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New Ulm weekly review. [volume] (New Ulm, Minn.) 1878-1892, April 07, 1886, Image 6

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn89064939/1886-04-07/ed-1/seq-6/

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"Only the look from 1 he eyes of a babe,
As it lay upon my knee,
Yet I shall kn J\V that vrondous gaze
When we meet in eternity.
Angel of death! ye cannot then
,My heartstrings rend apart
I shall hold iny boy forever and aye
Close to my yearning heart.
Motherhood! how dearly bought!'
We little know the cost,
Until we suffer birth and death,
Until we've loved and lost.
Slowly to and fro a woman paced
ih^TWaterloo bridge, London, appar
ently unmindful that a drizzling rain
nad set in and that her thin shawl was
becoming wet through. After awhile
she turned her steps toward the para
pet, and leaning over its edge, gazed
down into the black depths beneath.
The next instant she stood erect
upon the parapet, a shadowy figure
seen through the mistiness of the night.
In another moment she would have
been fluttering like a wounded bird,
down to certain death, had not a
man's hand held her back from the fa
tal act, as he exclaimed:
"Fo' God's sake, lass, dinna do't."
For a second the woman struggled in
his grasp, then, half defiantly, half
wearily, she said, as he helped her de
scend from the parapet- "Well, I sup
pose you want me to go along to the
"Na, na, lass, I'd on'y like to see ye
among friends. Come, he added, lay
ing his hand kindlv upon her arm,
"you'll be wet through standing here."
The woman gazed at the man with a
perplexed look, which he returned
with a friendly smile, noted her pale
face and the hunted, weary expression
-of her dark eyes as she said, almost
"I should thank you, perhaps, for
saving my life, and yet it were better
if you had let me go. Not a living
soul is there to mourn my loss, and I
might have found rest."
"Na tha' way, lass but ye look ill
an' na fit to be out o' sich a night. If
yo dinna moind, perhaps I might be a
help to ye, a-seeing yer home."
"Home! I have no home. I have
been sick unto death. This morning
only was discharged from the hos
pital, and such as I are best out of the
"The Lord knows best wba' is fo'
our good," reverently repeated the
man, then, with a slight tinge of color
mantling his honest lace, heeontinued
"If ye dinna moind trusting yerselt
to me I think I can find ye a place fo'
the night. Ye see, I'm just newly come
fra' the country, on my way to
America, an' there's a family as was
on the train with me that is bound fo'
the same place, an' is stopping at a
bit of a lodging over yonder, an' I'm
na doubting but Mrs. Bighart would
take ye in, fo' she has a most feeling
heart, so if yer agreeable to't we'll be
goin', as it's a goodish bit further."
For a second the woman hesitated,
then with "very well" she moved along
at the man's side. On leaving the buss
-which they had taken at the opposite
side of the bridge they proceeded along
divers streets. At last the man turned
in at a doorway, and with a smile and
a nod bade the woman follow him,into
a narrow passage lighted by a flicker
ing oil-lamp. Then he paused, saying
in his kindly tones:
"Would yer momd biding a bit here
till I just sort o' prepares Mrs. Big
hart fo' yer comin'?" Signifying her
willingness, the woman remained
standing where he left her, little heed
ing or caring what was to become of
her. As she waited, a look of dull
apathy upon her handsome face, the
door through which her rescuer had
disappeared opened, and a plump,
jolly-looking little woman burst into
'the hallway, exclaiming:
"Oh, there you are! I didn't know
you for the minnit. The passage be
dark after the light inside. Ye look
tired just come right along in. The
children have everything in a muss,
but, Lor' bless 'em, I havn't it in me
to scold, along of their being bo cooped
tip here, after tha country.
"You are veiy kind," at last an
swered the young woman, a softened
expression gathering in her eyes.
