The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa on May 27, 1891 · Page 7
Get access to this page with a Free Trial
Click to view larger version

The Algona Republican from Algona, Iowa · Page 7

Publication:
Location:
Algona, Iowa
Issue Date:
Wednesday, May 27, 1891
Page:
Page 7
Cancel
Start Free Trial

Page 7 article text (OCR)

ANDY'S WIDDA, •N 1 that wuz what he dreaded, too. From firs' to las', He used to say: "Oh I you're all rif?lit. Bf I wuz you I wouldn't cur' much cither woy; But when y6u know you're goln' to leave Some ono tmhind to frot 'n' grieve 'N' live a lonely wlcUlfl!" .He had her pletur'—Jes' a girl, A pleasant young thing—well enough; But Andy 'lowed she were the pe.arl; Thb best, tlp-topest kind of stuff I :He usnd to look 'n' look 'n' smile •'N' say: "Old boy 1 she ain't the style Now, Is she, tor a wlddo?" 'N' my 1 I got tuat plotur' yet. I kep' it kinder for his sake When I fetched home his things 'n' met His folks 'n 1 —her. I hed to break The news, V mighty hard to do; ,8eein' I'd brung poor Andy, too, Home to his little widda. jHard work, I tell ye, boys, that's sol 'N' sakes I ye'd oughter heard her cry I Be good 'n' glad you didn't though; But—well, she ca'med down by 'n' by, •*N' then I hed to tell about .Jes' how the whole blume scrape come out, To that tuqutrln' widda. ••N' so on Decoration day I git his grave up extra fine, •Or—Car'line does. I hev to stay Most of the time in marchia' line— .A-fllin' here, salutin' there- 'Us vetterns got to do our share Fer every soldier's widda. ;But Andy, poor old boy I his grave— We tend to that, or—Oar'line does; 'N' then, o{ course, she likes to have Her little quiet cry, becuz— •Well, jes' bocuz—'twixt you 'n' mo ,It'.s on'y natural—for, you see, I married Antly's widda. ''N' so it's kinder comforting When Decoration day comes round "With the romemberi6s it bring Of them old comrades underground, It's really comforting to drink "Poor Andy's health 'n'—well, to think His wife oJn't left a widda. —Madeline S. Bridges, in Judge. I Aft the aim was setting he died. The next mottling early his remains were burled in a corner of the village grav$* yard. Lila visited the grave in tfie evening with flowers from her mother's garden. She tenderly smoothed the mound and tastefully arranged her floral tribute upon the fresh-turned earth. As long as there was so much as a chrysanthemum in bloom Lila placed fresh flowers upon that lonely South- ron's grave. Hhe saved her pocket money and had a cedar plank painted white. Then she had the painter to place upon it the inscription: up (food, Oar'Hne 'n 1 meat least she does. Poor Andy! When he fell I stood Bight by him—so —as if it wuz Me here — him there. I broke his fall With a quick grab, but—that wuz all- He left his wife a Widda. CHARLKS WALLACE, A CONFEDERATE SOLDIER WHO WANTED TO OO HOME, . BUT I COULDN'T TAKE HIM. . REYNOLDS. ON SOLDIERS' GEAVES. Pathetic Story of Two Little Girl Decorators. Kind i AKE me back to mother," said the pallid lips of a bronzed young face, as it gaz e d b e - seechingly from one to another of the bystanders. "Take me back to old Tennessee, "and the entreaty in face and form moved the people about him strangely, a 1 ^though he was their enemy. A torrid afternoon in July of 1863 was •dragging slowly along toward night. The little Indiana town, that for many •days had been disquieted by martial sights and sounds, was deserted by nearly all the male population. Mor- jfan, the raider, had whirled through it iour days previously, after scattering the bands of citizens and militia who liad gathered to oppose him. The next •day Hobson had followed him, and was joined in his pursuit by the reunited home guards. Several of Morgan's •wounded who were too severely injured -to take along had been left in the care •of the ladies of the place, who had hastily changed a church into a hospital. The nurses were now gathered around this boy's couch, awaiting the arrival of the death angel. He was delirious, "but his poor homesick heart could prompt one thought that seemed somewhat coherent; the thought that many A brave lad, southern and northern, voiced with his latest strength: "Take me home." Little Lila Reynolds stood in the group surrounding the dying confederate. Her tears were falling fast, while Tho next spring Lila sodded the grave, planted a rose bush near its head and cared for the little mound as tenderly as her own bit of flower garden at home. The summer