Hide Article Text (OCR)
ndour every enori, to congratulate, never there was a shadow of success,an ii y wuak iiaiu, /'ic m c//cos we’re deuced hungry, an’ we’ve glt;n-xthas ever been Mary H. Krout, not only an ugly job afore us; hangin’ threofa poet, teacher and journalist, but ever men this afternoon, an* the union armu ra loyal friend.BofElizabeth Boynton Harbert.close on our heels, in the cellar, hey ? ”Lots o' presarve—“ Yes, plenty of them, and you shas' Written for ThkTkibusk* •have all you want, no one eats therrsillO\V LAURA lionUNET SAVED now, fathers gone, ” returned Laurtill KR FATHER.looking the desperado calmly in th11*Awaydoun in the Southern homeeye, though her soul fairly trembleof the Trailing Arbutus, not far fromwithin her. “ Gone, hey ? \Yfell,w’e’m the famous “ Lookout,” on whichi-1 Hooker fought his battle above thesee about that when we’re done eatinWe mean to sarch this hull place froni-dclouds, lived Laura Boudinet and hertop to bottom, an’ if you’ve lied to uwe'/lkill \t\ that's all! and the maig**)father. I lie mother and baby brother dropped his voice to an ominouwere long since dead, and Laura, whisper.though only thirteen, kept| house for j But Laura Boudinet did not quaiher father.Laura’s home was really on “ Missionbeneath his steady gaze; she went oii-Ridgbringing out the very best which thlt;»»where, as you remember, an house afforded, and plenty of it, so thar, eventful battle was fought during the* -war of the rebelion. This Ridge ist, twenty miles long and lour hundredthe men woul 1 not complain ; antwhen all was ready blew the dinnerc feet high; but the famous battle washorn as calmly as if calling her owrd only fought over about tour miles offather to dinner. The most of thte the Ridge, and Laura’s home was threee I miles farther away. Across the Geor-men were at the barn and otherout buildings “sarching with all theis gia line about two miles from hertehouse stood the old log house whichmight and main for the cussed Yank.But they found him not. Old Neptuntwas built by John Ross, the Cherokeechieftain, and near it still remainedtraces of the old Indian trail which ledto the Mission Mills, so called becausewas feeding their horses and declareihe hadn’t seen mas’r for * dun twemonths;' ’speeded he was ded, surtnough, sartain, mebbeWell, at the sound of the horn thei they were built and run by the mis- men came jostling into the house, ancsionary who lived near. A short dis- ( rapidly made away with the bountifuatance from these mills was the old1 | mission burying ground all overgrownf with bramble briars, the humble tomb-repast before them. When they weredone, they ordered Laura to show themstones which remained bearing thei I date ol 1S20; the Indian graves wereup stairs, where they rummaged bureau drawers, looked under beds anc]L simply marked with a rude stone. Oftentimes when her father was away at“sarched” closets to their heart’s ccntent. They pocketed everything ofwork had Laura Boudinet wanderedvalue which they could carry, and cutinto pieces the pictures of Lincoln1 away to the old burying ground gath- ! and Seward which had been stowedti►ering the pink Arbutus blossoms as [ away for safe keeping in a cedar chestshe went to wreathe the time-worn in the spare chamber. Laura silentlytombstones over which she so oftenpondered.led the way and old Neptune broughtSometimes of a clear, sunlit morningup the rear. He had secretly resolvedLaura would stand in the doorway andto yield his owm life rather than seegaze at the smoky ranges of North mistressany real harm befall his brave youngCarolina fifty or sixty 111away. “Now show us down cellar, if yeWhen it was summer on the Rid«e,” dare! ” shouted the captain, alter everythese same ranges would be capped other spot 011 the place had been thricewith snow.looked over. We’ll find the old manSo much that was beautiful and inter- thar, an’ we won’t le’ve an inch of him,esting was around and about our heroine that the days never seemed darkami dreary. Aunt Chloe” was oldnor of you either ef ye’ve lied ! ”Uttering a silent prayer for strengthand