Democratic Sentinel, Volume 6, Number 33, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 15 September 1882 — A RED MITTEN. [ARTICLE]

A RED MITTEN.

It was the afternoon of a clear, sharp January day of 1861, and the company numbered fully 200; there were men and; women, boys and girls flying and circling about, in masses, singly, by dozens and by twos and threes, over the frozen surface of the beautiful Silver lake in Rockdale, a suburb of the flourishing city of B. New England is dotted witli these small bodies of water, and it is astounding to recount what a surprising number bear the name of Silver. And so on Silver lake this goodly company was disporting itself with all the gayety and zest the keen, bracing air and exhilarating sport combined to produce. Among the crowd were many lads and lasses who imagined they were fond of skating, and came to Silver lake for no other reason. It was singular, too, to note how much more gracefully the “ outward roll,” backward or forward, can be accomplished by joining hands or being linked together by a walkingstick. These sticks in some instances proved no non-conductors to the sympathetic thrill that pervaded the magnets at either end. The positive and negative conditions were fully realized in the case of brawny John Horton and rosy-cheeked Abbie Latham, the daughter of the ’Squire. She, with her plump, comely figure and fresh, handsome face, lit up by a pair of laughing blue eyes, could have led awkward John, on or off skates, anywhere, with an apron string or a thread for a conductor. Not so with John. He could lead her nowhere; and the more the girl could balk and tantalize him, the more she seemed to enjoy the skating and his company. Many a ludicrous figure he cut, and many an awkward fall he endured by her sudden and unaccountable turns and shiftings, and her mirth and glee were at the highest at John’s repeated failures to follow her difficult and tortuous windings. John was overgrown and massive, his twenty yews of existence not having yet served to properly knit together and round out the proportions of his frame. She was lithe and quick, and as graceful as she was skillful in the use of skates. Apart from the throng this afternoon John espied a little red mitten lying on the ice where it had been dropped by some one of the numerous children. Mips Abbie saw it, too, and as John, by one of his graceful movements, essayed to 6toop and capture the article she refused to release his hand; but, just as he bent forward, she gave a wicked pull, and John, unbalanced, was sent sprawling a rod or two beyond. A peal of silvery laughter was her sympathetic comment, as with a graceful curve she turned and caught the tiny thing in her hand.

AAaixii. John blushed at his awkwardness, and held out his hand to receive the mitten. But the captor only held it before him, and gently moved away. “Won’t you give it to me?” he asked. “I will find the owner.” “I can find the owner more easily than you. I can’t trust you; you would fall and crush the poor thing in trying to deliver it.” And she saucily laughed again. “You made me fall,” said John in a grieved tone. “You are always doing these things. If I skated more and studied less I’d soon be as much an adept as your friend Joe Staples, whom you are always praising.” "You? Ha, ha, ha! As graceful as Joe Staples!” and the hilarity of the young maiden made John Horton’s sluggish blood course through his veins till his face was as red M»the scarlet kercliief that encircled liiWieck. AH the rest of that afternoon John was gloomy* and silent. He moved around mechanically, or rather automatically, anti his companion concluded to serve no more tricks upon him. The sport finished the two wended their way to the house of Mr. Latham, John’s fair companion failing to rally him into anything like conversation. He answered her only in monosyllables, and seemed morose and preoccupied. As he was about to take his leave, John said seriously and a little sarcastically, “ Abbie, I’m going back to college to-morrow, and I hope you will enjoy the rest of the skating season in companionship more graceful than mine.” “I hope I shall,” replied she in the same tone. “You must feel bad about something; perhaps it’s the mitten; you had better take it, no, not now—-I won’t give it up. If I ever think enough of you to surrender it, I’ll send it to you express.” - -And then she smiled on John, with rare sweetness, but John had seen that smile before, and felt she was only mocking him. So with a solemn goodnight he buttoned his coat close to his chin and, with hands resolutely thrust into his pockets, turned homeward, resolved to waste no more time with skating girls, who judged young men by the dexterity they exhibited in handling their heels.

IL Among the earliest volunteer regiments that left for the seat of war in the summer of‘lß6l was the —th Massachusetts, with Lieut. John Horton as an officer of Company B. Like hundreds of others he abandoned his books for the kword, and had passed nights and days in study and drill, to fit himself for his new position. Horton enjoyed the reputation among his fellows of being rather an anchorite. He was reticent, sometimes gloomy, and, although he performed his duties acceptably, he had thus far failed to show any distinguishing qualities for a military career. He joined in few of the camp pleasures, and when he was not on duty, reading or studying, was sure to be seen in abstract thought, walking about the streets of the camp, or in the region of country immediately around. Christmas and New Year’s in camp formed one of the brightest seasons to the hard-worked soldier in the years of the Rebellion. Though the quantity of useful and use- > less articles dispatched from home was at all times great, the bulk of contributions arriving at this festive season sorely tried the carrying capacity of all engaged in supplying the army at the front. And the occasions of opening the boxes and bundles among both officers apfl,privates were most interesting and exciting, ‘ The officers of the —th

