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, VOLUME XXVI.NUMBER 44.
COLUMBUS, NEBRASKA. WEDNESDAY. FEBRUARY 12, 1896.
WHOLE NUMBER 1,314.
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ABR A J I. A 31 L J NCOLN.
A XtlilicrV Story or tlit War.
1V COL. GIMIKKT A. PIERCE.
r --j; TALL, gaunt man,
!I l with grizzled
..it beard and hair.
1 I' witli fr7.7.f't
, .' S&y ) tlc soldier in
"Ok-vx his air.
' ' ZtyhSf' llc lold t0 us- in
p?tAj r simple phrase,
AJV-'j'x this story
yi'?t' About himself, the
y':Ki 1 army, and "Old
Glory."
"Tlie.v're talki:: nowadays." said he,
"right smart
About the great Napoleon Bonaparte,
An t'other day the boys says, 'Uncle
Dan,
i'pu tell us who you think the greatest
.' ' man.'
M don't know, boys.' 1 says; 'there's
Washington.
' An" Alexander, an' Napoleon.
An lots of others, but my way o'
--r-l.'lHlkin
"There's. none of 'cm come up to Old
Abe Lincoln'
"For greatness isn't jest a bein' stern,
An' solemn-like, an" cariu not a dern
For anybody on the lop of earth
Except yourself, an thinkin no one
worth
The powder "n lead to blow him out o'
Sight
Unless he bets on you as jes 'bout
. right.
"Now. Uncle Abraham could hoe his
rce
" With any of em argyiu". you know,
" And then, some way, he kind o' had the
swing
Of them old prophets, when he come to
sling
His English; an' I guess, take him all
round.
' He was the biggest man on top o'
ground.
"'You see, at first. I. bein a reglar 'crat.
Was thinkin' that the savage little spat
.'Betwixt the North an' South was all a
owin
"" To what them Abolitionists was doin'.
But gosh! I soon got crazy as the rest
An' carried coal oil lamps, an yelled
inr best.
An' pretty quick I got to howlin' round
'Bout John Brown's body ruddering in
' " 'the ground.
So when Steve Douglas said, right fair
' -and square,
That tiis was treason lurking in the
' air.
. I run my flag up, an I says, says I,
B' jinks! like old man Adams, 'Live or
die.
Survive or perish, you can connt on me
As for the Union an for liberty.'
..
An' so-Is Billy!' says my wife our
-.- Bill. .
Hfest us rely turned fifteen, but who
' COUld fill
The place of any feller of his size
JThat ever walked beseatk Ohio's ski.
' "i s ''t? ''-.-?''
-'-a', -r
(WaaaaaL
i " 'TSC' l says' "but Bi,,y he must
An' plow an sow an make the corn
an" hay.
I'm still the fightin' member o' this
firm.
Though some 'ay lately I ain't worth
a dern.
But anyhow, there ain't no use of pray
in'. I go and you ami Billy do the stayinV
"An then, although somehow the tears
would start,
I marched away to try and do my part.
With little Billy cryin' after me:
f 'I want a chance to strike for liberty.
"Just then I never thought the time
would come
When Billy couldn't fairly stay at
home.
But thinning ranks require new bone
an' muscle.
An so recruiting officers must hustle;
An' when two years had passed I heard
one night
That Billy had enlisted for the fight
"God! how I watched that boy! Some
times with pride.
Then fearful as he kept step by my
side
Into the battle up the mountain
height.
Trying to keep his boyish form in sight.
Praying and sometimes swearing too.
maybe.
When he exposed himself too careless
ly For boys, somehow, with twice the
cause to live.
Seem twice as reckless when a life's to
give.
O".
' V-,
vV
AW. "
s ' ,:i' 'vr "
30
: K'iv
Ws&r ,-u
FELL BACK.
"At Vicksburg, in the charge, the ras
cal gained
The parapet, but fell back, crushed an
maimed,
Before the sweeping fire of that red hell
Jest by the spot where gallant Nevis
- . fell.
"I took him in my arms aud lore him
back
Down under shelter, where the fire was
slack.
Then called a surgeon, while I cried
an' flwore
f; 7Vi ,33.y
ssi&$Z$----i f-i A- W
- J 'V'Wg''', !
;ii VBiiiiirk?.
And dashed myself against the fort
once more.
