The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa on December 31, 1890 · Page 3
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The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

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Wednesday, December 31, 1890
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THE SKELETON OF THE OLD YEAR. AM* sinking, half swimming, h e sllpn from the land; Tho l>oll-ropo Is Ol In choc! In his tremulous hand; Ills last sun has set in tlio billowy tomu; The clock of the months marks the moment ot doom. Oh! visitant, ghostly, we hid thoo farewell, Cut just for one moment •withhold thv lust . knoll. To toll us tho fato of our last summer flowers, Our love-songs, our bird-notes, our blossoming hours. Full many sweat hopes we've Intrusted to tli eo; Thoir rodliwiMon, oh! wlion shall wo see? And will you not toll us (n what diadems The frasmnnts lira sot of our lost, shattered gems? The path we've walked with thco has been so uneven, But, dirt it not slant, just a Httlo, toward Iloavun? The shnavcs we havo garnered to scatter abroad. Dost know that they're safe In tho storehouse of God? Still mute? Oh! departing year, we cars not whether Thy heart be as !!ckle and false as thy weather; "3o; sink with !liy storms tmd thy ilooiis past reciil!, And let the eternal waves cover them all. Tho Past and tho Future clasp hands over tli^o, As o'er thy head surges tho turbulent sea; Thiiioov;nni:rvcles3 fingers must ring out the knell— The clock Htrlltos; tho bell tolls; Farewell, oh! Furcwoll. —Mary A. Benson, In Texas Siftlnjfs. UPON THE WATEES. -.4' Broad That Returned on a Now Year'3 Morning. j^flEN the Hunters camo into Hillport, from nobody knows where, the general sentiment of tho town was ono of disapprobation. They had no end of boisterous, half-clad, uncared-for children, who ran ''—-^f^ 1 - «*" wild over even the most sacred precincts of the village. These young savages wero no respecters of persons" They whooped and shouted under the very windows of Judge Jones, whoso name usually inspired fear in tho breast of largo or small Hihporters. Nor did they siand in awe of ministers of the Gospel or show any regard for a church. In truth, they did not know tho uses of a church, beyond tho fact that it was a lot of fun to throw stones at it while people wero within on Sunday mornings. And as for a preacher, wasn't be a creature whoso long-tailed coat afforded glorious opportunities for decoration which made laughter for tho decorators? These wero tho base uses to which tho Huntor children put sacred beings tmd buildings. They did dozens of other things equally hateful in tho eyes of tho respectable portion of the community; but with all thoir mischievous instincts their depredations wore never absolutely flagrant and unendurable. By and by somo of the more charitable of tho town folk began to pity tho forlorn condition of tho young aavagos, particularly whon it became known that their father was a shiftless soul, who loafed three days for every one he worked, and that their mother had lost whatever spirit or energy she had once possessed and was now merely enduring existence until it ended. And as for poverty, Ilillportors had never really known what it was until the Hunters enlig-htoned them. One of the few persons who felt sorry to see the little Hunters grow up so neglected was Mrs. Eaynor, whose pretty home was not far from their dreary dwelling. She made the acquaintance of all of them, but had taken a particular fancy to six-year-old Ruth, a pretty child, with much sweetness and gentleness in her face and voice. Indeed, to look at Ruth one could not realize that she had been horn to neglect, poverty and all the unhappy results these two evils breed. Mrs. Raynor helped the poor little untaught soul to many an innocent HIS M/NG-TAILED COAT AFFORDED GLORIOUS OPPOHTUNrmS. pleasure and some substantial comforts. One raw autumn day she met Ruth on the street in tears. "What's the matter, Ruthio?" asked the kind lady. ''1-1-1 want to go to school and h-ha.ve warm clothes like o-o-other little girls,'. Bobbed Ruth, shivering in her thin and ragged gown. "I-I'na so tired of being hungry and cold." This blunt confession smote Mrs Eaynor to the heart. "Don't cry. child,' don»$ sty, I'll see if you can't have some warm clothej and ! to school," aa4 she toofe Butfc by the That evening Mrs. Raynor said to her husband: "George, 1 want to bring little Ruth Hunter hero, put some decent clothes on her and send her to school this winter with our children. My heart aches for tho poor neglected