The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa on July 9, 1890 · Page 3
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The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

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Wednesday, July 9, 1890
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THE BEPtfBLICAN. •TAttlt <fe ItALLOOK, PttbtUher*. AtGONA, IOWA. HIS STARLIGHT. You, who at my elbow Bit, By whose eyes my lines ate lit, Ho w sh all any poet's feu do amiss or falter when Stars like those shine out above— Beacons kindled there by love— flighting up the paths below » Where he wanders to and fro? Is It strange the rhymes should ld« tTmler such a spell as this? They but mimic those, my sweet, Who of old were wont to meet— :Meet and linger at the bars :,Mnklng love beneath tho stars: Wo ourselves were happy rhymes In those dear, betrothal times. "Take this lyric; every line But reflects tbo stars that shine •;O'or my shoulder tolling mo •Of my sweetheart's constancy! And If any word appear Vague or needless, say you: "Here Went a cloud across his skies; This Is whoro Its shadow lies." . But If any turn of phrase 'Tempt your lips to lisp Its praise, : Know you there the poet caught From your eyes the graceful thought; .All tho merits of his song 'To those constant stars belong— 'To those tender eyes that brim Full wfth love to gladden html -••Frank Dempster Sherman, in Llpplnoott'B. CAUGHT BY A TABTAE. a Plate of Strawberry Tarts Accomplished. HE queen of hearts, She made some tarts, . All on a summer's day; The knave of hearts, He stole the tarts, And took them all away." —Nursery Rhyme. "There!" said Chrystal. With a sigh of satisfaction, she poised the last tart airily on the apex of the pas* try pyramid and stepped back to view the effect. And, indeed, the •effect was as artistic as appetizing. The •oval dish of polished Beleek, creanfy with -nge, dotted all over with prim little blue forget-me-nots a-nd primmer little pink •rose-buds, would have delighted' the heart of a china connoisseur. And the tarts, round, crisp, flaky, goldenly brown, each inclosing a crimson lake •of strawberry preserve, and all towering up in regular and tempting prodigality, quite rewarded the cook for her labor. "If these," considered Chrystal, as she «arefully carried the delectable dainties into the buttery and laid the dish iflovvn on the shelf by the north window, "if these do not suit even Clarence's •city friends, they are very hard to ploase. "Very-hard- to-please," she repeated, hyphenating her sentence with a series of convinced little nods. She went back to the kitchen and looked up at the clock. "Half-past three, and every thing is done except to «3t the table. I think every thing is ftone. The ham is sliced, the chicken jellied, the compote made, the cream whipped and the tarts baked. Yes, I may go and dress, and perhaps have time for a bit of a read before I must «et the table." She tidied up the kitchen, closed the buttery door, drew down the blinds and went upstairs. The home of the Bruntons was a ,gray old frame house standing on the outskirts of Ashland. Chrystal's parents •were in the pleasant circumstances generally designated comfortable, and Clarence, her twin brother, held a confidential position in a city grain firm. Yesterday he had learned two college friends of his were in town, He had called at their hotel but failed to find them in, so he had left a note stating Jhat ho would call again on this particular evening and bring them out to supper at his father's house. Tbe Bruntons happened to be without a ,girl at the time, but Clarence, with a young man's thoughtlessness, failed to consider that fact. Perhaps he knew Chrystal would prove more reliable than A host of domestics. Her genius for housekeeping (for perfect housekeeping does imply genius) had been proven. Fresh, breezy and blowy was the afternoon. Delicious drifts ot sunshine and tantalizing shadows followed each other in bewildering repetition. Within the house there was no sound. The •only inmates were Cbrysta! and her another, ^fce, latter was writing letters in her owi> room, "One! two"! three! four!" Chrystal .coasted the strokes as she •lipped into :ter, pretty Marguerite gown ot rust-red OWna. silk. "Now PU.ffrM}t glance though those »ew magazines |»fc«e supper," she decided, as she'tied and patted tbe soft -sash of her dren,,|§f$y twisted the big bo*' back, and 