The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa on October 1, 1890 · Page 3
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The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

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Wednesday, October 1, 1890
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THE REPUBLICAN, A «At^l.OOK, had apparently been opetted with the point of a pencil and then sealed again. I thought that he wad 'entirely too in- A1CKWA-. IOWA " PUSH." our father died ond left us for tHa happy* golden shore, i?H6saict: 'Tin sorry, children, that I can't bequeath you hioro: '. '"' ' ••You're hunclsomo girls, the thrco of you, In youth's enchanting fluth, ..And I liopo you will bo sensible! and marr? men of push." It atrnnge our parent's last v?ordg 16ft tlj.elv Impress on our lives? daisies bloomecl nbovo him Kate and Belle Were wedded wives; 'But I tarried, scarcely liking such a hurry, such iv rnsli, .iNor halt lilting ray riow brothers, though they were both men of push. '•One had pushed a real-estato boom Into blossom nil too soon, sAnd was living on tho proceeds to a pretty lively tune. •iTho other—ho was pushing ot those doors that may be seen >!Lttbolecl "Push," anct opening Inward on a most obliging screen. fEach hail his boon companions, pushing, dash- Ing, rapid men; •("When they pushed Into my presence I just pushed them out again. •fYet my lather's word was sacred, and I prayed, at evening's hush: -"Dear God of lonely orphans, what aid. father } moan by 'push?'" jAnd I thlnl: God sent an anj?el to aslt father what ho meant, jJTor an answer to my prayer straightway 'down tome was sent; .And tkat answer, plain, convincing, I must tell you ail about; -That It came right out of Heaven I can never, never doubt. 3! was walking out Yamhlll street, and the grade was on tho rise, ,iA sweltering August sun was pouring down from cloudless skies; •An over-laden street car—fifty people on, at least— /Came slowly up behind me, dragged by oho poor, gasping beast. .How that poor horse tugged and struggled, how ho stumbled, tottered, reeled, •^Tb my most careless reader needs not to bo revealed; <We all have seen tho picture from tho sidewalk or tlie road, •And sometimes—O. tho shame of it 1—we've added to the load. *My heart was sore within me and my sonl In- j dignant grew; <Yet I stood there, still and helpless, there was nothing I could do. "We women love to pity and our hearts will acho and acho, Yot we turn the veriest cowards when a brave stop we should take. And while I stood there trembling and pitying from afar, ,-A. man sprang off tho platform and dropped behind the car; .And, O, let mo record it In plainest black and white, He grasped the platform railing and pushed with all his might 1 •The horse took freshened courage and pulled with hopeful will. And man and horse together rolled tho street car up tho hill. ff lost my head entirely, and cried, without a blush: "O, king of men I I now know what father | meant by 'push.'" •Be looked at me in wondor, and while ho looked, of course, . •The street car went and left him, pulled by that dear old horse. 'Thus my answer came from Heaven, straight from Heaven, don't you see? Jfor this man who pushed the street car Is > pushing now for me. —Carrie Blako Morgan, in West Shore. A STRANGE CASE. •jBWhere a Pair of Lost Ear-Rings Were Found. URING my twenty years' experience as a detective I have had a great many very complicated, my s- terious and exciting cases; but when you ask me about a strange case, I can give you ono that is not very old. It was a cold -Hay, and the ground was covered with cBnow, when a servant entered my office and handed me a letter written by a lady for whom I had done business. I •will call her Mrs. Harris, for she is a •prominent woman in New York society, : .and I don't care to give her true name. •She is very wealthy, and lives on Fifth .avenue. The letter informed mo that her dia- jmonds had been stolen, and asked me to accompany her servant to her house j-at once. I looked at the servant and vfell to thinking, without being in any il AMA)WBDH.IU TO STAND A MOMENT. .apparent hurry, It don't do for a detective to be in too much of a hurry /Something may be overlooked, if be is Of course, as yet t knew nothing of the particulars, put before me stood a man who might have hac}. an opportunity * *teal the missing jewels. "Can't you come.? 1 */ asked tne man. "Were you told tb.ai $ was to go with you?" I said, quioWy, #$,4 looked him ,-«traigb,tin the face. so, , fee answered, t looked at th« ** .. t then bundled up and, going to the street, entered a carriage in waiting, and was soon in HVlrs. Harris* room. ' Wh.en she entered I asked nor to mo the full particulars, which she did by saying; "I knew it was Very careless, but I left the diamond ear-rings' on 'the table in tho hall last night, wrapped in my handkerchief, and this morning the handkerchief was found on tho floor, but the diamonds wero gone." "Aro yo.i sure that you left them there?" 