little thing." Mr. Raynor arched his eyebrows reprovingly. "You'll bo sure to rue philanthropy of that kind, my dear. It's a risky thing to brintr a barbarian like her among civilized beings. You don't know how she might injure our own children." "I'll look closely after- ail of them," said Mrs. Raynor. "Why, the poor little thing has had no chance to bo any thing but a barbarian. I boliovo there's plenty of good in her if somo ono would tako the trouble to develop it. Besides, I believe we all commit a sin when wo see children growing up like savages before our eyes and never lift a finger to save them. Our duty docs not end with looking after our own." "Well, well, havo it your own way," said Mr. Hay nor. "I, too, feel sorry for tho poor littlo waif; but I hope you will not rue it." Next morning Mrs. Raynor wont to tho Hunters to ask for Ruth. "What do you say, daddy?" asked tho apathetic Mrs. Hunter, as sho sat in hideous rags with a dirty baby on her lap, after she had hcaid Mrs. Ravnor's request. "Do as yo liko about it," said the fond father. "Young uns aro most too thick around here." "Well, ye, ken tako her,".said Mrs. Hunter, nodding to Mrs. Raynor, "an if she don't liko it over there among your young uns she can come back any day." This was said in the most independent and airy fashion, as though there was every possibility that Ruth might not liko life in tho Raynor family at all. Mrs. Raynor smiled as sho thanked Mrs. Hunter, and then she took Ruth home with her. Tho child was overjoyed. Nicoolotho~ and kindness soon developed her self- respect, and she loved her benefactress as only a young savago can love. She was bright and quick, and learned with surprising rapidity. Tho winter wont by and she still remained at the Ray- nois. Tho summer and another winter? and year after year slipped away and she was still ihoro. At last Ruth was twolvo years old, and a very sweet and lovely Ruth she had grown to be. Her comfort and joy, however, wero soon to end. Ono day her mother camo over to tho Raynor's and told Ruth that they, the Hunters, wore about to movo "out West," and she must go with them. Tears and entreaties were of no avail. The miserable, ignorant woman had long been jealous of Ruth's affection for Mrs. Raynor, and. sho now declared thatRuth must como home and share the fortune of the family. So tho poor child went away with her unlovely family into a lifo that was hateful to her. For a fcimo sho wrote frequently to Mrs. Raynor, but as the years went by letters came leas frequently, and at last, after the Raynors removed to another town, they ceased to hoar from Ruth altogether. Time moved on and brought sad changes to tho Raynors. One by ono 3,'IIE DOOll OPENED SOFTLY. the rosy-cheeked children sickened and died, and Mr, Raynor soon followed them. Mrs. Raynor found herself alono and penniless, for her husband s affairs were in a bad way, and his property hud been seiaud by his creditors. She struggled for a time, but sickness eventually overpowered her, and, as she was destitute, she was taken to the almsbouse. Here, on Now Year's morning she lay, helpless and sick at heart. She put her thin hand over her eyes to hide tho tears of humiliation which trickled slowly over her cheeks. Silently she asked herself how sho had sinned that sho must be punished thus? Had sho not always given out kindness wherever and whenever she could? Had not her heart always been full of pity, mercy and charity, and her hands ready to help the needy? Yet here she was, ill, old and a pauper, a recipient of public alms. "It is greater than I can bear," sho groaned, as the full force of her humiliation came upon her. Somebody began to sing in the next room. It was poor old Nancy, one of the county's feeble-minded children. In a quavering voice she sung: "Bread upon tho waters cast Shall bejj'iihored at the last," The words blazed before the brain of Mrs. Raynor and she repeated them doubtingly: "Bread upon the waters cast Shall bo gathered ut the last." Ah, but it was not true—tho promise in these words was not true, it was not true. Had she not oast her bread upon ihe waters in doods of kindness, again and again? Yet here she was, forsaken. The tears gushed forth anew—tears of such misery us many an eye which has known sorrow is still a stranger to. Tho door opened softly. Somebody entered, but Mrs. Raynor did not remove her Hand from her eyas. "Mother," said an eager voice, Mother Raynor." Who cou'.d call her mother? Surely, every voice that bad a right to address her by that name was hushed Iu death. The next instant a pair of arms