Decorah public opinion., November 29, 1895, Image 3

About Decorah public opinion. (Decorah, Winneshiek County [Iowa]) 1895-1928

Image provided by: State Historical Society of Iowa

                
THE CABINET CIRCLE. |
YOUNG WOMEN WHO ENJOY
ENVIED PRIVILEGES.
The Dsughten of William 1.. Wilson
Joat from School —Miss Harmon Will
Hblne This Reason —Miss Stevenson's
Absence.
Washington Correspondence.
HE family of the
Ll 1 postmaster general
have taken posses-
B * on °* their new
ft quarters. Mr. Wil
\ / \ jßs/Lm son did not rent a
furnished house,
but purchased a
handsome house on
\ Q street in a quiet,
but delightful part
of town, and in a
block which is full of delightful resi
dences. The exterior is of a dull green
stone and the front is shadowed by tall
trees, which make a delicious shade in
summer. The interior is in the new
style, with a large reception hall and
arches through which the vista of
rooms can be easily seen. It is in light
wood and with the pretty furnishings
makes a cozy home. Mrs. Wilson has
had nothing to do with the fixing up,
for her husband has forbidden her to
go Into the house until it is complete
throughout.
Mrs. Wilson is looking in excellent
health and those who remember her
last winter as the delicate invalid will
be surprised to find how much Improved
she has been in the last few months.
With renewed strength it is expected
that she will be able to perform her
duties as a cabinet lady without any
injury to her health. One of her sons,
young Allen, who is a fine-looking man
with pleasant manners, Is in the em
ploy of the Baltimore and Ohio railroad
and the rest of the young men in the
family are all doing well as business
men. The youngest daughter, Miss
Betty, Is now at school at the well
known Institute, Hollins’, in southwest
Virginia, but the other daughter, Miss
Mary, will be with her mother this sea
son.
Miss Mary Wilson spent last year at
Hollins, but has now finished school,
though she will not make her debut
this winter, but will remain at home
and take a finishing course of languages
and other accomplishments. In fact,
she is so young looking that she is yet
but a schoolgirl, but a most attractive
one, with her bright face, neat and
stylish figure set off by becoming dress
and pleasant, unpretentious manner.
She is the possessor of a well-rounded
little figure, her eyes are blue and her
hair light and her carriage is one of
easy grace. She is a typical southern
girl, with the hearty cordiality of her
race and brimming over with fun. It
is a very happy circle that will gather
around the new hearthstone of the
postmaster general, and there is In all
the land no more loving mother or
&ore devoted wife than Mrs. William L.
u Harmon and her family have
jUched town and are now safely
* *ed in their home on K street,
e .wo doors from the fine house in
Sherman resides. The
i of red brick, and is big and
It is handsomely furnished in
ii taste with all the luxury of
life and it is a dainty place,
air of comfort about the cozy
Mrs. Harmon has been busy
ting things to rights and has
it completed her task. Miss
las not been well for some
e is a debutante of last winter
e the rage this season as the
lady in cabinet circles. Mrs.
t a handsome woman with
inners and expects to take an
in social life here, as she is
lety. With her handsome
and her exquisite taste in
a conspicuous figure and a
trlking personality, gifted
onversatlonal powers,
of the wife of the vice
eported to be very poor,
the wife of a prominent
•n, recently heard from
and says that the rumor
i of the young daughter
ident, seems to be con
ne of Mrs. Stevenson's
tt, „lster of Mrs. Stev
a house in town this
ikely that the family
of the vice-president will remain at
their Old quarters at. the Normandie.
s * *
Since the day Vice-President Martin
Van Buren inherited the leadership of
the democratic party and the position
of president of the United States from
Old Hickory, Andrew Jackson, no vice
president or ex-vice-president of the
United States has been chosen by the
people to the presidency. Four vice
presideuts succeeded to the great office
by the deaths of presidents. But each
of these was unsuccessful in his desire
for nomination to succeed himself.