1 askod. "Yes, certain," she said. "How did you happen to do so?" I inquired. "It was just this way," sho answered. "As I gob from tho carriage last night after the theater I caught one of the ear-rings in the lace on my sleeve, and 'couldn't unfasten it until I came into tho light of the nail, and, to loosen.it, I had to take it from my oar. When it was out I thought I would tako out tho other one, which I did. Thon I wrapped thorn both in my handkerchief and laid it on tho table beside my fan. When 1 retired I forgot about tho diamonds, and now they are gone." "Who saw you place them there?" I asked. "No one." "Who was first in tho hall thia morning?" "Either William, the man I sent lor you, or Mary, who sweeps on this floor. But, dear me! I never would suspect either of them," she answered. "Yet they may be able to crivo information that will aid me. Send up William," I said. I don't believe that I had no much confidence in William as Mrs. Harris had. When William came I allowed him to stand for a moment before I spoke, and h 1 ^ appeared to be very illy at ease. Then I asked: "Was Mary thefirstone in the front hall this morning?" "I think she was," he said, "for I saw her there sweeping when I came down. But, I toll you, sho never stole any thing." I was a little surprised at his answer, for I had aboutconcluded that ho would want mo to think that Mary had taken the jewels. "Have you searched for the Diamonds?" I asked. "Indeed, we all did, and poor Mary has been crying her eyes out because she might be suspected." "Send her here," I said. Mary came, and it was quite apparent hafc sho had been crying; but I have lad considerable experience with wom- n's tears. She said that when she vent to sweep the hall she found the .andkerchief on the floor, but saw .othing of tho diamonds; and that she vas still sweeping when William passed er on his way to clear the snow from he front walk. I concluded that Mary knew nothing bout the diamonds, but was not quite 0 sure of William. "Did William go to the table?" I in- uired. "No," she said. "He walked apast t, on his way to the door." "Did he pick up the handkerchief for vou?" "No, he did not. I had picked it up before he came. He didn't pick up any hi'ng. And if he had picked up the dia- nonds ho would have said so." The girl wasovidentlyshrewd enough to see the purpose of my questions. And her very shrewdness aroused my suspicion. "Now, Mary," I said, "do you say that iYilliam passed through tho hall without stopping?" "No, I don't," sho answered, and I noticed alittlo color come t or cheeks, "What did he stop for?" I asked. "Perhaps because he wanted to," she answered, snappishly. 'Mary," said Mrs. Harris, "you must answer the question. If William stopped in tho hall this morning you must tell tho gentleman what for." "Then, if you must know, ho stopped to kiss mo." With this she ran out of ihe room. I now understood the relationship be- iween the two servants, and why each ih ought the other incapable of stealing. 1 also saw a motive for William want- ng the money that the ear-rings might tt-ing him, and felt that it would be dif- icult to either recover the diamonds or discover evidence enough to convict the thief. The first thing was to put an assistant on the track of William and to pump the pawn-shops. He might have visited one his way to. my office. 1 told Mro- Harris that I would return by car, and that she might soon expect to see me again. William showed me to the door. After he had closed it behind me I stood a moment on the stop and glanced at the front of the house. As I did so I caught sight of a woman's head at a window in the house next door. When she saw me looking toward her she sprung back and closed the blind. I must have frightened her. I rang the bell at Mrs. Karris' door, and surprised William by my sudden return. 