4$i$. |Sm?Re4 her head , 0 vor her shouide* $$ aA«ise the 4» •f human reaolVM! At tbit mOtn*ttt th* tell fang. "Oh, deaft Who can that be?" she e*» elalmed with emphasis more provoked than flattering. Hastily she thrust a sliver pin through the deep fall of creamy tisse&l her throat, tucked away a couple of rebellious curls under the braid'ed coil of her brown half, and went out of'her room and down the stairs. She opened the door to a bold young breeze, to a chilly dazzle of sunshine, and to Miss Stokes. To Miss Stokes of all women! Chrystal's heart sank. A spinster of an age decidedly beyond that known as uncertain was Miss Stokes. Her periodical visits were invariably long, invariably gossipy, invariably tiresome. Tho Bruntons had known her many years. She was one of those formidable and familiar specters', "a friend of the family," and she was, therefore, entitled to toleration, if not to exalted regard. Half-past fourl Five! A quarter past five I "Will she never go?" dejectedly marveled poor Chrystal, sitting there smiling, endeavoring to repress indications of weariness, and striving to appear interested in tho prosy talk of her visitor. And meanwhile two young men, both very hungry, both very tired, returning to town after a day spent in duck-shooting outside the city limits, had taken a short cut through the Bruntons' orchard. They wore obliged to pass quite close to the house, and one of them, a tall, muscular young fellow, with pleasant black eyes, white teeth, and tho sunniest of smiles, paused by a window which a great old cherry-tree shladed, a window that was low and open. "Look, Tomt" he said. Tom Hilton, insignificant of stature, but finically correct as to costume, turned his bead in the direction indicated. He puckered his lips. His small blue eyes twinkled. "Great Scott! Dick, can you resist them?" Dick Bertrand, who had not removed his gaze from the Beleek dish and tbe strawberry tarts, slowly shook his head. "Like the father of my country," he declared, "I am the soul of veracity— no!" " 'Voracity,' you mean," corrected Hilton. "As you like! I can't resist one and —I won't!" With the expression of which desperate decision, he deliberately thVust his hand through the aperture, and lightly picked off the topmost tart. Hilton looked on enviously. "Is it good?" "Good? Don't talk!" He could not converse with ease himself, so full was his mouth with pastry and jam. Ho swallowed the sweet morsel, and boldly extracted another. "Suppose some one were, to come around the house,, or—or open that door?" ventured Tom, timidly. "This is a Christian country, where starving men are not refused food," declared Bertrand, reaching for his third tart. "But w-what would you do?" stammered his friend, terrified by such rashness, "if—if any one were to catch us-^you, I mean?" "I'd run," decided Dick, as he calmly purloined another tart. • "Stop!" Tom was fairly dancing. "Eh?" "Stop! I say. That's your fourth!" "Proves how fine they are," responded Bertrand, 1 brushing the crumbs off his mustache. "But you won't leave any for me!" wailed Hilton. His scruples were quite gone. Dick's enjoyment of the tarts had been too maeh for him. Hunger had conquered conscience. He made an onslaught on the shrinking pyramid. He captured two tarts which he devoured in successively distributed and impartial bites. When five minutes had passed, all the prim little forget-me-nots and primmer little rosebuds were visible on the oval dish. Comically, guiltily, the criminals looked at each other. Then, as if moved by one impulse, they put their hands in their pockets. Dick laid a silver dollar on the plate. Hilton followed suit. Then Bertrand pulled out his note-book and wrote: To the Queen ol Hearts, who' made some tarts—with thanks and compliments. 