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BRAVE COMRADE COX.
How He Saved Himself and Another
One Decoration Day.
f N A little Pacific const
town a few year ago
lived an old grand
army man who was as
unique a character as
ever shouldered a gun
or wore the blue. Cle
nientc Cox was a liv
ing relic of our civil
war. He might prop-
i i v...
P T T tf 11 UVII VUIIVVJ
hardy olil name was
not all that it had
been before he first
made it a turgot for confederate guns. He
Raid there had been enough of hiiikshot away
to rnuke another fair-sized soldier. And
yet to see him get around one would not
think there was much of him missing.
Sad to relate, Clemente had a weakness
which brought him into disrepute. He had
an unappeasable yearning for fiery drink.
John Uarley-Corn was his master, and un
der Ilia baneful powerjioor Clemente's life
had become well-nigh a wreck. To such a
pass had his insatiable thirst for burning
beverages reduced him that he was often
times thrown upon the charity of friend
mid the grand army post in which he still
claimed membership. Ilia wife, poor wom
an, was in despair over him and feared that
some awful end awaited him. He contrib
uted but little to the maintenance of the
household, and Bhe was afraid that would
be taken from her. With tears in her eyes
she would say: "We were not always so
poor. When we first came to California
wt were quite well off and had things rea
nice, but Clemente took to drinking and got
out of work, and things went from bad to
worse, until now we haven't enough to keep
soul and body together. Clemente used to
have some self-r&pect and kept himself as
straight as anybody, folks used to call
him 'Col. Cox,' but now it's 'Old Cox.' Ah,
me, when a man gets to going down-hill you
can't Ktop him with a barb-wire tence.
Thus the sorrow-laden soul would relieve
hersolf of a mite of her misery and enlist
the aid of sympathizing friends, without
which her existence would have been
wholly devoid of cheer.
At rare intervals Clemente would brace
up without the aid of spirituous stimula
tion. and his old-time manhood would mo.
uientarily assert itself. He was a good sort
at the core, and in his semi-colons of sobriety
would rail upon himself for his "hog-headed
low dowuishness," as he termed his way
wardness. For a brief period he would be
"a mau and a soldier ugain, but the seduc
tive stream which sweeps so many human
wrecks down into the sea of sorrow would
swirl around him again and his sadly im
paired strength of purpose would succumb
to the terrible tide.
Hut there was one day in the year upon
which Clemente would always be found
iobcr and right minded. Ihat was JJeco
ration day. He would bring out his old
shot-worn suit of blue, which all the rest of
the year reposed in camphorated security
in a closet, and smooth it out tenderly and
reverentially. W ith it on, and a gen
eral cleaning up, the old soldier would
"hist up his 60 years, and give
folks something of an idea of how
he looked when he fought, bled and all but
died for the union. He could throw off
some of the years for the time, but he
couldn't limber up that stiffened leg that
had Btouned a confederate bullet nor con
ceal a livid scar across his temple that bore
witness to the deadly work of a southern
THE BRAVE RESCUE.
saber. Yet when his old "comrades" got in
line for a parade, Clemente would throw out
his chest and mark tune as chipperly as the
youngest of them.
It w-as while on parade one Decoration day
that Clemente was suddenly transformed
' from a despised vagabond into an honored
'hero, and his course in tife changed for the
better. On that day nature had put on
her best garb as if in celebration of the
event, and seemed to vie with men in efforts
to fittingly emblazon the earth with bril
liant tributes to the glory of the departed
heroes of the nation. The town whs gor
geous with beautiful blossoms and bright
banners, and the holiday spirit presided over
all. Civic and military authorities had
made preparations for a record-breaking
celebration, and the grand army posts
turned out to a man.
The city hall was the first center of inter
est, as it was there that the patriotism of
the public speakers was to be on tap at
the beginning of the day's programme. Ited
faced, loud-voiced orators regaled the pop
ulace with lofty flights of pyrotechnical elo
quence, and proudly puffed and panted
amidst the rolling waves of applause that
all but overwhelmed thera. Prominent cit
izens were out in force, in carriages and
afoot, to take part in the grand procession,
which was to be the principal feature of the
day, and women and children thronged
the streets gay with the colors of "Old
Truly, such a turn-out had never before
been witnessed in the town on any occasion,
and the hearts of the gray veterans were
filled to overflowing at the splendid demon
stration in honor of their old-time comrades
who slept beneath the sod. And fuller
and prouder than all the rest was Com
rade Cox as be took his place in line
when the procession was forming. Hut
it was not with the juice of the corn that
he was full this time. It was pure
patriotism and pride, and so full was
he of his feelings that he could not con
tain himself, and tbnt wa9 why he over
flowed at the eyes, and bright drops rolled
down his furrowed cheeks and dripped off
the ends of his grizzled beard.
