The dying man clutched it convulsively, and stared at it feverishly.
"This," said he, "is the first quarter I've seen since the fall of Sumter; and, had I wounded you, I should have been totally unable to give you any quarter. Ah! how beautiful it is! how bright, how exquisite, and good for four drinks! But I have not time to say all I feel."
The expiring soldier then laid down his gun, hung his cap and overcoat on a branch of a tree, and blew his nose.
He then died.
And there I stood, my boy, on that lonely beat, looking down on that fallen type of manhood, and thinking how singular it was he had forgotten to give me back my quarter.
As I looked upon him there, I could not help thinking to myself, "here is another whose home shall know him no more."
The sight and the thought so affected me, that I was obliged to turn my back on the corpse and walk a little way from it. When I returned to the spot, the body was gone! Had it gone to Heaven? Perhaps so, my boy—perhaps so; but I hav'n't seen my quarter since.
Your own picket,
Orpheus C. Kerr.