1 ' He tore out the page, laid it on the Beleek dish, and weighted it with the money. After which both conspirators took up their guns, and, shaking with, laughter, ran across a vacant lot, around a corner, jumped into their waiting buggy and drove rapidly into town. "It is after four," remarked Tom; "we must make haste," And all the time Chrystal Brunton, blessedly unconscious of the theft being perpetrated, sat and listened to the chatter of Miss Stokes. It was a quarter to six before thai victimizing visitor made her welcome'adieux. "Gracious! how I will have to rush!" groaned Chrystal, as she closed the door behind tbe tkrown-sllk back of Maria Angeline—for that was her guest's novelistio name. Into the dining-room flew Miss Brunton, pushed out the table, whisked off the velours cover, spread on tbe cloth of milk-white damask, took- tbe solid silver from its chamois wrappings, and brought tbe company china from its seclusion under the sideboard. Then she put on a big nainsook apron, went into tbe kitchen, brightened the fire, hurried to tbe buttery, carried the meat into tbe dining-room and went back for tbe tarts. Where had they vanished? There was tbe dish. But the tarts! She stood still and rubbed her eyes, * Stolen, beyond a doubt. Tbe face that was so sweet and youthful and sunny-souled, if not positively pretty, grew so&rl3t from, brow to chin. Obi it was too bad! After all her trouble, tool Who could, bave taken them? Probably those horrid IHtle Volmoutk children, Tbe gleam of tbe dollars caught her eyes. §he went forward, took up the scrap of paper, read tbe liae« &, ~ ' spite Ql herself. l£9U.£h ohi&ren, wfp$ To b« robbed and paid In this fashion! What hungry and gentlemanly villain lurked in the neighborhood? Oh! it was aggravating, and ridiculous, too. "Well, I'm glad it Wai the tarts And not grandmother's Beleek dish he fan* | oied," she told herself, by way of con*! eolation. Half an hour later Clarence and hlfl friends appeared. Mrs. Brunton emerged from her room, and the head of the family came home from the city. At the first favorable moment Chrystal beckoned her brother into the hall. "Clarence!"' "Well?" "The strawberry tarts!" "Did they fail?" His particular penchant was straw* berry tarts. He was interested in theif possible fate. "Pall!" indignantly. "They neve#; fall with mo. They," with much Solent nity, "were stolen!" "No?" She nodded sadly. "By whom?" "I d«n't know." And thon she told him of the note and tbe money loft on the plate. At supper, he laughingly insisted on telling the whole story. Hilton and Bertrand, who had grown painfully embarrassed when Clarence Brunton had pointed out his home, stole startled "BUT YOU WON'T LEAVE ANY FOB ME.' glances at each other, as the tale pr ceeded. "Let me see that scrap of pape Chrissie," Clarence said, in conclusion. She drew it from her pocket and handed it to him. "By George!" he cried, in surprise and delight. S He sprang to his feet, and then sank back in his chair, with a roar of laughr ter. "Clarence!" protested Chrystal. • "If the writing isn't—" he gasped. Bertrand interrupted him. "Mine!" he confessed. "Yes, yours!" And off he went in FOREIGN GOSSIP. total numbefbl marriages upon friday in England is only two pet cent. •i the whole number, showing the ex- eat of superstition in regard to the day. —"Cigarettes for ladies' smoking" atft sold in London, provided with specially prepared mouthpieces. They are terfumed with musk and violet, and iiiey are said to be enjoying a very extensive sale. —Charles Theodore, Duke of Bavaria, besides surgically treating thousands ol poor patients gratis, spends about $50,300 a year in maintaining his free dispensaries and hospitals. He has no private fortune, but is dependent upon his annuity from the Bavarian crown. —It looks very much as if the whole Australian continent on the other side of the globe would, at no distant day, be consolidated and organized into an Independent republic, making a new United States, somewhat after the model of tho United States of America. Th"ere is a movement already among the Australian colonies looking to this end. —Only a born Parisian would have the cunning to design and the nerve to appear in a wonderful garment recently worn by a titled French beauty at a wedding fete. It was a long, straight coat made entirely of gleaming copho- more feathers, with a muff to match. Her bonnet was nothing else but a single bird of Paradise fluttering over a tulle vail, and the whole was fastened to her head with pearl pins. —The telephone must have a new role of usefulness scored for it. Sir Humphrey de Trafford, near Manchester, has, perhaps, the finest kennels in England, the kennelman's house adjoining them. From each kennel a telephone arrangement Leads to the kennelman's room, so that when any log is noisy at night, the keeper can speak to him so as to be heard without . leaving his room. —A wife was sold for a shilling re- sen tly by a German workman in Silesia, though the loving husband stipulated that she was to return to him in two years. A year after