had arranged to have an “opening” in the Colonel’s quarters, and thither all who were not on duty repaired. The evening was of course most enjoyable, for nearly every one had received from home some gift or token to remind him of a mother, sister or sweetheart, sometimes of all three. Horton was present, cool, gloomy, and indifferent. He did not expect any present. His family was scattered, and many of. those nearest to him to whose loving sympathy he would naturally turn at this time hail passed away. He did not feel in a sentimental or sympathetic mood, and yet'no particle of envy entered his mind in witnessing the enjoyment of others. As the Major held up. a small paper box, however, and called out “Lieut. John W. Horton,” the latter started and felt his face aglow in an instant. He took the parcel, and, in spite of entreaties in which not a few jokes were cracked at his expense, placed it in his pocket till the conclusion of the festivities, when he retired to the comfortable quarters he shared with Lieut. Carter. Lieut. Horton was puzzled and curious. After divesting himself of his overcoat he sat down, placed the box on the table, and in company with his companion lighted the solacing dudeen, determined to approach and unravel the mystery as liecame a philosopher. Carter got decidedly impatient before even the outer wrappings were removed, as Horton conducted proceedings with weighty deliberation. At last Horton shook from the box a little red mitten snugly wrapped in a piece of •white tissue paper. No note of explanation appeared, and Horton met his companion’s gaze with a look in which were pictured at least half a dozen of the emotions that affect the human mind, the principal one being surprise.

in. For the next three evenings our hero was engaged in writing letters—or rather a letter—for no sooner was each one completed than it was torn to pieces and burned. Horton felt himself in a tight fix, and hoped the enemy would make a demonstration on the camp that he might get out of it. He had rather face a hundred cannon than undertake to acknowledge the reception of that mitten. He knew he had loved Miss Latham, but his big, sensitive soul had been terribly lacerated by her apparently heartless behavior, and he had concluded to become indifferent, not only to her, but to all womankind. This might be another of her heartless tricks, but when Jack recalled her words, “If I ever think enough of you to surrender it, I’ll send it to you,” he felt the little witch did entertain some regard for him. Still, as she had vouchsafed no kind of message with the surrender of the mitten, he was at a loss how to act. Write he could not. “If I asked Carter’s advice,” he reasoned, “he would only laugh at me. Why can’t those plaguey women let a fellow alone, anyway?” he muttered to himself. “I was trying to forget her—and now she has opened all my wounds afresh. She did it to tantalize me, but I’ll show the flirt and the whole sex that I can’t be tantalized.” And then Jack took from his inner pocket an envelope, out of which he fished a little red object, on which he gazed for a few moments as a naturalist might gaze upon a newly-dis-covered insect, with mingled curiosity and tenderness. The soldier sighed as he replaced the trifle, and, going to the door of his tent, gazed out into the darkness. The evening was mild and calm, and the darkness almost impenetrable. Scarcely a sound disturbed the sleeping camps, and, as’t he enemy across the Potomac were believed to intend no hostile demonstration, the utmost precaution had not been taken to guard against surprise. As Jack stood gazing into the darkness a succession of flashes lit up the gloom and the sharp report of small arms broke the stillness. “ Hello! here’s for fun!” exclaimed Jack, as he rushed for his accoutrements. The long roll called the men into line, and in a few moments the regiment was prepared to receive the enemy. Being one of the officers at hand, Lieut. Horton was ordered by the Colonel to go forward with •i detail of men and ascertain the trim state of affairs. Our pickets were retreating, the firing being answered by stray shots from the enemy; no judgment of their numbers could be formed, but our panic-stricken pickets reported them to be 10,000 strong at least. Horton determined to keep cool and ascertain for himself the number of the enemy. He had had little experience of fighting as yet, and his position was by ‘no means a pleasant one. In this maneuver his excellent judgment ’ was proved, for, after studying the situation, as it was prudent, he hastened to and informed him that they consisted of not more than a regiment of infantry moving directly for the camp. A hot skirmish ensued, the fight lasting for an hour or two. The demonstration closed with the retreat of the enemy, on whose heels Lieut. Horton, whose fighting blood was up, hung with a tenacity that astonished his brother officers. Jack braved danger with a coolness that was amazing, and directed the fire of his men where it would do the most good. It was his ambition to i capture somebody or something, and he j did, a Confederate Captain and two privates, who were “surrounded” by himself and one of his soldiers. But Jack, fired by his success, rashly pressed ahead for more human plunder, | when he was laid low by a ballet through the shouldi .

