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About The Columbus journal. (Columbus, Neb.) 1874-1911 | View Entire Issue (May 12, 1897)
'?- ti yr ,- sr v; - -v. Cf -K. - V. -T- f- . ;VW..-7 V -. 1v -ff ' -" - v -- -: - - r. - - , -- VOLUME XXVIII.-NUMBER 5. COLUMBUS, NEBRASKA. WEDNESDAY. MAY 12, 1897. WHOLE NUMBER 1,409. r jcI r"BBlT":xs -t a KZ-'7 - - . .SK - N i IKJ " - - . ,- m w f" " , ,. ' -aaaaaassaasaaW ' ? . m rm -m. ill -. iBBSasafc v I. THE. EYANS.M'STERT. X a little cottage on the outskirts of the city of San Diego lives an old lady whose hair time and sorrow have whitened. The story of her life is a sad one. and yet not an un common one in cnmA resnects: it in the story of a deserted mother who waits and hopes and prays for the re turn of an erring son. , ' About twelve years ago there lived in the town of Pella, la., a prosperous merchant. He was married and had six children, two daughters and four sons. They were all exceptionally handsome children, particularly the eldest son. At that time he was yet a" joung man, recently niarriedto a, bright and beautiful girl, and in the employ of a large Southern house as t&. commercial traveler. He drew a !arge salary and was so trusted and respected by the firm that in addition to making sales for them he often col lected large sums of money from the houses with whom they did business. Several years passed and Harry Ev ans rose higher each year in the esti mation of the firm that employed him. At about this time his father met with business reverses, sold out his home, and after moving to Montezuma, la., . went Into the hotel business. He af terward moved to Afton, in the same state, and kept the leading hotel there. - Soon afterward young Evans left Muscatine, where he was then resid ing, to visit the smaller towns as had been his custom. From day to day he wrote to his wife for whom he seemed to have the strongest affection. All at once his letters ceased. After a short time it became known throughout the state that Harry Evans had disappear ed. Detectives were at once put on his track, a large reward was offered for any information as to his where abouts, but to no avail. He had dropped out of sight as completely as if the sea had opened and closed over him forever. The family were or had been very " prominent. They had many influen tial friends, and everything possible was done to find a trace of the missing man. The governor of the state made a special attempt to find Evans. The whole country was excited over the strange disappearance. The family mourned him as dead. They were fully convinced that he had been murdered for his money and his body sunk in the Mississippi river. The Idea that he had absconded with a paltry $2,000 that being the amount he had with him at the time of his disappearance m was scouted as improbable. He had often had several times as much with him. His" relatives were almost prostrated with sricf, for he had been the most promising member of the family. As jlinie passed the young wife went bravely to work to pay off the debts . left unpaid by her husband and to sup- 'port herself. Among the many friends of the fam ily there was only one who believed that young Evans was alive, and that some day he would turn up. On his suggesting such a possibility, however, the family look exception, and even c became highly Indignant. .One day seven years after Evans disappearance this friend stopped at the hotel kept by young Evans' pa- rents, and was saddened to see the father prematurely aged by grief and slowly dying. "Have you never heard from Har Xv?" asked this gentleman, who, by the way. told me the story, and who is one of San Francisco's most prominent business men. "Heard from Harry!" exclaimed the father. "Why do you ask such a question? Harry is dead." "Well, now, Mr. Evans, I don't be lieve he is," protested the friend. "I shall give the story in that friend's own words: Just then Mrs. Evans came into the room. "You're asking about Harry again, aren't you?" she asked. "Why do you constantly do that? ow can we hear from Harry? He is dead. Why should he have left his wife, his father and me all these years without lotting us know Tie was alive? There was no reason for it." HELLO HARRY. Then Harry's father spoke up: "Harry is dead. You don't suppose tb'at he would run away with anyone's money, do you? Harry didn't have to steal a paltry $2,000. I never raised a boy that would steal." They seemed so pained and troubled by my asserting that I believed their son was still alive that I dropped the subject. I had incurred their displeas ure to such an extent that the younger daughter would not even speak to me. ' I saw the wife soon afterward and asked her, too, if she had ever heard from her husband. She seemed much surprised by my question. ' "Heard from Harry!" she exclaimed. "How can I hear from a man that has been dead for seven years?" Soon afterward I left Iowa for Cali fornia. During all that time absolute ly nothing had been