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NUMBER 7.
“ OLMSTEAD & CO., PUBLISHERS.
THE TROOPER CAPTAIN.
, A picture in its way. ®A rude-looking house,
5 with sashes painted’black, and three graceful ma-
‘ples in front of the door. “Two pretty children,
) white-haired and’ rosy; a pig and three dogs.
‘ Near the broken gate, a man, skulking ; an evil-
{looking fellow, with a slouched hat pulled over his
j eyes, and a red beard. Capt. Parker, a Federal of-
. ficer, rode up with his small company of troopers.
"Look here,” he said, addressing the Virginian—
= “which road of the two yonder leads to the Widow
: Montalbert’s farm?” ’
| “Well, the left, I reckon, rather,” replied the
‘ man, sulkily, giving the troops a malicious glance,
as he thrust his great hands deep in his pockets.
\ “And I reckon, rather, that you will have to go
:and show us the way,” returned the captain, the
‘sun-burned red in his cheeks deepening.
“Can't ;” returned the man, doggedly; “ain’t
* got‘no horse.” cy tw
, “O, I’ve got a horse; Dagget, bring that ani-
mal here; he’s able to carry a secesh I guess.
>, Come, sir, jump'up.” .
3° “Can't do it,” replied the man; “got the
matiz.” . :
“We can do it for you.’ Dagget—Willis, here ;
lift this fellow—handle him tenderly, on account of
\ his rheumatics,” he said, ironically ; “but if he re-
_ Sists,”"—and his brow darkened as the Southerner
* drew his hands out of his pockets, standing back
‘and clinching them—‘shoot him down. , I’ve had
‘
; enough of this nonsense—been purposely put out of
: my way three times, That will do—hope you are
! comfortable, sir.” ° . . .
i. Out swarmed the family—pigs, dogs and all.
! "Le? go my pap,” cried one tow-head, battering
* the fence with a broken rail. “O, mammy, they’ve
* ,aneried off pap.” .
‘ ¢ “Ebenezer—I say, Ebenezer
<< It was the shrill voice of a woman who stood in
the doorway, all strings and dirt. With one hand
she war-putting up her tawny, disheveled locks;
with the other she menaced, as with fiery gesticula-
tions she shouted :
“Why don’t you shoot the villains? robbing a poor
family of their protector. O! you rascally Yan-
kees! Iwish Iwasa man! Ye want to run off
niggers, do ye? O! I wish I was a man!”
The last the troopers saw as they rode off, was
the sun-lighted picture ofa drab, homespun dress,
-ragged and ill-fitting, and a brawny arm, shaking
as the ague had never shaken it. .
- “Now, fellow lead us directly to the house, or
you'll experience trouble.’ How now!” cried the
{ captain. sharply,—“you said it was the left road.
id’ ra’t a goin’ to tell ye, if I could a helped
' jt,” said secesh, sullenly; “of course you force me
to it, and I've got to go. I’m takin’ you right—
don’t trouble yourself. In fifteen minutes you'll be
at the widow’s farm; reckon she'll be powerful
glad to see ye,” he added, sneeringly.
“Qur horses will be powerful glad of her hay,”
said one of the litutenants.
“J yeckon there’s hay enough ’bout there,” mut-
tered secesh; “stay all night, mister?” he asked,
looking up innocently. ‘
“Perhaps it isn’t of particular importance for you
to know,” was the quick reply.
Presently they came in sight of the large, brown
farm-house. It stood in the widest of fields, shorn
of their harvest. The out-buildings were extensive
and irregular; the building itself somewhat forbid-
ding in appearance, as the waning sunlight left it in
shadow. . .
“There, that’s the widder’s farm,” said secesh,
28, forgetful of his rheumatism, he vaulted from his
horse. . . .
Capt. Parker dismounted, and lifted the heavy
knocker. It was some time before any one re-
sponded. At last, the bolt slipped on the inside,
anda timid face appeared—that of a young girl
Scarcely sixteen years of age. . It was so free fgom
the malicious scowl he had usually to encounter,
that the captain lifted his cap graciously.
“Miss—excuse m2—we are compelled to throw
| ourselves upon your bounty for one night, at least.”
