The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa on January 28, 1891 · Page 3
Get access to this page with a Free Trial

The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa · Page 3

Publication:
Location:
Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, January 28, 1891
Page:
Page 3
Start Free Trial
Cancel

THE REPUBLICAN. STARR, A It/vr^T.OOft, Pnblinhcr*. AI.GONA, IOWA. SISTER'S CAKE. Jane, for she vraa I'd not complain of Sister good nntl kind, Combining with rare comeliness distinctive gifts of mind: Kay, I'll ixdmlt, it \vcvo most fit that, worn by social cams, .Sho'd cravo a change from parlor llfo to that below tho stairs. .And that, oschcvtlng needlework and music, she should tnko iHerself to tho substantial art o' manufacturing cake. jA.t breakfast, then, It would befall vhat Sister Jane would s;iy: "Mother, if you have got the things, I'll make some cake to-day 1" Poor mother'rt cast a timid glance at father, like as not— ITor father hinted sister's cooking cost a frightful lot— 'But neither she nor lie presumed to signify dissent, Accepting It for Gospel truth that what she wanted No matter what tho rest of 'em might ohanco to have iu hand, •The whole machinery of tho house came to a sudden stixnd; •The pots -were hustled off the stove, tho lire built up anew, With every clamper set Just so to heat the oven through; •Tho kitchen table was relieved of every thing, to rankc T.'hat ample space which Jano required when she compounded cake. And oh! tho bustling hero and there, tho flying to and fro; The click of forks that whipped the eggs to lather white as snow— And what a wealth of sugar molted quickly out of sight— And butter? Mother said such waste would ruin father, quite I But Sister Jane preserved a mien no pleading could confound As she utilized the raisins and the citron by the pound. •Oh, hours of chaos, tumult, heat, vexatious din and whirl I Of deep humilution for the sullen hired girl; Of grief for mother hating to see things waated BO, Aud of fortune for tho little boy wli*> pineil to tiiste that dough 1 It looked so sweet and yellow—sure, to taste it were no sin— But oh! how sister scolded if ha Btuclt his linger in I The chances were as ten to one, before the Job was through, That aister'd think of something else she'd great doal rather flo I Bo, then, she'd softly steal away, aa Arabs in the night, Leaving the girl and ma to finish up as best they might; These tactics (artful Sister Jane) enabled her to take Or shift the credit or tho blame of that too treacherous cake! And yet, unhappy is the man who has no Sister Jane— For he who Has no sister aeems to mo to live In vain. I never had a sister—may bo that Is why to-day I'm wizened and dyspeptic, instead of blithe and gay; . A boy who's only forty should be full of romp and mirth, But 7 (because I'm eisterless) am the oldest man on earth 1 .Had I a little slstei —oh, how happy I should bo I I'd never lot her o».st her eyes on any chap but me; Td love her and I'd cherish her-tor better and for worse— I'd buy her gowns and bonnets, and sing her praise in verse; And—yes, what's more, and vastly more—I tell you what I'd do: I'd let her make her wondrous cake, and I would eat It, too 1 I have a high opinion of the sisters, as you see— Another fellow's sister is so very dear to mel I love to work anear her when she's making over frocks, Wh&n she patches little trousers or darns pro sale socks; But I draw the line at one thing—yes, I don my hat and take A three hours'walk when she is moved to try her hand at cake! —Chicago News. TO MEET HIS FATE. How Harry Pollard Was Helped Out of a Difficulty. If you have ever been engaged to two .girls at once you know exactly how Harry Pollard felt after the second Lenox Club assembly. "I'll cut and run," he said to himself the following morning as the full realization of his embarrassing position dawned on his mind. "It's a deuce of a mess." He pondered the situation for a time, and finally decided to accept an invitation he had from an old college chum to visit him at Cape Cod. Harry Pollard forthwith wired his friend Bob Hewitt and told him he was coming. Fiancee No. 1 was a tall, stately girl of about twenty-five. She had known Harry Pollard ever since they were .children. He had always liked Carolyn Cannon, and that evening after they had waltzed together he thought he loved her, and told her so. She thought she loved him, and said so. It would have been very well, no doxibt, if matters had pavised here; but they didn't. Fiancee No. 2 was Miss Aspinwall- Joiies, and she wouldn't have captured Harry Pollard if it hadn't been for a very scheming mamma. When Pollard accepted a seat in Mrs. Aspinwall-Jones' carriage to drive to the assembly he did not dream the consequences of the rash act. For before the cotillion was half over the scheming mamma had a very bad headache—and would Mr. Pollard :mind if she drove home at once? They might finish the dance, and very likely <jould get some one to chaperone them on their homeward drive. "Very likely!"