heard of Harry Erans. People had almost forgotten him and everyone hut myself Irmly believed him dead. SBOiLk I arrived In Los Angeles early one morning and after registering and dis posing of my baggage took a stroll. As I was walking up Main street, near the St. Elmo Hotel, I came face to face with Harry Evans. I knew him in an instant The same old handsome Harry, grown even handsomer than ever. He knew me, too, fo'r he turned and abruptly entered a barber shop. I fol lowed him, but he had escaped through a side door and was gone. The next day at about the same time I went up Main street again, and again I saw him. He was standing on the sidewalk and I walked up to him and touched him on the arm. "Hello, Harry," I said, "where have you been all these years?" He turned, didn't seem at all sur prised and said, "Pardon me, but you have the best of me. I don't know you." "Aren't you Harry Erans? Doesn't your father keep a hotel in Iowa?" I asked. "Never been'In Iowain-my- life,"- answered. "Well, yes, I was, too. I passed through it several years ago on my way West. But my name isn't Harry Evans; never heard the name before in my life. Must be a case of mistaken identity." "And you mean to say that you don't know me? That your name isn't Harry Evans and that you never lived in Iowa?" TALKED SPANISH TO THEM. "Never saw you before in my life, and I have never lived in Iowa as I have just stated." He persisted in this way for over half an hour. I knew that he was Harry Evans, I could have sworn to it. At last I thought of a plan. "I'll fetch you. old fellow," I said to myself. "You're not Harry Evans?" I said. "Well, I'll tell you Evans' story for it might interest you." I started in looking him square in the eye all the time. I told him how Harry Evans had left his home and his brave little wife, who had gone to work and had courageously faced the coming years so full of toil and sorrow for her, how his mother was sorrow ing for him, how his poor old father had died, his last days saddened by the blow caused by the sudden disappear ance of the son that was dearest to him. Still his face remained as calm as yours. At last, still looking him straight in the eye, I said: "Harry Evans had a beautiful sister. She was known as the most beautiful woman in Iowa. About two years ago she married a wealthy man of Omaha and a year ago she died!" Thafbrought him! His face had be gun to twitch when I first mentioned his sister. As I said the last two words he broke down and wept like a child. I led him into the back room of a sa loon near by and there I told him all about his folks. He gave as his reason for leaving home a most extraordinary story: He said that he thought for a time he must have been temporarily insane. Any way he kept west, scarcely knowing what he did. He wandered to China, then back to Peru and lived for sev eral years at Quito. Finally he found himself in California. After all those years he was ashamed, he said, to re turn home. He had located in Los Angeles and had gone to work. He had prospered, and was worth a good many thousand dollars. He was moving in what was considered the best society and he hinted at an engagement with one of Los Angeles' most beautiful and wealthy young ladies. He called himself "Captain Charles Henry." Of course I didn't believe his story about wandering away. I was con fident that there was some deeper rea son for his having left home and wife and all. "Now, Harry," I said, "you're going to write to your mother at once and let her know where you are." Oh, no, no, no, he couldn't do that, he said, and he almost went down on his knees to me in his excitement and fear that I would write and tell where he was. "Well, Harry," I said, "if you don't write to your mother. I will, and to night. She has suffered long enough. She is keeping a boarding-house and slaving herself to death to support your two younger brothers. She's all alone, your younger sister is married. I'm going to tell her that you are here and well-to-do." He begged and begged and begged. But I wouldn't give up my Intention of writing to his mother. At last when he found that I was not to be talked over he said: "Ask mother not to tell any one where I am. Tell her that Til write to her right away." That night I wrote to his mother, and several days afterward I received her answer. It was the most incoherent letter I have ever read. She begged to hear from him. I took the letter to him and he read it and cried like a baby again. "Harry," I said, "go over to the tele graph office with me and send a tele gram to your mother. Tell her that you will write to her." No, he couldn't do that, either. He would write to her at once, Instead, v "Harry!" I exclaimed, "remember she's your mother, man. You've been dead for seven years and now your alive. Telegraph to her. Think how she must feel." "If you won't wire her, I will,; I said at last. "You'd better come over to" the office and see what I have to say." I started off and he