were about her, and young lips were kissing her faded oaes. "Mot*er, my true mother, i| is I, Ruth Hun tea Sps*k to ...Hi I .u.ajfOii^j. After tho flrjt shock of joy was over, Mrs. Kay nor asked Ruth hotf she learned of her misfortune. It was easily explained. Mention of the fact that tho county had taken charge of Mrs. Raynor was mado in ono of the newspapers. A copy'of the paper containing this paragraph was wrapped around an express package and sent to tho town in Missouri where Ruth lived, arid by accident fell into her hands. After reading it she started at onoo to find her former benefactress, and never rested until she i cached tho ahnshouse. "And now, mother," she said, "you are going with mo to live, for I am married and havo a happy home in which you shall bo loved /Mid cared for as long as you live. I own ivory thing of good that has evov como to mo to your kindness in the past, and I am grateful fora chance to repay you." Mrs. Raynor lay quite still, too full of gratitude and joy to speak. "\nd this is New Year's morning," said Ruth: "Lot mo kiss you again for a Happy Now Year." The words of old Nancy's song floated in once more. How sweetly they sounded to Mrs. Raynor's car&, cracked and broken as was tho voice which sang thorn: " Broad upon the watcrn cast Shall bo gathered at tho laat," "Yes, tho promise is tn.e," aho murmured. "Itshall bo gathered at the last. Mine has returned to me to-day."—Oer- trudo Garrison, in Texas SiHin'gs. THE NEW YEAR. A Way That Ifns Itoon Celebrated for Centuries by tho Knglish and llomium. Charles Dickens, in one of his "sketches," says: "Next to Christmas day tho most pleasant annual epoch^n existence is tho advent of the New Year * » * There must have been somo few occurrences in tbo past year to which we can look back with a smilo of cheerful recollection, if not with a feeling of heartfelt thankfulness. And wo aro bound by every rule of justice and equity to give tho Now Year credit for being a good ono, until Vie proves himself unworthy the confidence wo repose in him." A very wholesome reminder this, that it i'a well to cherish with genuine gratitude the mercies and cheerful experiences of the year that has flown. Hope is naturally so strong that any coming time is, as the great writer has said it should be, generally confided in until it proves itself unworthy the expectations inspired at its approach. A littlo research reveals tho fact that the celebration of New Year's day and eve dates back for centuries, and the custom o£ merry-making and exchanging gifts at that time is a very old one. In England, a groat many years ago, young people used to carry around on' New Year's eve what was called the Wassail Bowl, the word "wassail" being do- rived from tbo Anglo-Saxon, and meaning "be in health." The concoction in tho bowl was made up of ale, nutmeg, sugar, and roasted crabs or apples. A briefer description of its contents is spiced alo, and a draught from tho Wassail Bowl was the same as drinking a health. And in this connection we read: "In tho Monthly Miscellany for December, 1603, there is an essay on New Year's Gifts, which says that the Romans were great observers of the custom of Now Year's gifts, even when thoir year consisted only of ten months, of thirty-six days each, and began in March; 'also, whon January and February were added by Numa to the ten others,' tho calends, or first of January, was the time when they made presents." Even Romulus and Tiberius ordered certain offerings to bo made on Now Year's day "as tokens of good fortune for tho coming year." And "Tacitus makes mention of an order of Tiburiua, foi-ulduing tbo giving or demanding Now Year's gifts unless it wore on the calends (tho first day of each month among the Romans) of January, at which time as well tho Senators as tho Knights and other great men, brought gifts to the Emperor, and, in bis absence, to the Ca'pl« tol." Tho farther back we go in history the more superstition wo find mixed up with various fixed observances. Ifc is in reality trying to read many records of old-timo customs, so continually must ono run against omens, signs, indications of good luck or bad luck, ill fortune or good fortune. But tracing many modern customs, sports and observances back, they aro found to bo very antfient ones, and to have originated in what would seem an honest desire to produce happiness and to secure good fortune, if possible, for coming time. As the world becomes more enlightened and tho bigotry and superstition of past ages melt away in the light of advanced knowledge and higher convictions,.it is