The Anderson intelligencer. [volume] (Anderson Court House, S.C.) 1860-1914, 1906-04-04
WAR STORIES.
Two Brass ButtonsA Story of the Christian Commission
Philadelphia Press.

oau ieco'er tnat Doay Tor l buried it
with my own hands,"
1t was now Mr. Winthrop's turn to
be surprised, and he studied my face
lncredulously moment, almost as
though be mistrusted me. l told him
the facts briefly, and then he explain
ed to me how Caleb Gordon had only
heard that his son had fallen at Get
tysburg, how be had vainly exhausted
every possible means Of learning fur
ther details, and still cluug to the
fond hope OF some day recovering the
body.
An hour later Mr.. Winthrop and
myself parted and I never saw him
again. He took the trsin for Colum-
BUS and l con tinued my journey
north. l am fairly good traveller,
and had "Middle.lower" berth but
did not sleep we'll. I was restless.
and when at last I fell into a trou-
bled slumber my dreams were haunt.
ed by the horrors Of the field hospital
at Gettysburg, and the rumble of the
cars seemed to my fevered brain the
groans of dying men.
w.
% the third day after 10Y return TO
Philadelphia the servant brought to
my study a card bearing the name of
Caleb Gordon. He had come from
Columbus to recover the lost body of
his son. The old gentleman was i'm
patient, and eager to leave for the
heid at once. l was anxious to help
him and hopeful Of SUCCESS. T can
eeled some engagements, postponed
others and in forty-eight hours was
again on the way to Gettysburg with
Donald Gordon's father beside me.
During the first stage of the iournev
be had drawn from me eagerly every
detail of his sons death and burial,
every little incident T could remem.
Der OF his last hours Of life.l After
that the father relapsed into silent
brooding, but as I watched bis face I
knew that the hope OF eight years.
the dearest hope of an old mans life
must be realized or blighted by the
outcome Of that strange journey.
We stopped in the borough of
Gettysburg only long enough tu enlist
the services Of two helpers-one Of
them DR.. Kueeland, an elderly physi.
clan who had made a study of the
burial trenches and had thereby been
instrumental i1 recovering many bod.
les; The, other, the. Doctors negro
driver, who was equipped with a
spade and q long, narrow box. Then
we drove together down the old Balti.
moro pike. The ssene was a perfect
picture Of peace and thrifty industry.
| never realized before what q won.
derfal difference so insiguidesnt an an
element 40 the presence or. absenes
of lot Of crazy fences makes in the
ensemble Of landscape. Uhtis we
had forded Rock creek at the Same
shsllow ford and approached the old
farmhouse, it seemed to me almoss
like strange country . We wer, tra-
versing. But there at least .au the
same shambling porch where I 6rst
saw the long lines Of wounded and
dying men and the same .vine.elad
trellis that sheltered them from the
cruel heat. The crimson holiyhooks d
in the dooryard were blooming ia all
their splendor--just as they bloomad
eight years before. Il vas the 18th
day Of July-eight years :to*s day
since Donald Gordon died. IL. was
the. same place. Ny arst bitter dis.
appointment came. when; I !. learsed
that there was NOT a i. annl in that
house who could help US aeoomplish
our purpose. for the Werts farm, had
passed into other hands. i IS, . Z: Z ...:i:: &:
I walked around . corner a. the
10
vine-covered porch expecting / "a Z, sleo
the familiar old barn. The barn had
vanished, toe. The absence Of che,
barn confused mo, bus I walked, after,
the doctor as he followed the direction;
indicated by his memcsanda. & & Iss Is. was ,,is
not hard to locate xnere enc sl,tubble
6eld had been, for ii wss spacious
tract Of many acres, but % locate the
precise line Of the trenches was 4, 3fair
moro delicate task. The ssubble field
moreover, was q high stubble tie,a 40 al:
longer; II was waving high with q corn 3, &, !
The Doctor paused in the, labyrinth of
little ieorn hills. Acoordings % :,ny.
notion, = he seid, '.shs trenches n rar, 3
right along here, about thirty fsef:
from tho present fence iins. 6 i 4, rs; rs