The Herald, 1912-09-13, Page 4E WHITE LADY;,
OR, WHAT THE THRUSH SAID.
ORAPPER XV.—(Oont'd)
A •few paces farther something wizzed
by my ear, I thought I felt it touch me,
likethe wing of a gnat, and instinctively
threw up my hand and looked round.
"Steady, men; • look to your front," came
the captain's voice again, and than,
"whiz, whiz," two more wasps went by,
and I heard n e rd
a low chuckle fromPatsy
y
Harrington, who marched in front of
me, and Peter Hogan, answering a whis-
pered inquiry from "Soft Joe," "did ye not
]nowh h t
w a that was?
Shure 'twos a
bullet.'
"Right wheel. Forward; double!" sang
out the captain's voice, and the next mo-
ment we were tumbling hurriedly into
the trenches, behind a row of battered
gabions, with the thunderof the Rua-
sign cannon
close upon u theh'
1 e "phit,
phit" of the bullets striking the earth
all round, the smoke drifting into our
faces, and the whiatling dicks plunging
into the ground and scattering soil and.
stones in showers,
"Heads down; heads down," shouted the
color -sergeant, as we crowded into our
places, and then came a tremendous crash
as a whiff of grape shot swept the gabion
from before me and sent up a cloud of
sand and twigs.
I got my head down pretty sharply, and
was in no hurry to lift it up again, until
I heard the color -sergeant, yelling, "Now
then,, Davis, be alive- Stick up another
gabion there"; and Pat Harington push-
ed by me with a long basket in his arms.
which he pushed into the gap caused by
the enemy's shot, bobbing down immedi-
ately, and only just in time, as a musket
ball struck the wicker where his left
hand had been, and knocked the tuft off
his shako.
"Left files commence firing," said the
captain, in a brisk, cheerful tone, as he
hooked his sword, then added, "Here,
Corporal Allan, hand me your rifle, and
I'll try a shot."
Allan banded over his rifle, and the
captain aimed round the side of a gabion
and rased. Harrington fired at the same
instant, and turning to the captain said,
"Ye got him, sor ye did, ser, begad;
and I did; no, begad, he was too sharp
for me, begad."
By this time I had somewhat recovered
my presence of mind, and asI put on a
cap and cocked my rifle I glanced about
nae.
Joyce stood close by my side, perfectly
calm, 'in the act of reloading his rifle,
which he has just fired. Corporal Allan,
standing behind the captain, was peep-
ing over his shoulder at the enemy. The
color -sergeant, a grizzled veteran, was
packing cartridges into his tunic between
the buttons and speaking to the men in
fent of him.
Steady, men, don't waste Government
ammunition; come to the present, and
when you see a head, bang at it, and down
under cover. Mick Doyle, you'll be shot
before dinner-cal1, They nearly had you
that time. Man alive, keep your ugly
phiz out of sight. We want to shoot 'em,
not to frighten 'em. Leave me a space
there, 'Tommy Dowling, while I pot one";
and the sergeant shouldered his way to
the front, bobbed up, fired a shot and
bobbed down again, while the other men
t by . degrees to work, myself amongst
was hot work. We were in the ad
sled parallel, not two hundred yards
ram'the'Russian batteries. A new angle
had been .made over -night, and on this
point, held by our F Company, the en-
emy kept up an incessant lire of grape
and shell. The splitting crash of the
explosions followed each other at short
intervals for hours. The gabions were
battered into matohwood, and their fil-
ling of earth strewed over the trenches,
the men decimated, and our company,
heedless of the enemy's sharpshooters,
had to concentrate their fire upon the of-
fending guns. The shells from the Eng-
lish batteries in our rear sailed over
our heads like balls of cloud, and burst
against the Russian batteries or inside
the embrasures, hurling fragments of
stone and splinters of iron in all direc-
tions. The Russian musketry fire was
close and sustained. The bullets pattered
and hissed and squealed about us. A
dozen of our men went down in the first
hour—Corporal Allan wounded in the left
shoulder, the color -sergeant wounded in
the neck, five privates killed. Poor
Downs was hit in the chest by a rico-
chet bullet, and lay writhing on the
ground for a long time, begging some of
us to put bim out of his misery. Every
instant a flat cap, a streak of brown face
andan eye would pop up behind the
parapet, and then would come a flash and
a crack, an answering shot from the
trench, and the Russian would disap-
pear,
Joyce, posted as near the terrible angle
as he could get, stood calmly, steadily,
and rapidly loading and firing upon the
Russian embrasure opposite. Patsy Har-
rington put the shako of a dead comrade
on a ramrod and hold it up to draw the
fire of the Russian sharpshooters, half a
dozen,' of his friends standing by to pot
the enemy while in the act of taking aim.