"Atlenlion, company!" was the com
mand. "Forward march! and the creaky
joints of the old campaigners limbered up
to the inspiring strains of "Marching
Through Georgia." Crowds of cheering peo
ple lined the streets on both sides, and door
ways and windows were choked with women
waving nags and handkerchiefs, .through
the principal thoroughfares marched the pro
cession and out toward the main cemetery,
just beyond the outskirts of the town.
bile the enthusiasm of the people was
at its highest there came agonizing screams
from a number of women who were seated
in a family carriage at the intersection of
one of the cross streets. The horses became
frightened at the band and the general up
roar, and reared up and bolted, nearly upset
ting the carriage, throwing its occupants to
the ground, all but one, a young girl of
about 12 years, who clung desperately to
the seat as the team (lushed wildly inte the
midst of the procession.
1 here was a wild scramble in the ranks of
the old veterans as the horses plunged
through their section of the line. They
broke ranks in the wildest disorder and
jumped aside to save themselves, only one
of their number remaining in the path of the
plunging horses. I hat one was Comrade
Cox. They thought his "Wilderness leg
had anchored him, or that perhaps he was
BORNE ALONG IN TRIUMPH.
too dazed to move. But no, that wasn't
it. for he threw up his hands and grasped
the bridles just as the horses were right upon
him. He was swept along by the animals in
their wild charge to what seemed certain de
struction'. A sudden hush came upon the people, and
for a moment they gazed awe-struck at the
tragedy that seemed to be impending. In
another instant the cooler minds began to
act, and several men sprang after the run-,
away team, which, being hampered in its
movements by the weight of Clemente at
the bits, had not made much headway. The
maddened animals were soon overtaken and
brought up with a turn. Then the people
swarmed about the trembling horses, ex
pecting to see a maimed and broken man,
but they beheld Clemente still clutching the
lines and appealing to somebody to look
after the girl in the carriage, who had faint
ed from fright and fallen from the seat.
When it was found that nobody was in
jured a tremendous shout went up for Cle
mente. He was picked up and borne upon
the shoulders of his comrades back into
line and ' was not permitted to march an
other step that day. A platform was ex
temporized and carried by a dozen vete
rans, upon which he was borne like a con
quering hero. After the exercises at the
cemetery he rode back to town in the car
riage of his post commander, and was the
recipient of marked attention upon every
hand. But the greatest honor to his mind
that was conferred upon him was the set
of resolutions and a badge for life saving
presented to him by his post, und a return to
That was the turning point in Clemente's
downward career, and old as he was, he
said he was going to begin life all over again.
He stuck to his guns, and the man who
thereafter absently invited Comrade Cox
to "have something" met with a very blunt
refusal. FRANK II. WELCH.
Their Fame Coes Marching On.
There are more graves to decorate this
year than last, and the grass is just begin
ning to grow upon some of them. The heads
of the survivors are grayer, too, and their
steps less firm. Those who were boys when
the first shot was fired at Sumter, who were
raw recruits at Bull Bun and who won their
spurs at SWloh, were sober men when the war
was over. (Such a conflict leaves abiding
traces on heart and bruin and strikes the
youth forever out of the soldier. Thus it
was that hardship and privation, as well as
wounds, sent home many a prematurely
aged man. That was 33 years ago, and they
have been dropping steadily by the wayside.
Surely it must have cheered them to see the
yearly "tribute so gladly paid to their old
comrades and to know that on the nation's
roll "dead" and "forgotten" are not eyu
Antietam Battlefield Park.
Old soldiers who participated in the battle
of Antietam will be interested to learn that
the work of making a park like that at Get
tysburg and Chickamauga on that historic
field is very well advanced. Since Col.