a blessed thin? that wo retain many of tho cheering, pleasant features of tho customs of olden times. Tho Wassail Bowl, with its too highly-seasoned contents, is a thing of the past, but the fooling of good-fellowship it engendered still remains. Gifts are no longer required at an exact time nor relied upon to bring good fortune in their train, nevertheless a disposition to give freely and generously at our winter holidays is one of the strong impulses of both old and young at the present day. And many a simple gift whoso intrinsic valuo is almost worth nothing is the one most highly prized because of the g»n- uine affection and thoughtfulness which prompted the offering. In wishing each other % 'A Happy New Year" there is not always a realization of how much depends on ourselves in the matter of another's happiness. The wish may be genuine enough, but each member of tho home circle should strive to act in such a way as to promote harmony and happiness throughout the household. And in view of the teachings of tho past and the light «nd comfort of tbo present, how bravely and trustingly should the New Year be met.--Christian at Work. —Did He Write It?—He—"Have you read the very complimentary notice of myself iu this evening •Literary Critic/Miss Cutting?" Misa <).—"Yes; it is very PITH AND POINT. —There aro two things that a,lw»yi ako a man dream ninco pie and love. —Atchison Globe. •—Youthful Customer—"Do you shave <*P or down?" Barber—"Well, in your case, sir, I'll havo to shnvo clown." •—''The world is full of poets who -lover wrote a lino," says an exchange. Very well; lot ifc remain so.—Ram'a Horn. —"Havo you a license?" asked a boy of a wheelman. "A license?" asked tbo bicyclist, in astonishment. "What do I need a license for?" "To pedal." There is no alarm clock liko a six- months-old baby. The only trouble with tho baby is that you can never tell whon tho blamed thing is «oing off. — .Somorviilo Journal. —Ethel—"How do you mar.figoto distinguish tho men you wish to marry from thoso who really love you?" Maud •—"Those who really love mo make such awful fools of themselves."—N. Y. Herald. —Chappie—"Thore goes Miss Montgomery, cut her dead." Chollio—"A w, what did sho do?" Chappie— "Dwcdful bad form, don't chor know? She wore a tea gown the other night while she drank coffeo. —Newsboy—"Yor'syorevenin' paper! All about tho robbery! Ono cent!" Haicodo—"Gimme one. (After careful reading): Guess tho kid was right, 1 have boon robbed of ono cent."—Indianapolis Journal. —Tramp (facetiously)—"Can't you £Timmo a bite to eat, mister? I've been travolin' on half-faro from tiio last village." Farmer—"Wiial, yo kin continue your trip without any faro of mine!"— Harper's Bazar. Briggs—"Havo you heard tho latest? Robinson has eloped with a chambermaid." Griggs— "Heavens! What made him do that? 1 ' IJriggs—"I understand sho brought him an exlra towel when lie asked for it.—Brooklyn Life. —"I might remark," said tho young man who had met with persistent and repeated refusals, "that you aro ono of the wisest young women I over met." "Why?" "Because you seem to 'no' every thing."—Washington Post. —Thirteen Months.—lie—"That nocturne was beautifully executed, Miss Edith. May I ask how long you havo been practicing Chopin?" She—"Oh! let me see; I began about a month before poor Aunt Maria wont crazy, and she's been in the asylum a year."—Demorest's Monthly. —Mrs. Wickwiro—"At tho mooting of the sisterhood last night wo decided to each give ton per cent, of her income to aharity." Mr. Wickwire—"Well, tha.t is a very praiseworthy resolution, my lear." Mrs. Wickwiro—"I think so; and after this whon I ask you for a dollar don't you think you ought to give me a dollar and ton cents?"—Indianapolis Journal. —Forestalling Him.—"Hollo, Shadbolt! Fine day, isn't it? Speaking of the weather, by tbo way " "Yes, I know, Dinguss. Speaking of the weather, Old Probs says there is going to boa change, and, speaking of a change, reminds you that you came away from home this morning and left your pocketbook in your other clothes. So did I, Dinguss; so did I. It won't work this timo. Good-morning, Dinguss."