Ensign Simpson, with tears in his young
eyes, consoled and tended the wounded,
and 1, with a bounding heart, and my
head spinning with excitement, stood
close up to Joyce and fired rapidly and
not very carefully at the porthole from
which the deadly grape was belching,
This went on until about noon, when a
great shell from our batteries buret with-
in the Russian embrasure and dismount-
ed their most destructive gun. Our men
cheered, and one of them, a lad named
Searle, jumping up in his glee, was shot
through the head and killed.
A few minutes later the Russian fire
ceased, almost e
s d and noth
another shell was
thrown till after four o'clock, when the
right wing of our regiment came up and
relieved us; and we doubled back out of
fire and went to dinner.
The dinner consisted of thin soup and
Waxy potatoes; but we did not leave any
Of it. We were hungry enough to have
eaten, as Pat said, "a washing of
clothes."
and pitch dark. Joe and I had just come
together when a fireball was pitched from
the enemy's battery and fell close on our
right. We immediately threw ourselves
down and crawled away to our left, know-
ing from experience that a rauhd shot.
would follow. The roand shot earn% and
we sprang up to find a cloud of grey -
coated Russian infantry close . upon us.
Bang went both our rifles together,
without a second thought we ran foand
the
trenches, the Russians following, with
.
at our e
hoarse yells,r h
eel
Thiswas a common incident. Often we
were attacked three or four times in one
night, and our orders were to fire and
fall baok on the pioquet, who in turn.
would fall back fighting on the trenches.
So it was this time. The Russians seem-
ed to be in force. Our pioquet was driven
in, and after a sharp tussle the enemy got
first possession of the trench. But only
for a minute, The supports rushed up,
and the Russians were driven out again.
They fell back in good order for a hun-
dred yards, then halted, poured in a vol-
ley, and advanced at the charge.
Parlour; fighting; crash of musketry,
clank of steel; grunts and growls and
curses; clubbing of rifles, the heavy tbud
of 'falling men, the sharp, agonized cry
of the wounded; a cloud of smoke, and
diabolical flickering of fire -flashings, and
once more we found ourselves falling back
firing and swearing, the enemy in close
pursuit.
It was at this moment that young
Simpson, waving his sword, and calling
us to come on, ran out of our ranks to-
wards the Russians, and fell about mid-
way. Instantly Pat Harrington sprang
towards him, as did two Russians. One
of these fired at Pat, and missed. Pat
fired and shot the Russian dead, then
striding over to the offioer, he bayonet-
ed the other Russian, calling out, "Now
thin, boys, this way for the spoorts."
It was a critical moment. The enemy
were within a few yards of him. The
officer was wounded. I should be no use
if I returned. I saw the fierce, lowering
looks of the enemy, their gleaming bay-
onets, and then the figure of the mad,
handsome girl on the sea-wall at Ports-
mouth came into my mind, and I bound-
ed to Pat's side, just as he pitched face
forward into the snow.
Five minutes later we were back in our
trenches, firing on the retreating Rus-
sians. Nor did they return that night.
But they had done enough. Young Simp-
son was dead, and the brave Patsy was
mortally wounded, not to speak of other
losses.
I sought out poor Pat when I came off
sentry. Ile was lying on a great -coat
spread on the snow, with his head on
Joyce's knee. His face was very white,
and his brows knitted, and hands clench-
ed, as if in pain.
"He'll not last many minutes, poor fel-
low," said Phil. 'Try if you can make
him understand."
1 knelt down beside him and put a drop
of rum upon his lips, then asked him, in
a clear and distinct tone, if he had any
message.
His eyes opened slowly. He knew me,
and tried to speak, but his mouth was
full of blood.
"Pat," said I, "the wife, the children—
I will see them if t can."