came with me, heggiag me -not to telegraph all the way over. When we got to the office I wrote out the telegram: "Letter re ceived. He has read it and "will an swer." Then he became fearfully afraid that I would write to his wife. I assured alai that I would not for she was doiag nicely. It was the mother that I want ed to help, the woman who had beet such a good friend to me and who wtt nearly heartbroken. I told him that he would either have to send for his moth er or send her a certain sum of money each month. I did not care which he did. That was the only compromise that I would make with him. Finally he promised solemnly that he would write to his mother and send her some money. One afternoon he called around to see me at my place of business and pro posed a drive into the country to see a piece of property that he said he owned. I consented to take the drive with him and we were to start about 2 o'clock, but Harry fooled around, so that it was almost 3 when we did fin ally get started. He drove a handsome pair of horses to a light buggy and we went slowly out of town to the piece of property that he wanted to show to me. It was a long, lonesome drive. On the way out we talked over his leav ing home and once or twice he made the remark that I was the only per son that knew where he was. His mother, he said; had not heard from him. She only had my letter to show for it He asked me about his wife, if she was pretty still and how she was getting along. "She's prettier than ever, Harry," I told him. "And she has a fine position and a responsible one. She has saved up considerable money, too." That seemed to interest him greatly. "Do you think she'd come out to me?" he asked. "Well, I don't know. Harry,' I said. We drove on out to the property. It had grown late by the time we had started home. We arrived at an adobe cabin on the way back. Two Mexicans came out of it followed by an immense dog. Harry got out of the buggy and standing at a distance of fifty feet from me talked Spanish to them. Of course I couldn't understand them. But as it got later I grew impatient "Harry," I called, "We're going home, now." "In a moment," he answered. "No, we're going now." He knew by my voice that I meant it and he came over to the buggy and got in. We drove slowly away. It was then quite dark. Harry never wrote to his mother, as I found out afterward. She told bis wife and the boys where he was, but it went no further. Finally Mrs. Evans raised money enough to send her sec ond son to Los Angeles. When he ar rived Harry would do nothing for him. I got him a place in an elevator and later on in a real estate office. He saved every penny he earned and after mak ing a lucky sale or two sent for his mother. She came out and brought the other children with her. They bought a little cottage in San Diego. All this time Harry had not helped his mother to my knowledge to the extent of one cent He had writ ten to his wife, but she had declined to come to him. She said that the trip was a long and tiresome one and easier for a man to take than a woman. If he wanted to see her she would meet him on his arrival, but she would not go to him. A few months afterward he disap peared again as completely as he had seven years before, and he has never been heard from since. The mystery will probably never be solved. Yet if "murder will out" some day we will know why Harry Evans acted as he did. From the San Francisco Chronicle. Dinner, at the White House. Ex-President Harrison asserts that state dinners cannot be wholly divested of the repression and stiffness which are the accompaniments of all state affairs. "There is no opportunity for general conversation," he writes In the Ladies' Home Journal, "and the chef and your neighbor at table have your fate in their hands. But there are many other dinners and luncheons to which the elect and the congruous come; and twenty such, seated about the round table in the private dining-room, make a goodly and a heartsome company. These are the dinners that endure the supreme test you think well of your host and of the company when you wake up." To Softea and Whites the Skia. Almond meal is said to soften and whiten-the skin. It is-usually put into a bag made of nun's veiling or of soft bunting, and used as a cake of soap would be when bathing. After its use the skin should be bathed with clear water. Ladies' Home Journal. JOSH BILLING'S PHILOSOPHY. Honesty iz no doubt the best policy, but I have seen policy that wasn't the best kind ov honesty. -. One ov the best-ballanced chaps that I meet in mi travels iz the one who talks the most and lies the least Flattery iz the meanest kind ov abuse, and the man who will flatter yu will cheat yu the fust good chance he gits. I never knu but one man to die ov a broken harte, and he did it by trieing to lift a barren ov cider and drink out ov the bung. Thare iz no partickular amount ov philosophy in not making enny blun ders, or committing enny sin, but in trieing not