George W. Davis, of the army, took charge
as superintendent work has been pushed rap
idly and with more economy, it is said, than
in nny similar enterprise. The battle field,
naturally a beautiful landscape, is now bi
sected with good macadamized roadways, a
handsome, observatory has been erected,
from which the lines of battle have been
marked by competent engineers after con
sultation with those who were engaged in
the fight, and permanent tablets have been
erected at several points to identify spots of
unusual interest. William K. Curtis.
Milllons Honor the Day.
See what a marvel 30 years can accomplish!
Some three decades ago a few faithful and
patriotic souls conceived the idea of a day
devoted to the decorating of the soldiers'
graves. The idea struck fire in responsive
souls, and now it has spread until it calls
millions to its aid. Flowers are dedicated
to its uses in every town and hamlet in the
land and eager eyes watch the bursting of
each bud, lest it be not blown in time. Ten
der hands lay the blossoms on the silent
breasts of the brave, and so the spirit of
patriotism marches on!
The Lesson of the Day.
What a beautiful parable one may read
iu this sweet custom of decorating the sol
diers' graves with flowers! The seeds them
selves, buried in darkness all winter long, have
freshly sprung into beauty and fragrance.
So the sacrifice of these heroic lives has
burst into peace and a national love so strong
that nothing more can break it. The bleak
cod of January is covered now with fresh
grass, its biades glistening in the sun, just
as sectional hate is buried under the rain
bow glory of a united Bag, forever.
HAIL DECORATION DAY.
Carland the Craves of the Dead and
Cheer the Living Heroes.
H EY are missing!
Call the roll, 0 sol
dier! Ah! the miss
ing, what a long, long
list of names.
Where are they?
Ask of Manassas, of
burg, Yicksburg, Get
tysburg, C hi c k a
and the fifteen hun
dred ot her battlefields
of the long ago.
But these do not
account for the miss
ing all, great as was
the carnage. Where is the remainder of
those millions of heroic men who fought so
well and who endured so much for the sacred
cause of liberty? The survivors are many,
but the roster of the dead is greater.
' Here we have the pathetic side of Deco
ration day. I he youngest of the soldier
braves of the civil war, the beardless, rosy
cheeked innocent boys who helped to storm
the heights of Lookout mountain, those of
them that are living, have passed into the
autumn days of graying hair and gathering
wrinkles, l or a full generation has passed
since the last act at Appomattox. Thirty
three years! These boy heroes have man
ned, and their sons have soub of their own,
who listen with bated breath to the ftir-
In sweetest brotherhood
We scatter the buds of May
Let the flowers fall over one and alL
For we know no blue nor gray.
ring tales of the former days told by their
Ah! in those passing 33 years do we find
the other missing. What a frightful gap
have they made in the ranks of what formed
the great review at Washington!
Year by year the number grows smaller.
It is a law no man may escape that age must
come on, and in age there is death. They
who escaped the fetid breath of deadly dis
ease, the cannon shock, the bayonet thrust,
the saber stroke, so many of them have
gone to the everlasting sleep of the brave.
The great leaders, but a few of them re
main. Of the others, the ranks grow thin
ner and thinner, and so it must be, year by
year, until it shall be said: "Of the great
armies of the union of 1861-1863 not one man
Yes, yes, 0 pained spirit; but the cause re
mains and the victory is immortal. Man
may perish from the face of the earth, for
it is appointed unto all men once to die.
But deeds that are good are as the stars
whose glory light endures forever. The
cause that is righteously fought and fairly
won shall be as the eternal day that has no
The last soldier may die, but Decoration
day shall live until the republic shall be
no more. . Just as long as man loves lib
erty, just as long as the free institutions of
this country exist, so long shall the people,
and all the people, love those heroic men
who endured all things to confirm the heri
tage received from the fathers of the nation.
The soldiers may age and die, but the
"Memory Day" of the republic brightens and
quickens, and with more glowing flame, as
the passing years reveal in strange color
ing the priceless victory that was won by
their courage and patience.
Causes that are just are oftentimes but
poorly or but barely won. But the heroes
of our war did not give over effort until
the last enemy was conquered, and they who
live have seen the former foemen trans
formed into champions and defenders of
the union they once thought to destroy.
The work is complete. The structure shall
Hail the day! Garland the graves of the
dead with flowers. Let eloquent men re
peat the story of their heroism, and tell
the value of their conquest. And let the
children and the children's children forever
hallow this one duy set apart by a grateful
people to commemorate deeds so glorious as
to be breathed into by immortality.