"He rallied from that wound an he
an' I
Walked side by side on that fourth day
o July
When Peiiiherton begged Grant the
siege to lift
An we marched in with arms 'right
shoulder shift.'
"So time went on, an' we had stood to
gether In lots o battles an in wildest weath
er; But. some way, he had never seemed
so sound
After the day he got that ugly wound.
I used to take the little fellow's place
On picket, 'specially when there was a
trace
Of wandering in his manner or a kind
Of strangeness, like he didn't know his
mind.
"One night 'twas in the midst of that
campaign
When skirmishes were daily, an the
aim
Of Sherman an' of Hood was, day and
night,
To get a chance to start a winning
fight
Billy was placed on pickeduty, where
The danger seemed to hover in the air.
He had relieved me, strange enough
to say,
An I had charged him, as I came away,
To keep his wits about him an' his
eyes
Wide open, or he'd meet with a sur
prise. "I didn't like his looks; he turned from
me
An' kind o' grasped his musket care
lessly, Walking away upon his dangerous
'beat
With dreamy look an' kind o' dragging
feet.
"I rolled up in my blanket, but some
way I couldn't sleep; before me, plain as
day,
Was that boy, marching up an' down
his face
With that queer look of gazing into
space.
An not the first idea of danger near,
Or shadow of anxiety or fear,
But just as if his thoughts were far
away
To where his mother bowed her head
to pray.
"I couldn't stand it, so I took my gun,
Anr stepping over comrades, one by
one,
I hurried to the outposts silently.
Anxious to find him once again an' see
If all went well, an if it did, why, then
I'd jest turn in an try to sleep again.
"I reached a spot close underneath the
bill.
When at a sound my verv heart stood
still.
A souffle! then a cry! an oath aa' then
I taw the forma half a hiadrc km
Between me an the twinkling stars'
dim light.
That jest outlined their figures on the
height
"It wa'n't no time to think! I raised my
arm!
The good old musket rung out the
alarm!
A dozen answering shots the rebels
sent.
Then turned an' run, a yelling as they
went
"I scrambled up the hill, an awful
dread
Choking my breath! the boy! he must
be dead!
An' others came, an' soon we found his
form
Stretched out upon the ground, but
. moist an' warm;
A blow upon the head that sturjied,
that's all.
His gun all right, with powder, cap,
an' ball.
An' when I saw it wall! I felt a smart
That hurt more'n if the wound was
in his heart.
"Asleep upon his post! He turned to
me
An' put his arm around me lovingly;
'I couldn't help it. dad,' be said, an'
then
He smiled that boyish smile of his
again.
Jest saying, as he turned once more,
'You see
I've had my chance to strike for lib
erty! Don't tell the folks at home, I beg and
pray,'
An' then between the guards he
marched away.
"It wa'n't no use! I begged, I plead; I
swore
That Billy wasn't like himself no more.
But there he was before us, well as ever!
He'd never been so bright, I reckon,
ne"er.
Maybe it was the shock; but, anyhow.
He stood before the court, his boyish
brow
Half hid by curls, an less affected
when
The sentence came than all the rest the
men.
No matter, when I heard the verdict
read,
I wished with all my heart that I was
dead.
"How could I ever nerve my heart to go
And tell his mother, who had loved him
so?
"I didn't know jest what to say or do.
They gave me leave of absence, an' I
drew
My scanty pay, an' started, whither
bent
I didn't try to realize jest intent
On getting aid somewhere; letters I
bore
To the commanding general of the
corps.
To senators and governors, an one
Addressed to 'Abram Lincoln, Wash
ington.' "With fainting heart I sought each man
whose name
Was said to make or mar a hero's fame;
They kindly spoke told me to wait:
they sent
My papers to those near the President;
But one by one they all came back, no
Of hope to me in any cruel line;
Only the words that shewed no heart
was moved
'The sentence of the court has been ap
proved. "I wrote his mother, an I said, 'My
dear,
God has forsaken us an' ours, I fear.
Weary aij' sick an growing gray an'
bent.
I'm going to try to see the President,
An' then I give it up, an you an I
Had better lay our old bones down an'
die.'
"They wouldn't let me in, although I
told
My story to them; men are mighty cold
When griefs arc common, as they were
jest then.
An' all sought favors of the tongue or
pen;
But I wa3 watching, an' one pleasant
day
I saw the Lincoln carriage drive away.
An in an hour return at rapid rate
An' turn in quickly at the White House
gate.