—nothing of the sort. When Harry Pollard and Miss Aspinwall-Jones got into the brougham before everybody and brazenly started off for a two-mile drive after midnight, significant glances were exchanged among the onlookers. "Too bad, you know," said one. "He's too good a fellow for her." It was tacitly understood that she was luuifcin.?- his money. She was an awfully pruHy tfirl ;;?id ull that, but fright fully PL or. Miss Aspinw:.ill-Joiies and passed •thro'u;jij icatf so;is(..us iaoro or l>.:ss and • ol.-l u hand to l.-t such unoppor- . ii WH-* noi cvci-y day thiii wp.fl.r-v.lU-.yjgs to iuivv; Hurry ..i•„> v4tb. hv.'j'"in a V.ruv.^V.4,34. It was an alleged fainting fit that did the bxisiness then, and when a girl sinks down on your shoitlder, and when her lips look very red and tempting, what are you to flo? Harry 1'ollard was but human, and forgot all about Carolyn Cannon. When he left Miss Aspimvall-Jones that night there waa an understanding between them. "But don't tell any one yet," he said Every thing seemed to go wrong after he left Lenox. He missed his connections at Boston, and at last when he reached his Cape Cod retreat ho found no one waiting for him at the fetation. Kain was falling and a hazy fog obscured ovory thing. It was ufter (six and growing dark rapidly. Harry Pollard stood on the platform in his gray mackintosh, and looked about helplessly. He questioned .the station agent and was directed to a cottage a hail-mile up the road. Then he* resolutely tramped off, carrying a single hand bag. "I'll find the ylace, never fear," he said. Presently lie «ame to a cottage answering to the description given him. Ho walked up flic steps, but before ho had time to ptill the bell the door was opened suddenly, a pair oE arms were around his neck and he was kissed heartily on the lips by an extremely pretty girl. He didn't seein to mind it, and stood stock still in abject confusion. Then the girl drew back, saying: "Rob, dear, I'm so glad to sec you." "Er—why, really," he began. The instant he spoke the girl looked frightened. A wave of color flooded her face. As the light from the hall streamed on him and she saw his face, her eyes—Harry Pollard retained his self-possession enough to note tliey were blue and awfully pretty—looked very much troubled. Indeed she had something to be troubled abotit. "Oh!" she exclaimed, and ran swiftly away. Harry Pollard watched her, and stood blinking in the light. "Deuced cordial reception," he said to himself. "Wonder who she is? Not Rob's wife, of course; I know her. His sister? He had none. And she called him 'Dear Rob'—I have it—his cousin, by Jove. Odd I ' didn't think of it before. 'Just returned from abroad. Wish I had known she was here and I wouldn't have come. I've had quite enough of women; and she begins like the rest—kissing and all that sort of thing. My luck follows me everywhere." The door was open, and Harry Pollard felt that he couldn't walk in, so he pulled the bell and waited. Presently a woman came into the hall, and the moment she caught sight of Pollard she gave him her hand and greeted him cordially. "Where did you drop from?" she asked. "I am awfully glad to see you. So sorry Robert is not here." It was Mrs. Hewitt, of course, and Pollard found that they had not received his telegram, as the wires were down; and as for Bob Hewitt he was in Boston, but expected home every moment. "You'll find it awfully dull here," said Bob's wife: "but Cotvsin Lou is with us, and I want you to like her very much." And he did like her very much. When she came down to tea her face was still burning, and she looked shyly at him. "Mj. Pollard, this is Cousin Lou," said Mrs. Hewitt. "We have already met," said Pollard, whereupon she blushed and looked angry, and he regretted his want of tact. Pollard had been there but a short time when he felt that after all there were worse places in the world; and as for Cousin Lou, there were worse girls, Miss Aspinwall-Jones, for instance. There were walks on the beach, drives, and chats after tea every day, and he came to know Cousin Lou better in a week than if he had met her in society for a year. There was a peculiar charm in her presence, a witchery in her manner that aided her physical charms. Her mind was a treasure house that day by day yielded its store, and Pollard began to feel ashamed of his ignorance of many things this girl knew better than he. The inevitable happened one day. They were returning from a walk on the beach. A sou'easter was blowing and a mist lay at sea; rain had begun to drizzle