WILLIAM ROSSICK COBBE.
A Day of Proud and Tender Memo
ries, Not of Bitterness.
nAY 30 is Memorial day a day
devoted to memories of one of
the greatest struggles in his
tory and to ceremonies in honor
of those who fought in defense of the union.
All the people of the war period made great
sacrifices and carried burdens of sorrow anil
trouble, but, by common consent, those who
served in the army were given first place in
the hearts of the people. It seems almost
beyond belief, says a recent writer, that for
four years the nation was like an armed
camp and that the largest and most perfect
ly equipped armies of modern times fought
for and against a principle through four
years of fierce war. It seems almost as un
real as a picture from some old romance thut,
after scores and hundreds of battles, the
great contest ended with the historic scene
at Appomattox, in the triumph of the cause
of the union, and that at a wave of the hand
of him who said: "Let us have peace," two
great armies dissolved into compact bodies
of citizens pledged to the same principle of
government, there were defeats for both
sides during the war. This is not a da;
to recall these, mere were as many
victories for either side, as many battles
that hung in the balance. This is not a day
to enlarge upon those. The struggle ended
in a more perfect union, in a reunited peo'
pie, in a stronger, greater nationality, and
tiiis makes preeioiiB every memory of the
fiery ordeal through which the nation passed
and out of which it came with chastened
spirit, but with higher ideals.
When Memorial day was instituted, there
were those who feared it would become one
of bitter memories, and that its observance
would rekindle the fires of sectional hate.
The fears were groundless. No resentment
or bitterness is associated with the day,
Those who won and those who failed in the
war are agreed as to the sum total of achieve
ment represented in the country as it stands
to-dny under one flag. They are agreed as
to the cournge and endurance of those who
fought, and join in the aspirations of an ex
ultant American citizenship.
This is the spirit of Memorial day. Those
who meet, or join in ceremonials, to honor
the memories of those who fell or those who
fought in the battles for the union pay a
tribute well deserved. In reverting to the
memories of the war, they strengthen the
bonds of union and take new lessons in pa
triotism. It is a day of proud and tender
memories, not of resentment and bitterness.
Honoring the Noble Dead.
Thousands of women are at work deco
rating the graves, proud to do honor to the
noble dead. These women have the fame
spirit which in the dark days of the 'ISO's
cheered on the heroes who placed their lives
inthe balance of the nation's honor. Theirs
is now the happier task of showing respect
where it is due. of showing gratitude to those
who have made freedom and peace the
watchwords of our country!
THEY SLEEP IN PEACE.
, , ..
Clory Cuards with Ardor True the
Silent Hosts In Blue.
O MORE on high
t b e I r pennons
wave, no more
No longer stands the
phalanx grim he
fore ihe valiant
Virginia's rivers, as
they seek the far
off seas of sun,
Beneath their rose
embowered camps in con
s c 1 o u s beauty
They rest who 'neath Old Glory stood on
many a fateful oay,
And some are camping close beside the foe
who wore the gray;
And over all the robin sings, the daisy lifts
And Nature's richest blessings are upon
the sleepers shed.
They sleep who often watched at night the
glowing nres of Lee,
They dream no more of that great march
that ended at the sea:
Potomac's waves no more are red, and on
the mountain's crest
Where glared the sullen guns of war the
eagle builds her nest;
The hosts of blue are camping yet beneath
the pines of Maine,
They sleep where peep the buttercups
above the southern plain;
No picket lines to guard their camps, no
sentries brave and true,
For Death hath beat for every one his grim
and last tattoo.
I see the long camps stretching from the
far-off western wave
To where Atlantic's billows chant their
dirges for the brave;
stand at Arlington and look adown the
Where not a drum Is beating In that camp
beneath the pines;
The buds that dot the wilderness, the
snowy crest.? of foam
Pay tribute to the gallant men who never
more came home;
From myriad hands each sunny May, our
grateful country through,
Fall Glory's fadeless Immortelles upon the
dead In blue.
Methlnks I see their sabers as they flashed
In battle's sun,,
seem to see the warlight fall on bayonet
Before the farm-house gate I stand and
listen for their tread,
Forgetting that the mighty camps are
guarded by the dead;
They wear the blue, but 'neath the rose
they're camping where they died,
The sunny waves of Shenandoah around
their head-stones glide;
The pines of Georgia cast In shade, the
long, long summer through,
The everlasting camping ground of those
who fought in blue.