the bargain was struck the workman summoned the pur- shaser to pay fifteen shillings for the let of false teeth which his wife was wearing, and which he had forgotten to Include in the contract. Her purchaser objected and called in the police, who formally sanctioned the original bargain and disallowed the first husband's claim. —While driving out near Windsor re- sently the Queen of England and Prince Albert Victor of Wales saw two for- iigners with a brown bear resting un- ler tho shade of the ol'd elms of the avenue. Tho Queen ordered the carriage to be stopped and the men requested to allow the bear to give a performance. This command was at once obeyed, the animal dancing with a stick CAMP-FIRE STORIES. A TOUCHING INCIDENT another paroxysm of laughter. Chrystal's eyes, blue as the forget-me-nots In his paws on the greensward and oc- on the Beleek dish, grew very wide, indeed. Was that handsome fellow the Knave of Hearts who stole her tarts? They, tbe thieves, attempted explanations, apologies, ffilton put the blame on Bertrand and Bertrand on Hilton. Then all joined in young Brunton's hearty and contagious mirth. That was just a year ago. And there are those who avow that, before the April sun-shine wakes all the world to beauty, Chrystal Brunton will be Chrystal Brunton no longer. For if not exactly a Queen of Hearts, she is at least queen over one heart And that one is Dick Bertrand's.—Kate M. Cleary, in N, Y. Ledger. AUNT SOPHRONIA. An Agreeable Guest Who TVug Welcome at Every Himse She VJ«lted. The secret of making one's-self an agreeable guest, warmly welcomed when one comes and sincerely regretted when one goes, does not always lie ia the possession of conversational talents or general accomplishments. This little authentic dialogue, which took place between Mr. and Mrs. Parking the evening after their Aunt Sophronia Greene had ended a week's visit at their house, indicates a surer means of making one's-self welcome: "How lonesome it is," said Mr. Parkins, "now that the children have gone to beill I wonder, what it really is that makes Aunt Sophronia's visits so especially delightful?" "Why, I suppose it's because she never finds any fault," said MM. Parkins. "Are all our other guests accustomed to find fault with things which go on about tbe house?" "No, bulh-" .' "But what? Aunt Sophronia seldom says any thing particularly pertinent or entertaining. In faoi, she says and does very little," "That's true; but she is always good- natured in a quiet way." "But lots of other people are good* natured, and yet nobody's visits give us so much pleasure as Aunt Sophronia's. There must be some other and positive reason." Mrs. Parkins knitted on silently for a few moments, as if in a brown -study, and then, dropping her work, exclaimed: "William, I know what it isl" "Well?" "Whenever Aunt Sophronia opens her mouth to speak, it ia almost always to bring out, either flatly or else in some roundabout way, some good quality of one of the children," "X guess that is so," said Mr. Parkins, raising his eyebrows as if searching bis recollection, "And did you eyer hear her so much as refer, in all the times she has been here, to any one of their numerous fail* ings?" "Neverl" "Then we'y« found her out." , "Yes, we've found her out, but she casionally hugging its keeper, much to the amusement of the royal party, who laughed heartily at its antics. At the finish Her Majesty gave the men some money. —A syndicate ol French Jews has been formed for the purpose of •purchasing for the custody of the Jews the copy of the Hebrew Bible which is in the Vatican. The offer which has been, made for it is $200,000. But it is stated that the Pope can not legally sell it The Jews of Spain, France and Italy tried to buy it about a hundred years ago, offering for it more than ita weight in gold. The Bible is in the . origina? Hebrew manuscript and the exact time when it was] written has never been satisfactorily' determined, -any in ore than it came into the possession of the congregation founded by Pope Gregory XV. some three hundred years ago. It is the moat valuable book in existence. A Baby Pound on the Bloody Rattle-Field of the Matchle. , Let me relate to you a touching little incident that will seem a little strange to you. I thought it passing strange, if not wonderful, when I witnessed it. At the battle of the Hatchie^ when the conflict was waging fiercest, upon advancing midway