Captured.

Thames Star, Volume XIV, Issue 4442, 31 March 1883, Page 1

Captured.

A STORY OF THE EBBBLLIONj

Near the beginning of our late civil war, Lieutenant. Graham was stationed with a few men to guard a gap in the Virginian mountains. The blockade of the whole South at that time was very rigorous, and supplies of, any kind were rarely smuggled through the Union lines.

Qne morning, as the lieutenant sat smoking in the door of his tent, one of his outlying pickets presented himself, red and blown with running.

" Ire c;ot 'em, sir! It's some of thim rebels —hookin' it across the lines. I brought 'em to with a round turn ! "

"Where?" exclaimed the lieutenant, as he jumped to his feet. ■ He was a young and zealous officer, and had not yet a chance to prove, his zeal. " Rebels breaking the lines, eh P Well done, Wright!" " Carrying provisions, sir! " "No doubt—no doubt. Arms and ammunition; too, of course..- Where are they ? Were they taken prisoners ?,"; The man looked sheepish. "They're back in the woods, sir. I jest fotched it along." "It? What on earth "

The lieutenant followed Wright, who ran to the woods, dashed behind a copse, and hauled out a nice girl of about ten years of age, carrying a basket. A. don* key stood beside her. •• There they be, leflenant. She was footin' it past the pickets, ' Dixie' to herself as easy as yer please." "Take your hand off the child! I thought you had captured a dozen, men, you braggart 1 Who are you my child ?" •• I'm Dora JSTettley, sir." Dora was a chubby freckled child, with honest brown eyes, which reminded the lieutenant of his little sister away out in Michigan. Still, important information, maps and despatches had often been carried by women and children Since the war began, and this might be the bearer of information, child though she was. " Where did you come from, Dora ?" " From Martinsburg, sir." •' And what have you in that basket'?" The child's face grew red, she shut her lips tight, and remained silent. •• Search it, Wright." " Here's tea, sir, and a little package of sugar, and here's a bottle of' quinine pills." " Where are you going with these things, Dora ? " . She looked wildly from, side to side, her chin quivered, and then'she burst'into passionate sobs. " Oh, let me go, sir V It's my mother. She is down on the plantaiion all alone. The negroes have all followed your "army and my mother's alone and sick. I just thought I'd buy her a little tea and sugar and the medicine." " How do you know she is sick ? " "Patsy told me. Patsy's the coachman. He followed the soldiers up to Martinsburgh. He said there was no* body to take care of her." "And you rode from Martinsburgh here on this donkey ? " . ** Yes, sir." " And meant to pass the lines ? " Dora nodded, and- her eyes sparkled. This kind-faced lad was not so terrible a foe, after all. -' .. " I was just going down the gab road. I have ridden it on Spot a hundred times before." Wright's face was eagerly turned to the officer. : .. ......... " Oh, lit the child go, leftenant. What harrum kin she do with her bit. of ta for her sick mother ? I wish I'd been in betther business when I teched you, sissy." . " I wish you had/ said Dora, simply. " How does it happen that your mother is alone?" asked the lieutenant.,•? Where is your father?" - . Dora's cheeks glowed a fiery red. She looked at the ground uncertainly. She was a quickly witted-child, and bad seen the pity and symfatby in the Officer's