Where stood theerrled sections once no
nre-ut rivers now,
Between the gaping cannon ruts the roses
bloom and blow.
And Peace enthroned beneath one flag In
glory sits to-day.
And Love and Honor join the hands of gal
lant Blue and Gray;
The swords of Grant and Lee are crossed,
but not on battle's plain,
For Fame hath hung them with a smile
above her worshiped fane;
The old commanders occupy that camp be
neath the trees,
Beyond the shadows dense and grim, be
yond life s misty seas.
O campers In the sunlight fair! O sleepers
in the shade!
Sweet be the rest that ye have won In city,
glen and glade;
Dream not of battle's Immortelles, yeu
won them long ago
Where in your manhood oft you met the
wary southern foe;
Upon you In Fame s bivuoac the wreaths
of beauty ran,
And Freedom's flag of stripes and stars Is
waving over all;
Rest in tho camps that Glory guards with
ardor warm and true,
Beloved by all from coast to coast, O
chevaliers in blue!
T. C. HARBAUGII.
How to Teach Patriotism.
Perhaps the great poem of the war is yet
to write; some hand perhaps now unborn
may one day send a great epic of it ringing
down the ages. Yet while we wait for it the
poet's pen has not been idle and such poems
..... .. , ,,t.i i -n:
as nariiara rreitciue, snenuan s jviue
and "The Blue and the Gray will live per
haps forever. They never lose their hold
upon us and sweet it is to hear them lisped
by baby voices, to make their indelible im
print upon the characters now being molded
into a lifelong patriotism. It is the verses
we learn first which retain their hold upon
us in after years, therefore let us sec to it
that the children are taught the oues that
tell the story of some heroic deed. Then
Mill Decoration day always mean more to
them than an empty name, and the simple
lines perhaps of au unknown poet may help
to send some future hero to his dutyl
The Greatest National Feast.
No more purely national feast than Deco
ration day could be possible. To the rest
of the world May 30 is merely a day at the
close of the last spring month. To the patri
otic dweller in the land of Uncle Sam how
much more! It is customary to call Ameri
cans, as a nation, laughter-loving and fickle,
yet who, viewing the vast throngs assem
bled in every city and hamlet to do honor
to the glorious dead, can believe this true?
Rather would the stranger on our shores be
impressed by the fact that patriotism is
strong within us. For in the national holi
days may surely be read the character of the
people as it can be read in no other way.
Croakers there will always be, but we can
afford to disregard them. The future of a
nation is safe in the hands of those who rev
erence its noble past.
. It is a beautiful thing to know that north,
south, east and west in this broad land Deco
ration day is simultaneously celebrated.
From city, town and farm they came, these
men who fought for the union. Some of
them were brought back tenderly to lie with
others of their kindred; some remained in
alien soil which their life-blood had red
dened; some are buried in unknown graves,
there to rest until God's great angel calls
his roll. And yet, wherever they may lie,
this day each grave will hold its fragrant
burden of flowers, placed there by reverent
and loving hands.
They Died for Liberty.
To our heroes who died for the union we
give one day of each recurring year, a day
full of the gracious gifts of May. The youth
of the year pays its tribute to the men who
died, perhaps in the flower of youth, that
liberty might live. They fell under the
glorious stars and stripes they loved so well.
To-day they rest beneath the flag that God
has made; its red is the red of roses; its
white is that of lilies and its blue the blue of
violets. And over them stands the monu
ment of a deathless fame.
n .3f- T.'A
FINDING OF A FATHER.
Celebration Which Brought New
Life to a Poor Old Veteran.
THE inmates of the county pool-house
displayed great interest iu the car
riage which slopped before the gate
on the morning of Decoration day.
"You must be gettin' some new boarders,
ain't ye, Mr. Wilson?" asked the lame man,
who was always making jokes.
"Shouldn't wonder, shouldn't wonder. Oi
else some of lh' old ones here have fullen
litir to a fortune and arc going away."
It was a member of the town council who
came up the path with a stranger.
"Allow me to present Hon. Ilarriso,'
Hammond, the orator of the day," he
said, with a wave of his hand. "Mr. Ham
mond is interested in the model poor house,
and 1 hnve brought him out to inspect ours
before the ceremonies."