President John Tyler and the Whig
congress fell out over the question of
the national banks and a high protec
tive tariff, and the president himself
was soon closely affiliated with the
democratic party. He however, failed
to secure the nomination of the demo
cratic convention, but was unanimously
nominated at an independent whig
convention held in Baltimore. Many
prominent whigs and democrats ad
vised the president to accept this inde
pendent nomination, hoping, of course,
that the democratic candidate would be
withdrawn and that he might be in
dorsed, and some of them undoubtedly
thinking that, whether indorsed or not,
he might be elected on the independent
ticket.
"I have been told that I could carry
Michigan on the independent whig
ticket,” said President Tyler at the
white house to a famous old time whig
politician of Michigan who is still liv
ing, hale and hearty, in his early nine
ties.”
"The Angel Gabriel could not carry
Michigan on an independent ticket,” re
plied the loyal but ingenuous Michigan
man.
“What states could I carry?" asked
the president.
“Not one, without democratic In-
dorsement, although with it you could
be elected.”
""President Tyler afterward declined
this independent nomination and was
never again a candidate for the presi
dency. President Millard Fillmore, who
succeeded to the place by reason of the
death of Zachary Taylor, was also hope
ful of a nomination at the hands of the
Whig convention, but that body was
carried away by the glamor of the name
and fame of Gen. Winfield Scott. Four
years later the ex-vice president and
president was nominated by the Na
ilve-American party for president, but
MISS STEVENSON.
he tailed the list of candidates at the
polls.
It is, therefore, a rather curious cir
cumstance that fifty years after the
campaign in which a vice-president was
last advanced to the presidency, the
present vice-president of the United
States and the only living ex vice-presi
dent should both be candidates for the
nomination of their respective parties.
Vice-President Stevenson has been
from the beginning of his term of of
fice regarded by his many friends
throughout the country as a promising
candidate for the next Democratic pres
idential nomination. The election of ex-
Vice-President Morton to the gover
norship of the state of New York and
the recent remarkable success of Thos.
C. Platt, who ts Gov. Morton’s great
supporter, in retaining his leadership
in New York, has brought the gover
nor’s name to the front among the Re
publican candidates.
“Sir, I need a change.” Head of Firm
—All right. Try getting down to the
office at 8:30 every morning Instead of
10.
VETERANS’ CORNER.
GOOD SHORT STORIES FOR THE
OLD HEROES.
“Antlctam,” s Poem by T. C- Hsrbtngh
Battle of the Sabres —Some Kid Glove
Heroes—General for Five Minutes —
Sparks From Campfire.
OR you who stood
th at autumn
- day
Amid the smoke
of war,
i 9 And held above
the bloody fray
The banner of
the star.
I’d weave a death-
Ml# less wreath of
fame,
A wreath or fadeless hue,
I'd crown it with Antletam’s name,
O, wearers of the Blue.
The stripling who amid the fray
With cherished comrade stood,
And saw the war cloud roll away
From dark Antietam’s wood.
Has furrowed brow and silver hair,
His gait, perchance, is slow,
But still a boy he battled there—
A “Gypsy”* long ago.
No more he guards the silent camp
Upon the foeman’s ground;
No more with restless, stately tramp,
He makes his nightly round;
At home with grandchild on his knee
He tells in shade and sun.
How once in Maryland from Lee
Antietam’s field was won.
His comrades sleep around the tree
Beneath the starry dome;
A requiem sings the restless sea
For those who come not home;
For them no drums of battle beat
Advance or overthrow;
For them no bugle sounds retreat,
No dreams of skulking foe.
To-day I’d crown with poet’s wreath
The brave, the good, the true,
Who faced the fire-swept lines of
death
In Freedom’s holiest Blue —
Who stood in battle side by side
Before the hosts of Lee,
And saw with dark and crimson tide,
Antietam seek the sea.