when they reached the house and a light streamed from the front windows. "This is much like the first night I met you," he said. "Yes?" she said, with a rising inflection that was peculiar to her voice. "And it seems so very long ago," he added. "Yes?" "And since then I have discovered something—shall I tell you what it is?" Silence. "I love you very much—may I hope? May I hope that sometime you will tell me that you love me?" "Yes"—this time without the rising inflection. That was all there was to it, or nearly all, and the next day Harry Pollard went away. "Now for the governor," he said to himself, as the train neared Boston. He found him at the office and was met with a frown. . "What's this I hear from Lenox?" his father said. "From Lenox?" and the younger Pollard looked as innocent as a lamb. "A person by the name of Mrs. Aspin- paclmgo. "Now, don'* let me hear of , ariy more nuch. nonsense." i *'It seems too good to be true," almost shouted the exultant youth. "Thank you, governor, awfully," and he grasped his father's hand enthusiastically. "God bless my soul, what do you mean, I say? What do you mean?" "I'll tell you some day," and out of the office rushed Harry Pollard. He had scarcely gained tho street when he remembered Carolyn Cannon— and he hadn't said a word to his father about Bob's cousin Lou. Perhaps he had better wait. But what did his father mean by sny- ing that he must marry as ho should direct? If he went against his wishes he would not get a cent of money from his father, and money, you know, is an extremely necessary article even if it is "love in a cottage." But Lou—liia father must see her to agree with lii.s son that she was the most glorious woman in the world. And that Carolyn Cannon affair— how could he get out of that? J(R would go to Lenox, at all events, and face tho music. Perhaps something would turn up. But how could he explain his sudden departure? Business? —yes, very important business took him away. When he got to Lenox it was about eleven o'clock in the morning, and he felt very seedy, having had but little sleep the night before. He went to the hotel and freshened up a bit, and then started to walk to Miss Cannon's cottage, which was but a short distance away. On the way a blackboard drove by, and he saw Miss Aspinwall-Jones am" her scheming mamma. The latter bowed coldly, the former effusively, as if to show she didn't care much, after all. Pollard returned her bow a little awkwardly. He felt sheepish, remem PITH AND POINT. —Driven Out by Rudeness.—"Why did the soprano leave?" "She said the preaching interrupted her conversation with the tenor.—"N. Y. Sun. —Dick—"What on earth have you been doing, Jack—shoveling coal!" Jack—"No, I've been taking notes with a fountain pen."—Harvard Lampoon. —Judging from Results.—"Does your daughter piny on the piano?" "Waal, she Hays she does; but 1 kinder thinka she works on it."—Fort Worth Gazette. —Have you ever observed that when a woman is buying a cheap quality of any thing-, or a small quantity'Of it, she generally "buyes it for a friend?"— Boston Traveller. —"Well, good-bye, dear nephew. If you should happen to be in want of money you can write tome." "Here ia the letter now, uncle, if you will be so kind."—Fliegende Blatter. —You say that all dreams are due to something influencing the sleeper at that particular moment. How do you account for my dreaming the other night that I was dead? "Probably the room WJMJ too hot."—Indianapolis Journal. —"Have you noticed what a vast quantity of information old Simple has acquired during the last several days?" "Yes. It is easily accounted for. His fifteen-year-old son returned from boarding school last week for a short visit.''—N orri stown I leraid. —Ethel—"I am so anxious about my new dress! I shall insist on having my dress-maker make it fit me. It will then be sure to look well." Maud—"Yes; but wouldn't it look better if you insisted on having the dress-maker make you fit it instead?"—Harper's Bazar. —Time's Changes.—Brown—"So you could never understand a woman?" WAR REMINISCENCES. A COWARDLY OFFICER. beriug what had passed in the Cobwiggcr—"No. _ Before marriage I brougham that night. As he neared Miss Cannon's cottage he nerved himself up as to what he should say. Should he deny the existence of their engagement, say she misunderstood him, or should.he throw himself on her mercy and say they had both made a mistake. About a hundred yards ahead of him he saw her turn a corner—how well he remembered that tall, graceful figure and that languid, deliberate gait, lie hastened his steps to overtake her, but she turned into her gateway before he could catch up with her. He would have called out to her, but some people were passing and he did not care to attract their attention. She turned her head