we'd like to put in, so's if anyone ever hauls 'em out
they'll find it there to tell what the old battery was, and if they
don't, it'll be in one of 'em down thar 'til judgment, an' it'll sort of
ease our minds a bit." He stopped and waited as a man who had delivered
his message. The old Colonel had risen and taken the paper, and now held
it with a firm grasp, as if it might blow away with the rising wind. He
did not say a word, but his hand shook a little as he proceeded to fold
it carefully, and there was a burning gleam in his deep-set eyes, back
under his bushy, gray brows.

"Will you sort of look over it, sir, if you think it's worth while? We
was in a sort of hurry and we had to put it down just as we come to it;
we didn't have time to pick our ammunition; and it ain't written the
best in the world, nohow." He waited again, and the Colonel opened the
paper and glanced down at it mechanically. It contained first a roster,
headed by the list of six guns, named by name: "Matthew", "Mark",
"Luke", and "John", "The Eagle", and "The Cat"; then of the men,
beginning with the heading:

"Those killed".

Then had followed "Those wounded", but this was marked out. Then came a
roster of the company when it first entered service; then of those who
had joined afterward; then of those who were present now. At the end
of all there was this statement, not very well written, nor wholly
accurately spelt:

"To Whom it may Concern: We, the above members of the old battery known,
etc., of six guns, named, etc., commanded by the said Col. etc., left
on the 11th day of April, 1865, have made out this roll of the battery,
them as is gone and them as is left, to bury with the guns which the
same we bury this night. We're all volunteers, every man; we joined the
army at the beginning of the war, and we've stuck through to the end;
sometimes we aint had much to eat, and sometimes we aint had nothin',
but we've fought the best we could 119 battles and skirmishes as near
as we can make out in four years, and never lost a gun. Now we're agoin'
home. We aint surrendered; just disbanded, and we pledges ourselves to
teach our children to love the South and General Lee; and to come when
we're called anywheres an' anytime, so help us God."

There was a dead silence whilst the Colonel read.

"'Taint entirely accurite, sir, in one particular," said the sergeant,
apologetically; "but we thought it would be playin' it sort o' low
d