Ere long the sweetest bloom of May,
Star-kiss'd will softly lie
Upon the brave who stood that day
'Neath Maryland’s azure sky;
But gratitude their fame will speak.
And love their deeds will crown,
As long as fair Antietam’s creek
Flows past old Sharpsburg’s town.
♦Nickname of the regiment.
—-T. C. Harbaugh in Army Magazine.
General for Five Minute*.
A cobbler who mended my shoes was
named Bigly, and he was always called
“general,” which somehow did not com
port with my idea of the cobbler. True,
he had been a soldier during the whole
of the rebellion, but just what kind of
a soldier I did not know. True, also,
be had lost his leg at Gettysburg, but
it w r as a dozen years after the war in
the accidental upset of a traction en
gine dragging a threshing machine into
a field.
Still he was “General Bigly” in the
common parlance and one day I asked
him about It.
“Weren’t you in the army?” I in
quired.
“Yes, sir,” he answered, proudly and
promptly.
“See much fighting?”
“From April, ’6l, to September, ’65.”
“I notice that everybody calls you
‘general.’ What was your rank? Were
you a general?”
“I was in command of the Army of
the Potomac, sir,” he said, as truthfully
in tone as any man I ever heard speak.
“Oh, come,” I laughed, “I never heard
of a Gen. Bigly in command of that
army. You are giving me gufT, as the
boys say.”
“It’s true as gospel,” he insisted.
“Tell me about it, if it’s all the same.”
"Well, you see, it was this way,” he
said, pegging away at the shoe in his
lap and not looking squarely at me. “1
was in the Army of the Potomac when
Gen. Grant took charge and I was a
sergeant. You see, I used to know
the general out in Galena when he
wasn’t so much, and he was mighty
friendly with me and made me his or
derly. I used to go every place with
him, ridin’ over the field and that kind
of thing, and sometimes there wasn’t
nobody but me and the general ridin'
around for miles together. Well, one
day we had rode out along the road and
we come to a little place where a man
lived that could make the finest mint
julep in the whole state of Virginy. I
knowed about the place, and so did the
general, and when we struck it I could
kinder see his mouth waterin’, fer mint
Juleps didn’t grow on trees in them
days In Virginy. When we got opposite
the gate the general sorter stopped his
boss and looked over at me, and I shut
down one eye soft and easy.
“ ‘Bill,’ says he, he always called me
Bill in private, ’Bill, will you do me a
favor?’
“ 'Anything on top of earth, general,'
says I. ‘'What is it?'
“ ‘Will you be kind enough to take
command of the army while I go in
here and get a mint julep?’
“ ‘Of course I will, general,” says I,
straightening my back as if I had a
ramrod stuck down it, and cornin’ to a
salute.
“ ‘Thanks,’ says he, ‘and please hold
my hoss at the samo time.’
"Then lie went in, and for about fif
teen minutes set there on ray hoss like
Napoleon crossin’ the Rubicon, and was
i in command of the Army of the Poto
mac, and ever since that time the boys
have called me ’general,• and I didn’t
see any use of saying they shouldn’t.”
It didn’t occur to me to ask the "gen
eral” for an affidavit to back this rathet
remarkable story of his, but I fancy if
I had asked he would have readily fur
nished me one, for the “general” wasn’t
a man to let a little thing like an affi
davit interfere with a war tale. —Wash-
ington Star.
Custer and Kosser.
Oct. 9. 1864. Sheridan let loose his
cavalry upon the much lauded defend
ers of the valley of the Shenandoah.
When Sheridan’s army retreated* from
Strasburg toward the Potomac, after its
famous march of destruction, Rosser
with a fresh brigade brought up from
Petersburg and decked out in advance
with laurel wreaths as a promise of vic
tory, harassed the Union rear until
the commander’s patience gave out.