A light came into the dull` eyes. 'His
lips quivered slightly. Y pressed his hand
—it was already cold—and put the clotted
hair from his forehead. In a few minutes
he was dead.
"Willie," said Joyce, as he laid the poor
fellow gently down, "you saw his wife,
and Simpson's mother."
"/ did." I answered, "and this is war."
"God forgive us," said Phil, "it is; and
there have been widows made to -night on
both sides."
CHAPTER XVI.
After this first experience of war came
many days of heavy work and deadly fir-
ing in the trenches; many long nights on
pioquet duty round .the camps or along
the Waronzoff )toad; many a desperate
struggle in the dark when the Russians
callied out to destroy our trenches; and
many a sad hour as we sat in the tents
and thought of the gaps in our roil.
The - weather, too, became intensely
cold, so cold that we could scareeli+ sleep,
deg -tired as we were; and aur clothing
wore out, and we grew thin, and gaunt,
rind sickly. And so came Christmas.
On Christians Eve we were on outpost
duty, our company, near the left of our
ttaek, by the Woronzoff Road. "Soft,
ece" and, I were companion sentries, mem-
'hg on aur short beat, and meeting once
iMtwo minutes. The air *as bitterly cold,
ail the ground deep in snow. Joe had.
)tapped his ankles and arms with straw
'hada to prevent frost -bites, and I had
Mit my chilled, fingers under nray, cuffs
d was trotting to keep my blood in
uhation. It was near cloven o'clock
And then he would laugh and ,spa
long and fervent rhapsodies tib
"Amy," It was love that kept his ?1e,
from failing. It was the thought oft
sweet face and pure soul that shone
him like a 'star, so that his eygs:.
heeded the murky hell and Mad
dance of murder that environed"
When I have been hipped and sore,'
to welcome death as a friend, wee
the hateful present, and siok in t134?
dow of the hopeless future, I have .l
at his radiant face and envied hir}1
love of that English girl. ,
got almost to love her myself".
his enthusiasm; I did get to revert
her, and. to think of her dimly a
guardian spirit, something .brighter?
better than mere flesh, yet warmer
nearer than the angels. And so
eta
was this semi-superstitions
feeling the
would have gone single-handed inte
Radon for her' sake, would have the
hundred deaths to save my friend's 1
—for her. Not that dying meant mudh
the Orimea. Life was very cheap th
and many a man exposed himself ,
needless and desperate peril merely 1
the sake of excitement.
The winter passed away, and the gras
grew green above our English graves, and
the birds sang over the blood-soaked
fields and.the- n roaredun ex the
bright spring 'sky. And the Russianf
Sun held on, and the struggle -grew fosse,
er and deadlier than ever.
It was an awful siege. Nearer the,
trenches reached towards the battered
walls, deeper and longer stretched the
curve of the investing batteries, louder'
and longer howled the iron throats of
the slayers. Thousands of shells were
hurled into the doomed fortress every
day, Ceaseless fusilade .went on, by which
the devoted defenders fell. Heavier 'can-
non, heavier mortars were mounted, the.
fleets of France and England' poured in.
broadside after broadside, and still the
dogged foe held on.
Five times in one night they drove us
from the Sandbag battery, five times we
recaptured it. The Mamelon was taken
after fearful carnage; the White Works
followed, and at last we held the Quer-,
Mee, for which so many of both sides
had died. And after each of these sue-
oessee -the bombardment grew more ter-
rible. And still the Russians, cold and
immovable, held. on.
We took the Quarries on the 7th of
June. On the 18th our allied forces made
a dash at the formidable walls, and were
defeated, losing five thousand men. In
this engagement I was knocked senseless
by a spent ball before our army left the
trenches, and Joyce, in rescuing a fal-
len officer under fire, was wounded in
the neck.
It was two months before Phil was fit
for duty again, and all that time the
siege went on, and at the end of it the
defences of Sebastopol were still intact,
and the Russian courage and phlegm
were still unshaken.
But directly afterwards came the fa-
tal action of the Tchernaya River. It.
was the last attempt of the enemy to
raise the siege. Down game the Rus-
sians, fifty thousand strong, upon the
French and Sardinian positions, and for
many hours a furious battle raged, the
Russians charging again and again with
sullen' bravery, and the Frenchmen fight-
ing in gala spirits, with cheers and even
laughter; the end being once more the
retreat of the assailants, with a loss of
nearly ' seven thousand men this time,
and many officers.