carelessly, but evidently did not see him, for she did not bow. She passed on and entered the house. An instant later he stood on the steps and touched the bell. A serving maid answered. "Will you please ask Miss Cannon if she will see me," he said. The maid went away, and a moment afterwards returned. The answer dumfounded him. "Miss Cannon is not at home." He said not a word and then went away. It was a little unpleasant to be thrown over that way, but perhaps it saved a good deal. He wrote her a note the next day offering to explain if 'She would see him. He said she was unjust and cruel; he could tell her every thing. Would she not see him?. The note he received in reply was very formal; she declined to see him. That was all; but Harry Pollard felt relieved. She was a woman he had known for a long time, and without giving him a chance to reply to charges which were trivial in themselves she deliberately threw him over. But it was what he wanted—what he came to Lenox for, but, withal, very humiliating. He went back to Boston and wrote to Carolyn Cannon a full confession, at the same time telling her of his engagement to Bob's cousin Lou. A short time afterwards he received a note from her congratulating him. When they meet on Commonwealth avenue they bow civilly, of course, but that is all. Something very important took Harry Pollard away from Lenox—a note from his father. When he read it he frowned, for he felt that his troubles were not yet over. The letter read: MY SON—Come away from Lenox immediately; I do not caro to hear of any-more engagements. I shall expect to see you at the house to-morrow evening; I wish to introduce your future wife, Miss Madison. You know quite as well as I that if you marry as I direct you get a good part of my money, otherwise not a cent. Miss Madison is one of the most beautiful, intellectual women I ever knew: her family is irreproachable, and she is not a money- hunter. If you go against my wishes and throw over this girl and my money you are an ungrateful cub. To-morrow evening, at eight o'clock, I shall expect to see you in tho drawing-room. JOHN D. POLLARD. Should he go to the house, he thought, as he walked aimlessly through the public gardens. Throw over Lou for this money and the accompanying inevitable girl? Never, by Jove! "Beautiful, intelligent—bah!" he muttered, aa he walked up the steps of his father's house. He met his father in the hall. "I'm here, governor," he said, forcing a laugh. "I suppose I shall learn my fate, but suppose—suppose this Miss Madison doesn't like me?" "No danger of that," replied the old man, rubbing his hands and laughing heartily "She is in the drawing-room." He pulled open the portiere and Pollard stepped in. "I'll leave you," said Pollard the elder. Harry Pollard stepped into the room occupied my time in making myself out worse than I was; now it takes me every minute of my time to make myself out better than I am."—Epoch. —Medical science threatens to circumvent all the ills that flesh is heir to, and as in time there will be no such thing as death the earth will soon become crowded. Therefore hold on to your real estate. It can not help going up several hundred per cent.—Boston Transcript. —By Proxy.—"John," said Rev. Mr. Goodman to the hired man, "are you a Christian?" "Why—er—no, sir," replied John. "Do yo\i ever swear?" "I—I'm sometimes a little keerless like in my talk." "I am sori-y, John," rejoined Mr. Goodman. "But we will converse about this some other time. I wish you would take this money and settle this bill of 84 for thawing out a waterpipe, and talk to the man in a careless kind of way as if it were your own bill."—Chicago Tribune. CAMPAIGN THUNDER. NVdS t->0 tuirl; l I » wall-Jones writes me that you have proposed to her daughter. Is it true?" "Well, yes, I suppose it is," replied the younger man, desperately. "You won't marry her, sir — do you hear?" "Eh?" replied Pollard the younger, sadly bewildered. "I have broken off th* engagement, sir; wrote to her and toM her you do not get a cent of my monoy unless yo< marry as I direct. She wrote back that it was very cruel, very wiiked ia me to wreck two young lives, but I wrecked tUem. There, sir, is a package the .Vouug- womafis#nj:me, contain ing a few jinx-racks yo:u sent her," and the elder i handed tn« a&ti;iMj4ed youngster a How a Candidate was Crushed by a Pen- ny.a-I.iner. As about eight out of ten men one meets nowadays are up for the Legislature, county sheriff or some thing, it is not surprising that a large proportion of these politicians are of the self-made variety that could not deliver an Intel* ligible speech if they were to be hanged. The result is that the hard-up penny-a- liners are turning an honest penny by supplying these tongue-tied statesmen with ready-made campaign