of 1804 brought the sad intelligence to Judge Reynolds that his son, a soldier in tho federal army, had fallen in an affray with guerrillas near Memphis. Harry Reynolds' captain wrote to the judge • that Harry had been buried in a village cemetery a dozen miles from Memphis, and a cedar plank, upon which his name was carved, had been placed at his head. Lila passed through a tempest of grief over the death of her brother, and then said: ' "Maybe some little Tennessee girl that hates this wicked war like I do, will take care of brother's grave; so I'll keep poor Charley Wallace's grave nice, anyhow." The tide of war flowed here and there throughout the south. As a rule, the women of the south were engaged in the sterner duties of life occasioned by the absence of so many of the male population. The terrible reality of war was ever near, and they, in many cases, became inured to the bloody scenes of those times. N^o sympathy could be wasted upon even their own dead, and of course they had little to spare for the northern troops. In the town of Barrett, Tenn., where the remains of Harry Reynolds lay, the ladies were especially vindictive against the federal troops. Capt. Leslie had buried Harry in the village graveyard, because he wanted to, leave a well defined clew to his resting place, by which his friend, Judge Reynolds, might find the grave of his son. The act was bitterly resented by some of the ladies of the place, and a few even talked of removing the body. One of them said: "After all we've suffered from the ruthless tramping of northern soldiery over our homes, they place their dead 'alongside of ours. I say, take the Yankee's body up, and put it off to itself." A little child with dark brown eyes here spoke: "But, mamma, this Yankee can't do our dead any harm. The Yankee captain said his people will come some day and take him away. If he is left where he is, his father can find him easily. Captain Minter wrote from Chicago where he is in prison, that Charley was killed in the Morgan raid through Indiana. Maybe he was buried in some graveyard, and perhaps we we will some day find him. I should feel awful if we treat this poor Yankee boy badly, and then find out that my brother's grave had been cared for by northern people." The ladies gathered at Mrs. Wallace's were touched by these tender words of little Cora Wallace. She saw her advantage, and continued: "I think you might let me take care of Harry Reynolds' grave. I was standing by when they put him in the coffin. He was an awful pretty man. Not the same kind of pretty that my brother Charley was. His hair was light, but it clung to his forehead in the sweetest curls. Brother was dark, and I used to play with the coal-black hair on his head as it clustered about his temples. We think the northerners are wrong, but I suppose they think we are wrong. Anyway, this poor Yankee soldier and brother Charley cannot do any harm to either side. Let's treat the Yankee right, and maybe some one will treat Charley right." One of the visitors here said: "Cora is right, Mrs. Wallace. We cannot afford to carry our resentment into the graves of our enemies. Let us remember that once we were Christian people, and the day may come when we can again be such; and let us not do too much now, that we may regret after awhile." Under the mellowing influences of talk like this, Mrs. Wallace softened, and her little daughter asked: "May I fix up the Yankee's grave mamma?" "Yes, dear, do as you wish." So it transpired that Cora Wallace performed the same sad sweet offices for the grave of Harry Reynolds, that Lila Reynolds had been performing for the grave of Charles Wallace. which she had been pulling the weeds. Lila whispered: "0, papa, that little girl looks lik* my rebel." As Cora gazed at them she thoxight: "How much like my Yankee that little girl looks!" "My child, can you show me the grave of a northern soldier named Harry Reynolds?" "Yes, sir; this is it," was the low sweet reply. The strong man and the little girl knelt reverently by the grassy mound. Cora drew back a few paces, and viewed the scene. She understood the case, and was in thorough sympathy with it. After the judge could control his emotion, he asked: "Who has cared so tenderly for my hoy's grave?" "I, sir," again came Cora's low sweet voice. "And what is your name, my child? ' he asked, arising, and taking her hands in his. "Cora Wallace, sir." Here Lila eagerfy inquired: ' 'Did you have