between the contending forces, wo found—what do you think? Not a masked battery, nor any engine of death, but a swoot little blue-eyed baby. Sweet little thing, as I saw ifc there, hugging the cold earth—its only bed— the little tear on its cheek. That nature bid it weop unalarmed 'mid the awful confusion of that fearful battle, with the missiles of death lying thick about it, and yet unhurt, it soemed a wonderful verification of the Divine declaration, "Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings will I ordain wisdom." That little child of war as it lay in its miraculous safety, soemed to say to mo these words of profound instruction, "My helplessness and innocence appealed to God, and he preserved me in the midst of carnage. If you will make your'plaint to Heavon God will preserve your poor bleeding country." Little child of destiny, born mid the flash of musketry, the thunder of cannon and the clash of arms, I will watch your course through life, if possible, and soo what your history may be. Who would suppose that in the wild, fierce battle of tho ITatchie, whore the field was strewn with tho dead, and the shrieks of the wounded rent the heavens with agony, a groat army woulc pause in the thickest of the conflict to save a harmless, helpless child? Ye the brave Fourteenth, that never ye has quailed in battle, did pause, and an officer of tho regiment ordered "our lit tlo baby" carried to headquarters ane tenderly carod for. I remember of having read some where in Grecian history a story some thing like the one I have related. A little child was found on the battlefield, and by an infuriated soldier was trampled in the dust. After the battle tho victorious General, in an address to his army said: "But for the blood of a little child that mars it, our victory would have been complete." Thank God tho blood of no littlo child marred our victory. The next day after tho battle "our babe" was brought before the Fourteenth, and unanimously adopted "child of the rogiment." Three or four days later, strange as it.may scorn, a poor, heart-stricken mother came searching tho battle-field in quest of her child. Imagine, if you can, the wild exclamations of thanksgiving that burst from that poor woman's heart when informed that her child had been rescued, and with a mother's tenderness cared for. I saw tho mother receive her child, heard her brief prayer for the soldiers who saved it, and with tho blessings of a thousand men following her and hers, she took away "our little baby"—little blue-eyed, laughing baby.—Extract from a Letter from a Private Soldier in the Fourteenth Illinois, in American Tribune. UP IN THE fiELFHY. On* ton* Michigan Soldier Qitttrdtftff • Union Fluff At PetftrAtottffi It will be femembeted that Pets*!* burg and the strong works whlcti mttdl t the key to the robel capital wert evacuated on the night of Sunday, AftfU 8. Leas than two miles away, at Mead« Station, on "Grant'sMilitary Railroad* 1 * was the famous "rustic chapel" of th« United States 'Christian Commission!, used that evening as a hospital and filled with soldiers from the battlefields. I* was long after midnight before we rest* ed from our varied service of providing' refreshment for the wounded, saying words of comfort to dying men, and writing out in our tent their last messages to tho friends at home they would never .see. Between two and three o'clock we were aroused by the blowing* up of tho robel rams on the James, and saw from the hill near by the fierce shells of the Ninth Corps' artillery fiercely flying into tho doomed city. At four o'clock we wore thero again, and heard at our front the exultant shouts of "tho boys" and the significant strains of Yankee Doodle. A little later we—"Carlton," the war-correspondent and war-writer, was one of us—were "following the flag" over rebol abatis and through deserted magazines to the evacuated city. Not one Confederate soldier was left, and only one wearing the blue, who seemed to. bave been separated from his command and to be in a dazed condition, exclaiming: "We've'got into Petersburg, and got the flag up on the meetin'- house!" The flag proved to be on tho venerable court-house, which we found filled with Union officers and soldiers. Clambering up a rude ladder of cleats on tho wall, I reached the attic and groped through it to the belfry. In it was one lone Michigan soldier, proudly guarding the dear old flag he had hoisted there hours before—a matter of history which he had recorded with his name [W. T. Wixcey, now of St. Louis, Mo.] on the belfry blinds. There I left him, boiling over with enthusiasm, and I should be unable to say that he was not there still had I not, ten years afterwards, climbed up the same steps and found the belfry unguarded and the patriotic inscription gone.