to do it agin thare iz. Yu kan settle with the good God for 50 cents on the dollar, but man insists upon the pound ov flesh, a hundred cents every time, osts charges added. To doubt and disbeleave requires the smallest amount ov branes, but to trust requires the innosense ov a child, the faith ov a martyr, and the genius ov an angell. Itiz a grate deal eazier job to make a pedigree for one's self than to git one from a grandfather, and then hav to watch the darn thing, nite and day, for fear it will spile. Thare may cum a time when the lion and the lam will lie down together; but az mutch as I should like to see sutch a thing I shall continue to bet mi money in this world on -the lion. One ov the best arguments I kna ov in favor ov matrimony iz, thoze who hev been married once. I don't kare what luk they had the fust time, are the most krazy to try it agin. DAIRY AND POULTRY. INTERESTING CHAPTERS FOR OUR RURAL READERS. How SareMfal rrmert- Operate This Department of th. Farm A Few nuts m ta tb. Car af I4t. Stack aad Foaltry. LONG time ago there was brought into lower Canada a number of pare white cows of the Durham breed. They must have been inbred for generations, for they were very prepotent, that to, they were able to Camp their own characteristics o their offspring, even thoigh tney-werenSfea iiHtriBri. keeping them pure. Their progeny are ecattere'd throughout the more north ern portions of the United States, at least from Maine to Iowa. They are no longer called Durhams, but natives, for all record of their origin has long since passed from the knowledge of the men that own them. The best cow I ever owned was one of this kind. I have seen many others like her in ap pearance, and they are always well spoken of so far as I have been able to learn. They have the characteristics of the old Durhams: Short legs well fleshed, short powerful horns, heavy thick neck, fleshy well-developed ud der, which generally means power to give a large amount of fat The hair Is white, but under it is a very yellow skin. The cream of the cow I owned has been churned in two and one-half minutes, and that too by stirring it with a spoon and in a stone crock. An other characteristic is that some of ' them at least are very persistent milk ers, and one is not always able to dry them up at the times desired. The cow of which I have spoken could not be dried up, but continued to give milk through her entire period of "ges tation. We got her down to two quarts at a milking, but from that time she began to increase in yield of milk till .she was fresh. It is more than probable that if some breeder would pick up a number of these cows and carefully develop them he would have a very valuable strain of milkers. Benjamin Eels. Well Proportioned Udders. If one will look through the herd and compare the udders of the cows, he will be surprised to find among the very best cows let alone the poorer ones a wide difference in the form of the udders, and that a perfect one will be difficult to find. I. a. one of ideal shape. Udders, like the ears of men, 6ays Practical Farmer, go in all shapes, and it is not the largest ones, or the most symmetrical that supply the most or the richest milk. Of course, the ud ier of a cow long, wide and deep of largest abdominal attachment, each division well proportioned and fair sized teats, is the one described in dairy literature, but, in fact, it is not uncommon to find large producing cows '.hat have the back quarters more large ly developed, and while not sym metrical to the eye, the milk-producing power of the cow cannot be ignored. We think the tendency of common areeding is to enlarge the back quar ters at the expense of the forward part and it should be the breeder's aim to so breed that harmony in size of the quarters shall prevail, In passing along a line.of royally-bred Jerseys, the other day, there were not two udders in the line that could be said to be alike, and in some of them, the forward quarters were quite subdivided in appearance, and indicated that the amount of milk given from these quarters was much smaller in quantity than from the back ones. We do not know that any tests to determine the relative richness of the smaller quarters, as compared with the larger, have ever been made, but the question is rather one of how to breed cows with well-proportioned udders. How to Select the Layer. One of our readers makes the sug gestion that it would be valuable to possess such information by which one could select the hens that will lay from those that may not be so productive, thus saving the expense of keeping a large number of drones in the flock, says Poultry Keeper. The suggestion is an excellent one; although we have before given information in that direc tion. But to attempt to select the pros pective layers is as difficult as that of anticipating the amount of milk a heif er will produce before she comes In with her first calf. As with cattle, the matter is one of observation, and we doubt if