Rensselaer Republican, Volume 18, Number 31, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 April 1886 — The Last Rally. [ARTICLE]

The Last Rally.

I “Hu will j>asH away before morning.” S<> said the doctor to the nurse as he I passed out of the fobnTtiown the stairs,' | piThnps! having n bit of sadness jn his i heart —perhaps dismissing the mutter front his mind as if; the death of a human being was of ho eonsequence to him or the wqrld at layge. Perhaps it was not. Why'khoiihT one be startled when an old soldier—a man of toilsome marches and many battles nTaltotit to pass away? lie must die, like the rest of us. The nurse was an old comrade. While the dying man beat the rally on his drum as Casey was hurled back at Fair Oaks, the nurse .swung his hat and shouted to the men hurrying to the rear: * “Come back, Comrades —come back ! Let us form a line here and beat them back!” When the drummer beat the advance on the fight at Antietam, and Joe Hooker's front pushed boldly-in to meet Stonewall Jackson’s men, the nurse Was in the foremost rank, his teeth hard shut and his eyes blaming fire. “H-r-r-r-a-t—tat!.tat!" sounded the drum in the streets of quaint old Fredericksburg, and the nurse was there to face the terrible Stonewall and to be driven back the murderous fire. “Tat! tatl Tat! tat! R-r-r—tat! tat!” sounded the drum at Gettysburg, as Pickett's Virginians massed on Hancock’s front; the nurse was there to help stem that mad torrent of war and hurl the shattered legions back to the cover of ridge and wood. Shell and shot and bullet had passed

them by, but now there was to be a battle with a grim and silent enemy. His forces were hidden in the darkness. There was no rattle of small arms—no roar of artillery*—no shouts from lines of infantry or ch<>ers from charging cavalry.—/ ' ■ • - - ■ The drummer awoke from his stupor and gazed around him. Something had warned him that a battle was imminent. He looked into the eyes of liis comrade and there was the same fire he had seen on a dozen battlefields. He felt the old excitement in his soul—the wild enthusiasm that comes from waving flags, tramping columns and crash of arms. He made a sign which was -understood. The nurse took down front the shelf the same old drum, scarred by half a dozen bullets, and from the hooks the uniform which had not been worn for twenty long years% “Ajt! comrade,” whispered the drum-, mer, as strength came back to his limbs, ;‘we may Mkve been driven, but we never surrendered. We will not now! Let us form the lines as of old. ”

“Aye! We will battle again!” cried the nurse, and he placed a faded blue cap on bis head, brought out the old musket from a corner, and continued: “Attention! Right dress! Steady, now, men! There’s the battery before you! We will take it or leave our bodies in the I meadow. Forward-double-quick—hurrah!” "R-r-r-r-rat! tat! tat! went the drum, and the - old gray-headed drummer straightened himself up and made the sticks fly. “Forward, men—forward!” shouted the nurse as he waved his cap on higln “Tat! tat! R-r-r-r-i-tat! tat! tat!” sounded the drum, and the veteran who handled the sticks breathed as if the old enthusiasm of battle was upon him again. 1 “Here we are—at them, men—the guns are ours!” shouted the nurse. “Hurrah! Hip, hip—r-r-r—tat! tat! R-r-r-r ——!” The drum fell to the floor, and the fingers loosened their clutch on the sticks. Then the old man’s hand crept up to remove his cap, a cheer died away in his throat, and he sank to the floor a corpse. , - “We hav-e been defeated!” whispered the nurse as he looked down upon the dead, “but it was by the army of Death!” —Jf. Quad.