Halting the infantry near Tom’s Brook,
Sheridan told Torbert to turn back
with his cavalry and either whip Ros
ser or get whipped himself. The Con
federate corps then on the ground com
prised Rosser’s and Lomax’s com
mands, two divisions. Torbert sent
Custer after Rosser and Merritt after
Lomax. Sheridan took his post upon
Round Top, an elevation overlooking
Tom’s Brook, to witness the combat.
The ground was open country, invit
ing a sabre fight, and both side 3
seemed inclined to settle it that way.
Rosser’s men stood the onslaught of
Custer’s squadrons for a time and in
some places vigorously returned the
charge. The Eighteenth Pennsylvania
cavalry led Custer’s column in skir
mishing order. It was closely followed
by the Eighth New York. When the
lines closed in, these men plied their
swords mercilessly upon the gunners,
who tried to defend their pieces. Pri
vates Fry and Allen of the Eighteenth
each sabred a Confederate driver, re
ceiving wounds in return, but both
captured the prizes aimed for —two of
Rosser’s cannon. In the First Vermont
Color Sergeant Wright impaled a Con
federate trooper with the spear of his
flagstaff. Eleven cannon fell to Tor
bert as trophies of the day. That
made 32 taken from General Jubal
Early’s forces within a month. Some
of the guns taken by the cavalry were
fresh from the Tredegar Iron works at
Richmond, and when the next ship
ment was made a wag suggested that
the pieces be marked, “P. H. Sheri
dan, care of General Early.” After
routing the Confederates, Torbert pur
sued them at a gallop for 26 miles.
Sorne Kid Gloved Hero**
Oct. 8 was the date of the battle of
Perryville (1862). One of the Confeder
ate regiments noted for gallantry there
was Maney’s First Tennessee, nick
named for obvious reasons by rough
and ready fellows from the hills “The
Kid Gloved Regiment.” Ahead of the
Tennesseeans, on the grand charge that
day, stood Parson’s eight-gun bat
tery of Napoleons. An open field
stretched in front, and Parsons had a
clean sweep, using canister at ninety
paces. The sun was in the eyes of the
Tennesseeans, but they forged ahead
and quickly shot down Gen. Jackson,
who was helping Parsons. The infan
try supporting the guns began to shoot
at 100 paces, but the Tennesseeans sim
ply closed the gaps in their ranks and
rushed into the battery.
Behind the broken line was a second
one, where Stone’s and Bush’s batteries
were lying low for close work—grape at
ten paces. In front was a cornfield
packed with Union riflemen, who pep
pered the Tennesseeans while gradually
retiring upon the guns. The colonel of
the kid gloved fellows asked the honor
of taking care of Stone’s guns. It was
granted, and the men advanced, firing.
They shot down thirty-five horses and
many gunners, and placed their hands
on the pieces, but the supports rallied
and drove them out. Col. Patterson
and fifty men fell in that charge. At
the foot of the slope the line rallied and
charged again up to the guns. Again
they were overwhelmed and driven out.
At the second rally only ninety-five
muskets were counted out of 350 that
entered the fight. Four of Parson’s Na
poleons were given to the Tennesseeans
as trophies and the names of their dead
engraved upon them. The “kid glove”
slur had become obsolete.
Prince and Peanunt Fell.
Oct. 9,1779, two heroes of the Revolu
tion, Gen. Count Pulaski and Sergt.
William Jasper, enriched the same soil
with their blood at the storming of
Spring hill redoubt, Savannah. The
French admiral. D’Estaing, rode at the
head of the column and fell at the first
fire. Beside him was the valiant Pole,
leading the American column with his
legion of horse-back braves. He was
shot at the abatis. Next came Marlon’s
Carolinians, the Swamp Fox at their
head. They pressed onward, passed tho
abatis and leaped the ditcL, Jasper
planting the national colors upon the
exterior crest of the parapet. The
British on the walls swept the ditch
with a withering cross fire and both
standard bearers in the French column,
aids of D’Estaing, were killed. Finally
the regimental colors of Marion’s men
sank in the hands of its wounded guard
ian. leaving Jasper alone with his flag.