there is any class of stock on the farm either animals or birds that will give indications of their pro lificacy before they begin production. Hens differ individually and they dif fer as breeds. Knowledge of their indi vidual characteristics can only be gain ed by constant association with them and careful observation of their traits. The laying hen is one that is active and busy. A good scatching hen one that is never idle is, as a rule, a good layer, for the reason that her active habits keep her in the proper condition for laying. Hence we may advise that, In selecting, let the busy, active hen be retained. A bright red comb, bright wattles and a happy disposition, are in dications, while bright eyes and clean feathers also point to success. All hens have bright red combs when beginning to lay, but it is before Sie hens begin that more information is desired. The best method is to breed for good lay ers. Select the best layers every year and mate them with a male from a good laying strain or breed, and the shortest road will at once be taken. When one finds a lot of drones in the flock, get rid of them and breed from those that are productive. The rule that "like begets like" holds good with poultry as with anything else, and should lead to the production of better stock, but it is important that the male be given some consideration when selecting breeding stock, as his influence on the future progeny Is greater than that of any female in the flock, he being the sire of all Instead of a few only. The Brood Pee. Incubator-hatched chickens that are raised in brooders will do much better with a small run, or enclosed space. Bs. uauini w ; uu vi uio uroouera. Epitomist They need to get oat the ground in order to Invigorau harden them, and to keep them n-mrln. im tnn much Ml the hOt Mfea Plan weak and delicate. This f" "we term the brood pen, and It w asMt as necpssarv an the brooder, in t to attain the highest degree ol We have two kinds of brooa- o&e is kent Indoors and the othet In the yard. When the chicks first from the incubator, we put them ie former. But. after the chicra Itwo weeks old. we move them to an ioor brooder, with a brood pen at- int. Then, on bright days, we lei out on the ground, where they v in the sand and ashes, ana :ch among clover hulls and wheat for the small grain that is scat aiaong It The brood-pen system ces the care and anxiety about the cbfckens, especially "when a storm ap prches, to a minimum, because the bffpder is left open at the end and the chickens can run inside at the first ap- JllHtf'iltiiirrulf.ftlfJL'Il"! chilly they can go back Into the hover department, which is heated all the time, by a lamp beneath. Even when the chickens are with a hen the brood pen system is desirable. Many a chick en is run to death while young and weak, by an unreasonable and flighty mother that keeps on the go all tho time. But i the brood should be cooped within a small pen, about ten by twelve feet, and kept within the enclosure un til the chickens are all well feathered and large enough to Btand the wet grass and to travel about with the hen, a much larger per cent of them may be raised. Making Poultry Profitable. The American Cultivator says: There Is probably no more seductive business connected with farming than is the growing of poultry and eggs for mar ket Neither is there and in which disappointment is more certain to over take the beginner who has not pre pared for his work by previous experi ence. The greatest trouble with the amateur is his tendency to do too much with small capital and on too small grounds. However poultry may be fed with purchased food, they need at least a quarter of an acre for each fifty fowls, and this must be so situated that it can be plowed, sown with grain .aad scratched over for worms and in sects throughout the growing season. Only a small part of the feed will be grown on this quarter of an acre. Its value will consist rather in the Insect and vegetable food it will furnish, and in giving enough surface to scratch over, so that the soil will not become poisoned by the excrement of fowls, which Is the fruitful source of disease in small yards. Yet by sowing oats or wheat on this limited area it will pro vide both grain and insects for the nu triment of the fowls, with enough ol growing grain to make them digest their food well. If to this be added rations of fresh bone, it will not.need more to secure profitable returns. But in no case should more than fifty fowls be kept on one-quarter of an acre. Chapped Teats. Cracked or chapped teats often, give trouble to the milker on account of the pain given to the cow by the opening of the cracks during the milking. This is avoided and the sores healed by wash ing the teats in warm water and some pure soap, and after wiping them dry dressing them ;with pure vaseline. This softens the skin and avoids tearing open the sores, and thus affords relief to both the cow and the milker. These cracks or chaps may be avoided