help Laura Boudinet opened theand rheumatic, and I ncle Neptune was cellar door and led the ruffians down.always busy at odd jobs around thefarm. Laura was by nature self-reli-There were two compartments orIant and industrious, the “forehandedness” of a New England birthrightwas in her veins, and she was promptrooms to the cellar, and into the farther one they went first; turning overevery barrel and thoroughly searchingevery dark corner. Then they turnedto think and act whenever an emer- their attention to the outerroom,gency presented itself, as it often did emptying barrels and running theiron the farm.Jbayonets into boxes in a way which*Chloe died, and then Laura, to use hera most froze the girl’s heart with fear.But she gave no outward sign. Atown expression, began life in earnest. last the Captain spied the “potatoHer father was a Union man, andthat meant a great deal in the moun-box ” in the farthest and darkest corner; into this he thrust his sword, andtains of Tennessee during the dark one of the men poked in a bayonet,days of the Rebellion. The nearest but no soundcame forth, and withneighbor was two miles away, and in j muttered oaths and imprecations theyone sense, at least, they were not1 strode up the cellar stairs.friends to the poor motherless girl.They then mounted their horses andF* or nights together Laura Boudinet; rode away,only stopping to shout back;stood guard while her father slept, of- “Good by, to ye plucky little Yank!ten kneeling at an upstairs window Your Uncle Joe (meaning Hookeriwhich commanded a view of every ”11 be after you ’fore long. Give himapproach to the house. True, her our compliments, will ye ?father might have forsaken his home ! The Captain’s sword had not touchedand lied to the union lines, but brave Mr. Boudinet, but the bayonet made amen guard their homes in times of severe flesh wound in his right arm.danger, and besides, at this time, there He was almost smothered and weakwas no way to send Laura to friendsin the North. Guerrillas infested thecountry on every hand, assassins of thedarkest and most dangerous type; infact, for a short time before the battleSat Mission Ridge Mr. Boudinet hadfrom loss of blood when Neptune, w’hohad been watching for some time at an upper window, came down to release him, saying that the Guerrillaswere far away.Mr. Boudinet now lost no time inpreparing to send Laura to Chatta-not dared to venture out in daylight nooga.or rather to go with her there,as he intended to join Gen. Sherman’su . command, and the first opportunityHardly a day passed but a party of send his daughter to friends in Massa*at all.these cut-throats varying from five to chusetts.twenty, came to Mr. Boudinet’s ostensibly for something to eat. “ Law nowdis chile can gib you plenty ob datsince mas r done gone away an’ lef meto car’ for de place. Tings is goin’They reached the I'nion lines in safety, though the spies of Bragg and Breckenridge were all around aboutthem. Mr, Boudinet was disguised as an infirm old negro.woman,and Laura was her darter.” and as Mr. Boudinetdown won’ful fas.’ ’pears like sincemas’rs gone, an’ Miss Laura here criesall the time after her par.” Old Neptune would assume a mournful airfeeding the hunters bountifully, andalways managing to throw them off thetrackwas mo^e familiar with the groundthan even the army,‘hey (lid not encounter many difficulties.Old Neptune remained at home:“ Dis chile am goin' to keep house, he am ; ” and faithfully did he discharge his duty.Six months later Laura Boudinetwas telling her story to a party of4 lr. Boudinet found various places of Boston school girls; “If I live to be abeingsharpens one’s wits._ hundred years old I’ll never forget the He had, on one day the Guerrillas last hunted foror two occasions, hid in the cellar | father.”Thompson
Newspaper Details
Kokomo Saturday Tribune
Kokomo, Indiana, US
Sat, Jan 31, 1880
Page 2
Full Page
Clipped by
Anonymous
USA 29 Jan 2020
Other Publications Near Kokomo, Indiana
Kokomo Evening Gazette Tribune
Kokomo Gazette Tribune
Kokomo Morning Times
Kokomo Tribune
Kokomo Saturday Tribune