—Chi- cago Tribune. WITTY WILLS. Jokos rorpotrntctl by Jfumorot.a Testators. One might suppose that will-making was any thing but a merry occupation, and yot the drollery of tho wills thai Homo eccentric old fellows have loft behind them could hardly be surpassed. Dean Swift could not havo concocted a more bitter joke than that of tho tesba- tor who, after reciting tlio obli ff aMon« ho was under to a particular friend, bequeathed to him, at tho bottom of the flrst page of his will, 10,000—dollars, of course, thought tho delighted legatee; but, on turning tho loaf, tho bequest was discovered to bo 10,000 thanks What a wet blanket for "groat expectations!" Just as odd was tho codicil of the death-stricken humorist who left to certain of Ins dear relatives "as many acres of lu-..das shall bo found equal to the area inclosed by the track of the center of the oscillation of the earth in a revolution round tho sun, supposing the mean distance of tho sun to bo 21,000 semi-diameters of tho earth from it." This was a century ago; and as the problem could not be satisfactorily worked out, tho legatees were kept at a mean distance from tho property all their lives. A very neat reproach was conveyed in the will of an nude who bequeathed eleven silver spoons to his nephew, with the remark: "If I have not left him tho dozen he knows the reason;" the young acapograco having stolon the twelfth spoon somo time before.—Minneapolis Tribune. WHAT WAS UP. The llaplcl Rige of "Water iu ''God's Coun try." Where the outlet loaves Lake Quinault, in tho State of Washington, the orifice is not largo enough, in case of a sudden freshet, to carry off the water; and, at times, during the spring rains, tho water rises rapidly. One instance, where it is said to have risen .sixteen feet in three hours, furnished rather an amusing incident A man whom a neighbor had furnished with a "grub stake" wrote to his benefactor the day before this freshet: "I have erected a cabin on tbo bank of tho lake and am now clearing off a spot for a garden. 1 have found God's country at last, and expect to end my days right here. Send morb flour and bacon." The surprise of the benefactor can be better imagined than told, when, the next day after receiving tho letter, he met his man, armed cap-a-pie with his skillet, frying-pan, cofl'oe-pot and camp equipage, "hoofing it" down tho beach. "Well," said he, "what's up?" "Why, the cursed lake's up, and I don't pro- uoj*e to stay in a country where the Wjiter rises so fast that you can't oliml ahead of it" . And h,e uever -West Shore. WAR REMINISCENCES. FOUGHT AT FRANKLIN. TVliat Ts Said to Ifnvo Jlecn tlio IJlood- 5 os. 1 ISnttle of the \V»r ¥ought In Ten- T1P8SPO. Several nf our exchanges aro discussing with various opinions "tho bloodiest battle in history." It is recorded that Gran I, in ono hour lost 10,000 killed and wounded at Cold Harbor, but lie had nearly 100.000 to lose that number from —10 per cent, in sixty minutes. General Hood, just before sunset,, November 30, ]fi(H, moved about 12,000 Confederates, all fold, against the strong breast-works at Franklin, Tenn.,whore bis casualties were reported 0.300—or about 50 por cent, in twenty-five minutes. At Franklin the Union soldiers under General Schofleld were intrenched to the chin. A half-dozen forts belched their thunder from as many bill-tops— long linos of abbatis and chovcaux de frise impeded every assault—all round the works shrapnel and grape swept down f,ho .Confederates from fiery embrasures as our rapidly thinning linos advanced through an openliold atshoul- dcr arms. Tho casualties of tin's litf.Ie army may bo estimated when it is stated that the Confederates lost thirteen Generals, killed, wounded and missing. Down tliis red valley of death rode no braver soldier than General George W. Gordon' —tho youngest Brigadier in our western army. Wo can see him in fancy now, as we saw him then for the first time, mounted on a fiery steed, his long hair swept backward by the breath of battle, as ho rode into tho maelstrom of iron hail. Ho went over the works and was captured. There fell, bis noble breast pierced through, the in vincible Pat Clo- burno, the idol of his division as of bis State. General John Adams and his horse fell dead together across tho enemy's breast-works. General Thomas M. Scott was unhorsed by the explosion of a shell. Tho readers will pardon the egotism (or tho we-gotism) if tho writoAtates that just twenty years afterwards (November, 1884) lie revisited tho field of Franklin. There on tho right still stood the old gin where gathered the central whirlwind of that November storm. Across tho open fields leading from tho McGavock residence our doomed battalions marched. Along that lino of fence beyond his house the brave ranks wore formed. Wo looked backward across the tide of twenty faithful years, recalling tho then light heart and thoughtless words of youthful ardor as wo moved into the fight. We saw through a mist cf unbidden tears the unroturmng bravo who, in the face of that leaden"doom, with