by milking with dry hands, a practice that should not be left unnoticed, at least so far as the wetting of the teats with milk by dipping the fingers In the pail to take up some of the milk. If it is 10 be done at all. there is no necessity to do it in this way, but the hands may be moistened by milking a little of the milk on them as it is drawn. But the practice is not to be condoned anyhow. If the milker must have something done and cannot milk without it, let pure vaseline be used. It will soften the teats and the milker's hands, and, if not used in excess, will do no harm in any way. It is excellent for preventing cracked teats in the winter, those re sulting mostly from wet milking. Ex change. Feeding Battermilk to Hoga. Many patrons of creameries and pri vate dairymen have often a larger sup ply of buttermilk than they have a rightful number of hogs for its con sumption. Where buttermilk is feu in too large quantity it generally causes colic and then scours more so in younger swine. The hair will become dead, and they grow pot bellied anc: flabby. While buttermilk, when fresh is a valuable food, properly fed, I wouI'J not take it as a gift if I had to feed tha; and nothing with it. If it has taken oo acidity to a large degree, as of tan cai not be avoided in hot weather, a table spoonful of soda to a gallon,well stirred in, proves very beneficial. It is always best, when pigs are on grass, to dilute it with water, and use to each twe quarts a quart o2 mill feed, corn and shorts.' Young pigs, such as are weaned, will do better, eight or ten o! them on two gallons of the mixture, fed twice a day. than if they received larger portions of pure milk. With older hogs, one must be guided by their ability to digest, but it is surely a mis take to feed the milk alone, more be when on grass. Theo. Louis. Limburger. Philadelphia Times: The only cheese that wt- Import to any extent from Germany is Limburg. or Lumburser. and even in that case by far the largest portion sold here is made in Wisconsin and New York. It doesn't make much difference about the keeping qualities of Limburg, for it is only relished by those who are really partial to it when it has reached that advanced stage of decomposition which makes it highly offensive to sensitive nostrils. The average German epicure does net consider Limburg fit to eat until it has become thickly peopled with a small white worm, which he seems to relish even more than he does the cheese. Skimmilk- is an excellent human food. It makes muscle. If the milk man can sell it for 2 cents a quart, that, will be equal to $1 per 100 pounds for it and at such a price he will realize good profit .The progressive milkman might educate his customers gradually to a realization of the value of skim milk food. rrsn CAM? rJ J RE SKETCHES. GOOD SHORT STORIES FOR THE VETERANS. An Aalmat That Wan Too Hani for Qraat to Manage A Path.tle Incldeat f Om of tha Battles of the Civil War Old Iroatldea.. Y, tear her tat tered ensign down! Long has It waved on high. And many an eye has danced .to see That banner In the sky; Beneath It rung the battle shout. And burst the cannon's roar; The meteor or the; ocean air il MML ) tho'xlsnisr tTT t Her deck, once red-with heroes' blood. Where knelt the vanquish'd foe, When winds were hurrying o'er the flood. And waves were white below. No more shall feci the victor's tread. Or know the conquer'd knee; The harpies of the shore shall pluck The eagle of the sea! O, better that her shatter'd hulk Should sink beneath the wave; Her thunders shook the mighty deep. And there should be her grave; Nail to the mast her holy flag. Set every threadbare sail. And give her to the god of storms The lightning and the gale! Swapping llore. General Horace Porter, in his "Cam paigning with Grant" in the "Cen tury," tells the following anecdote of his chief during a ride from Peters burg to City Point: Owing to the heat and dust, the long ride was exceedingly uncomfortable. Sly best horse had been hurt, and I was mounted on a bay cob that had a trot which necessitated no end of "saddle-pounding" on the part of the rider; and if distances are to be meas ured by the amount of fatigue endured, this exertion added many miles to the trip. The general was riding his black Pony "Jeff Davis." This smooth little pacer shuffled along at a gait which was too fast for a walk and not fast enough for a gallop, so that all the other horses had to move at a brisk trot to keep up with him. When we were about five miles from headquarters the general said to me in a joking way: "You don't look com fortable on that horse. Now I feel about as fresh as when we started out." I replied: "It makes all the differ ence in the world, general, what kind of horse one rides." He remarked: "Oh, all horses are pretty much alike as far as the com fort of their gait is concerned." "In the present instance," I answer ed, "I don't think you would like to swap with me, general." He said at once, "Why, yes; I'd