"It rolled up swiftly to the entrance
door,
An' he stepped out, bis eyes upon the
floor;
His lips were moving as if in his mind
Some question he debated, but his kind
An gentle face wall! it invited me,
An' I was starting forward eagerly,
When jest as I had almost reached his
side
They roughly called to me to stand
aside.
"He glanced once at the officer so grim,
While I looked up beseechingly at him,
REDEEMED AT LAST.
Then said: 'Who is the man? What
would he do?'
'Only a soldier,' said they, 'after an in
terview.' 'Only a soldier!' said he, musingly.
'Periling his life for liberty!
Only a soldier! Marching near an' far.
Fighting the battles of this awful war!
Come in, my man! Thank God, to
speak to me
You need no other name or pedigree.'
An then he led me in an up the stair.
While Ministers and Generals waited
there,
' fr?' -jsrf' .V"tfC? ill y
"I told him, with the sobs half choking
The story of my grief and misery.
His face was sad an' furrowed with a
care
That I had never seen a mortal wear;
But still he listened, an' he bowed his
head
Sometimes at what I felt or what I said.
"He looked my papers over carefully,
Then turned an smiling, gently said
to me:
'They say we must be stern if we would
win;
That pardons are the death of discip
line; But still I think the country would sur
vive With that boy loose an' running round
alive.
So far's our men's concerned, why,
heaven willing.
We'll let the other fellows do the kill
ing. You tell him, though, I count on him
to fight.
An' prove that they were wrong and I
was right;
To bravely serve, to die. too, if need be.
For God's great boon of human liberty.'
An' then he wrote: 'This sentence dis
approved!' While I sat there an' hardly breathed
or moved;
An' then I saw him add, my old eye3
blinkin',
'Restored to his company. A. Lincoln.'
"Jest there was where I lost my grip!
my, my!
I couldn't say the first derned thing
jest cry
An' wring his hand an' tremble like the
nation,
Instead of making, so to speak, a brief
oration.
An' thanking him an' promising to
stand,
Both me an' Billy, till the blessed land
Was saved. No, sir; I lost my head.
Till, finally, I mustered up an' said
I thought that God would take good
care o him,
Whatever might become of discipline.
An' wall! I tad to go without a sayin'
Half the things that filled my heart,
but prayin'
Heaven to treat him kind an' tenderly
An' with the mercy he had shown to
me.
"In six months Billy stood upon the
roll
Promoted up to second corporal
LOOKED MY PAPERS OVER.
An' then, by changes that wc under
went. Was color bearer of the regiment.
We marched through Georgia, conquer
ing to the sea.
Bearing the dear old flag triumphantly.
An there, with solid shot and canister.
We faced the guns of Fort McAllister.
"A charge was ordered quickly, an our
corps
Made ready for a stubborn fight once
more.
At first the rebels fired at such a rate
It seemed to make our column hesitate.
"Billy, with face aflame and scornful
glance,
Carried the flag far up in the advance;
When out the Colonel spoke an cried:
'Bring back
The colors to the regiment!' Mid crack
An crash of guns the boy replied: Yon
bring
The regiment to the colors!' Then with
swing
An shouts an' cheers at Billy's brave
reply
The whole brigade came rushing madly
by,
An' almost 'fore they sensed what they
had done
The fort was taken an' the day was
won.
"But Billy had gone down; jest at the
last.
His fingers holding to the flag so fast
They had to pry them loose; an' on his
face
A smile a thousand years cannot efface.
An though my eyes were full an'
brimming o'er
I never felt such pride on earth before.
"Redeemed at last! The General came
and said:
'Place his name first among the gal
lant dead,'
Then wrapped the Stars and Stripes
around the one
They all did honor to my son, my son!
"When loving bands arrayed the boy
that night
In his new uniform, with buttons
bright.
They found his treasures, an' among
the rest
A picture of Old Abe upon bis breast;
An written on the back, like prophecy:
'I've fought, great friend, and died for
liberty I' "
Abraham Lincoln Son.
Robert T. Lincoln, son of the mar
tyred president, is a resident of Chi
cago. He is the attorney for the Chi
cago Gas company. His salary is va
riously estimated at $25,000 a year. He
served as minister to England while
Blaine was secretary of state. He
married cne of the Honore sisters and
resides in a marble-faced mansion on
the Lake Shore Drive. His sister-in-law
is Mrs. Bertha Honore Palmer,
president of the board of woman man
agers of the World's Fair. Mrs. Pal
mer's father was at one time a dies?, i
l of Abraaai UBcelB. - - - I
j "COMIC VALENTINES
THEY MAKE ONE MAN LAUGH
AND ANOTHER SWEAR.
