The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1906-04-04
CONTINUED from last week.

One pleasant evening in July, eight
years after the battle of Gettysburg,
the passenger steamer Oriole was
making her night trip northward over
the waters Of Mobile bay. Wearied
by the task of presiding for three days
over religious convention and glad
to be again on my way home, I had
sought the hurricane deck and drop
ped into a comfortable canvas easy
chair to rest. l had long since ceased
to harrow my soul with recollections
Of those awful days in the barn hos.
pital. l don't know why it was, there
fore, that on that particular night my
thoughts persistently reverted to tnat
funeral scene by the trench, in the
stubble field and Tom Spaulding's
headboard with its simple epitaph.
Perhaps it was only the coincidence
Of time, coupled with the scene of
being beneath Southern skies, that
recalled the memory of the Southern
soldier.
Abandoned to my own musings,> !
sat there watching the wondrous play
Of phosphoresoent light in che steam
er's wake and quito unconscious of
the presence Of the portly middle-sged
gentleman who sat opposite me- on tie
starboard side, and was the only other
occupant Of that part Of the deck.
His abortive effort to strike a match
and mildly impatient explanation at
his failure reminded me that had
neighbor in distress. I was about to
rise and offer him light when he
came toward me. "Thank you, sir"
he said pleasantly, as he drew the
first puff from his mild Key West.
II seem to have lost my old-time
knack Of striking fire in a breeze"
Then he glanced at my face for the
first time, he smiled aud extended lis
hand in greeting.
why, doctor, glad to see you. I
didn't know you were aboard. Par
don me for introducing myself. You
don't know me, but I heard your ad.
dEesa last evening in Mobile." AS /
spoke he wac fumbliDg in his wallet
and producing card, he handed it to
me and bowed slightly. Then, oem-
pretending that it was too dark to
read it, he added: "My name is
Charles P. Winthrop, sir, Of Colum-
bus-Columbus, Ga" We sat down
together and ohatted awhile of the
lste convention and it's doings, and
then when the conversation seemed
likely to- flag, 7 did what chance
acquaintance always does who hes
little to guide him save the pame Of
the town he halls from. / sought to
name some mutual friend. I might
have named @ Chriat,ao minister of
Columbus whom I, knew quite we'll,
but somehow the Instant tho middle
aged gentleman said "of Columbus
Columbus, Co.," I had seen again ip
memory that pine headbcard. with it,
carved insoription-'.'Lieutena Don
Gordon, 18th Ga, 9. S. a.. AND SO
I simply followed my first impulse
when I said: r.,
"Do you happen to know q family
in your town named Gordon; had a
son, splendid young fellow, killed ia
the WARP"
"Gordon? Caleb Gordou2 Why!
yes, / know che old gentleman very
we'll, sir. A ueighbor Of mine, in
fact, aud g member Of the same
church," Mr.. Winthrop was affable.
He was evidently pleased that my
mental graphing for g mutual friend
bad been go fortunate in its very 6rst
venture, and his face was beamipg
with gratifsotion as he added: "You
know Caleb Gordon, thenl Fiae old |
gentleman, sir; true as STEEL and gen:
tie as q woman; geuerous, too, gen.
erous to q fault" :*.:j. |
.'No," 1.said quietly, aud with q |
sou1h Of sadness, II don't know the
father. but knew the son. ~.
"Don, was ita Yes, yes, poor Don. |
That was q jsad blow to the old gen. |
tleman, and isn't it strange. cir, With
all the money and time Caleb Gordon
has spent to get at the facts, that he |
never learned the arst word of how
poor Don. died, or where he was bur
led. That SCENE to be the saddsst
part Of it, sir, don't you think soe
Lostl Simply lost to them and not . |
soul knows the faotsl Many such. |
cases during the war, no doube, ali |
through tho" ...:: :::.'s .ltii.::".,.> ~
Mr.. Winthrop stopped and looked
up in my face. 7, had dronned rnv