Bidding her guest lay aside her wet
sonnet and shawl and seat herself
lear the stove, worthy Mrs. Bighart
oustled about,bent upon preparing the
supper. The children, some five in
number, admonished by their mother,
and, perhaps,a little awed by the grave,
silent woman, ceased their play and
ihyly eyed the stranger from a dis
tance. Ail at once there was a delight
Ail shout of "Papa'" as a large, jovial
appearing man entered the room, and,
satching up the youngest toddler, sat
ier upon his shoulder. Then the man
who had befriended the young woman
came in and was immediately hailed
by the children as "Jack" a.s they
clambered about him in high glee. As
if in adream, the outcast woman found
herself seated at the table of a happy,
honest family, who treated her as an
honored gue-^t, receiving her unques
tioned within their midst, simply be
cause *h was friendless and in need.
And that uight, moved by a strange
longing, she had timidly asked to be al
lowed to kiss the babe that cooed at
her from her mother's arms. And
'kindly Mrs. Bighart, with a pleased
.smile, had held out tho little one to
her, saying:
"There, take her, my dear, and kiss
her as much as you please." Later in
the evening, when the little woman
had resumed the charge of her young
est and was bidding her guest good
night, she ejaculated warmly.
"There now, my dear, just you
Bleep well and to-morrow we'll see if
'there isn't a way out of your difficul-
ties," and with'a hearty good-night
kiss, Mrs. Bighart hurried off to at
tend, to her children's wants, while the
young woman's face paled and flushed
at the unwontoned carets from such
One~by one the days of that week
slipped by and the woman still re
mained with the Bigharts. It was the
day before the departure for America,
ail business having been satisfactorily
transacted, when Mrs. Bighart, laying
her hand kindly upon Mary's shoulder,
"Do you know, Mary, I've been
thinking that I don't see how I'ni to
spare you, an' I've talked it over with
Tom, an' the long and the short of it
is, my dear, if you've a mind to go
along with us, I'd be glad to have you.
The children they've took to you so,
an' you see, out west in them clearings
it's goin' to be a bit lonesome, without
a neighbor, barring perhaps three
miles. I'm sorry we're not able to
offer much wages at first along of the
expenses we'll be to agettin'there, but
your bit an sup and an odd pound now
an' agin you'll be welcome to."
Like one dazed, Mary stood listen
ing to the kind offer, then, with deep
wonderment in her tones, she said:
"You are asking me to share your
home, knowing nothing of me? My
God! had I but met such!women as you
in the past!"
Five years had come and gone since
the day when Mary joined her for
tunes of her helpful friends and pros
perity had dawned for them and her.
Toms and Jack's log cabins were the
envy of their less thrifty neighbors.
At first Jack had boarded with the
Bigharts, but after awhile it occurred
to him that he, too, should like a
home of his owna wife to share the
good luck that had come to him. And,
as the months slipped :-ito years, he
learned to know that there was but
one woman for him, the woman he had
saved from death. While Mary, when
it first dawned upon her how dear
she had become to this simple, God
fearing man, was seized with an im
pulse to flee from the shelter of the
happy home that for three years had
been hers, but her strength failed her.
She could not so easily uproot such
tightly riven ties. For Jack had be
come as a part of her very being.
It wa3 only f}r his sake that she
thought of going away, because of the
sacrifice she deemed it would be put
ting upon him if he should wed her.
Something of this'she tried to tell him
when he asked her to be his wife, but
he would not listen he was satisfied,
he t.aid. Then almost desperately ohe
begged that he would hear her, and
shielding her face with her hands she
related to him with pitiful pathos the
story of her life before his path cross
ed hers, holding back nothvngfromthe
bitter degradation of the past. With
tears si reaming down her cheeks she
implored him not to judge her too
harshly. She who had never known
a mother's care never had a home
until he came into her life.
Pityingly as he might have soothed
a little child, Jack gathered the strick
en woman to his arms, saying:
"Mary,that old lite is dead an'gone,
buried away this iive year back let
ic rest. Together we will start afresh.
It ye love me I ha' na fear fo' the fu
ture, lass."
What woman could have resisted
such faith.' And so there was a quiet
little wedding, and Mary became Jack's
wife, and went to dwell with him in
in the pretty log cabin he had built
"agin that day."