He was sinking under a wound, but ral
lied strength to climb to the crest of the
wall and fix the staff in position where
it would flaunt the banner defiantly in
the face of the British. In doing so he
received a fatal wound and rolled back
ward into the ditch.
She Laughed.
George— You are not calling on Miss
Rosebud any more, eh?
Jack— No, I am disgusted. Shq has
such a coarse laugh.
George—l never noticed that.
Jack—You would If you’d been with
in hearing when I proposed to her.
Young folks tell what they do; old
ones what they have done, and fools
what they will do.
OIIR BUDGET OF FUN.
A FRESH COLLECTION OF HIH TICK
LERS.
Echoes From the Den* of the Fun
nlent Funny Men—Life’s Freaks anti
Foibles Furnish Ample Food for
Mirth Provokers.
He—A fellow I know bought a ring,
the other day, and he wants to get a
woman's opinion about it.
She—A diamond?
He—Oh, yes. He bought it for the
girl lie’s going to marry.
She—l see. And you have brought it
around for me to look at.
He —Precisely. You see, he wanted
to be sure it was right.
She—Sensible man! He wasn’t will
ing to take his own judgment, but
wanted that of a woman.
He—That’s it. Will you—
She—With pleasure. Ah! that looks
like a beautiful stone. Tell me about
your friend. He must be an independ
ent fellow to go off and buy the ling
without consulting the lady.
He—He is. He believes that if bo
bits upon the right thing himself, she
xVill respeet him all the more.
She—examining the stone earefullr.
and then putting it on her little liugof.j
And yet he wants to be sure?
He—Yes. He loves her so much that
he wants her to be perfectly happy
with it.
She —How considerate!
He—He tries to be. What do you
thiuk of the ring?
She—lt’s lovely, but—
Ho (eagerly)—But what?
She (blushing)—But. can’t you see.
it’s too small.—Tom Mason in Harper's
1 Bazar.
Not Literary.
He—But your father isn't literary
and doesn't know a good thing when
he sees it.
She —Just the same, he can write
forty cheeks that will be accepted and
you can’t write one. The bank knows
a good thing when it sees it. even if
he doesn’t
A Cane of Doff Knt Don,
A gentleman in Santa Rosa has a
grown son at school in Oakland who
spends more than his monthly allow
ance. His last letter to his father is
a “corker." It is as follows:
“Dear Papa: I have to ask you for
a few dollars, and I don’t know how
to express myself. If you could see
how I blush with embarrassment you
would give me S2O without me telling
you.
“I send you this by , who is vis
iting Santa Rosa over Sunday. He
will wait for an answer. Your affec
tionate sou.
“P. S. —Overcome with shame for
what I have written, I have been run
ning after the messenger to take the
letter from him, but I cannot catch
up with him. 1 hope ray letter will be
lost.”
His father was naturally touched,
but was equal to the emergency. He
replied as follows:
“M|y Dear Son: Console yourself
and blush no longer. The messenger
lost your letter. Your affectionate
father.”—Santa Rosa Democrat.
Dlaconrnffed.
“Who is that sour-looklng man who
is always sitting on that box doiug
nothing?” asked the drummer.
“He’s the man that knows all about
how to settle every trouble that the
country gits into,” replied the native,
with an admiring glance.
“But why doesn’t he get up and hus
tle, then?”
“He’s mad,” was tlie awestricken
whisper. “He told congress and the
president and everybody how to do
things and they don't pay no ’tention
to ’iun, and now he’s jes’ settin’ in si
lence and lettin’ the country go to
pip Washington Star.
Wife—Georgio, dear, what would
you do if I were to die?
Husband —Don’t speak of such a
thing. 1 would !m> desperate.
Wife—Do you think you would mar
ry again?
Husband—Well, n—no; I don't think
I would be as desperate as all that.
Illustrated Pai>er.