: . “O, sir—I—I must not allow you to enter; will
| You wait till I call my aunt?” ,
{ . “Certainly,” said the gallant soldier, not unwil-
| ling in this case to show his good-breeding ; and
‘rheu-
Fe
woman succeeded the girl he had first spoken
with. '
“You can't come in,” she said, sharply.
“And why can’t I come in, madam ?”
“You can’t come in. Ihaven’t anything to give
you. My house has been plundered and my ser-
yants run off. Take your men to some other
house; I have had trouble enough with Yankee
soldiers.” . .
“Permit me,”, said, the captain, politely, and
struck the door with his foot. \ It opened to its ut-
most extent. The widow still stood there, wrath in
her visage, coals of fire on her tongue. The cap-
tain and two other officers entered the large sitting-
room, now rapidly growing dark as the day depart-
ed
cried the dame, her eyes blazing.
“Yes, madam, that’s a sample of our gallantry
when we are forced to it,” was the cool reply of
Capt. Parker, as he deliberately unbuckled his
sword and laid it upon the table that stood in the
centre of the room. .
“Bella, ring for a servant to take that sword
from the table,” cried madam, furiously.
“That sword, madam, shall stay where I have
laced it.” a
“Q, you heathen!” screamed the woman, shrilly,
half beside herself with rage.
“Possibly, madam, for I am a Yankee. But my
men are hungry; how soon can they have supper?”
“Never! in this house.. I'll not lift my hand to
get you a mouthful—no, not if you were starving.”
The captain had seated himself. He sprang to
his feet, straightening his fine figure to its utmost
proportions. . His eyes flashed fire. .
“}fitherto,” he said, his voice, though suppressed,
betraying a terrible energy, “I have shown your
sex in Virginia some courtesy. I have received
their insults without reply, and have striven to re-
-| member that I was a gentleman, and women were
sacred. So I have borne their taunts, and endeav-
ored tosoften their resentment. This fails to abate
their violence. On the contrary, they sneer at it,
and credit us with the worst of motives. Now,
madam, I put aside all pretensions to gallantry.
You well know that you are an enemy to the best
government God ever gave to man; and as as sedi-
tious, uaprincipled traitor I treat you. My men
want supper. Give it to them, and that instantly,
or as surely as you live, I'll burn the house over
head.”
nts Jook was fiercé with wrath. Bella, who had
been standing near one of the windows, cast a
: he still stood there, hat in hand, as a sour-visaged
frightened glance towards her aunt, but when itre-
WINNY AND HIS RABBITS.
. - Boek
“well, I must say—that’s your gallantry, is it?” |
SSS | SSS!
turned to the captain, the blue. eyes glittered,
strangely. One would have said that there was,
perhaps, admiration blended with her fear. The
threat sent the widow, half wild, out of the room,
and the destruction of everything in her way that
was breakable, testified to the depth of her resent-
ment, . ‘ .
“Lieutenant, you had better look after the men,
and see that an account is taken of the stock and
hay.” Then the captain, as the officer left at his
bidding, remembered Bella, and noticing her pale,
gentle face, said, “I am very sorry to have been
forced to this expression of harshness,
“O sir,” she said, timidly, her voice trembling,
her eyes filling with tears, “you are a Union sol-
dier. : If I could only—”
“Bella!” sounded sharply.. The girl started, and
at first slowly, then more hurriedly, as the loud call
came again—left the room. ©
“That’s a pretty girl—loyal, too, I judge,” solilo-
quized the captain, “but what does it mean? ina
secesh house!” : . pile :
“Bella,” cried her aunt, as she set a stone jar on
the broken hearth—“how could you stay in that
room with those demons? Now I hope you have
seen their Yankee breeding with your own eyes.
O that you should ever have come of such people!
that you should have a drop of that miserable blood
in your veins.” « ¢ i fee
“But, aunt,” said the girl, flushing, “you know
how you taunted them at the first.”
“JIold your tongue ; I won’t hear you say a word
in their favor—the low-lived, abominable wretches!
Here—cut this bread; I wish there was an ounce
of strychnine in every loaf; I’d soon lay them out
straight. And I believe you’d march with them
to-morrow. Yes, you’d see them leave this house
in ashes, and murder me in cold blood. So much
for gratitude. “So much for taking you from your
poverty-stricken father, and bringing you up as a
”
lady !