The very next day the word went forth,
and all our batteries by land and sea
began 'to pour in a ceaseless and mur-
derous fire. For three days and three
nights this storm of lire imolairon rained,
upon Sebastopol, and, thq,10b, tl
slats bore' up wstil'..t'hem bd sire`$ -..n
the hopes of aur men rose as the ht}irt
went by,
The place could not long endure Htunh
a murderous cannonade. No citadel
could stand before it. Every day the
British batteries alone threw some- four
thousand shells into the enemy's Works;.
every day the wails were pdunded by
more than thirty thousand shot, arid the
musketry fire from the trenohes became
a perfect hail.
The Russians suffered fearful losses. I
have heard it said that a thousand of
them fell every twenty-four hours. ;Their
cannon were dismounted, their gunners
blown to atoms, or crushed beneath the
carriages and masonry. As we 'peered'
between our gabions, or looked down an
the fortress from the Cathcart Hill, we
saw the earth -works crumbling, the great(
masses of stone rolling down. We saw
the roofs and chimneys of the houses melt
and collapse, and ever and anon a adream:
of flame shot up through a cloud -Of, deb-
ris with a sullen roar as some magazine
exploded, sending scores of poor crea-
tures to their last account. It was aw-
ful, horrible. The earth trembled, the
batteries shook, the wind was hot with
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CHAPTER XVII.
I shall not dwell upon the recollection
of that terrible winter in the Crimea. The
very thought of it makes me shudder. To
this day I dream about it, and start up
quaking and clammy, imagining that I
hear the dull booming of the cannon, the
whistle of the shell, and the wailing of
the bitter wind that gnawed our flesh,
and drifted the frozen snow knee-deep
into the weary trenches.
No pen can tell what our army suf-
fered in the Crimea. The cruel frost, the
insidious fog, the unrelenting wind; hun-
ger, disease, wounds, and fatigue, wore
down our health, our hope, our patience.
We were reduced to mere bags of bones,
and the bags all rents and patches. All
day long, as we toiled and fought in the
trenches, we were raked and peppered
with grape, or pounded with shot and
shell, and scarcely a night went by with-
out sorties and surprises. The sufferings
of the wounded were horrible. I have not
the heart to describe them. And those
of us who escaped unhurt were so weary
and overwrought that we had little love
of life left in us.
Not that our enemies—poor creatures—
had less to bear. Certainly they were
better clothed and fed than we, and per-
haps their sick and wounded might be
better eared for; but their loss by battle
and disease was frightful, and during that
fierce bombardment they could have got
but Iittle rest.
They wore very stubborn, and fought
both itt the open and behind their works
with a stolid, steadfast bravery which
won the respect of nearly all our men.
Repulsed in everysortie; defeated in
every pitched battle; shut up in their
doomed fortress throughout that long and
bitter winter, with enemies all round
them on land and sea; torn and shatter-
ed day after day by the cannon of the
fleets, and of a chain of batteries and
trenchesfive miles long they
preserved
the sae steadiness and dicipline,
the
same cool bravery and stoical endurance
to the end.
To us it seemed as though the end would
never come. We sickened of the sight of
the driving sleet, and sodden snow, the
stench of blood and powder, the crackle
of musketry and roar of cannon. We
loathed the endless mixture of navvy
work and shambles in the trenehee, and
came to spit and curse every time our
weary eyes looked over the river mounds
and. swirling smoke to sea the walls of
Sebastopol, still solid, still belching fire,
still manned by dense battalions of re-
solute and undaunted enemies
Gloomy and despondent as I was in
temperament, I should have sunk almost
into a state of melancholy madness had
not PhiI Joyce been by to rally me and
keep my soul alive with his bright hope
and kindly gaiety. For he never changed
nor saddened. Amid the fiercest hand-to-
hand fighting, or the hottest storm of
missiles in the trenches, he preserved his
cheerful calmness. Starvation, fatigue,
cold, and danger, even hope deferred
failed to sicken his braise heart. A
man has but one life to live," he could
say, "and that is too short to mope in
and too insignificant to fear for." And
he was as good as his word, and no more
thought of shirking danger than of re-
pining over hardship.