dauntless tread passed "over the perilous edge of battle to the harvest homo of death"—swept in tho twinkling of an eye from our sight forever into tho Shoreless gulf. \Vo wondered as we sat there and recalled that terrible day how we could have been so thoughtless and unconcerned. As we formed in lino to movo upon tho foe youthful eyes flashed fire and downy cheeks flushed with tho rapture, of tho coming figjjt. Ah, as we looked upon loved ones then for tho last time, knowing that death lurked just over tho hill, why did we not stop long enough to clasp one another in a long embrace? Revisiting tho sweeping plateaus which wo had seen for the first twenty years before, and only forafow minutes in too stormy charge, wo could almost recall every spot passed over in the fight, as ono gathers up tho fragments of a broken dream. Surely yonder is the spot where the writer fel'l. Here, without doubt, beneath this friendly oak the minio was cut from tho flesh where "our friends, the enemy," had embedded it. Wo know this "surgeons' rendezvous" full well—for along this pathway we passed to the friendly shelter of Colonnl John McGavock's house. There it stands as it stood then—twenty years ago! How dear to the old "rebel" heart is the name of Colonel John McGavock and his family! How many torn and l.leeding bodies were borne into his asylum. Through all tho long night the good man, assisted by his wife and daughters, bent like ministering angels above tho dying and the dead. Every thing they had (God bless them) was devoted to their thousand deeds of mercy. But words lose their native force as in memory we go back to that night of their ceaseless ministrations. In this room died Colonel Nelson, of the Twentieth Louisiana. 15oth legs wore crushed by a cannon ball and his bowels torn by iron grape. Poor fellow! Such agony for several hours few men ever endured. His eyes, through exhaustion caused by pain, sank deep back into his head before death came to his relief, "Give me forty grains of morphine," he called out all through tho night, "give mo forty grains of morphine and lot mo die. Oh can't Idle? Is it sol can not dio? My poor wife and child— my poor wife and child!" Hard soldier as the writer then was, he went down the steps and far out beneath the stars to escape the prayers of the dying officer. But to return. Over fifty per cent, of casualties in twenty-five minutes. Franklin was, indeed, the bloodiest battle of modern or ancient history. Those who now (alk so flippantly of another war, perhaps had no experience of the first.—Jacksonville (Fla.) Standard. - A FORTUNATE ACCIDENT. x-iii-Ultug Experience of Soldiers With an Une.x[ilocltHl Shell. When tho Army of the Potomac occupied tbo linos of investment on the I Chiekahominy, Spkes' regular division ' was stationed on the left of ! the pond of Ellison's mills, ' There was little to do except picket duty. Musicians were not allowed to use their instruments in order that the enemy might not thereby be enabled to locate the positions we occupied and shell us out. Time wore heavily on our hand-* with only the compliment of an occasional jhell to break the monotony After a little time, however, these visitors became more frequent, soaxe W Our neighbors, tho Fifth New Yotfc ftnd First Connecticut, suffered in thUl way, and a battery was established otf our front to chock the annoyance* Thi« promised a littlo excitement. Some of thn boys of tho Sixth Infantry banct thought they would enjoy tho sight of '<t tho opening of our battery on the enemyV \ so Kennedy, Hobbs ar*d myself sallied <j out for the fun. Wo look our position <! for observation on a littlo knoll beside '4 the road that ran in our front. Scarce* * ly had wo established ourselves when * an aged colored man passing along the j road told us that we wore in a very dan- \ gorous position; that the enemy had tbo ' range of tho road and fired at every passing wagon. By this time many others bad congregated at the same spot, and sure enough : along came a wagon with its white coy- ' er. Just then wo noticed that an artil- ; -leryman going toward tho now battery "? j in our front stooped very low and look- '• ed upward, a movement that wo all recognized as indicating tho noise of a- ; shell passing close to him. i The wagon was in front of us at thi* moment, and we all stooped low, for we heard tho ominous scream, and as th» • wagon passed tho shell grazed the feed box. Those behind, while stooping, pressed tho men standing in front on the edge of tho knoll, and about ton of us wero thrown on top of tho shell as ifc struck into tho soft, sandy road. The • shell did not explode, thank God,or like* • ly I should not'havo written these few lines, for I was in front rvnd the others "', fell on top of me. We all scrambled to ; our feet, and thankful for getting off : ' safe, made tracks for our camps. There ', is none save myself to vouch for this j story, Hobbs and Kennedy having, I un- : ! derstand, passed over to tho majority. ; Porbaps some of tho other comrades ,' may meet this description of tho inoi- 4 dent and testify.