just as lief swap with you a3 not"; and threw himself off his pony and mount ed my uncomfortable beast, while I put myself astride of "Jeff." The gen eral had always been a famous rider, cveu when a cadet at West Point When he rode or drove a strange horse, not many minutes elapsed be fore he and the animal seemed to un derstand each other perfectly. In my experience I have never seen a better rider, or one who had a more steady eeat, no matter what sort of horse he rode; but on this occasion it soon be came evident that his body and that of the animal were not always in touch, and he saw that all the party were considerably amused at the jogging to which he was subjected. In the mean time "Jeff Davis" was pacing along with a smoothness which made me feel as if I were seated in a rocking-chair. When we reached headquarters the general dismounted in a manner which showed that he was pretty stiff from the ride. As he touched the ground he turned and said with a quizzical look, "Well, I must acknowledge that animal is pretty jrough." Army Nickname. Of the numerous and amusing nick names that have been used in refer ence to noted generals, there are per haps none more fitting than those that were given to some of the commanders during the Civil War. Of these Gen. Grant and Gen. Thomas were more favored than their contemporaries. Uncle Sam, Uncon ditional Surrender, United States and United We Stand Grant have been the many interpretations of the initials of that general, and he was also called Old Three Stars, the number indicating his rank as lieutenant general. Gen. George H. Thomas was called Old SnowTrot and Pa Thomas by the Army of the Tennessee, Old Re liable, on account of his sterling na ture and his. steadfast purpose, but the name most familiar to us is the one that was given him when steadfast he stood in Frick's Gap, on the field of Chickamauga, after the column of both his flanks had given way before the torrent of Bragg'a onset; the hail of fire that swept the Union ranks moved him not a jot from his firm base, and the billow that swamped the rest of the field recoiled from him. "The rain descended and the floods came and beat upon that house, and it fell not for it was founded upon a rock." Therefore the soldiers of the Cumberland army were wont to call bim the "Rock of Chickamauga." The same battle was associated with Gen. James B. Steadman, whose sol diers called him Old Chickamauga as well as Old Steady. "Old" seems to have been rather a term of endearment than otherwise with the soldiers. Gen. Rosccrans was called Old Rosy. Stonewall Jackson Old Jack. Gen. Halleck Old Brains, and Old Tommy and Old Warhorse were both given to Gen. Thomas C. Devin, who commanded Devin's brigade dur ing the war of the Rebellion. Gen. P. T. Beauregard was called Old Bory; he superseded Bonham in command of the forces at Manassas, about the first of June, 1SG1, and the South Carolinans said one day, "Old Bory's come." Soon the Virginia troops had an opportunity of seeing this "Old Bory" who seemed so popu lar with the Palmetese. Little Napo leon was a name applied to him and to Gen. George B. McCIellan. Uncle Robert was a soubriquet bestowed up on Gen. Lee, and in turn he gave the name The Gallant to Maj. John Pel ham of the Confederate army. V I Gen. John A. Logaa was namou Black Jack and Jack of Spades, be cause of his long, black hair and dark complexion. Gen. Early was called the Bad Old Man by the Confederate troops; the German general, Fran Sigel, was called Dutchy; Syksey was the name of Gen. Sykes; Rhody was applied to Gen. Burnsides. he having been formerly colonel of the first Rhode Island regiment; Skln-antf-Bone was conferred on Gen. Mahone by the Confederate troops. Gen. Kllpatrick was called Kill, and Physics was given to Gem. Crawford by the Pennsylvania Reserves, he being a surgeon at the beginning of his military career. Superb was "a nickname given to Gen. Hancock from a remarK made by Gen. Meade at Gettysburg. vhen the second corps repulsed tangtsreet's men. One-Arsaed-Devl! and One-Anned-Phll was Phil Kearney called by the Confederates. Cockeye was a name given te Gen. Butler because one of his eyes was af tHeuwtthMhlwiimaadls cpk- nomen of Picayune Butler was given by the New Orleanaise. that being the well-known appellative of the catered barber in the basement of the St Charles. Stonewall Jackson was conferred on Gen. Thomas Jonathan Jackson, and the expression had its origin in the ap pellation 'used by the rebel Gen. Lee, on trying to rally his men at the battle of Bull Run. "There is Jackson stand ing like a Btonewall." and from that day he was known as Stonewall Jack son, and his command as Stonewall's bilgade. Louisa was a soubriquet given to Gen. Lew Wallace by the troops under his command. He was a great favorite for his fighting qualities, and the sol diers adopted that inapproprate name for want of a better one. Lillie C. Flint, in N. Y. Observer. Old Women as Prlnonew or War. Another paper