front of Gibbons guns, then
belching canister in double rounds. More
dead than alive he looked said her in
formant, but while she had no tidings of
his present whereabouts, neither was there
any record of his death.
All this was presently sent to Fred on the
Rappahannock, and made him the more
eager to communicate with some one
across that modern Rubicon-some one who
could speak advisedly. But though there
the cavalry vedettes sat long hours in
saddle, facing. and often within hailing
distance of each other, the orders against
communication of any kind had become
exacting, for IL was evident that Burnside
was marshaling his grand division for
move.
In the early summer time, when he hated
10 leave the front and longed to push on TO
Richmond or Charlottesville, Benton had
been summoned to Washington. Now,
when he longed TO go to Washington, there
mr. nf aid 11aI
the Rappahannock. News of the Chiltons
was sorely disquieting. Rosalie would not
write. Jack. in prison camp. could not,
except to kindred, and the doctor evidently
shrank from writing. 1t was a winter of
courts-martial at the capital. and several
such tribunals were In session, trying Of
hcers or various grades. Many new regi-
| ments had come and were held about the
city until suitably drilled and disciplined.
AS a consequence the avenues again were
| alive with uniforms, the hotels crowded,
and many thrifty households were "coin-
ing money taking boarders. Mention has
| been made to DR.. Chiltons sister, with
| whom they were again dwelling after their
return from the summer at the seashore.
| Being only moderately well-to-do, and be-
| sieged with applications, she had yielded
to pressure and let two of her rooms to
o1ncers sojourning in the city. Then one
| OF these, ordered West, begged leave to
present a successor a major of a new regi-
ment, who, being smart" lawyer, had
Deen assigned to duty judge advocate of
| court for the trial of officers of rank
in the volunteers. When the Squire wrote
| mat Mckinnon had been appointed major
or a newly-raised regiment and ordered
| with 1t to Annapolis, Fred Benton felt, so
great was his antipathy, vague sensa-
ton or annoyance and chagrin. Three
weeks later, when Colonel Golf, of the
"teenth, came down to pay the Iron
| Brigade two days visit, the young staff
officer was confounded to hear that Major
Mckinnon had just found domicile under
| the same roof that shielded DIR. Chiffon and
| the lady of his love. 1t meant mischief
and Benton knew it. Yet, how could Nc
| Kinnon, though he hated his former part
ner, the Squire hated Elinor for her scorn
| of him, hated Ladue for the preference
she had ever shown that dreamy, sweet
| natured fellow. and presumably hated him.
| tred-how could Mckinnon injure him or
| those he loved?
strange. uncanny freak OF fortune. he
| tried to teach himself to regard it and
nothing more, but stranger still were the
| freaks not yet unfolded. Fred Benton was
| by no means the first nor by any manner
| presence or secret and insidious foe,
| whether in camp or court, in the depart-
| ment of love or that of war, works untold
| injury to the absent, and there is no foe
more bitter than he who deals the original
| wrong.
One bleak December morning Benton had
ridden with his general down the river
| bank on the Stafford side and sat watching
| the work of the engineers. The pontoon
wagons were being run to the front and
many an officer and man looked at the
| or balk and chess, then studied the distant
| line or heights across the stream saving
| little, but thinking much. Whoever sought
| to storm that crest had a precious lob on
hand. was an expurgation of the Way in
| which the average veteran expressed his
| individual views. Most of the generals and
the stan were comparatively strange to
| our Badger regular. Most Of them were
| Eastern men, and not quite so ready as he
| to think the Western brigade the peer of
any in the army; He had kept his views to
| himself a falf N
| few occasions to take up the cudgels in
| defense OF his comrades when he found
them the butts for little shafts of malice
or mischief at camp fire or mess table. The
| social atmosphere was far from being as
congenial as In the little military family
with which he entered service He sorely
i missed the companionship and guidance OF
Carver, especially. He sometimes sat In
silence, marveling much al the contrast
between the tone OF talk in the old staff
and this in the new. Under his own gen.
eral as he still thought of him.. there was
no such thing criticism of superiors or
condemnation of equals. Here in his new
environment there was little else. The
new division commander, to whose service
he was assigned had confidence, apparent
ly, in the skill and Judgment Of but few
men above him in grade, and none that
7 gave promise of rising to equal or higher
rank. He fairly suffered at the sound OF a
word of praise for other generals deeds or
methods, and Benton had enthusiastic lik-
ing for as many as ten, and this exceeded
his commanders list by nine exactly
Brave bumptious and vain, the chief was
forever sneering or swearing at his fell
lows, and scowling on such of his staff as
presumed to even favorably mention an
other leader. 1t had caused more than one
unpleasantness at table. 1t had intensified
the generals faint dislike for Benton for
unlike the rest Of the staff the young fell
low would not sit and swallow whole the
chieftains scathing comments on other
| chiefs whom he had known, and thereby
Benton showed how easy il was, with
| greater knowledge to have less wisdom. Ir
| fine, 1.-The winter of our discomfort" was
| wearing our young staff officer in q
dozen different ways, and one that hurt
him much was that, when he most longeC
to spend his leisure hours with old friends
Of the Iron Brigade he could not, because
| IL seemed to irritate the chief. Then they
| in turn seemed TO feel the consequent de-
| lection, and twitted him with neglect OF
them because he'd got so high" Take i
| all in all, thought Benton, promotion haC
, brought him anything but bliss; and now
when he would have given worlds to ge
for even a week of lease. Burnside wa!
| planning an assault in force. Those pom
toon trains, at half a dozen hidden points
along the Stafford shore, unerringly tol'
the story.
And while seated in saddle, shivering
bit in the raw wind blowing in the dis
; tant Chesapeake. and wishing the chic
would quit his comments on the orders o
the corps commander and trot home TO din
. ner Benton caught sight of little column
! of cavalry riding dejectedly in from tn
! far left flank. Horses looked faded, me
, Disguised and three or four prisoners i
their wake looked worst OF all. 'Wher
d'ye s'pose those damfools have com
: FROM" asked the general. cheerfully. "Cap
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