News and citizen. [volume] (Morrisville, Vt. ;) 1881-current, 1902-07-09

brush" Mention of it never got into
the newspapers. There were thou
sands like it, except for the falling
bridge, during the war, the results be-
ing too small or gradual to be part of
the history which was being made by
some great engagements which pro-
portionately were not so bloody. Per-
haps the story Of this one will explain
to some people why old soldiers when
chatting together about the war talk
much of the march and camp, but very
little about fighting.
The fight at the bridge was the Sc
verest engagement in which our COM
pany had ever participated, so | ought
to have been so absorbed by it as
to be insensible to anything but my
duty as a soldier | am glad to say
that | loaded, aimed and fired as care
! fully as if-oh, as if it were the first
day of the "open season" for quail in
the woods and fields near Summerton.
! Nevertheless | frequently detected my
self in the act of looking about me to
see what other men were doing. ! saw
Cloyne loading and firing as placidly
and smilingly as if he were merely
making out bills at the Summerton
lumber yard. Mick McTwyny was
handling his carbine as theoretically
as If it were q coffee mill. yet in his
excitement he was discharging it in
the direction of the sun, the tree tops
and his own toes, as if the enemy were
q of tho c11rronn6ipU in nd mid
be easily hit by. man with his eyes
shut Meanwhile he was volubly ours
ing his platoon in English and Irish,
with some assistance from the VERDI
age of the holy Scriptures and the vo-
cabulary of the Bowery. for not firing
more rapidly and carefully.
Look at that little dhivil Brainard"
he shouted. He's putin rebs into pur-
gatory as fast as if he was walkin' to
Sunday school in Summerton."
Brainard! The sound of his name
startled me and caused a guilty pang
as my having been concerned only for
my own life impressed me. | looked
quickly about for him and just in time
I to see him roll sidewise from behind a
fallen log, his face as white as the pa
per on which | am writing. Killed?
No, he moved. | hurried to his side
and asked him where he was hit.
an the heart Jack, but twas not the
enemy that hit me. Twas Mick Nc
Twyny's tongue. Great heaven! I've
vowed my life a hundred times to the
saving of men-you know was study
ing for the ministry. But now I'm try.
ing to kill men! It's all-but why
aren't you firing? See that red beard
ed face sticking out from behind a tree
on the other side of the creek? No, no.
Don't you fire at him! Here goesw
Brainard's lips closed so tight that
| could not see their dividing line, so
looked toward the Confederate with a
red beard, and second after Brainard
fired I saw the red bearded man clap
a hand to his shoulder. Then the
angles of his elbows and knees indicat-
ed that he had gone out of action and
sat down behind his tree.
At that instant Brainard himself had
a strip of skin and a bit of flesh taken
from his cheek by shot from the
other side, but he did not know of it
till the fight was over. was recalled
to sense of duty by Cloyne, who
drawled:
What are you lounging for, Jack?
This isn't Sunday school picnic"
Quickly l covered my confusion by
regaining the cover l had left, but |
was still curious to know what other |
men were doing. The Balaklava vet |
Grams were side by side on the ground |
and as fat as the head of a snake |
about to coil, though they did not seem
intent on striking Not far to my right |
stood Phil Hamilton, handsome and |
composed as usual, but in apparent |
trouble with his pistol He looked so |
superb, with his clear cut face, erect |
figure and broad shoulders, that for a |
moment / wished my cousin May |
might see him. Then l was glad she |
could not, for did not Brainard love |
May, and was not Brainard my dear
est friend?
Still, pistols are made only to shoot |
with. aud the moment of battle is the |
tJIlc W use LU6Lli, 80 nuITISu over 10 |
Hamilton and said:
''Take my pistol and give me yours
Mine is in perfect order, and as | |
helped father when he was inventing a |
revolver, l know something of a PTS
tolls works" $500
"Thank you, Jack" said he as coldly |
as If he had been born and brought up |
in an icehouse, "but | think I'll con-
quer it in the course of time"
/ was somewhat offended by his |
manner. but l reminded myself that |
there is a time for everything and that |
in the thick of battle was not the time |
to expect a polite reply. even from the |
Chesterfield of Summerton. When |
again I Glanced to look toward Hamil |
ton, saw that his face was very white |
and he was looking at card photo |
graph. 1 could not doubt who the orig |
inal was. On our homeward ride big |
Pat Callahan snarled:
"Did yes see our swell commissary |
sergeant behind the thickest tree there !
was? I'm thinkin' he was afeard O.
gittin' his beauty spots scratchedw
- al r.