a brother Charley in the Morgan raid through Indiana?" "Yes, he was killed on that raid." "And I have been keeping his grave up, in the same way you've done for Harry's." The two children here flew into each other's arms, and clasped each other in a long embrace of subdued joy, while "YES, SIR; THIS is IT." Judge Reynolds shook and swayed wit] xmcontrolled emotion. He and his lit tie daughter were that night the guest of Col. Wallace. The following day the remains of Harry Reynolds were placed in a casket and started north with Judge Reynolds and Col. Wallace accompanying them. The children sat with arms entwined during most of the journey. Three days later, Col. Wallace, in gray regimentals, gave the command "Fire" to the company of union soldiers as they fired the military salute over the last grave of Harry Reynolds. Three days still later, Charley Wallace was laid in his new grave at Barrett. Cora wrote a description of tha funeral to Lila, who said, as she finished the letter: "He got home to Tennessee at last." —Mrs. J. Byrde, in American Rural Home. THE CIRCUS IN MEXICO. "WHJT DON'T YO(T TAKE HIM HOME?" ladies were trying to hide their •emotion. These mature women felt Ashamed to weep over the death of a fqe, when only a few days before they had assisted in every way they could to bring about that death. Lila's little sympathetic heart could feel only how horribly wrong it was for this beauti- iul boy to die so far away from home. The feverish glances of the dying youth iell upon her, and he piteously begged: "Little girl, make tbese people take 4ae home." The ohild was so overwhelmed that turned upon the ladjtes and said: "Why don't you take few teepe? Reynolds here the little girl aw " forward last The war closed, thank God. The soldiers of both armies returned home, and purple pinioned peace spread her beauteous and benign wings over the land. The nobler hearts of both sections set steadily to work to heal the wounds of war. Among these peace makers were Col. Wallace of Tennessee, and Judge Reynolds of Indiana. • The judge bad been devorred by of* ficial duties from visiting the south, and removing his son's remains until the summer ,of 1805. He started about the first of July, accompanied by Lil*. upon this sad errand. He arrived i& the middle of an oppressively hot afternoon. Lila insisted upon proceeding immediately to tite grave. Getting directions from the hotel keeper, they ajwl out An American Institution Which Is Very Popular. Crude entertainment as it is, the circus is gradually replacing in Mexico the wanton brutality of the bull fight. In many of the states the bull fight is prohibited by law, and in Mexico City and the largest state capitals the revolting exhibitions are becoming more and more infrequent. The reputation of the circus, meanwhile, is steadily increasing. It is the most popular American institution in Mexico. There may be a deep- rooted dislike ' 6f the invading host of American railway operatives, mining engineers, contractors, speculators and tramps, but the prejudice does not extend to the American clown who can crack jokes in tolerable Spanish. Let him be careful to avoid wounding national susceptibilities and he will be the most popular American in Mexico, but if he once gives occasion for offense he will be hissed whenever he reappears in the town and never forgotten. Mex> leans have tenacious memories when their dignity is compromised. They love those who flatter them. They resent unnecessary and wanton affronts. The successful American clown of the evening could give diplomatists, if he would, useful hints for regulating their dealing with the Spanish race. His keen wit leaves no sting behind it. His merry jests keep the audience in a tumultuous state of merriment from nine until midnight. Then the cafes are filled with loungers for another hour.