"You are a wonder, Phil," I would say
to him ; "I don't know how you keep your
ohearfulness. Are you mama 'tired? Are
you never out of spiritsP"
seaSseaseass
the breath of conflagration , from the
town, and tete great guns "hanged and
clanged and belched out fire and death,
and the . shrieking shells and whistling
balls rent the sulphurous air, and through
it,;ail the Russians kept up a desultory
fire; and went to their death on wall and
parapet without a flinch or murmur.
(To be continued.)
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A flour dredger which costs no-
thing can be made of an empty
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it is ready for use.
To get rust off keys and locks
leave them to s' ak, for forty-eight
hours and then rub well with news-
paper. Soaking a second time may
be necessary.
Sateen cushion covers are apt to
lose their gloss after washing. Add
borax to the final rinsing water,
and you will be surprised what a
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What kind of a
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be ?
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IF you were to bur
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.t r..
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IND, rain, Arc a
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6
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N0 matter whether'
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E SILOS 'LAST: FOREVER
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AU'T'UMN SOWN RYE.
Rye is not grown on every farm.'
but these who have proved its vale
as a bulky, succulent green foo
that is available in the spring be.
fore the grass grows, treat it is aIli
indispensable and valuable crop,
writes(�bert W . R. Gilbert. ,
Those who do not grow it cath
have an idea of this, In the spring
n
Lime when they are lamenting th ,
absence of new grass, resolutions
are often made to grow some the
succeeding year, but when the timq
arrives to sow the crop the good
intentions are forgotten and no•
thing isdone
Then whene time comelis
around again, .as it always does)
much regret is felt that provision
was not made to meet it with e
good supply of rye.
I would remind all that ry0
should now be sown and assert that
it is most dependable.
It is hardy, always grows, pro.
duces an immense bulk of material.
long before any kind of grass af"
fords a bite and the stock relish it
greatly.
This includes cows in milk)
mares with suckling foals, sheep
with lambs, and store stodk;.too, if
sufficient is grown to allow them
some,
It should not be sewn in bleak
prominences where it will have to
contend with cutting winds. The
more sheltered spots or fields are
better adapted for its development
in the hindering weathers of early
spring.
It may follow after corn or po-
tatoes. It is only a temporary crop
and will be consumed and cleared
off in time to admit of roots being
sown in the early summer. Mak-
ing such quick and profuse growth
it' requires rich soil, but not to ex-
cess, as this would produce growth
of a soft and too perishable nature.
Field after field of it need not be
grown. A few acres, from two to
half a dozen, according to demand,
will yield a big supply. n_ l.ou:t
three bushels of seed should.. be
sown per acre. 1 much prefer to
drill it, lire grain, to sowing it
broadcast.
Birds and pigeons, are vex feed
of'the"seed, and if sown liteadra
much of it will be eaten, but wiled.
drilled most of it is left alone.
There is a ,great demand for it by.
the cow keepers and those who have
become acquainted with its dispo-
sal in this fashion never fail to
have a large supply.
SILO SPELLS PROSPERITY.
If a dairy farmer were bold that
he could roll silver dollars down a,
hill and then pick up two dollars
for every one he rolled down, and
this statement was verified by some
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other dairy farmers in the country,
that farmer would stay up nights
to roll the dollars. But when told
that he could double the profits by
the use of the silo he becomes very
indifferent and keeps on in the
same old rut, feeding dry feed,
wasting nearly half his corn crop
and doing a lot of unnecessary
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In these days of close competi-
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tion, and it 'will be found that it
is easier, if the proper methods are
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selling' price of the dairy products.
The results are the same : a large
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In the corn plant about 40 per
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stalk and 60 per cent. in the ear.
When the ear alone is fed nearly,
half of the corn crop is wasted.
Where the dry stalks are fed, at
least half of them remain uneat-
en, while if stored in the. silo ' the
loss is almost nothing.
Every dairyman known that town
will do their best on fresh June
pasture. The grass is succulent
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These conditions, however, do not
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The silo comes as near to supply-
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Highly sensitive dairy cows resent
any sudden or violent change in
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lowed by a shrinkage in the milk.
In changing from the pasture to.
the silage, the change is not so
great, and often the cows increase
the flow of milk when started on;'
silage. Several dairymen have re-
cently made the statement that the
increased profits paid for the silo
the first year,
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13(
in