For two years not a cloud had come
to dim their happiness. Yet some
times Mary became possessed with a
wild fear that it could not last. One
day in her husband's absence she saw
a man approachiug the house. There
was something strangely familiar
about the saucy, devil-may-care air
with which the stranger sauntered
along, but not until he stood within
a few feet of her did it flash upon her
who this man was. A smothered cry
escaped her, and convulsively clasping
her babe she hastened to enter the
house. But the man called out.
"Here, I say, carn't ye give me a
bite of sumat? I've had a goodish
walk and I'm about dead beat."
White as death, she turned and fared
him, when, with an oath, he exclaimed,
as if thunderstruck-
"Moll' by all that's blue." Then,
insolently laying his hand upon her
arm, headded: "I'm blamed if Ididn't
think ye'd kicked the bucket. It's
rather overpowerin' to have ye turn
up here in this unexpected fashion.
You might offer me a chair, I'm think
in', after our long separation Me
chanically Mary stepped aside amdlet
the man pass into the house there,
flinging himself upon a seat' and
chuckling amusedly, he continued
"Yer seem to be pretty well fixed
but yer always was a lucky devil. I
suppose you've got suthm' to eat in
the house?"
Placing some eatables before the
man, Mary at last spoke, the words
seeming to come with an effort, as she
"Eat what you will, then go. My
husband will be home shortly and he
must not find you here."
"Ho, ho! is that the way the wind
lays?" ejaculated the man, with a
"The day has gone by for me to fear
your words, Jim. I have taken up
with a different life. With you and
the past I have done."
"Not so fast, my fine beauty. Yer
didn't live with me for seven years for
nothin'. an' dn me if I don't claim
yer as my wife and then what 'ull be
come of yerdifferent life, I like to
know? If I could just have a talk
with that husband of yourn I'd fix
yer different life fur yer."
A wail of dispair issued from Mary's
white iips as a stalwart figure dark
ened the doorway, Avhilst her hus
band's voice said quietly:
"Ye would speak with Jack Sturdy,
stranger, but first let me say, tha' be
tween me an' my wife lie no secrets,
an' the man tha' says aught agin her
has to answer fo' it to me. Out here
the men are not given to many words,
an' I've learned the way of the coun
try. With us it is a word an, a blow,
but I ha' known the blow to come
fust." Then pointing sternly to the
door he added: "It is three miles to
the next settlement. If ye would
reach theer before dark ye ha' best be
Perhaps it was Jack's calm even
tones, or anundefinablesenseofpowei
that superior minds oftentimes exer
cise over inferior ones, that stayed
the blustering answer upon the man's
iips and made him slink out of the
house like a cur, turning, however, at
the gate to shake his fist defiantly.
"Theer, theer, lass," soothed Jack
as his wife clung sobbing about his
neck, "ye ha' na call to fret. He'll na
trouble ye agin, I'm a-thinkin'!"
"But, oh, Jack, you'll not love me
the less?" came desparingly from "Ma-
"Love ye the less, lass. Why, I
couldn't do it if I would, an' wherefo',
ye are a good, true woman an' ray
A few days afterward the dead body
of a man was found in a gully. The
theory was that, having drank to
freely (an empty leather flask was
found in his pocket), he had made a
misstep and percipitated himself to his
death. The body was identified as
that of a stranger who had stopped
at a wayside house the night before
the accident. There was nothing up
on his person to tell from whence he
came or who he was. They buried
him, marking his grave by a rude
wooden cross. And when Jack told
Mary concerning Jim's death, for he
had recognized the man, he added
"Let the past die with him, Mary,
lass. Please God the future shall ha'
o'ny good fo' ye on' the little 'un,"
and honest-hearted Jack lovingly
clasped his two treasures within his
A Sad Sight.