—C. C. Carpenter, in Century. AN HEROIC SERGEANT. Ho STATUE OF BUDDHA. can' t come again any Youth's Companion. too soon! and in Ly the flsi Tbe Vouug Old Boy (good natuifediy).-Why »r$ you watching my bald boadaoattentive-f ly, my young shaver? Little Johnnie—Beoau^g J wanted <» see if tb,at was tbe otbejf face which 4ad said make yoi| '-'A The Interesting Treasure in Posseslon of a New York Editor. .Editor Moses Oppenheimer of tho Emigrant, a German weekly in New York, has a little wooden image which he says is a genuine statue of Buddha. Its history as told by Mr. Oppenheimer is: "An Alsatian traveler, while on the Island of Ceylon, about teu years ago, entered one of the many temples of Buddhism there and secured a statue of Buddha. It stood in a niche in a somewhat obscure corner of the lemple, and at a favorable opportunity, when the attendants were not looking, the Alsatian quickly removed the statuette from its resting place and .concealed it beneath the folds of his coat. -The larceny was committed at tbe peril of tbe traveler's life. Had detection followed, the Alsatian would have been put to death in a caldron of boiling oil, that being tbe penalty for the mutilation or surreptitious removal of Buddhist idols. The Alsatian, however, escaped, and subsequently presented the idol, together with other curiosities of Asiatic origin, to his sister, a Mrs. 8. JPriedemann, then living in Zurich, Swlzerland. From the Friedemann family it passed into my bands. Daring the five years that I have had the statuette I have submitted it to a number of antiquarians, who have pronounced it a genuine bit of ancient Oriental carving, and have expressed no doubt of its Buddhist origin. "It is about fifteen inches high and Is carved from sandal-wood principally. William Q. Judge, editor of Path, and president of tbe Theosopbists' Society, has examined it and says it represents ISuddba in a posture of contemplation undpr the bo tree, on a pedestal formed by the glistening green coils of a large snake. This is symbolical of tbe subjugation of tbe principle of evil In Some of the Buddhist temples statue* pt the idol represent him sitting cross with bis palms conveniently containing many coins, and awaiting such additional alms as the native* fAd believers may bestow." Colonel Robert G. Ingersoll has see; Sjditor Oppenbeimer's Buddha and is •willing to accept it as the genuinj although he doesn't take anj in Buddhism. The secretary <s>\ Astor Library is another who haj the idol and prpnouaeed it genuine Y. Letter. Deliberately KIgks Hi« Life to Give Aid to the Wounded and Dying;. At the close of the first bloody day of the battle of Fredericksburg (December 13, 1862), hundreds of the Union wounded were left lying on the ground and the road ascending Marye's Heights, victims who fell in Sykes' desperate charges on Kershaw's entrenched brigade. All night and the most of the next day the open space was swept by artillery shot from both the opposing lines, and no one could venture to the sufferers' relief. All that time their agonizing cries went up for "Water, water," but there was no one to help them, and the roar of the guns mocked their distress. Many who heard the poor soldiers' piteous appeals felt the pangs of human compassion, but stifled them under dread necessity. But at length one brave fellow behind the stone rampart, where the Southern forces lay, gave way to his sympathy and rose superior to the love of life. He was a sergeant in a South Carolina regiment; and his name was Bichard Kirkland. In the afternoon he hurried to General Kershaw's headquarters, and, finding the commanding officer, said to him, excitedly: "General, I can't stand .this any longer." "What's the matter, sergeant?" asked the General. "Those poor souls out»there have been praying and crying all night and all day, and it's more than I can bear. I ask your permission to go and give them water." "But do you know," said the General, admiring the soldier's noble spirit, "do you knovv that as soon as you show yourself to the enemy you will