1 asked for Mrs. Harris, and inquired of her bow the door had been locked the night before. "It was only on the night laton," she said, "Mr. Harris is out of the city, and I thought be might return, and I left the door so that he could get in." At my request Mrs. Harris gave me the night-latch key, and again J left the house. I looked at the windows of the next house, <*nd saw no one. Then, stepping to the front door, I inserted Harris-house key, and was able to open, the door with it. 1 know that tbe key of that lock would open Mrs. Harris 1 door. 'The key was put in my pocket, and I rang the door-bell There was no immediate answer, and I rang again, TbeuJC heard a slight aoise in^e, as though, something bad fallen to the floor. Tho door w^s opened by tbe same woman who had been at the dow. I walked in. On the floor w*s silver-plated card-receiver &»$ a I inquirer! /or tho lady of tho hotuc, and said that I would tako a seat in tho hall until uho cnme. The woman took my curd and ascended the staira. Th'o mistress of hlio houso appeared to be in no hurry. AM tny card showed mo to be orily a dctnntivo 1 su'pjroso film thought I could wait. I wanted hoi- to know who t was. ,.. •.-..-,' Tho minutes began to pile, and I amused myself by reading the names on tho cards scattered about tho floor and on a stool-wires mat that was just, in- sido tho front door. I did not read tho names of any of tho "four hundred" on them. One card on the mat thafc seemed to bear a remarkably long namn attracted my attention, and I picked it up. As I raised it I dropped to my knees, for near it, in tho meshes of tho mat, was ono of Mrs. Harris' diamond car-ri-ngs. It was wo sooner in my vest pocket than tho lady of the houso descended tho stall's. I told her of Mrs. Harris' loss—the tact of which sho had hoard before through the servants—and said that I had called to learn if her employes could givo mo any information about tho Harris' servants. She proved to be quite talkative, and answered all of my questions, and, at my suggestion, she sent for tho woman who had admitted "HEBE is THE OTHEB DIAMONU." Her name was Marga- me to the houso. ret Newell. Margaret was also ready with information, and, in the course of her remarks, she informed me that "the Harris help was a thieving set" I made up my mind that I would learn something more of Margaret. After expressing my thanks for the information I left the houso, and, walking to Broadway, entered a south-bound car, which soon took me to my office. When I had removed my boots, which were wet from the snow, and placed them under the wash-stand, in the place of a dry pair, I sent lor Walter Savage. Walter is tho smartest young man that I ever had in my employ. I soon acquainted him with all the facts that I knew, and also with my suspicions, and started him off to look up the pedigree of Margaret Newell, and to do any work that his fertile mind might suggest. A wee k passed, and Walter said nothing to mo about the case. I was a little surprised, for I knew he would cotoo to me and report any new developments, and ask my advice before taking any action. In the meantime Mrs. Harris was kept in ignorance of tho fact that I had ono of the diamonds. > It was about eight days after my visit to the Harris house—and just such another day—when I jumped from a car in front of my office, landed in a pool of slush, andentered my room with wet feet, as Walter was about leaving. He turned back. "There is nothing in it," he said. "In what?" I asked. •— "In your theory about the Harris diamond case," he said. "Do you think I am wrong?" I inquired. "Dead wrong. I have worked on your theory until there is nothing loft of it You are away off." "Do you know any more about it than I told you?" I asked. "No," he said, "there is no accounting lor tho diamond you found in the hall or for any thing else in the caso. I am entirely beat." "Haven't you struck any clew at all?" I asked him. "Not the shadow of one. It beats any case that I over touched. I can't even find a smell of suspicion." "It won't do to give it up," I said. "Here, help mo off with these wet boots, and get me that pair under the washstand, and we will start new on this matter." Ho helped me off with the boots, and, as he got the other pair from under the washstand, he rolrbd upon the floor, laughing at the top of his voice. "What's tho matter?" J asked in alarm. "1 see it! I see it! 1 see it!" he cried out. "See what?" "The Harris case. The diamonds. Ob, I will burst! I know the thief!" he cried. "Who?" 1 asked, "You!" ne answered, and laughed again. "See," he s^id, "here is the other diamond," and he held it in his