It is a sad sight says a writer in the
San Francisco Chronicle, to watch
the gradual decay of love, the devel
opment of familiarity and selfishness
between a newly married couple. I
see them sometimes, from the country
evidently, at a restaurant here. I
like to watch them and speculate on
the subject. They come in together
when they first airive, full of bliss and
affection and tenderness and other
cuticular characteristics of human
nature. He is most delicate and at
tentive. He takes her cloak off and
hangs it up. He sets the chair for her
and hovers o'er her until she has fair
ly settled herself in it. He takes up
the bill of fare and divides the hungry
eyes between the sparkling face oppo
site and the monotonous, inartistic,
and singularly appetite-destroying
document. Then he suggests every
thing to her, and she accepts every
thing, and the waiter does not know
what to bring them. I like to watch
the waiter's patient, half-amused smile
while he gazes sideways down upon
them. Then he goes and gets what
he thinks they ordered, and they nev
er notice that he has not brought
them what they wanted. They don't
know what they want anyhow. And
then he orders champagne. You can
see her faint protest. It does look
extravagant. But you can tell in the
distance he says:
"My darling ducky, we've come to
town to have a good time hang the
The second evening the merest trifle
of a tamer proceeding crops up, and
there is less enthusiasm and less affec
tion. But there is still champagne,
and just a little fuss. The third night
sense is beginning to assume its sway.
His finances are beginning to suffer.
The theatres and champagne are be
ginning to tell on his purse, and he ac
cepts her very faint protest and or
ders claret. The fourth evening she
takes off her own cloak and hangs it
up, and she arranges her own chair,
and he takes care of himself deliber
ately. A kind of weariness hangs over
the table, a bored look passes between
them, and he tells the waiter boldly
to bring him a bottle of beer. Ah,
me! Loves young dream! The sweet
ness that cloys, the fairness that be
comes familiar, the fading fires of bliss
that has consumed itself all too soon!
The fifth night they do not come.
They have gone back to the rural dis
tricts, where the sharp-eyed editor of
the local paper interviews them, and
announces in a double-headed editori
al that Mr. and Mrs. Jones have re
turned from their wedding tour to
San Francisco.
They Met Again.
Detroit Free Press.
They stood together under the wav
.mg branches of a mighty elm on the
banks of a singingbrook one fair, sweet
night in June. A calm and holy joy was
in her facethe joy that comes of a
maiden loving and beloved. She look
ed up into his handsome face with such
a proud, tender, trustful look. Her
hand rented confidingly in his soft and
low were the words she spokewords
no ear but bi* should hear.
And he! Ah, me, and ah, me! Would
that I could give to the face and the
heart of every young man the calm,
sweet, holy joy that face portrayed,,
that heart revelled in. He lived and
loved. Life seemed like a summer sea
before him. Ah, me,andah,me! That
ever storm should come, that ever
rude blasts should assail, that ever
hearts should break! Well, well, and
again I say, well, well! Lives and loves
end every day, lives and loves like these.
Lovers part to meet no more hearts
break and are forever sad.
She spoke:
"Adelbert," she sighed, h^r voicelike
the far-away tinkling bells, "and must
this be? Must we, oh, Adelbert, must
we be torn apart? Oh, Adeibert, me
poor heart will break!"
"Courage, my sweet one, courage,"
he said, with trembling 'voice and
quivering lips, "It shall not beforlong.
I go to thegolden West to make a home,
humble it may be, for my beautiful
bride. Have courage, me life. We
shall meet again.
"Yes, yes, yes," she cried, quickly
and passionately, "we shall meet
again. 0, Adelbert, if it were not for
that blessed assurance I should die, I
shoud die! Heaven be praised! We
shall meet again!"
One passionate, thrilling, joyous,
manly, burning kiss on her cold, white
lips and he was gone, leaving her in a
swoon on the banks of the murmuring
stream under the tender light of the
pitying stars. He was gone!
'iff \ji
A Mirier Deserted' By the Woman to
Whom He Gave a Fortune.