—N. Y. Press. ] NOTED FOR SERVICE. Career of a Famoim \Vtir Vessel in tho ItRbelllon. Very few vessels of the navy played such a conspicuous part in the war of '• the rebellion, as did tho U. S. steamer "Pawnoo," built at Philadelphia in the ' year 1858. Bark riggod, screw steamer of fifteen guns, S7:i tons. When it was determined to send relief to Fort Sump- ' tor, the Pawnee was ono of the vessels ; selected, leaving New York, April 0, ' 1S61, reaching Charleston Harbor on tho ! 13th. When Major Anderson's garrison * was transferred to tho steamer Baltic, ; for New York, the Pawnee proceeded to -Washington, D. C., reaching there on, tho 18th. And then under command of Captain S. C. Rown, tho Pawnee was ordered to Norfolk navy yard with Commodore Paulding to save the yard from, capture by tho insurgents. Finding ib impossible to do so, tho yard was de- •'; stroycd and the Pawnee returned to Washington and constituted a part of tho Potomac Flotilla there; consisting' : of tho Freeborn, Anicostia and Roso- • lute. ": The first naval engagement of the war was fought by these three vessels and the Pawnee at Mathias Point, near Ac- - quia crock, on the Potomac river, May, ; 1861. The Pawnee was then ordered to ' Alexandria, Va., and assisted in landing- 'i the famous Ellsworth Fire Zouaves, ren- ' : dering important and valuable service. ' In October, 1861, Captain Rowan was re- ' lieved by Commander Wyman, and the : Pawnee joined the Port Royal expedition under Flag Officer DuPont, leaving : Hampton Roads October 29. This es^. ! pedition captured Forts Walker and Beauregard November 7, after which, . Commander Wyman was relieved by/ Captain Percival Dray ton. The Pawnee/ ''. proceeded to St. Augustine, Fla., cap- ! turing Fort Clinch, St. Mary's, Fernan- 1 dina and somo smaller places on the ; coast of Georgia and Florida. j The Pawnee was then ordered to join \ Ujo P 0 f6 I/atteras expedition on the -I coast of North Carolina. After the cap- » turo of Hattoras the Pawneo was senfc ""* North for repairs, after which it returned to tho South Atlantic Squadron, and in the attack on James Island, was * struck by the enemy thirty-four times. i Sho also served at I.egarville, Bulls Bay, ! Stone Inlet and Troll Jinny creek; alsco- \ operated with Sherman's army on its. : famous* march along the Coast and final- ,1 ly anchored off Charleston, S. C., on the ' Sad day of February, 1805, and is now , ' storeship at Port Royal, S. C.—American \ Tribune. % River the Word. One of the annoyances of a command- i er's life is. 1 a subordinate officer who dis- i cusses orders and makes trouble, whon- '^ ever he can do so and escape punish- " ment. Of ono of this class, whose ten- " doncy was to divide "a hair, 'twixt south und south west side," an amusing i story is told, in "Campaigning with 'Crook." | Colonel Royal, commanding a cavalry s brigade, ordered this officer to "put that ; battalion in camp on the other side of the river, facing east." The office? i marched his company to the spot, hut, : as Colonel Royal soon saw, instead of . obeying instructions, began carrying I out his own ideas. The Colonel put ,'j spurs to his horse, dashed through tb& '1 stream and reined up alongside of the "> ollicer. •,; "Didn't I order you, sir," he roared, j "to put your battalion in camp alooff i the river, facing east?" J "Yes, sir; but this ain't a river- Ifr'% ^ only a creek," answered the hair-splitter, "Creek, sir? It's a river—a river fron»\ this time forth, by order, sir. Now do as I tell you."—Youth's Companion. SCATTERED~SHOT, aro twenty-three posts in th* I department of Rhode Island, ~ Army of the Republic. A KING which Brigadier General ] Hunt lost near Fairfax Station, during the war of tbo rebellion «'&,„ cently found embedded in the hoof ef cow owned by a dairy farmer of locality, and returned to its o\ Washington, It bore his name. IT takes an old boraw to have a record. One died th» other <!$» served through the rebellion «"" onel Whi taker of New &&?$$, w»» thirty-flve yew* posts, of the

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