"Pleased to show it to you, sir," said the
keeper, bowing before the great man, "hut
you must excuse us if we are not quite in
our usual order to-day. We had an accident
Inst night, which might have been much
more Berious but for the efforts of otie of
our inmates, an old soldier!"
"Indeed?" lion. Harrison Hammond looked
interested. ".My father was a soldier; he
fell at Antietam. 1 was a child then, but
the old soldier will always be very close to
"This one is quite a character, lie was
wounded in the head by the way, it was
at Antietam, too, 1 believe. Shortly after
the close of the war he was turned out of
the hospital, cured, but with his memory
gone. Kven his name was forgotten. Since
then he has wandered over the country, al
ways hoping in some way to find his people,
though between you and me, sir, he might
as well hunt for a needle in a haystack."
"And has he nothing to assist him in his
"Well, sir, you know how the hospitals
were at the close of the war. I believe he
has a picture of his wife uud child, taken in
'03, but 35 years must have changed them
mightily, even if they are still alive. He
is a good old man, Softy, and the children
are after him all day long. And brave
why, sir, that accident! A couple of tramps
had crept up in the hay mow to sleep last
"LET ME SEE THAT PHOTOGRAPH,
... . .t i- 1 1
night, and tney must nave ocen tnioKing,
for something set fire to it. 1 guess they'd
have waked up in the other place, but for
Softy; ho got 'em out Roinchow, while the
rest of us were busy with the fire. He took
a pretty hard fall himself, but the doctor
says he'll be around all right in a couple of
days. What's that, Jim? Why, where are
your manners? My boy, gentleman, and "
"Oh. Pa, I'a!" the boy was bursting with
his news, "Softy's awake now, an' he's come
to himself. The doctor says that fall did
it! He says 'is name is Hammond, an' he
says he's got a boy like me!"
"Hammond, eh?" said the orator of the
day, patting the boy on the head. Quite a
coincidence, I declare! ! Might 1 see my
old namesake, Mr. Wilson:
When the distinguished party was ushered
into the room where the old soldier reclined
in his pillows he rose to his feet and saluted.
A little faded photograph was in his hand.
"Ves, thank God, it has all come back to
me!" he cried. "My name is Thomas F.
Hammond, of company K, and I have a wife
and little boy at ."
"Let me see that photograph, quick;" the
ortator of the day was visibly agitated.
"My mother and myself!" he cried. "Fa
ther, they told us that you tell on the tield
and were buried in the grave with the others.
Now t" They fell into each other's arms.
"My son, your mother! t Is she "
"She is at the hotel with me. She wanted
to hear me speak to the comrades of the bus
band she has always mourned."
When the Decoration day procession
formed an old couple who sat hand in band
rode with the orator of the day.
"Well, say, if that ain't old Softy from the
pom-house!" one urchin suid.
"He ain't Softy any more," another boy
answered; "lie's th' father of th' Hon. liar-'
rison Hammond, an' he's goin' home t' live
with him. Us boys'll miss him terrible," he
added. ELISA ARMSTRONG.
Honor the Living, Too.
Honor the old soldier while he lives. Don't
wait until he has died alone and neglected,
and then heap his grave with flowers and
place monuments above him. What if he
does repeat the old war stories until they
weary you? Has he not earned the right to
glory in his victories? Show him now that
you glory in them, too; your patriotism will
help to make life brighter and better for you
as well as for him.
Bull Run and Appomattox.
It is a fact not generally known that the
first and the last stand of the confederates
were made on land owned by the same man.
A part of Bull Bun battle field was owned
by Mr. McLean. After this famous battle
he decided to move to a locality where there
wouid be less fear from the ravages of war.
By a strange coincidence he took up his
abode at Appomattox, which subsequently
proved to be the final battle field of the civil
Interesting War Relic.
Dr. S. J. Allen, of White River Junction,
Vt., has a relic of the ciusmg dajs of the
rebellion, a Testament in which a minis
ball is imbedded. It was taken from the
left breast pocket of a confederate soldier who
was killed at Sailor's Creek, Ya., April 8,
1805, and who was brought to the hospital
of the Second division of the Sixth corp
that day. The ball was flattened upon
cither side and stopped on the seventh versa
of Xhe eighth chapter of Corinthians.