hand. Sure enough. There it was, though the gold was battered about the stono. "Where was i$?" I asked. Before answering he rose from the floor, and with an effort calmed himself enough to say; "It was under your boot. You brought it here with the snow on your sole, when you came from the Harris house. J see it well enough now. The handkerchief and diamonds had fallen from tho table, aud Mary picked up the handkerchief, but swept the diamonds out of the door, and William shoveled them over the curb. You picked them up on your foot, and left one on the wire mut when you went to see Margaret, and brought the other one here." That was evidently the correct explanation. And I think the case was, indeed, a very strange one.— H,' C, JTul- ton, ia Chicago Daily News. ONE OF CLAY'S PETS, JA Bitby's Artventurfts Wtfch the Oruni | Kentucky Statdstnrtn. i;:0he of tho brightest of the Wow United Ktatos Senators is Me. Nathan .Fellows Dixon, of Rhode Island, a bright-eyed, dark-faced Republican forty-throo years of age. Ho r,omes ffmri a lino of statesmen. His grandfather was in tho Senate when John Tyler was President, _ and his father brought him hero as 'a throe-year-old baby during his first Congressional term In 184!) and '50. Senator"Dixon stopped With his father at this time at tho National Hotel, and young as ho was ho is ablo to remember some of tbo incidonts of this part of his life. Henry Clay was stopping at the same hotel and ho was very fond of children. Senator Dison says lie distinctly remembers ono day going down tho steps and mooting Henry Clay coining up. Tho great Ken- tuokian grasped tho l.lhodo Island baby by tho arms and lifted him up to his face. Little Dixon yelled out: "Let mo go!" Mr. Clay, however, putting his arms around tho boy and holding him to his breast, said: "I can't do that because I want to kiss you, and I wonder if you know who I am." "Yes, I know," said the boy, "but I want to go." "Well, who am I?" said Clay. "Ohl" said young Dixon, "you are Mister Harry Clay. Now let me go." With this the groat statesman kissed the boy, gave a hearty laugh with his big mouth and put him down. From this timo on Baby Dixon and Senator Clay continued thoir acquaintance, and Baby Dixon often camo into Senator Clay's room and was made much of by tho Senator. Ono day, however, be was present when Henry Clay had some importantcallors. He had no time to talk to Baby Dixon and he took him from his knee, placed him upon his feet, and said: "Now, Natey, rundown- stairs to your mamma." Tho future Senator was rather indignant at this treatment and ho slammed tbo door heartily as ho stamped out. Senator Clay told tho story a number of times afterward. He said he could hear little Nathan's footsteps as ho went down tho stairs. At first his tread was loud and boisterous. As he went toward the bottom it grow fainter, and at last the noise stopped at the foot of the stairs. A moment later he heard the little feet pattering back again and a gentle knock was made upon the door. Henry Clay called out: "Come in, sir!" The door opened and little Nathan Dixon's pretty faco looked in and his cherry lips voiced forth the words. "My love to you, Mr. Clay !" With that ho turned- and ran down the stairs to his mother. He had evidently appreciated that his'action in slamming the door and leaving' the room was ungentlomanly, and though only a boy of three years he had repented, before he had reached tho foot of the stairs and hurried back to make his baby apology. . Senator Dixon told his story in conversation the other day, and he ought not to object to seeing it in print, as it ia certainly complimentary to him.—F. G. Carpenter, in Wide Awake. WAR REMINISCENCES. THE SILENT VIDETTE. POSTING IN PERSIA. Horgea Hint Have H, Will of Their Own and /lavo to Bu Humored. The distances between the post stations differ greatly. Sometimes they are under fifteen, and occasionally over thirty miles. On a stage of moderate length the horses are supposed to do eight miles an hour, and they will easily do that or more if they are in fair condition and have a good rest before starting, but even under these conditions they have a will of their own and have to bo humored. On leaving tho station, however impatient you may be, don't attempt to gooff immediately on a gallop. If you do your animal will resist, and will probably got sulky or obstreperous. Go for a few hundred yards at a slow walk, then increase the pace to a jog-trot, and when yoti have boon well shaken for five or