thunder. The other night there was a most enthusiastic primary meeting at Petaluma, during which an aspirant for county clerk was introduced. The gentleman laid a voluminously- written speech on the desk and started in. He had only got as far as "Fellow citizens," when a hvingry-looking party in a week-before-last shirt, and whose whole appearance denoted destitution, stood up in the front row and whibpered: "How about that little amount?" The orator coughed, colored, looked fixedly at the gallery, and strove to continue. "I say," continued the interrupter, more loudly, "you know what I told you—cash down or no sale." "I'll—I'll see you in the morning," gasped the mortified politician. "Morning don't go," replied the cred> itor, doggedly. "You can't play the morning dodge on me; I'm dead on to you fellows, I am. You've got to put up or shut up. Pungle out that $12 right here, or nary an orate." "I haven't got that amount with me," murmured the distinguished speaker, fumbling in his clothes. "Just—just sit down, and I'll see you later." "Later be blowed," growled the pencil parer, and reaching up he transferred the manuscript to his coat-tail pocket and walked out. The crushed nominee took a back seat on the platform and wept like a child, while the band filled in its time by "Listen to the Mocking Bird," with variations.—San Francisco News-Letter. An Inetaiico of fn.jusUce to a Soldier's Widow. In the little village of Ilenpcck, Warren County, O.. a few years ago, lived the widow of Zachariah Reeder. She was old and poor and blind. Her husband had been a soldier in the 79th Ohio infantry and died in hospital at Camp Dennison, ()., on the 4th of July, 18G4, of that insidious destroyer, chronic diarrhoea. The wife stood by his cot holding 1 his hand and felt the last pulse beat and knew the soul had ebbed out, upon which she leaned. She returned to the humble home from which the soldier, three years before, strong mid brave, had gone to the front. In due time she was awarded the pension which the government then allowed .soldiers' widows, eight dollars a month. On this pittance she managed to eke out existence until the spring of 1884, when there occurred a new chapter in her sorrowful history, /achririah Reeder had lived his uneventful life at Ik-npeck and knew little of the world, but a designing 1 woman had managed to get his name in some way. as well as that of his company and regiment and filed a claim for a pension alleging that she was his widow—together with all the facts usually stated in a declaration for a pension. The usual call on the Adjutant-General's office for the soldier's military history developed the fact that in the late fall of 1803 Zachariah Reeder had been courtmartialcd for desertion and sentenced to a forfeiture of all pay and allowances and to six months hard labor in the military prison of Nashville, Tcnn., and that lie had died in hospital at Camp Bennison, O., on the 4th of July. 1804, three months after the expiration of his sentence. This record had been overlooked when the rightful widow had obtained her pension, soon after tho soldier's death. Under the then rulings of the Pension Office, such a record would have deprived the soldier of a pension and consequently of any one claiming through him and the poor old blind widow of Henpeck was stricken from the pension rolls and her allowance suspended. Her miserable condition soon became noised about the little village and a storm of protest went up to Washing- ington against this action of the Pension Office. The papers in the case were sent to a special examiner of the pension office then located at Wilmington. O., with instructions to investigate and ascertain the true condition of affairs, in which two women had claimed to be the widows of the same soldier and the following curious history was unfolded: In the fall of 1802, when all Kentucky and the North was in commotion by the invasion of Bragg's army and the threatened capture of Louisville, the 79th Ohio Infantry was ordered to move from a camp in the central part of the State, at which it had been some time located. Zachariah Reeder was sick, too sick to march and as his officers thought, so near death's door as'to be of no further use as a soldier. He was given a pass, told to go home, and that his discharge would be sent to him in due time. This promised discharge was an assumption his company officers had no right to take, but the ignorant soldier knew no better and went home. He worried along in poor health for months, wondering why his discharge never came. And the officer the wrong of many living and to| scandal of the memory ol many & soldier who sleeps his last sleep ai only look to the living to defend hill name. It also demonstrates Government can not be too legislation which aids in the