be shot?" "Yes, sir, I know it; but to carry a little comfort to those poor fellows dying, I'm willing to run the risk. If you say I may, I'll try it" The General hesitated a moment, but finally said, with emotion: "Kirkland, it's sending you to your death; but I can oppose nothing to such a motive as yours. For the sake of it I hope God will protect you. Go." furnished with a supply of water, the brave sergeant immediately stepped over the wall and applied himself to his work of mercy. Wondering eyes looked on, as he knelt by the nearest sufferer and. tenderly raising his head, held the cooling cup to bis parched lips. Before his first service of love was finished every one in the Union lines understood, the mission of the noble soldier ia gray, and not a man fired a shot. He staid there on that terrible field an hour and a b4f< giving drink to the thirsty and dying, straightening their cramped and mangled limbs, pillowing their heads on their knapsacks, and spreading their army coats and blankets over them, as a mother would cover her child, and all the while he was so engaged, until his gentle ministry finished, the fusillade- of death husbed. Hatred forbore its rage in | tribute to the $e»d, ol pity.— WeataM#i MULE AND COMMISSARY. Mysterious Disappearance of a Confederate Oillcer and His Beast. i The two lines were facing one another, with only a short distance separating them. A farmer rode into the Confederate camp on a mule. Most of the soldiers had been farmers and were good judges of horse-flesh, so that in conversation with the old farmer the merits and demerits of the mule came up naturally for some discussion. It was a good mule, they agreed with the farmer—"but," added the owner, "I've never seen another man that could ride him." This remark brought on another discussion) Several of the soldiers protested that they had never been" thrown from a mule and were willing to bet that they could ride IThis one. One of the most vociferous in praising his own horsemanship was a commissary. He swore hecould ride that mule, and finally it was decided to let him try.it. He had no sooner mounted than the mule began plunging viciously, and then he ran around in a circle several times at break-neck speed, the commissary holding on for his Ufa Suddenly that mule made a break for the front. The commissary sawed and shouted in vain. Every attempt was made to stop them, but the mule was wild and the commissary knew that if he once let loose he would have to be buried. On like a tornado—and as straight as the crow flies—on past the Confederate outposts and heading for the Yankee lines. They watched him until the mule was lost to sight. That was the last seen of them, nor has one word ever been heard from that day to this of the commissary or the mule.—Atlanta Constitution, ON THE SKIRMISH LINE. THE ladies of the G. A. B. have a cir- ''*, cle in Des Moinos, la. THKKE are 83 National cemeteries in the United States. GENEHAL JOHN M. COBSE, the hero of Allatoona, is a resident of Boston, Mass. THE sum of $10,000 is to be raised to boomTopeka, Kas., for the National encampment in 1892. THE old veterans in the Minnesota Soldiers' Home were presented with, bouquets on Memorial Day. THE National headquarters ot the Ladies of the Grand Army are now located at Topeka, Kas. Mrs. Frances N. Wood. is National President. MBS. CKOOK, widow of General Orook ? has presented to Crook Post, G. A, B,, of Oakland, Md., a large and handsomely , framed portrait of her husband. EMIL WILLIS, ninety years old, fop- merly a member of the Seventh, Illi« nois Cavalry, was recently muster^ into Morton Post, No. I, Terre Haute* Ind. TUB Attorney-General of Jiliohigan,'; has made a construction of the State bounty law which will give $W each to , about 1,500 veterans, who enlisted the Michigan regiments af ter F»hrtt«f 5, 1864. A crozox of Charleston, W, Ya,, h,ajj long been bothered witfc a«noky ohjijj^ ney, and the other day he got » to investigate. In tbe flue wa^ found tin bo.x containing «5,QOO in casfe, gome one ha.d hid *W»y during and never returned to »et it, 1 GOVEUNOB F»upy, appointed Will L, Virwher, Fairhaven Herald, Assift&nt sary-General on the Go with the rank of Colonel, thus comments: "There think there is $pmfiJhtB this, hut the Governor liable ft* thswe who, •habits by the hue of hi* over, Napoleon this held well ia this flW^

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