ten minutes, get him into an amblo and keep him at it. The amblo may not seem very fast, but it will take you over your eight miles an hour comfortably, and it has the advantage of being not at all fatiguing—a consideration not to be despised if you mean to cover quickly a long distance. I do not know what the record in this respect is, but I have myself repeatedly done over a iiindrod miles in the twenty-foil? hours. The system I followed was to ride on so long as I could get horses and to rest when waiting for them. In this way one ia pretty sure to get at least six or seven hours for sleep out of the twenty- four. Once, however, it happened to me that there were fewer delays than usual, and I went on continuously for over thirty hours with no halts beyond those required for changing horses. Of course, this-system can only be adopted by one who is pretty tough, and who possesses tho faculty of being able immediately to go to sleep anywhere and at any hour of the night or day. The horses are supposed, as I have said, to go about eight miles an hour, but there are great variations from this average, When the ptoor animals are in bad condition or tired, they can hardly be induced to go beyond a walk or a jog-trot, and they sometimes absolutely breakdown, in which case fresh ones have to be procured from the next station. On the other hand, they will sometimes go at a good hard gallop the whole way, with only one or two halts of a few minutes to let them recover breath. Jj; is 1 in tbeso circumstances that one thoroughly enjoys this kind of traveling, and the excitement of it ia increased by the probability of a fall, for even (he good horses are not always sure-footed,' and in a long journey one must always expect a few "croppers."-» English. Illustrated Magazine. A Convenient fchop. "Oh, dear me, I guess I've jest lost my wits!" exclaimed old Mrs. Peascod in the jjrowd on Main street. "Wftsl, Ift'ria, jest step into this 'er* 8$' rig yorself out," said Setfe <awnfortingly, "I see tftcy sell in flow It In 1VI nrdnr WtM Avertged by HI* Fixitliftil Comrades. In 1803, Suffolk, Va.< was tho extreme advance post of tho United .States army in Southeastern Virginia. It covered Norfolk, tho mouth of the Jamos and Fortress Monroe. Tho Confederates, entrenched, lined the Blaokwatei- river, a few miles from our front, and the pickets of both sides, but a short distance apart, woro ofton hotly engaged. Hut wo suffered .sadly 1 and frequently from guerrillas or bush whackers—men out of uniform, who sneaked in on our lines and cruelly shot down our sentinels on post, or flrcdfrom ambuscade on sonic passing scout. Our picket station on what was known as tho Franklin road, in tho winter of '(}!{, was about, four miles out from tho post, and consisted of ono company of cavalry and ono of infantry. Ono bright moonlight nighh I posted guards ;trid vidottas, tho latter boing moutod mc'ii placed outside all the lines to give tho alarm if the enemy advanced on us for a surprise Out on tho road beyond tho Deserted Houso, nearly a mile from the reserve, I loft a young cavalryman belonging to Company M, N. Y. Mounted Rifles, with orders to liro and ride into tho reserve on tho approach of an enemy. Jt was a lonesome place, shadowed by a prove of pines, and I told young Stoddard to keep a bright lookout, for I felt as if there was danger in the air. He was a favorite of mine, for I had known him at homo in Warren County, N. Y., whore ho had married a lovely girl but a year before tho war broke out. After posting all tho sentinels and vi- dottes, I rodo back to the post, dismounted, picketed my horse and went for a cup of coffee to take off the chill of the night air. I had just drained a tin cup of the hot beverage, when far off from the southwest, we hoard the dull report of a gun. It was but a single shot, and tho instant I hoard it I cried out: "That is from Stoddard's post, but it was no carbine shot. I hope tho poor boy hasn't come to harm!" Five to ten minutes went by, and then all hands were put on tho alert as a horse came furiously down the road. In a few seconds, running right up to the picket flre3, he was caught and I saw at the first glance that it was Stoddard's horse. The saddle was empty, but the front of tho saddle and the shoulders of the horse, covered with blood, told that the rider was either dead or badly hurt. Into tho saddle, and with twenty men at my back, I rushed to his post as fast as our horses could carry us. There he lay in the clear