It Wtaa a Klmm.
“The wretch!” cried the girl, “kissed
me.”
“Surely,” they exclaimed, exchang
ing glances of alarm, “you must be
mistaken.”
“No.’ ’she said, “I cannot be mistak
en. The microscope revealed the char
acteristic bacillus.”
She had had her doubts in the begin
ning, but a bacteriological examination
had discovered beyond the possibility
of cavil that she had been kissed.—De
troit Tribune.
Dead Easy.
Before the eyes of the doomed man
the fatal knife is tested. At a mero
touch it swiftly descends.
The victim cannot forbear to shud
der.
“You take life all-fired easy," ho
mutters hoarsely.
The executioner presses his hand to
his brow. Luckily he has placed it
cabbage leaf in his lint to protect him
from a sudden rush of blood to tho
head.—Detroit Free Press.
After the Robbery,
First Train Roblier—'Why in thunder
didn’t you go through that Pullman
car?
Second Ditto—You forget, chief, that
there is a porter there.
Only Hearsay Testimony.
Colonel l’erry Yerger—So I’ve caught
you smoking cigarettes! You are only
fifteen years old, and indulge in all
kinds of vices.
Tommy Yerger—But, father, you
should remember that you were a boy
once, yourself.
Colonel Yerger—l was, eh? How did
you come to find that out? What do
you know about my boyhood? Did you
ever see me smoke when 1 was a boy?
—Texas Siftings.
Not Plain.
“Mabel.” said the summer girl’s
mother, “that young man writes very
nice letters. But I wish that his chi
rograpliy were a little less ol>scure.”
“Why, mamma?"
“I can’t quite make out whether he
says he looks forward to the time
when he will be ‘oscillating in a bam
mock’ or ‘osculating in a hammock.’ ”
—Washington Star.
lit* Didn't.
“John Jones, what do you mean by
getting into such a condition? Say
‘Smith's spirit tlask split Philip’s sis
ter’s skull.’ ’’
“Wo’ do a’y snsh shing! Shan't
shay, ‘Smith spish frash fish sish-sh
sh.’ Wha’ for 1 sluiy thasli? Won’tl*’
“That’s all right. You didn’t.’’—
Richmond Dispatch.
Not in Hl* Line.
They were telling of books that they
had read, and the man with the high
forehead asked what the other thought
of the “Origin of Species.”
The other said he hadn't read it.
“In fact,” he added, “I am not inter
ested in financial subjects.”—Bostoji
j Transcript.
Good Advice,
Son—As I am about to enter on my
career as an M. D„ father, what motto
would you have me observe?
Father—Live and let live.—Harper’*
Bazar.
The Trump's HevenKr-
Housekeeper—Here, you! Just you
leave, or I’ll set the dog—
Tramp—Please, mum—
“ Get out, 1 say.”
“Yes, mum. I'll go if you want me to.
I only dropped in to tell ye of a new
and sure cure for freckles and red
hair, mum. Good-day, mum.”—New
Yorw Weekly.
Tented.
Fillison tells me that if he had had
an idea how much bicycling strength
ened the knees he would have begun
long before he did.”
••Well. Fillison ought to know what
he is talking about, llis fiance©
weighs nearly 100 pounds.”—lmlianap
olis Journal.
Wlint Stic (inve Ip.
i Husband—l have made all sorts of
sacrifices for you. Now, what did you
ever give up for me?
Wife What did 1 ever give up for
you? Why. 1 gave up half a dozen of
the nicest young men in town.—New
York Weekly.
Simply nn Krror
“I fancy, Justine, that my coffee is
much stronger to-day than usual.”
"Please, sir. 1 must have made a
mistake and brought you the servants’
coffee!"—L’Evenement.
Menu.
t She—l>o you pretend to have as
good Judgment as I have?
lie—W**ll, no; our choice of jwtrtners
for life shows that my judgment can
not be compart'd to yours,—Boston
Globe.