The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1904-02-03
infantry bugle, Esther Dade sat read

oeusAoo III Cne quarters OF Sergeant
Foster, of her fathers company.
There had been Thanksgiving dinner
with Mrs. Ray, an Amazonian. feast
since all their lords were still away
on service and Sandy Ray and Billy,
Jr., were perhaps too young to count.
Dinner was all over by eight o'clock,
and, despite some merry games, the
Youngsters eyes were showing syme-
toms of the sandman's coming, when
that privileged character, Hogan,
Rays long-tried trooper now turned
major domo, appeared at the door
way of the little army parlor. He
had been bearer of lot of goodies
to the children among the quarters
of the married soldiers, and now,
would Mrs. Dade please speak with
Mrs. Foster, who had come over with
him, and Mrs. Dade departed for the
kitchen forthwith. Presently she re-
turned. I'm going back awhile with
Mrs. Foster" said she. "She's sitting
up tonight with poor Mrs. Wing,
who" But there was no need Of
explanation. They all knew. They
had laid so recently their wreaths
of evergreen on the grave of the gal
liant soldier who fell, fighting at the
Elk, and now another helpless little
soul had come to bear the buried
name, and all that were left for
mother and babe was woman's bound
less charity. It was Thanksgiving
night, and while the wall of the be-
reaved and stricken went up from
more than one of these humble tehe-
ments below the eastward bluff, there
were scores of glad and grateful
hearts that lifted praise and thanks
giving to the throne on high, even
though they knew not at the mo-
ment that they, too, might, even
then, be robbed of all that stood be-
tween them and desolation. Once it
happened in the story of our hard
fighting, hard used little army that
bevy of fair young wives, nearly
half a score in number in all the
bravery of their summer toilets, sat
in the shadow of the flag, all smiles
and gladness and applause, joining
in the garrison festivities on the ma
tons natal day, never. dreaming of
the awful news that should fell them
ere the coming of another sun; that
one and all they had been widowed
more than week; that the men they
loved, whose names they bore, lay
hacked and mutilated beyond recog-
milton within sight of those very hills
where now the men from Frayne
were facing the same old foe. In the
midst of army life we are, indeed,
in death, and the thanksgiving of
loving ones about the freside for
mercies thus far shown, is mingled
ever with the dread of what the NOR
row may unfold.
"Let me go too, mamma" was
Esther's prompt appeal. as she heard
her mothers words. 81 can put the
children to bed while you and Mrs.
Foster are over there.''
And so with Hogan, lantern bear
ing, mother and daughter had fol-
lowed the sergeant's wife across the
broad, snow-covered parade; had
passed without comment, thohgh
each was thinking of the new inmate,
the brightly-lighted hospital building
on the edge of the plateau, and de-
scended the winding pathway to the
humble quarters of the married sol
diers, nesting in the sheltered flats
between the garrison proper and the
bold bluffs that again close bordered
the rushing stream. And here at
Sergt. Fosters doorway Esther part
ed from the elders, and was well
coined by shrieks of JOY from three
sturdy little cherubs-the sergeant's
olive branches, and here, as the last
notes of tattoo went echoing away
under the vast and spangled sky, one
by one her charges closed their
dropping lids and dropped to sleep
and left their gentle friend and
reader to her own reflections.
There was soldier dance that
night in one of the vacant mess
rooms. Flint's two companies were
making the best of their isolation,
and found, as is not utterly uncom-
mon, quite few maids and matrons
among the households of the absent
soldiery quite willing to be consoled
and comforted. There were bright
lights, therefore, further along the
edge of the steep, beyond those of
the hospital, and the squeak of fiddle
and drone of cello, mingled with the
plaintive piping of the flute, were
heard at intervals through the 81
lence of the wintry night. No tramp
of sentry broke the hush about the
little rift between the heights-the
major holding that none was neces-
sary where there were so many dogs
most of the soldiers families had
gone to the dance; all of the younger
children were asleep; even the dogs
were still, and so, when at ten o'clock
Esther tiptoed from the children's
bedside and stood under the star
light, the murmur of the Platte was
the only sound that reached her ears
until away over at the southwest
gate the night guards began the
long-drawn heralding of the hour.
''Ten o'clock and alls well" it went
from post to post along the west and
northward front, but when Number
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