moonlight, on his back near a clump of bushes, yet alive, but dying—his breast fairly riddled with buckshot. I raised him up and gave him a sip of liquor from my canteen, but it was of no use. "Ho crept upon mo in the bushes—he was right under the head of my horse when ho fired, and I had no chance!" gasped tho dying man. "Toll Emma I was bushwhacked at last!" It was all he could say—gasping this, he died. "You shall be avenged, my poor boy!" I cried. "There is frost on the ground and we'll track your murderer!" We followed the track on the thick frosted ground for nearly two miles to an old horse-shed near a house. Under pile of old straw wo found a Texas rangers, botfayed tis by flXposinjf out whole scheme to the. JTedesal offlt* cials, and extra precaution V?aa a"t onc» taken by them and our cramo was defeat* . For Shank's treachery he received $5,000 arid a commission as Captain itt tho United States army, and some yettf* afterward was killed and scalped by Iff- dians out on the frontier. In tlioexcltfl- ment created by tho exposure of thd plan to rescue tho. pfiso.nefs t escaped, from tho city and rojoined triy command in tho South, while many 'of the conspirators were, caught, tried by court" martial at Cincinnati, andat,l'6ast twenty of thorn sentenced to bo shot, which sentence was afterward commuted to life, banishment to tho Dry Toftugafl. After tho war was overall that were ali ve> woro pardoned and returned to their hotnos." When askod if ho was satisfied with tho result of tho war Colonel Dnlanoy replied: "I think it was tho best thinff that over happened for tho south and I am perfectly satisfied."—Chicago News. ANOTHER WAR RELIC. 1,400 species of oroiiida, 1,100 Tbe girl ba4 » 9 ®^%y *••*• ft .•*• *kl A « « -._ 1 V *^ IF flj ferns |nd 600 g| p«,lt»s fciff f a 41 fcosMfce *ibl« jww ln£ a man in butternut clothes, with a double- barrelled gun by his side. The barrels were yet moist from a recent discharge. "Can you run?" I askod tho fellow who stood before us, dark and sullen. "Lot me try," ho growled. "Go," said I. The next instant, to my men—ten in number—tho order low and stern: "Ready!" Away bounded the guerrilla, running for life. But ten seconds after his start followed the order: "Fire low and let him have it." Ten sharp carbi nes rang loud on the night air as one report, and tho murderer, with ono fearful leap ended race and life in the same breath- Poor Stoddard was avenged.—Cor. Toledo Blade. A CONFEDERATE PLOT. It Was Well Flannecl, But Betrayed by ii Texas Ranger. Colonel Dulanoy, of Bowling Green, Ky., was a delegate from his State to the Horticultural Society mooting just closed at the Sherman House. The Colonel has quite a record and often amuses his hearers by relating the incidents of his past life. Said bo to a reporter: "I was a soldier in the Confederate army during the entire period of the war and belonged to General John Morgan's command. In 18(34, during the time of the Democratic National Convention held here, there were many Confederate soldiers smuggled into Chicago with a view of attempting the release of rebel prisoners then incarcerated at Camp Douglas. I at that time occupied quite a prominent position in that hazardous movement. The time fixed for action 'to be taken was in the earlier part of October, but for reasons well known to the projectors at that time the move was deferred until a month later. At that time there were to my knowledge at least 1,000 Confederates on the outside of the prison here ready and enlisted to assist in the cause of securing liberty lor those on the inside, who numbered about 8,500, The Federal troops here numbered about 3,000, under the command of General Sweet. Tho prisoners were thoroughly organized and perfectly familiar with, our plans; they were organized into regiments, batallions and companies, and to a man all were ready to make the fight or break lor liberty whenever the order or rather tho signal was given. A great many of tho Federal garrison here were disabled from sickness and other causes so as to be unfit foe duty, vybile others were on leave. All of these facts wft were perfectly familiar with, and we made our calculations aecprdingjy. "Our postponement was what coat its defeat. A prisoner by the name of John who bad been a Captaio in ths General Johnson's I>tt«v to Army Urg-llif? It on to linttlo* Among tho thousands of original manuscripts of personal letters, official documents and war orders at tho Libby Prison War Museum there-can bo found much unwritten history. In the case containing General Robert E. Lee's acceptance of tho command of the Confederate army, his farewell address to th» same and his field order issued at the death of Stonewall Jackson has just been placed tho original manuscript of General Albert Sidney Johnson's address to his army immediately preceding the. battle of Shiloh. The paper was copied into tho war records just a few months ago and is as follows: HKADQUAUTEUS AHMT OF THE MISSISSIPPI CoMMONWKAi/rii, Miss., April 3, 1803.