There was a knock at the kitchen door. Bella’s
heart throbbed. She had seen a familiar face as it
passed one of the windows.. She ran up-stairs and
out ona little porch over the back entrance. When
she came back her cheeks were deathly white, ani
the color had left ber lips.
_ Presently her aunt followed her. There was a
perceptible change in her manner. She bustled
about with alacrity, and seemed intent upon getting
the best supper her means would afford. :
“Upon my word, muffins!” erjed the captain.
“This lady works against her will most graciously,
And that old negress, pouring tea—did you ever
22 SCHOOL STREET, BOSTON.
“I’ve a mind to make madam drink some—her
face ‘said poison,” remarked the first lieutenant.
“But I never saw any one in so violent a passion
cool down so completely. Why, she was at the
supper table almost polite. -
“Would you like to see your chamber?” asked
madam, soon after, of Capt. Parker,
“] should not know how tosleep ina bed. With
your permission I will occupy this room to-night.
I shall be engaged with my writing till nearly
morning, then I can throw myself on the lounge
yonder for a few moments.” .
Bella’s countenance brightened—her aunt's face
darkened. There was no other way but to submit,
howevery The two lieutenants preferred the cham-
ber, and soon sought rest.
Bella and her aunt were in the kitchen.
“Now, lock your room inside, Bella,” said the
latter, as she dismissed her for the night.
“But are you not going to sleep with me, as
usual ?” : ° - . r
“What, leave those thieves to conynit what dep-
redations they please? No, no; my silver is to be
watched; I shall sit up to-night.” .
“But even should they rob us, what help have
your”
“Never mind, child, go to bed,” said the old lady,
impatiently. Bella took ber lamp, and went quietly ,
up-stairs, Not to undress, however. She placed
the light behind the fire-screen, and sat down to
listen and to think. . t
Ten o'clock, and the silence still unbroken.
“Two good hours, yet,” she whispered; “bow shall
Lact?” Cautiously she opened her door and went
softly down the front staircase. Should the sit-
ting-room door be lockesd 4 Fortunately it yielded
tohertouch. Captain Parker started. He looked
weary, almost haggard. A warning gesture from
the girl motioned silence. She came to the table
and whispered a few words, Ie looked at her
sharply. . : Tt
“It is true"—she whispered. - “You are all to be
murdered in cold blood.” ‘ .
“JIow many men did he say?? the man's voice
faltered. ao. ny '
“Fifty, and more if possible.”
“Fifty—we are but twenty-five all told. How
shall I thank you, my child?”
“By—by aiding my escape. . I am in cruel bond-
age here.” - . coo
_“What—you are not—are not—” he could
scarcely force himself to say the words, “a slate?”
“No—no; iny father isin the North—my mother ,
is dead—help me to go to him.” .
“I will aid you with all my heart,” said the cap-
tain, “Now for work. The forage we cannot get
off for some hours—it might even then be inter-
cepted. No, the better plan is, to fight,” he said,
musingly. “We shall have the advantage of the
guerrillas by being ready for them. Young lady, .
you had better go to your room. If the dawn finds
me alive, I will help you.” .
The soldiers slept on straw in a room over the
barn. They were roused and eager for action.
The captain and two lieutenants soon found a place
for concealment. ‘A line of low sheds ran along.
the east side of the field, skirting the house. Be-
hind these, and fronting the road the guerillas
would probably take, guided by the light in the
widow’s kitchen window—the captain arranged his
men, ‘Nearly every one of the little company car-
ried a revolver, besides his gun. .
Meantime the widow sat in her kitchen, not
aware of the cautious movements of the soldiers. *
Bella watched and prayed, in trembling, fearful °
anticipation. _ . 7
At last they came. A murderous company, rid- .
ing. down the gentle declivity, their angular figures,
ununiformed, striking against the bright moon-
light, Nearly in front of the sheds they halted.
“Reserve your fire till I speak, boys,” whispered
the captain. St 7
““There’s the widow’s light, all. right,” cried one
of the guerilla band. ao .
“We'llstake them all at one fell swoop, as the
hawk said when she caught the chickens,” said an-
other, laughing lightly. :
“Now, boys—one Zouave yell, and fire,” whis-
pered the captain, . Fete
With a shout, the little band rose from behind .
see anything more picturesque?” | °
their slight barricade, firing their carbines right