from the jdurnals of the late E. J. Glave appears in the "Century," under the title of "New Conditions in Central Africa. "Mr. Glave thus describes some of the sights he saw at stations along Lake Tanganika: This anti-slavery move ment has its dark side also. The na tives suffer. In stations in charge of white men,' government officers, one sees strings of poor, emaciated old women, some of them mere skeletons, working from six in the morning till noon, and from half past two till six, carrying clay water-jars, tramping about in nangs with a rope around the neck, rind connected by a rope one and a half yards apart. They are prison ers of war. In war the old women are always caught, but should receive a little humanity. They are naked, ex cept for a miserable patch of cloth of several parts, held in place by a string about the. waist. They are not loos rncd from tbc rope for any purpose. They live in tte guard-bouse, under the charge cf Mack native sentries, who de'iight in eiapping and ill-using them, for ijfty is not in the heart of the native. Some of the women have babies, but they go to work just the same.' They form indeed a miserable spectacle, and one wonders that old women, although prisoners of var, should not receive a little more con sideration; at least their nakedness might be hidden. The men prisoners are treated in a far better way. Tank aad Johnny Reb. William Wilkerson, who was for many years jailer of Fayette county, and who was noted for fidelity to truth, says the Lexington Leaner, re lates the following pathetic inciileut of heroism which he witnessed shortly after the battle of Richmond, Ky., in 1S62: "A son of my friend, the Hon. Cas sitis M. Clay, was killed in the fight at Richmond and it was my duty to visit the battlefield to Identify the body and take it to his father's house. While riding slowly over the scene of the battle I heard groans which I was sure come from a cornfield near at hand. Looking down the corn rows I soon discovered two wounded soldiers lying about forty yards apart. One was a federal and the other was a con federate. A cannon ball had broken and terribly mangled both of the con federate's legs, while the federal was shot through the body and thigh. " 'I am dying for water,' I heard the federal say just as I discovered them. His words sounded as if they came from a parched mouth. " 'I have some water in my canteen. You are welcome to a drink if you'll come here,' said the confederate, who had feebly raised his head from the ground to look at his late enemy when he heard his pitiful cry for water. " 'I couldn't move to save my life groaned the federal, as he dropped his head to the ground, while his body quivered with agony. "Then 1 beheld an act of heroism which held mc spellbound until it was too late for me to give the assistance I should have rendered. The confed erate lifted bis head again and took another look at his wounded foe and I saw en expression of tender pity come over Ws pain-distorted face as he said: " 'Hold out a little longer, Yank, and I'll try to come to you.' Then the brave fellow, by digging his fingers in the ground and catching hold of the. cornstalks, painfully dragged himself to the federal's side, the blood from his mangled legs making a red trail the entire distance. The tears ran down my cheeks like rain and, out of sympathy for him, I, groaned every time he moved, but I was so lost to everything r-xcept tihe fellow's hero ism that I did not once think of help ing him. "When the painful journey wa3 fin ished he offered his canteen to the fed eral, who took it and drank eagerly, the water seeming to sizzle as it passed down hi3 parched throat. Then, with a deep sigh of relief, he reached out to the confederate, and It was plain to see as they clasped hands and looked into each other's eyes that whatever of hate may have rankled once in, the hearts of these men had now givpn place to mutual sympathy and love. Even while I watched them I saw the confederate's body quiver, as if in a spasm of pain, and when his head dropped to the ground I knew that a hero had crossed the dark river. The federal kitc?d the dead hero's band re peatedly and cried like a child until f had hjm removed to the hospital, where he, too. died the next day." THE OLD RKLIABLB. ColumbusStateBank (Oldest BsJnk in the State.) Fajs Iiteret Tiae Deptsib AXD Hats Lnu si Heal IditeL ISSITCS SMHT DRAFTS OS . Omaha, Chicago, New Yark All - - -v ,? """ !V'T"TS"-l; ' .-.. - i .- . i rwe . .) a Mj SELLS STEAMSHIP TICKETS. BUYS GOOD NOTES And helps its customers when they need hebj officers axi directors: Lkaxpkr Gerhard, Itcs'L R. If. Henry, Vice rres't. M. Bkugoer, Cashier. John- Staufker, Wji BuchebI COMMERCIAL BANK OF COLUMBUS. f nAS AX ANtiNriztJ Capital if Paii in Capital, - $500,000 90,000 erniRRM: C. n. SIIELDON. PreVt. IL P. II. OKIILKIl'H. Vlco Pres. DANIEL SOHRAM. Cashier. FRANK KORKU, Asst. Cash'r. a DIRECT RS: C. n. 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