— Chicago News. SCATTERING FLOWERS. Scatter your flowers alike to-day, Over the graves of the blue and gray. Time has healed all the nation's scars. Peace has hushed all tbe noise of wars, And north and south, an£ east and west There beats but one beurt iu the nation's breast; The grass is green and tbe flowers bloom AU Re upon soldier and sailor's tomb; So scatter your flowers alike to-day, Over the graves ot the blue and gray. Ah I each was gallant and brave and true, Whether he wore the gray oj tbe blue; Alike each sought for a soldi,t°a tame, Alike each won him a ioldier'S name; Yet what the guerdon each soldlei foundf A dreamless sleep 'ueath a grassy njoundl Q let us forget what coat each wore, Let us scatter our flowers freely o'er The sacred spots where sleep to-day The dead who otoe wore the blue and grayf Alas I for tbe tear drops abed like dew Over the gray and over tbe blue; Alas, for the eyes tbat sought in vain For the soldier dead on tbe battle plain- Came death alike to friend and to foe, To wives and mothers like grief and woel And the bitter sorrow our sad hearts knew Was felt for the loss ot both gray and blue; Then scatter your Sowers alike to-day, Over the graves ot tho blue und gray. Ob I by the bitter tears we abed Alike o'er our lov'd ones lying dead, Ob I by tbe common grief we knew Whether we mourned tbe gray or blue; By tbe drops scarce dry on tbe widow's obeelfc Py the common language our oWUdres. sjmak, We have bid «U njaUop leaver oeaae, "" ' PITH AND POINT. .' —Pastor—"If you live rightly you Will meet your departed in the happiet state." Widow—"You didn't know William, did you?"—N. Y. IPerald. . —A Natural Inquiry.— Wagg— "\Yha1 are you doing now?" Wooden—"Oh, I'm living by brain work." Wagg-^"l want to know! Whose?"—Uoston Globe, —One may i-uin a score of his fellowl and he is easily forgiven; but let him ruin himself and there's nothing tot larsh tliat may be said of him.—Boston Transcript. —Grimshaw—"I'd like to sell thai engagement ring I bought some tima ago." Glazebrooke—"Why, is the match off?" Grimshaw—"Oh, no; bul we've married."—Galveston News. —It Vi'cis Good.—"Ish dot Limbergei not goot?" asked a dealer of a man who looked at it from a little distance. "Good!" he replied; "why it's unapproachable!"—Demorest's Monthly. —OfEunon—"And is Miss Gracie to have two chaperons? What is that for?" Old Peterby—"That's on your account. When you come they are to chaperon by watches, three hours off and three on."—N. Y. Herald. —Bank President—"Did you say, Mr. Bullion, that the young man you recommended is subject to fits of abstraction?" Mr. Bullion—"Yes, occasionally." Bank President—"Then he will not suit us as cashier." —Sharpson (grinding out verse)—"I want a suitable rhyme for 'chains.'" Phiatz — "What's the matter with 'brains?'" "Can't use it. I'm writing a poem entitled 'The Cigarette Smoker.' "—Sporting World. —You may talk of the depth and power of love all you please, but there has been as yet no instance recorded of a young man turning insane in the lapse of time between his proposal and his loved one's answer. —First Student—"You told me you had a rare and curious manuscript to show me. I see nothing here but a receipted tailor's bill." Second Student— "And you see nothing rare or curious about it!"—Fliegende Blatter. —Family Honor in Danger.—Willby. —"How are your poems selling, Bill- by?" Billby, The Poet.—"The first edition was exhausted on the first day. My uncle bought the whole of it." Willby—"To save the family honor, I suppose."—Yankee Blade. —His Exercise.—Tom Knox—"I am glad to see that you have joined our athletic club.", Howell Gibbon.—"Ah, ya-as; the doctah wecommended exercise, ye know; and as I heard that walk- Ing was good, I just walk down evewy mawning,and wead the papahs!"—Puck. —"That," said the performer, as he wheeled around on the piano-stool, "is )osthumous composition. It is quite >robable that the composer never heard t performed. What do you think of it?" I think it shows remarkable good ;aste on the composer's part."—Wash- ngton Post. —Pretty Far Gone.—"What a happy lisposition Sapper has! He never has any money of his own, for he is always rying to borrow, yet you'd think he ladn't a care in the world." "I sup- >ose it is because his credit is so poor ihat he can not even borrow trouble." —Boston Herald. —New Keporter—"That item about 3ol. Bourbon being' murdered, that we winted this morning, ain't true. He's alive and well." Editor—"And what do you mean by coming here and tell- ng me ? The Howler has a character lor veracity that must be maintained. So right off and kill him. "—Philadelphia Times. A Successful Authoress.