There was quite a numerous gather
ing around the small mahogany tables
in anup-tOwn cafe recently when I en
tered, says the New York correspond
ent of the Atlanta Constitution. It
was a brilliant, though not an unusu
al picture, as one stood in the door
way and watched this curious gather
ing of young bloods and listened to
their gay talk. Right in the midst of
this throne sat one whose appearance
made him seem out of place in such
surroundings. He was an oldish-look
ing man, but still in the full vigor of
healtha big, strapping uncouth fel
low, of almost giant proportions. A
rough diamond, and one that
no polishing can alter, would be
the comment of a person who
would watch this singular character
for a short while, and it would be the
truest estimate of the man that could
be made. As I sat watching him, and
wondering what curious train of cir
cumstances had brought among the
present company, I learned something
of his history. His name is Ely"Jim"
Ely, as I rememberand not twenty
years ago he struck a silver mine out
in Nevada that made him a millionaire
thrice over and the biggest man in the
territory. He dragged the woman
whom he loved from ignorance and
poverty to education and wealth,
gave her his name and fortune, and
from that rich sowing has harvested
a life of wrecked hopes and disappoint
ed ambitions.
"Jim" Ely lived in Missouri until
along somewhere in the eal'ly '50s,
when he left his home and made for
the Pacific slope. The gold craze of
'49 was still rampant "through the
country, and he had set his mind on
joining the sturdy army of fortune
seekers who were then steadily wend
ing their way west to the land of
promise. But there was no gilt eds
to the life he led out there for many
years. He moved from one mining
camp to another with even less than
the ordinary run of luck and a great
deal worse than the ordinary run of
hardships, even in that desolate
country. It was a rather long and
narrow lane that he traveled until
the inevitable turn came in the winter
of 1866-67, when he finally woke up
one morning to find that the wealth
he had dreamed of was actually his.
The "find" was in Pioche, Lincoln
county, Nevada, and it has since been
known to the world as the Ray
mond & Ely mine, for both men had
worked together the claim and had a
full partnership in it. Over $0,000.-
000 in dividends alone have since been
taken out of this property, and its
yield is almost as rich now as it ever
was. The two men whose spades first
uncovered its riches retained their in
terest in it but a few years, however,
when each returned to San Francisco.
Raymond took his million and lived
outa hfeofeaseandplenty. Ely,how
ever, was of a different'turn of mind.
He at once drifted into extravagant
and reckless ways of life which made
"Frisco" a veritable "Golden Gate"
in the days of the bonanza kings. But
he was still living in the flood "tide of
fortune/and the speculations ha plung
ed into move
than doubled the mill
ion he took out of this mine. For a
timea brief time, thoughhe was
the central figure in the wild round of
dissipation which men of his mould
made the feat ure of far western life at
that time. He built a palatial house,
made hosts of friends and then began
to look around him for a partner for
What fate or caprice brought him
into Salt Lake City in the spring of
1871 no on knows but he went there
and saw a pretty face, andbig,
brawny, uneducated fellow as he was
it fascinated him. It was the face
of a young Mormon girla handsome
flaxen-haired little thing, Avhose beauty
was all the more resplendent in his eyes
because it shone out from the coarse
surroundings in which she lived. Like
himself, she was not a girl of line man
ners and education, for she had neith
er. She was a product of the rude, un
tutored life which prevailed out there
then, and, like himself, had little use
for books or learning. The story goes
that she was barefooted and almost
ragged when Jim Ely first met her.
But he saw in her the making of
a queen for his palace if she had a few
years of training and education in a
more cultured sphere. So he took her
with him to San Francisco, and told
the world that he was going to marry
her when she became of age. All that
money could do in the wray
of fitting
her for the place she was to occupy in
after life was done, and on the day he
made her his wife one of those who
were present at the ceremony says that
she seemed every inch a queen and the
handsomest woman on the slope.