iv. Jack Horton was the hero of that night, and was mentioned in the commander’s report for his coolness, correct judgment and unflinching bravery. It needed just such an occasion as this to bring out what was in the man, but Jack was modest and didn’t presume he had done more than he ought. His wound was a painful one, and in a few days he was on his way to Rockdale, where the reports of his achievements had preceded him. Jack couldn’t help feeling a little curious about how Miss Abbie would greet him if he chanced to meet her. He hadn’t the remotest idea of calling on her, however. Jlis time was his country’s, and his leisure moments were passed, even in those invalid days, in the study of military tactics. He did not want to be made a lion of; did not pretend to resemble that noble animal in the least. So he stayed at home and studied his books. Just before his return to the army he attended a fair at Rockdale in aid of the soldiers. The young ladies were the principal attractions at this, as at. all fairs; and among the young ladies none were more attractive than Miss Abbie Latham. She drove a remarka-bly-successful buslhess at the flower stand, one of her principal patrons being Mr. Joseph Staples, who purchased at least half her* stock, and distributed it with a lavish hand. He had not gone to war, but had at least, and without compulsion, hired a substitute. His patriotism was ardent, as he assured Miss Abbie, but there were other attractions nearer home. Certainly, Lieut. Horton could but pay his respects to Miss Abbie. His face was paler and his form had become more trim and manly than when she last saw him. His features, Abbie noticed, bore an expression of sadness and suffering; he moved without awkwardness, and all the young ladies declared him to be the handsomest soldier in the hall. He won the sword that was voted

for on this occasion, as he deserved to. Jack’s heart throbbed a little as he met the gaze of the young lady; but if he felt any emotion it must have been slight; she was very busy with her customers, and especially with’ her wholesale patron, Mr. Staples, yet, .as the Lieutenant bade her good-evening and turned away he saw her eyes drop and a faint flush steal over her cheeks. For two old friends so long separated the meeting was decidedly cold and formal, and Jack was chilled to the marrow. In the stirring events of the next two vears Horton bore his full share—at Fredericksburg, Chancellorsville, Antietam, Gettysburg, the Wilderness, down to Cold Harbor, where, at the head of his regiment, he fell, desperately wounded, in the terrible and unsuccessful assault on that stronghold He was conveyed to the hospital at Washington in a seemingly senseless condition, with several wounds, each of which was dangerous. The nurses moved among the wounded men like angels of mercy. Some of the soldiers lay in a stupor, some were raving with delirium, and others dying in agony. For days Horton’s life hung on a thread, his fevered brain mercifully rendering him unconscious of suffering, As he awoke one morning a soft and gentle hand was soothing his brow, when the dampness indicated that the fever was broken. He tried to open his eyes, but was too weak; speak "he could not; and many hours passed before he could discernwhat was around him. Since the night of the Cold Harbor fight his life had been a blank. He remembered nothing. And now he saw before him the physician and the nurse, with a sweet, pale face, that looked familiar, but he could not recall the name of its owner. Again trying to speak, the surgeon kindly whispered, “Keep perfectly quiet and all will be well,” and the female attendant, at his motion, withdrew. The next morning his dim vision discerned the same pale and anxious face; and a gleam of wondering inquiry passed over liis countenance as he gazed upon her. At last he feebly whispered, “Whore am I?” “In the hospital, and with friends,” she gently answered. He would h ive spoken more, but she withdrew. The next day he was stronger, and he asked, “Where have I seen you ?” At a sign from the physician the nurse answered: “At your old home. Don’t you know me? I am Abbie Latham. You are getting better now, and will soon be well.” Jack was strong enough to begin to collect his thoughts, which were, of course, at once concentrated on his nurse. He improved wonderfully under her care, and one bright morning occurred the last conversation we shall record in this romantic sketch. Miss Latham was sitting by the side of his cot, arranging a bouquet. The wounded man had begun to feel like his old self, and permission was given him to converse'till he desired. “How long have you been in the hospital, Abbie?” “More than a year,” she replied in a sweet, womanly voice. Jack thought he had never beheld a fairer creature.' If she was beautiful as a girl, the scenes she had witnessed had touched and chastened all that was lovable and womanly in her nature. She was no longer a girl—she was a tender, thoughtful woman. “You have saved my life,” said Jack, his eyes filling with tears. “No, no. Your strength has triumphed. I have done what little I could. Oh, you w'ere so terribly hurt!” And here her eyes filled and her bosom heaved as she took his hand and gently pushed the brown curling locks away from his forehead. Jack had never felt so happy before in his life, despite the solemn character of the conversation. “I can never repay you, Abbie. I’m only sorry for that. But if I only dared hope—” “Perhaps you can, Jack,” she replied, with the sweetest and most confiding smile. “I found something in your invest pocket which has paid me already.” And she took from a bloodstained envelope the little red mitten. “Then you knew by that token that I had loved—at least, had never forgotten you,” said Jack, who was a little confused. “Yes; and, if my woman’s sense had not told me, your talk in delirium would ' have proved it.” Jack mentally thanked Heaven that | he had been crazy. “But, Jack, why didn’t you answer my letter ? It was cruel of you.” “Your letter?” “Yes, the one I sent by post to apprise you of my present. Mr. Staples took it to the office.” “And I never received it! Do you suppose that fellow was mean enough to-” “No, dear Jack, don’t get excited. Let us suppose nothing. All’s well that ends well.” , The little red mitten is a treasured relic in the Horton family, and it has been a wondering question to several cherubs that gladden the household why mamma has never knitted a mate for it.