—Returned Tourist—"By the way, Mrs. De Beauti, WAR REMINISCENCES. THE REUNION. Aftor so many ypnrs h.ire Rlldocl l>y. Sen UIR thin company: see tin; old scroll In Iho hand of Hie orderly ciilltn • the roll, After so many youri hiive glliieJ by. Sad la tho sllonce;*sad is the call: Sadness is strinUon In tho hearts of all; Even the flag In the sultry forenoon, •Heavy at liewrt, in sadness droops down. Even tho lowlands; ev*i the hill And the tall poplars arc hazy and still. Even the river is murmurous and low, Passing in quietness, pitying so. E'en the commander has lost his control, Noting the absonco in the old roll After so many years have glided by! After so mnny years have glided by, Whei-e nre the comrades who stretched the line on Par in the flush of the radiant morn? Where aro iheir voices; whoro aro their faccsf Why are the soldiers not in llielr places? O orderly, call the roll of the sfirings, The summers, and wait for nnswerlngs! Ask, ask of tho winds that have borne them aw.iy, Where nre Ihe faces and voices to-day, After so many years have glided by? Our soldiers havo answered a longer roll, A louder voice, a whiter scroll; They have finished their battles; they have entered tho years, Where each a badge of glory wears. Thank God. where each has rest at last, And footsore marchings »re all gone past; The God of Heaven siill knows the best. He knows tho soldiers have need of restl Tho weary head, the weary brain- He pillows upon His loving breast. Oo-derly, call for those who remain I We are happy, a few are together again! They may pass off with the summer rain Aflor so many years have glided by I —Hugh Calhoun Mlddleton, in Atlanta Con- stllution. DEAD SOLDIERS' BONES. [ have not seen your charming daughter since my return. When I left she had determined to submit her first novel to the Heighten Magazine. Has she heen successful in her literary aspirations?" Mrs. De Beauti—"Perfect- ly. She married the editor."—Demorest's Monthly. —Feminine Generalship.—Miss De Fashion (breathlessly)—"Oh, mother! It won't do to wait three Weeks before having my party. We must send out the invitations at once, and have it this week." Mrs. De Fashion—"Goodness me! Whafs the hurry?" Miss De Fashion—"That odious Miss De Pretty, whom Mr. Richf ellow so much admires, has a boil on her nose."—Demorest'i Monthly. AN AFFAIR OF THE HEART. How a German Swain Regained His Lost Affection. Slova of Kief reports the following incident: A German physician passing through the city stopped at a hotel for a few days. The news spread in town that he was Dr. Koch, and in a short time the hotel was besieged with invalids who sought his advice. Among the callers was a strapping young 1 woman leading a stalwart fellow by the sleeve of his coat. "Please, Dr. Koch, your illustrious German excellency," she said, address- lug the physician, "this is my husband. We are married only three months an<j his love to me is already cooling. There must be something wrong about his heart. Could your illustrious German excellency cure him?" With a smile which he could hardly suppress the doctor asked her whether there was anything else the matter with her'husband. She said that he wa» otherwise all right; he worked diligently, etc., and slept well and did not complain of any aches. But he ceased to love her and his heart needed a cure. "Why daw't you love your wife?" h« asked. "I don't know," answered the other, with a sheepish air; "probably the heart got sick, your illustrious German excel' lency." "Cure him, your honor!" pleaded the woman. The doctor co-aid not rid himself of them until at last he ordered the man to bare his breast and made an incision in his skin, which he cohered with a plaster. The youog- man pro- his heart was instantly operation and that he «4 wife sftojai Vhau eyer W 1 The Discovery of Them at Ashvlllc, N. C., Kecalls a Wur Time Execution. Workmen excavating for an addition to a building on North Main street, in this city, made a ghastly find to-day, writes an Asheville (N. C.) correspondent. While digging a few feet below the surface they found a skull and pieces of wood, rotten and with nails in it, presumably part of a coffin. Later in the day another skull and the bones of two persons were dug up. Partially preserved shoes and some blue substance, recognized as a part of the union uniform, were mingled with the bones. The skeletons were immediately reburied, and no amount of questioning could make the workmen disclose the whereabouts of the new grave. This incident recalls an interesting historical event which occurred in Asheville just after the war. In May, 1865, just six weeks after Lee's surrender, Gen. Tilson.of Maine.came to Asheville,then a town of one thousand five hundred inhabitants. He had with him and under his command about four thousand soldiers. Gen. Tilson took up his quarters at the old Patton