Year: 1876

er world, save where the principal
characters are noted criminals, and
the following sketch Of a boy prison.
er, brought out by an official visit of
a Massachusetts Senator to the old
Charlestown prison, is now recorded
for the first time.


While passing through one of the
workshops, says the Senator, the Of
ficer called my attention to bright
eyed, fair-haired boy, who looked as
out of place within the prison walls
as did the canary bird that Dickens
fancy perchcd on the finger of his
gruff and threatening Boythorn.-
There was something very striking
In the innocent, boyish face, when
contrastcd with the surroundings,
and l wondered what could have
brought the boy there. When we
had passed into another room the Of
ficer told me the story of the strange
and sad Imprisonment.


At one time during the war, said
the officer, l was in command of a
Massachusetts regiment in the army
of the Southwest. While driving
the Confederatcs toward the Gulf,
the two armies were often brought
into close quarters, and at twilight,
on the eve of certain engagement,
we found ourselves encamped in a
grove from which we could see the
camp-ires of a Southern regiment
burning brightly, perhaps one mile
and halt in advance.


Between the two encampments
was an open plain, and on the mar
gin of the grove sheltering the South
ern troops was an old barn, from
which the sharpshooters of the enc
my fired with telling effect upon our
outposts. With the closing-in of the
evening, the light of our camp-fres
shining here and there in the dark
grove served to improve the human
targets of the sharpshooters, whom
we tried in vain to dislodge. Our
artillery had not yet come up, and
behind their wooden covering our dis
turbers were comparatively safe SO
far as our Springfield muskets were
concerned.


AS the danger increased with the
lighting up of our camp, and as all
other resorts had failed, l sent word
through the regiment asking for vol
unteers to fire the building. The
word had barely left headquarters
when a little drummer-boy appeared
at my tent, and, with a graceful sal
lutte, asked if he could be Of any SER
vice to me. He was a bright little
fellow, so small and so innocent-look
ing that it seemed almost like rob-
bing trundle-bed to comply with
his earnest request that l should let
him undertake the barn-burning.-
But he was plucky and persistent,
and after little questioning l gave
him few directions and my per-
mission, though I felt more like send
ing him back to his mothers knee,
from which he evidently had not
graduated many years. I, of course,
had but little confidence in the sue
cess of his daring undertaking. AS
the evening wore on the ritle-balls
kept up their musket like singing at
times unpleasantly near our heads
! began to believe that we must wait
as patiently as possible until we
could send over shell to abate
the nuisance.


Suddenly the firing ceased, and q
loud cheer from our camp brought me
from my bunk to see the woods light
ed up by the glare of the burning
building, l knew my drummer-boy
had done his work; but how, could
not find out until few years later;
for in the excitement of the next
days engagement; and in the hard
work that followed, l lost track of
the brave little chap.


Upon assuming my official duties
in the prison after the war, while
making my first round through the
different apartments to see who my
charges were, | came across a boy
who struck me at once as being sad
ly out of place. I asked him how he
came here. He said: 81 was sent
here for arson, sir, and l took my
first lesson under YOU" Then |
knew my drummer-boy. l cannot
describe to you the effect his words
had upon me; but from that day the
boy had q peculiar place IN my heart,
and 7 could not but feel that | was
debtor to my unfortunate young
prisoner.


l at once made inquiries concern
ing him, and found that he was a
favorite in the prison, and that by his
pleasant, winning ways, and willing
compliance with the prison disci-
pline, he had won the good opinion
of every officer of the institution
He was sentenced for q long term of
years, but 1 was resolved to use
every possible means to obtain his
pardon. l soon had several strong
influences at work in his behalf, and
felt confident that his pardon wonld
be secured. My plan was working
admirably, and was already fixing
the time in my mind that l could set
him free, when one day an elderly
lady came to me and said she had
heard that measures were beng ia
ken for the release of the boy, and
asked me with great earnestness to
stop all proceedings in his behalf
was surprised to hear such a re-
quest from a woman, for petitions
from women are proverbially in be-
half of the imprisoned.


She was nice looking, gray hair
ed lady, with kind, benevolent
face that bore traces of deep sorrow,
and her manner of speaking was so
tender that 1 knew she did not make
her strange request from resentment
or ill-will, though l could not under
stand her motive. Her explanation
was the strangest, saddest part Of all.
She said the boy was her only son;
that she was widow; that she had
lost three sons in the war, and that
this boy was all that was left to her
now.


She said he was not bad boy,
but that when at liberty he was easi-
ly led into trouble by his companions
and though not vicious, his army life
had made him reckless. With tears