Olive Leaves; Or, Sketches of Character

by L. H. Sigourney

Ere the sentence was finished, a sword glittered in the sunbeam. It was the death-signal. Eight soldiers advanced from the ranks. There was a sharp report of arms. A shriek of piercing anguish. One convulsive leap. And then a dead man lay between his coffin and his grave.

There was a shuddering silence. Afterwards, the whole line was directed to march by the lifeless body, that every one might for himself see the punishment of a deserter.

Suddenly, there was some confusion; and all eyes turned towards a horseman, approaching at breathless speed. Alighting, he attempted to raise the dead man, who had fallen with his face downward. Gazing earnestly upon the rigid features, he clasped the mangled and bleeding bosom to his own. Even the sternest veteran was moved, at the heart-rending cry of "Brother! O my brother!"

No one disturbed the bitter grief which the living poured forth in broken sentences over the dead.

"Gone to thine account! Gone to thine everlasting account! Is it indeed thy heart's blood, that trickles warmly upon me? My brother, would that I might have been with thee in thy dreary prison. Would that we might have breathed together one more prayer, that I might have seen thee look unto Jesus of Nazareth."

Rising up from the corpse, and turning to the commanding officer, he spoke through his tears, with a tremulous, yet sweet-toned voice.

"And what was the crime, for which my brother was condemned to this death? There beats no more loyal heart in the bosom of any of these men, who do the bidding of their country. His greatest fault, the source of all his misery, was the love of war. In the bright days of his boyhood, he said he would be content to die on the field of battle. See, you have taken away his life, in cold blood, among his own people, and no eye hath pitied him."

The commandant stated briefly and calmly, that desertion thrice repeated was death, that the trial of his brother had been impartial, and the sentence just. Something too, he added, about the necessity of enforcing military discipline, and the exceeding danger of remissness in a point like this.

"If he must die, why was it hidden from those whose life was bound up in his? Why were they left to learn from the idle voice of rumour, this death-blow to their happiness? If they might not have gained his pardon from an earthly tribunal, they would have been comforted by knowing that he sought that mercy from above, which hath no limit. Fearful power have ye, indeed, to kill the body, but why need you put the never-dying soul in jeopardy? There are those, to whom the moving of the lips that you have silenced, would have been most dear, though their only word had been to say farewell. There are those, to whom the glance of that eye, which you have sealed in blood, was like the clear shining of the sun after rain. The wife of his bosom would have thanked you, might she but have sat with him on the floor of his prison, and his infant son would have played with his fettered hands, and lighted up his dark soul with one more smile of innocence. The sister, to whom he has been as a father, would have soothed his despairing spirit, with the hymn which in infancy, she sang nightly with him, at their blessed mother's knee. Nor would his only brother thus have mourned, might he but have poured the consolations of the Gospel, once more upon that stricken wanderer, and treasured up one tear of penitence."

A burst of grief overpowered him. The officer with kindness assured him, that it was no fault of theirs, that the family of his brother was not apprized of his situation. That he strenuously desired no tidings might be conveyed to them, saying that the sight of their sorrow would be more dreadful to him than his doom. During the brief interval between his sentence and execution, he had the devoted services of a holy man, to prepare him for the final hour.