house, one of the handsomest dwellings here at that time, and now occupied by a prominent club. That afternoon the One Hundred and Fifth Ohio regiment, composed of ne- groes, entered the town from Tennessee. After marching through the place they pitched their camp in the western suburbs. On the following morning a farmer living a few miles north of here hurriedly entered Asheville and went to the mayor, reporting to that official that a young white girt, of a highly respectable family had been assaulted by some of the negro soldiers the night before. The report was confirmed, when, a few hours later, the father of the unfortunate lady came to the town and gave the facts. When the facts were made known to Gen. Tilson he caused the colored regiment to be drawn up in line. The girl's father then passed down the column. On close scrutiny he soon recognized one of the villains, and soon picked out the other four of them. When the trial of the court martial came off in the afternoon, one of the prisoners, hoping by that means to escape punishment, turned state's evidence. The four remaining prisoners were convicted on the evidence of the parents, the neighbors and their partner in crime. The four wretches were sentenced to be shot the next day. They were taken to the county jail for safe keeping, in company with the one who had testified against them. The next morning the doomed men were taken from their cells and placed in a wagon. Accompanied by their regiment, they were driven to the northern outskirts of the town, where an immense crowd had assembled to witness the execution. The regiment formed a hollow square, facing the empty graves prepared for the men, and a file of eighteen soldiers selected for the purpose were drawn up immediately in front of and facing the condemned men. The hands of the prisoners were tied together in front of them and their eyes were bandaged. They were then forced to take then? seats on their coffins, rude boxes, each one large enougli for two men, and the burial service was read by the Methodist circuit rider, Kev. A. W. Cummings. The death warrant was then read and the command to fire was given by an officer. The four men fell dead in their coffins, each one having four or five bullets in his body. They were buried immediately, two in a box, and it was one of these graves that was disturbed by the laborers. The prompt action of Gen, Tilson in the matter was a source of great satisfaction. The prisoner who bad turned state's evidence, it was thought, had expected to be released, but the body of a negro, supposed to be his, was found near the scene of the execution on the morning following. It was conjectured that he had been taken from the jail by the union soldiers and lynched. Judge E. 8. Afton, a prominent figure of the present day, was mayor of the town at that time, and furnished the story of the execution.—St. Louis Globe-Democrat A BLOODLESS SOLDIER. The Danbnry Kerrult who Never Ft fed Mis Muftttet. On one of the last fa'iny dnys a ntUB* her of old veterun.i chanced to meet ill one of mir busine,s,s places, and of cours* reminiscences of the war were in order. Among the stories told was the follow» ing, which we think will prove new to our readers:; During the last year of ( the war the ranks of the Second Heavies had become thinned and a nurnbef of recruits were sent to replenish them, among the number being Mr. - , a well-known resident of Danbury, who was also well known by a large number of our townsmen. He went down filled with patriotism and a fervent desire to deal death and destruction to the "gray backs" from the bright new musket which he carried. But it so happened that he never had a chance to sbow his devotion to the flag in battle and not until the regiment was about to be mustered out did he get a chance to fire his gun. Previous to the mustering out the governor of Connecticut came to the camp and orders were issued for a dress parade and review, at which a salute in honor of the governor would be fired. That night, in his tent, our hero thought long and seriously, and the more he thought the more determined he became that, as he had never been able to fire the gun in the face of the rebels, he would not spoil its brightness now in so ignoble a way as firing salutes. Taking the weapon, he procured a piece of wire and effectually "spiked" the gun. Next day, on receiving command to load, our recruit did so with the rest, and pulled the trigger at