Aboat tk Maa Who Makes 'Em Mr.
Howard Iadsljces la Tkaai Wkea Ha
Feels Bad. aad Caases lee.eeo.OOO
Cess Words Ir Year.
HAVE discover
the man who make
all the comic valen
tines. Yes, gentle
reader, it is true
that one conscience
has to carry the en
tire burden. Per
haps you do not
know how heavy
that burden is.
Learn, then, that
the person to whom I have referred
draws about 900 valentine pictures
every year, and each of them is printed
in editions of 15,000. Most of them are
sold in this country, but there is also
quite an export trade with Europe. The
most popular of them run through many
editions. But let us suppose that each
of them has two editions. That will
give a total of 27,000,000 a year. Now,
reflect, further, that everyone of them
is designed to make somebody swear,
and you begin to get an idea of the ter
rible business in which this artist is
engaged. Let us suppose that 20,000,
000 of them reach their destinations,
and that each individual recipient
swears only five times. We have a to
tal of 100,000,000 cuss-words, for which
ray friend, the artist, is directly respon-
THE BABOON VALENTINE.
lWe, every year. Suppose, further,
that the artist holds his job thirty-six
and a half years, and afterwards suf
fers in purgatory one day for every
piece of violent language caused by
him, as computed above, he will be
there 10,000,000 yeare, and I do. not call
it enough, writes Howard Fielding In
a New York paper of recent date.
These mathematical operations are
founded upon exact facts. In this let
ter I am simply trying to state a matter
of news in plain words.
I have known the valentine artist for
a long time, but never suspected him
of doing anything of that kind. It was
only yesterday that I learned about it.
t went into his work shop just as he
finished a drawing. I looked over his
shoulder expecting to sec a pretty pic
ture designed for one of the magazines,
with the familiar signature. C. Howard.
Instead I saw a horrible freak wearing
a white apron and engaged in pouring
cats into a sausage-mill.
"That's a sweet thing, Howard," said
I. "What's it for?"
"For a butcher," said he. -"It's in
tended to be a slight token of some
body's regard on Feb. 14. I've made
nearly a thousand of these things this
year. What do you suppose on. Saint
Vulentinus, patron of the pleasant occa
sion, will do with me when he get hold
of me?"
That naturally led to a discussion of
the whole subject. It appears that
Howard does hot allow these drawings
to interfere in any way with his art
work. He has a very nice way of get
ting the time to do them. In those
moments of dissatisfaction which an
ordinary man would waste in swearing
or in throwing a fellow creature down
stairs Howard simply draws valentines.
It relieves his feelings perfectly. I was
glad to know this, for I had been at a
loss to account for the exemplary mild
ness of his disposition. It would be
unjust, of course, to compare so favor
ed a person with ourselves. We do not
have the opportunity of insulting 27 -000,000
strangers every year. We must
do the best we can with only our fam
ilies and friends.
It appears that comic valentines are
all offensive. They are divided broadly
into two classes, which are known tech
nically as the "Hlt-'em-Hfirds" and the
"Long Jokers." By the rules of ordi
nary social courtesy a person may reply
to a Long Joker with a club; but if he
gets a Hit-'cm-Hard he takes down the
old musket from the wall.
The enormous sale of these things
proves that they must fill a longing of
the human heart. The two sexes feel
this want about equally. Just as many
are painted for men as for women. I
THE OLD MAID ALWAYS SEE.MS
WELL,
regard that as an interesting fact which
might easily escape the notice of a less
acute student of human nature than
myself. Just how badly you have to
hate a person before you feel impelled
to insult him pictorially on the 14th of
February I am unable to state. But
there must be a gcod many million peo
ple in this country who could tell from
their personal experience. This prac
tice shows the general recognition of
the artistic value of contrast An
added charm must cling to "the yic-
4'
If- ISIIjb
ture of a jackass labelled "This is You"
when it is received on the day sacred
to lovers' tokens.
Mr. Howard tells me that these valen
tines are all directed to the pictorial
exhibition of some human fault or folly.