This was in the spring of 1873. On
the same day he gave her outright what
was then about half his fortune$1,-
000,000. Not satisfied with what she
had learned in San Francisco, she pro
posed a trip for educational purposes
through Europe, and thither the ill
matched couple departed on their
Either the untutored ways of her
husband or the glories of the old
world were too much for the young
girl, for ^ie lost all interest in her na
tive land during her travels and has
never returned here since. Not so
with "Jim" Ely, though. He had no
use for the life he had led over there,
and dropped into San Francisco
alone one day to take up the free-and
easy ways he had dropped a few years
before at the bidding of his bride. The
tide of fortune turned the wrong way
for him, however. Things that had
before turned to gold almost at his
touoh now quickly vanished, and spec
ulation after speculation rapidly
made heavy inroads on his fortune.
With his reckless habits of life, his
confidence in his own luck and the
knowledge that his wife still kept in
tact the million that he had given her
on their wedding day, he kept on going
down in fortune until almost the last
penny was gone. His circle of Mends
grew narrower as his bank account
became smaller, until at last he was
compelled to appeal to his wife for
some of her fortune.
He made a trip to Paris, where she
was living. He found her living in
surroundings even more georgeous
than those he had brought her to
from Salt Lake City. As he had once
been the central figure in life in San
Francisco, so was she then of the gay
ties and frivolities of the French capital
A Queen, indeed, and of his own mak
ing, but the creation was more divine
than he had ever dreamed of. So was
the result. Instead of seeing the rude
little girl he had picked up on the
streets of Utah's capital, he met a
haughty, imperious woman of the
world,whose head had been turned and
dazzled by the life she was leading.
She had no use for the old
miner, who came to claim her
as the partner of his name and
fortune, nor did she propose to divide
with him the wealth he had given her.
Their paths henceforth lay in different
directions. What passed between
them other than this has never been
told to the outside world, for "Jim"
Eiy's lips have never spoken the wom
an's name since. He took the next
3teamer for this country, and has not
crossed the Atlantic again. He also
brought his two children to America
with him and placed them in a school
on Staten Island, where they are get
ting the education which made their
mother what she is.
Ely's mode of living has not been
changed much by his misfortunes. He
still has a little moneyenough to eke
out a scant existenceand I am
told that he is on here now to in
duce some people to give him money
for the development of a property
which he has discovered in Colorado.
He says there is five million dollars in
a little hole, as he calls it, out there,
and he wants to share it with the man
who will give him the means to get it.
In the meantime the wife is making
the most of life out of the fortune he
gaveher,and has probably blotted out
of her mind whatever recollection she
may have had of people and condi
tions on this side of the Atlantic. Re
ports from Paris say that she is living
there with a Frenchman of broken
fortune. As I heard the last incident
of this romantic story and glanced at
the rough-looking man who was
the hero and who was within a few
feet ef me, I began to think that truth
was really stranger than fiction after
Wrecks in Washington.
There are around Was-hington just
now looking for clerkships, says the
coriespondent of the Cleveland Plain
dealer hundreds of bright, brilliant
young fellows, who, if they achieve
their aim and secure clerkships, will
enter into small offices, where they
will leave ambition behind. The
young man with education and ability
enough to make a name and career for
himself ought never to seek a clerk
ship here. They, it is true, when they
accept the positions, anticipate pro
motion, or intend, as soon as they
get a "little ahead," to return to then
homes or go west or south, and com
mence buisiness or begin a practice.
But they become fascinated with the
life they lead, not physically a hard
one, but one that keeps them subor
dinate not leaders. After getting into
the mausoleum of a public depart
ment their ambition giadually gives
way and they accept a series of'rou
tine duties as their life work, and be
come to other menlike the extia car
horse that is attached to the car lead
ing up the hilla mere help, not a par
ticipant, in the struggle that young
manhood ought to look fearlessly up
on. Richelieu's words "In the lexi
con of youth, which fate reserves for
a bright manhood, there isnoj-nch
word as fail," is not an incentive to
the department clerk. He is willing
to sit down and take his stipend with
out making any effort to' push his
own fortune. He becomes a depend
ent and generally in the end a mendi
cant. My advice to a young man is
not to come to Washington to accept
a mere clerkship in a public office as
long as he has brains and energy to
make a living away from it. The am
bition to become a senator oi a con
gressman or to holdaleading position
in some of the departments is a lauda
ble one, but the records do not show
that any man has ever been called
from a clerkship to the cabinet.