the command "Fire" with much equanimity. Of course the gun did not respond, and when the command was received to load again, and a cartridge was bitten off and rammed home, again the trigger was pulled with the same result as before. As he was loading for the third time his lieutenant happened to notice that the larger part of his ramrod projected from the barrel, and, stepping up to him said: "Why, C., your gun didn't go off, did it?" "Well, it looks that way, sir," was the answer. "Well, for God's sake, don't put in any more charges or it will blow your darned head off if it should go off," said the lieutenant. "All right, sir," said the recruit. "Guess you know best," and during the rest of the firing C. only imitated the motions of the rest. At night he took his gun, and, drawing the charges, he polished the weapon and brought it back as he carried it away, without ' once firing it. He still has the musket, and keeps it as a relic of his valiant services, but the gun will never be fired as long as he lives. — Ansonia (Ct) Sentinel. How He Killed a Yankee. At the recent celebration by Morell Post, No. 144, G. A. E., of Sing Sing, of the quarter centennial of the organization of the Grand Army of the Republic there was a unique little speech made by Col. Henry Farley, the military instructor at Mount Pleasant military academy of that village. He said he considered it a great honor when he received an invitation to be present at this meeting of ex-union soldiers, but it was quite out of the usual line to call upon an ex-rebel, an ex-slaveholder, a man from South Carolina, one imbued as he was with all the doctrines of John C. Culhoun, a secessionist, etc., to make a speech before those whom he fought against. Nevertheless, he could now say "Amen" to all the patriotic speeches he had been listening to. "I was oncu asked," he said, "the very delicate question, 'Did you ever kill a Yankee?' I answered, 'Yes. It was a* Petersburg. A Yankee chased me and my comrade twenty-five miles over Q rough country and then dropped dead from exhaustion.'"—N. Y. Times. REMINDERS OF THE WAR. GKS. WADE HAMPTON is one of the most interesting survivors of the war. He lost his leg after, and not in the war, but he suffered a greater misfortune in the death of his son, who was shot down, before his eyes during a cavalry skirm/ isft. The brilliant cavalry Iea4ejr uja to the fajieft bo4y of Wi> ft*"" ^W^WW ft*i ; *• THE Ninth Massachusetts regiment was the one mobbed in Baltimore April 30, 1861, when on its way to the front FRIENDS of the late Gen. Sherman have nearly completed a fund of $100,000, which they will present to his two unmarried daughters as a testimonial of their esteem for the great soldier. GEN. JOHN GIBBON, of the federal army, who has just retired on account of age, was frequently accompanied by his wife during .his campaigning in the late war. She has appeared with the general at several soldiers' meetings since the rebellion, and her appearance was always the signal for great enthusiasm. ONE of the few remaining leaders of the ex-confederacy has a colored body servant and a truly American fondness for good whisky. One day recently, he was just a trifle tipsy, and he said to his colored man: "Jake, 'pears to me you're puttin' on a good many air* 'round me. I reckon you think you're boss." The colored man reflected: "Yas, Mars ," he said, "when you's sober you's der boss, but when you's tight 1 reckon I'm der boss."—N. Y, Sun. AT one time during the war President Lincoln reviewed the army and made his visit an occasion to shake hands with and speak a pleasant word to many of the soldiers. With others hs kindly greeted Joshua Jellison, of Ellsworth, who is taller than was Mr. Lincoln. As the president took his hand he said in his humorous way: "I feave shaken hands with hundreds to-day,but you are the first man I have seen that | could look up tor'-HBHsworth (ty«.jj American. THB late Gen, Joe Johnston was not*. We sot only as being, with the tion of Gen. Beauregard, inent confederate chieftain, cause he lived to be au older mm tttfajf, 1 any other of the great geuemlft g$ '* *' civil war. Upon his own sld* Lag at sixty-three, Bragg at fift" berton at sixty-six, Hill at Forrest at fifty-si* and Ewej& « five, while of the Union leaders dj»4 at ^xty*three, MeCIeUai» 4 five, Thomas at sixty-five, dan at fifty-sew&a,

Get full access with a Free Trial

Start Free Trial

What members have found on this page