If they were confined to any other field
he might find It difficult to draw as
many as 900 in a single year.
A considerable number of the valen
tines intended for women satirize ec
centricities of fashion. This winter
there is a great field for that sort of
work In the prevailing style of capes.
The preposterously broad and stiff
shoulders with their convoluted edges
turned up, make a woman look like the
head of John the Baptist on a charger.
Mr. Howard tells me that he has tried
to exaggerate the absurdities of this
kind of cape and has failed.
"I can't make it look worse than it
really does when I see it on the street,"
he said, "and so I have to make up for
it by drawing a cross-eyed woman In
side the cape. The worse the face looks
the better the valentine sells. I should
think it would make a poor girl who
had put all her cash into one of those
capes feel pretty good to be tenderly
remembered with one of these cape
valentines on the 14th. I understand
that they are already in great demand,
which shows the state of envious re
sentment among the girls who are
wearing their last winter's capes."
Passing to men's attire, the dude in
caricature of this order has changed
very little in the past five or six years.
In this connection the artist told me
one of the toughest experiences that
ever I heard. It appears that he onco
drew a particularly offensive dude val
entine. The absolute idiocy of the
countenance which he put on the dude
left nothing whatever to bo desired.
Of course, there were many other dude
caricatures that year, but this was the
most offensive by long odds. It hap
pened that a young man of Mr. How
ard's acquaintance got three valentines
that year from three different cities,
and every one of his unknown admirers
picked out this identical valentine.
What could a man think under such
exceptional circumstances except that
there was a distinct resemblance be
tween himself and the fellow in the pic
ture? It must have been deeply de
pressing. I learn from Mr. Howard
that this gentleman did cot commit sui
cide, but he would have committed
murder under favorable conditions.
One of the most cuccessful valentines
ever sent out was entitled "The Slug
gard." It represented a man in bed.
A pair of naked and gigantic feet hung
over the footboard, which was in the
foreground: and the sun, with a smile
of derision on his countenance, was
seen looking in through an open win
dow. Mr. Howard gave this to me in
a philosophical spirit as a sample of
what is considered a rare joke by many
thousands of persons. Perhaps the
richest thing if popular applause be
the criterion in the line of comic val
entines for women was a picture en
titled "Going to Seed." It represented
a particularly ill-conditioned plant in a
large red flower-pot, and the flower was
the typical head of an old maid. Thou
sands upon thousands of these were
sold, and they served, doubtless, to em
bitter the thoughts of a corresponding
number of women who ought rather to
have been congratulated. While many
of these valentines arc used in malice,
the real reason why they sell is that the
people think that they are funny.
There's a very deep theme. I have
THE MODERN DUDE,
made a special duty of the problem,
What do people laugh at? And I have
partly solved it. I have learned what I
myself laugh at but the remaining
persons mentioned in Mr. Porter's cen
sus have thus far eluded mc. And even
in my own case the result is not con
stant. One day, perhaps, I can laugh
at one of my own jokes, and a few days
later, when I run across it in a copy of
an old magazine which died before I
was born, it don't seem funny at all.
But Mr. Howard has gone farther. He
lias not only discovered the secret of
what is humor to a great class of our
citizens, but he has learned what will
make one man laugh and another man
swear. I call that a considerable tri
umph. A rnidcut Mother.
Clara Winterbloom I don't know
whether to send Mr. Silverspoon a val
entine or not.
Mrs. Winterbloom He is coming to
night, isn't he?
Clara Yes. he said he would be here
on important business.
Mrs. Winterbloom (hopefully) Per
haps you would better wait It may not
be necessary.
Kasjr Enough.
Mrs. Von Bliimer Mamie wants to
give the little boy across the way a val
entine, but she wants to put it on the
doorstep early in the morning.
Von Bluir.cr-1 see. How can it be
done?
Mrs. Von Blumer I thought you
might do it on your way from the club.
rieascd Him.
Dashaway Miss Penstock says she is
going to send mc this year a valentine
made with her own hands.
Cleverton You seem overjoyed with
the idea.
Dashaway I am, old man. It isn't
anything I shall have to wear.
Some Use.
Featherstone Willie, I don't see
that valentine that 1 gave your sister
iu this pile.
Willie No; she gave it to the baby to
play with.
Cofomtms- State -BankJ
milHtrrtl-aM
late Urn a Etal Eriait
Hew Twk aatat all
mil t hum mi? : noon.
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