cl of records so full ol injustice. can Tribune. A YANKEE TRICK, Tbe Queer Ammunition With Itattcry WAR Ijoaded, Soon after the battle of Stone in January, 1863, the Second Divti of the old Twentieth Army Corps encamped about three miles souttU? Murfreesboro, Tenn., on the Fran' pike, and directly south of us a' four miles were stationed the rebel posts, at Guy's Gap, on a chain kn< as the Coffee hills. The country between the two armies being rich productive, was made to furnish fo: for our animals, and became the of several brisk skirmishes, as it quired a brigade of infantry, a sqtt: ron of cavalry and a battery of a; to hold the rebels in check while wagons were being loaded with fori by a detail of men furnished for purpose. The inclination of our boys to 81 away from their regiments to forage their own account for supplies for use of their mess, became so to the officers in command, that num.' ous methods were resorted to in order prevent it; but with all their watch: ness, the boys would succeed in ge into camp with their haversacks Vf( filled with eatables. One of the precautionary meas' used to break up this sort of stragg! and pillage was to have a detail stati ed at our picket line to examine soldier as he passed through on his turn to camp, and confiscate such les of plunder as they might find cealed about his person. On one occasion, on February 7, 18 we were compelled to procure our age in close proximity to the »e lines, and consequently a -brisk i mish ensued. The Twenty-ninth diana was placed in position to sup the Twentieth Ohio (German) Bat1 under command of Captain Smitl and while they afforded all the m sary protection to this noble bat' they did not forget to gather in a ply of chickens, ham, sweet pota' etc. After several hours our wagi were loaded with forage, and started'i their return to camp. As was cus' ary when our troops took up their of march to return to camp, the re would follow up and make a, dash our rear guards. After we had falii back about a mile we came to whi the road passed through a hedge fe Here our officers in command decid to play the "Johnnies" a Yankee and accordingly our infantry was ployed on each side of the pike, ambushed behind the hedge fe while our cavalry was held back to ei gage the enemy and draw them into trap. Some distance to the rear was a hi behind which our battery was stationed ready to be brought forward into actio at the proper time. We had not waited long until heard the clatter of hoofs upon th pike, and orders were given us to I ready. Our cavalry came dashing by, cloati. pursued by the Johnnies. The bO3 were getting excited, and our office] were laughing hi their sleeves, as th$ thought of the slick trick they were pu and saw smiling, happy, radiant, Bob's cousin Lou. He stepped forward and then paused and looked at her blankly. "Lou, Lou," he said, "is it you? I expected to find Miss—Miss—" "Somebody else," she said, quickly. "I am she."—Boston Globe. A Chicago Calmett (a rising young member of the bar)—I am waiting, Eugenia. Miss Lakeside-—I will marry you, Henry, but it is not on account of your position, wealth or personal attractiveness. It will be so convenient, you know, to have a good divorce towyer right in, the faaji)^*.—Judge. Packing-Cases. There are few instruments or pieces of apparatus more delicate and fragile than many of the costly and intricate productions of mechanical skill in general use to-day by electrical companies for the purposes of refined electrical measurement, and it can easily be understood that the difficulty of shipping these expensive and easily deranged instruments from place to place without risk of damage from careless handling in transit is a perplexing question both to manufacturers and users. A famous English electrician says that he early adopted a plan which proved so successful that he has adhered to it ever since. Finding that careful packing and con- gpicuous labels stating the content* to be "glass, with great care," were not always sufficient to prevent breakage and damage to delicate parts, he hit on tto.e idea of sending out all his instruments in beautifully polished mahogany cases, with brass handles and mountings. The exquisite appearance of the cases appealed successfully even to the callous natures of porters and dockhands; they positively had not the heart to scratch the immaculate polish by rough handling, and the freedom of the instruments from damage amply repaid the extra cost of the luxurious Daily News. who had sent him home and marked him discharged on the company book was also worrying. The discharge forwarded from the company to army headquarters for approval was lost or misplaced and never came back. Meanwhile the eompapy commander, to cover up his own delinquency and assumption of authority, carried