Nebraska Newspapers

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VOLUME XXVIII.-NUMBER 5.
COLUMBUS, NEBRASKA. WEDNESDAY. MAY 12, 1897.
WHOLE NUMBER 1,409.
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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.
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