—Soldiers of the Army of the Mississippi: I have put you in motion to offer battle to the invaders of your country. With tho resolution and disciplined valor becoming men lighting as you are, for all worth living or dying for, you • can but march to a decisive victoi-y over tho agrarian mercenaries sent to subjugate and despoil you of your liberties, property and honor. Remember tho precious stake involved; remombor tho- dependence of your mothers, your wives, your sisters and your children on the result; remember the fair, broad, abounding land, tho happy homes and families that will bo desolated by your defeat. The eyes and the hopes of eight millions .of people rest upon you; you are expected to show yourselves worthy of you race and lineage.—worthy of tho women of the South, whoso noble devotion in the war has never been exceeded in any time. With such incentives to brave deeds and with the trust that God is with us, your Generals will lead you confidently to the combat assured of success. A. S. JOHNSON, General Confederate States Army. A Reminiscence of Lincoln. Dr. J. T. Edwards, of the Chamberlain Institute, Randolph, N. Y., is the reporter of an unpublished speech of Abraham Lincoln. "Mr. Lincoln," he says, "was on his way to Washington to his first inauguration. The train made a short stop at Dunkirk, on Lake Erie. A great crowd pressed close to the car which convoyed the President. He stepped to the rear platform, when a gray-hairod farmer said to him: 'Uncle Abo, what are you going to do when you got to Washington?' Lincoln replied: 'My aged friend here has just, asked me what I am going to do when I get to Washington.' Then he reached up and- took down one of the little flags used for the decoration of the train. Holding it up he continued: 'By the help of Almighty God and the assistance of the loyal people of this country, I am going- to try to defend this flag. Will you stand by me as I stand by this flag? r The people cheered and tho train started, while he stood with the uplifted flajf in his hand." THE VETERAN'S CORNER. VEAZKV has a daughter named Gettysburg Veazey. She was born on that memorable first day. THE total membership of the Grand Army of the Republic for last year was 863,572, and out of that number 5,470 died—a death rate of 11.8 per 1,000. REV. E. B. CABHOM', of Albany, Ga., has found some interesting relics on the battlefield of Jonesboro. They consist of the barrel of an old muzzle-loading musket that was pulled from the breastworks in a dilapidated condition, a bayonet that has been placed on the muzzle of the barrel and several bullets, battered by their contact with obstacles, on the field. GENEKAL ALFBED H, TERBY, U, St Army, retired, now lives at Hartford, Ct., which is his native city, and although but little is heard of him now-ft-, days, those who knew h>m as an officer/ in the army and as a commander of troops in action, and who are acquainted with the history of the war, are aware that lew, if any, are deserving of mor& renown than is General Terry, .A TOUCHING instance of the respect felt for old soldiers occurred on a Boston horse-car crowded with passengers. The conductor bad refused several women access to the oar, saying 1 : "I have not a vacant seat," At that moment a venerable soldier, accompanied by a younger man in uniform, eanje up. Every person in the seat rose a»<|. made room for the old soldier, touched, by th,e remembrance pf the battles h§ had fought for his country. THE figh,t at FrederioksTjuj-g, on Pa* 1 comber 18, 1869, was a bloody one, J| lasted all day long, and at »Jgh* $7,00%;' dead and wounded men lay upon battle-fteld, T.QOO of them bein erataa soldiery Toe mornitig afiya? battle H. B. TreadweU, now a of Brunswick, %j|d who wa.9 a. member i the Ten.th Georgia Bullion, od by Major Ejaosy ftyiftn^ 4* A| cus, went out on itya two Federal soldiers, who be rase* strops,« $ta%viitt# %rob ss piece of seap. ffaej^ be ' «|i

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