WAR'S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 4344, 27 March 1882, Page 4

WAR'S NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS.

(American Paper.)

It waß the ni.hfc before Christmas — 1864. Our brigade had been in camp along the Rapidan for a fortnight, and everybody thought the campaign had closed. Winter quarters had been erected, cold weather had come, and those who had fought and marched the long summer through congratulated themselves on a season of quiet and rent. The picket-lineß were about half-a-mile apart, and the Confederates beyond were also settling down in winter quarters. It was Stonewall Jackson's old brigado in front of us, backed by that of Walker and flanked by other Confederate troops. For a week there had been no firing by tho pickets. War's cold-blooded murders had been replaced by a spirits of peace, and the men who had felt the tiger's thirst for blood now asked nothing more than to rost undisturbed.

Suoh was the situation, when', just as the gloom of fchafc nighfc before Chriatmaa settled down over friend and foe, my company was ordered out under arms. It aftorwards appeared that information had been received to the effect that Generals Leo and Johnston were at a farm house within the Confederate lines, and our mission was to, capture them. Therefore, in the gloom of the wintor evening, with dark banks of clouds racing across the heavens, and snow-squalls ekurrying down upon us at intervals, we mounted and Bet off afc a trot for a ford seven or eight miles above the camp. Tho lower one we knew to be heavily guarded j the upper one we hoped would be open. And bo it was. The cold, swift river, already covered with floating ice, was guard enough, the Confederates thought. The water was breast high to the poor horaea, and most of them shivered like a man with the ague aa they reached the opposite shore. It was only mercy to them to indulge in an hour's gallop. Afar off we saw the light of a farm houae — not one light, but every window towards us was illuminated, proving that even in the shadow of war's ghastly horrors some one waß remembering fchafc Christmas would come with the morrow. That house was our objective point. Tho highway led straight paat tho door, and a sudden daah must surprise all who had gathered there. I knew what our men were thinking of as thoy formed in column a quarter ot: a mile away for the charge. Every father's thoughts went back home to wife and children and Santa Claus and the little stockings hanging up for presents, and I believe every man truly hoped that we might not firo* a gun or shed a drop of blood on this night whioh belonged to peace instead of war. As the word was given we owept forward at a canter, and ia three minutes we had encircled the house. I wa< one of the dozen troopers ordered to dismount and dash in to secure tho prisoners, and I was the second inside. This was the Bight we saw as wo poured into the big room : A gray-headed grandfather and grandmother, a Boldier with his arm in a sling, a wife aad mother, a halfgrown daughtor, and three or four men and women who naust have been neighbours. There was an open Bible on the grandfather^ lap, three little stockings hung beside the chimney, and in the room beyond was tho table at which all wero about to sit down as we entered.

It seemed a full minute before anyone moved. Wo had surprised them, and in turn had boen surprised. Our information had been false, and wo had made a ride of a dozen miles to burst in on a scene of peace. We were still standing there, speeohleas with surprise, when there came the sudden pop ! pop! of musketry, followed by shouta, orders, and the clash of steel. I had no sooner mounted my horse than I saw that we were surrounded by infantry. Wo charged straight at the masß in tho road before üb, but wore driven back. Then we charged up the road and ran upon a battery of three pieces. As we were forced back the fight whirled round and round the farm-house. There was a dozen to one, and though we charged again and again, ten minutes put an end to the fight. Of the eighty-five men who had loft camp ten had brokon through, fourteen were prisoners, and fche remainder lay dead on the trampled snow, along with a score of Confederates. The Btark corpses of men — the agonised groans of wounded horses— the snow melting with the warm streams of blood — that was war's chances.

I looked into the house through a shattered window. Tbe grandfather lay Btark and stiff on the floor, his blood staining the Bible as it poured out. The grandmother was lying at his feet, her snow-white hair matted with blood, and her eyes closing in death aa I looked upon her. The soldier and his wife were unhurt, but they had better been dead. The three little stockings hung as before, but one by one they brought out the three ourlyheads who had hung them there, and they were three corpses ! Bullets meant for enemies had sought out these little innocents as they slept and dreamed of Heaven, and men who had gazed upon a thousand dead unmoved shed tears as the little bodies were laid on the floor just under the stockings Santa Claus was to fill and bring joy to their hearts. It was midnight now. .Christmas had dawned upon white hairs stained with blood— childish hearts stilled by murder — men groaning in anguish— women with breaking heartB — God's mantle of purity blotched and drabbled and crimsoned, until the winter moon crept behind the darker clouds to hide the spot with shadows.