"•■*«yWiT If she could Bide tbe factfthat Hex ' family were actively concerned with the confederates, there was a chance that she would be allowed to pass. Bat—to lie! "Where is your "father, Dora?" he ;•;, repeated. 11 In the army !" "she faltered. "Fighting for ..the Union?" said Graham,, quickly. There was a long pause. V-He is with Lee," she said at last. " And your brothers ?" " 'i fl They are' with Dick'Ashby." The young, officer turned away impa- *- tiently. He 'had hoped to 'find a pretext for being of service to, the child. ; , OT'.'Wa'lk 'down the field: a 'bit, 1 leftenant, an' keep yer back this way, whispered Wright. I'll give her the wink to be off.., And what harrum's.done P" . \ " " ; tNo. I am sorry, .Dora,"but'l cannot ...let'"'you' pass through the gap." It is 7 'against orders.". She did not make any noise, but dropped on the grass and buried her face in her hands., . , "" I want mother!" she sobbed. "Ob, I want mother/ "Ye see, child;" explained Wright, " no support or comfort kin be carried to to the inimy." ' .. . "She's not an enemy," cried Dora, angrily. " She's mother." j . . "jQome with ree, Dora," said the lieu- i tenant. He lifted her on the donkey and ;i ,led, her to the farm house, where the wife '-! of General R~— had her quarters. She was a.gentle, motherly woman, and, he told her the story. , ." lam going to the commanding officer to telegraph for a permit for her to pass the lines. You can discover whether she has anything contraband about her. But' I would stake my life on the honesty of 1 r the child." r „ ""You will have a ride of twenty miles ■" ' .'in the hot sun, lieutenant," said Mrs R— "Do you know the child P" " No; but I cannot help thinking, what ■'• if that poor woman yonder were my mother and this child little Alice ? " Mrs R-r—took the girl up to a little "■'■ chamber which she told her should be her own until the lieutenant returned, kissed ker and'left. She felt impatient with the dreadful turmoil and sorrows of the war. ,'■-' This poor mother, dying alone perhaps, t and > the child wandering through the country!- Why. was there no one who could ,set it all right P .In the meantime Dora had hidden her basket, locked the door, and kneeled down by the side of the bed. She was praying with all the strength of her little heart to God to help her. And on the other side . • .of the mountain in a solitary house, her mother lay alone, her bands covering her pale worn face, while, she too spake to tbe same Friend, who had been her Friend in whom she had trusted all her life. Down the: Valley, galloped the lieutenant—a stranger to them both—prompted , he^ thought, by a casual likeness of the ' 'child to his sister. Yet was there not some One who heard their prayers and made this man the agent to answer them P The One who could and would in His own good time set all this turmoil and all others right P At the end of the-day Lieutenant Graham ..opened the gate of the farm house. Mrs R , with Dora, hurried .- to meet him. "I know by your face you hare succeeded," she said. " Yes, the general is the most inexorable of foes as far as men are concerned, but he has a wife and children of his own.' Here is a permit and an order for a guard to take the child through the pass." The officer himself rode with the guard into the gap. ",Good-by, my little prisoner. You .';- will soon be with your mother, and I hope , you will-find that she will not need the . medicine you are carrying her," he said, as they parted. Dora's eyes were full of tears. "You have been so good to me," she said, dropping Spot's reins and holding ont both hands. "I wish I could do something for you." " Oh, be good to the first Yankee who falls into your hands, you little rebel," he replied, laughing. There is a sequel to our little story, Mrs Nettley, with her daughter, removed for safety to her brother's plantation in the eastern part of the state, where they remained daring the war. After a skirmish which took place in the, neighborhood', Major Nettley's house, being spacious, was taken as a temporary hospital, to which the wounded of both sides were carried. Dora and her mother * were busy among thorn, doing what' they could to alleviate the sufferings until the surgeons had dressed their wounds. There was one young man of about' twenty who was wounded in the leg. Dora as she raised his head to give him a drink of water, met his eyes. They bad a strangely familiar look. " What is your name ?" she said, as she took tbe cup from bis mouth. " Felix Graham." . ' * What regiment?" "Ensign. Fourth Michigan." Dora ran to her mother, fairly stammering in her excitement. "He is so like the the lieutenant oj, the ,1 gap, mamma! And the same name 1 And . . I promised ; I promised !" , / Mrs Nettley in her turn grew interested : and excited,. : She went, to the command- . ant when the time came for sending the wounded union officers away. - "-There-ira young man among them." she said, " whose wound will' probably prove fatal if he is moved. I owe a debt .of gratitude, as I believe, to one of his family—or at least to one of his name. Jf you will leave him T will nurse him as faithfully and well as I can." •- , - Mrs Nettely was a woman whose re quests were usually granted. Felix ; Graham remained at her house two months. , Four years after the war was over, our old- friend, Colonel Graham (formerly * lieutenant),: came home to Michigan from San Francisco, where he had engaged in -'?. business, "after his discharge from the army. ...".' • It was his first home-coming, and there was great rejoicing, and a gathering of all the Graham clan, big and little. ; "But where is my.new Bister P" be .said to Alice, I wish I could have got . back in time for the wedding. To think Felix went to Virginia for a wife, after all r' - " Here they come," said Alice, as steps were heard on the porch without, and boys rushed out to meet Felix and the bride with—" He's come ! he's oome J" . The door opened, and Selix, bearded and sunburned, came in, a shy, chubby ; .young girrfollbwiog him. Her eyes were brown,., and. ,Qddly s honest and .frank. "Colonel Graham, his* hand, out, stopped, * perplexed. . * " WhoP Dora!" he said. " Doraf " „,,/ /'Yea, Dora," the answered. "I kept

my Jprbmise," laughing mischievously "\ " You told me to be good to tbe first i Yankee who fell into my hands. Here he is. I thought the best thing I could do for him was to marry him." Dora's mother and uncles followed her to Michigan. Since then there have been many family gatherings, where the Nettleys and Grahams—once such bitter foes recall the events of the war, seeking only to remember how much was human, and tender, and brotherly was mingled with the terror and misery of that far-off time. ■".'■ i