the name of Zaeh- ariah Reeder on his company roll and had him reported as present for duty with his company, when for months he knew he was at home sick and that he had sent him there. This officer's conduct seems to have been influenced more by his fear of superiors than by his duty to his soldier. In the summer of 1803 by the advice of a farmer in the neighborhood, to whom he had disclosed the condition of affairs as to his coming from the army Reeder reported himself to the military authorities at Camp Dennison, O., lest he might be arrested for desertion. But this did not save him. No sooner had he reported himself and stated the circumstances of his absence from his regiment, than a man calling himself a deputy provost marshal and who made his living by the costs out of which he fleeced the Government in such cases, seized him as a deserter and took him to his regiment. Back with his company again, all went on as usual for some months when one day he was ordered for trial before a court-martial, sitting in the vicinity of his regiment. The charge was desertion and the offense consisted in his going home on a pass from his Captain with a promise that his discharge would be sent him. On trial the poor fellow was too ignorant and too badly frightened to explain all this, and no one was there to speak for him. The officer who had been the cause of all this trouble did not possess true bravery in sufficient degree to step forward and acknowledge his own error and thus save an innocent man. Hence the sentence of the court that was the already sick man's death decree. Printed copies of the company roster, made between the date of Reeder's being sent home in 1863 and his return to the regiment in 1663, taken from the company books show him to have been noted discharged when sent home in 1853. Several of those musty memorials can be seen yet in the homes of ex-soldiers about Henpeck. It is a pleasure to state that the facts brought out restored the rightful widow to her pension, but this story is not told so much on that account or to reflect oil the moral deliquency of an officer who would stand by and permit a great wrong to be done which he could have prevented. It is rather to illustrate by facts, how, through blundering carelessness, and often worse papers were made up in the hurry and commotion of war, that now have the dignity ol record? to ting up on the Johnnies. But some hx> or other the battery boys were slow getting into action, the drummers fail to beat the roll, and in the meantime tS rebs caught on to our little game, ai beat a hasty retreat. The boys were disappointed, the ^ fleers swore, and. said there wasso| thing about it they did not understajD But it was all made plain to them wl we passed through the picket line, battery halted and unloaded their | and limbered chests, which were: with chickens, hams, sweet potat etc., and our drummers took off drum-heads and unloaded their tents, all of which were distribv among the boys, and the column move on. The officers in command saw ' played the "Yankee trick,"and they ] nothing more to say; but they "eve up" on us before we got to camp 39th Indiana and the 20th Ohio marched into camp with their pl led by a brass band playing that 1 iating air, "The Rogue's March."—Harton, in American Tribune. "MOTHER BICKERDYKE," A Heroic Woman Who Mothered the dier Boys. Mrs. Livermore, in her book entlti "My Story of the War," gives a veryj| teresting sketch of "Mother Bio dyke," a famous character in. times. She was an energetic, thetic woman of slight education,' had a natural aptitude for nursing, an unfailing love of "her boys," called the soldiers. Mother Bid was always to the fore when theye i work to be done, and no trials culties ever daunted her. After battle of Chattanooga, she was for we the only woman with the 1800 we The weather was bitterly cold, sick were nearly frozen to death in i of big fires. At last the wood gavgi one awful night, and it seemed, ' as if those who could not more { would perish of the cold. Mother' erdyke had the utmost scorn tape, and a mind equal to all < cies. She called on a few of hej ful "boys" to follow her, and. with an axe, proceeded to "wood of the palisades, goon a& came along, and looked on with. 4 there was nothing else would wounded, but such rashness, must be punished, yourself under arrest," las < _. Mother Bickerdyke nexttHp$l h^m laden with plankfl. Major, I'm under arrest} terf ere with me till the Wfi ates," was the undaunted gEtflak : —Tnat Would Bo Ii-s man look sheepish?" dick. "Yes, but the wool polled over

What members have found on this page

Get access to Newspapers.com

  • The largest online newspaper archive
  • 8,900+ newspapers from the 1700s–2000s
  • Millions of additional pages added every month

Try it free