The record is all the other way.
Bright and able young men who have
dra'-.n themselves out of the whirl of
Washington society, out of the char
nel-house of the departments, and
struck out boldly for themselves in
the west or adjoining states are now
men of high repute.
The best, the strongest, and the
ablest men we have in the nation are
the men who, when they were boys,
struggled bravely on the farms in the
workshops, in the law offices of our
country to prepare thems-elvej for the
high positions that have been assigned
them by their fellow-citizens.
A Way Out of the Difficulty.
Mrs. MarmadukeOh, dear' I
have just been calling on Mrs. Fiip
perts and she showed me her baby.
Such a thing. I did not know what
to say. It was too awful for anything.
A head and face like a Bartlett pear,
a nose spreading all over like a batter
cake, or two or three macaroons run
together, no eyes, and a mouth that
made one think of a jelly fish or some
such thing that squirms and opens
and shuts that one sees in the
aquarium. Oh, I declare, I was per
fectly dumb and I felt like a fool. I
could not for the lite of me think of
anything to say.
Mrs. PapadulixI have a standing
phrase ready for all such emergencies.
Mrs. MarmadukeOh! Then in
pity impart it to me, and I will call
down eternal blessings on your head.
Mrs. PapadulixOh, it is very
simple when one of these amorphous
infants is presented to me I simply
brighten up and say: "Well, that is a
baby!" The mother takes it as a
compliment and I have not imperilled
my everlasting soul.Texas Sittings.
Hancock's Heroism at Gettys
Hundreds and thousands we^e
stricken down the shrieks of animals
and screams of wounded men were
appalling still the awful rushing and
sound of flying missiles went on and
apparentlv never would cease. It
was then, when the firmest hearts had
begun to quail, that the army wit
nessed one of the grandest sights ever
beheld by any army on earth. Sud
denly a'band began to play "The
Star-Spangled Banner," and Gen. Han
cock, with his staffMajor Mitchell,
Capt. Bingham, Capt. Parker, Capt.
Bronsonwith a corps flag flying in
the hands of Private Wells, appeared
on the right of his line uncovered and
rode down the front of his men to the
left. The soldiers held their breath,
expecting every moment to see him
fall from his horse pierced by a dozen
bullets, but still he rode on, while the
shot roared and crashed around him,
every moment tearing great gaps in
the ranks by his side.
"Stormed at bv Bhot and shell,
Boldy they rode and well.
Every soldier felt his heart thrill as
he witnessed the magnificent courage
of his General, and he resolved to do,
something that day which would equal
it in daring. Just as Hancock reach
ed the left of his line the rebel battery
ceased to play, and their infantry,
18,000 strong, were seen emerging
from the woods and advancing up the
hill. Hancock knew the artillery fire
had been intended to demoralize his
men and cover the advance of their
infantry, which was to make the real
attack. Turning his horse, he rode
slowly up his line from left to right,
holding his hat in his hand bowing and
smilling to the troops as they lay flat
on the ground. Hardly had he reach
ed the right of the line when the men
who, inspired by the courage of their
General, could "notv hardly restrain
themselves, received orders to attack
the advancing rebels. Eighty guns
which Hancock had concentrated
opened their bra/en mouths and
streams of blue bullets flew from the
mu//.les of our rilles to the breasts of
the Confederates.
It was an awful day, and Long
street's "Old Guard of the South"
melted away like wa\ under the terri
ble fire. Of the 18,000 who came to the
attack 5,000 fell or were captured on
the hillside. Thirty stands of colors
and an immense number of small arms
were taken. Hancock was every here,
riding the storm of battle as it he bore
a charmed life. At last just at the
moment of victory, he was seen to
reel his saddle, and would have fall
en to the ground had he not been help
ed from his horse. A ball had pierced
his thigh, and for a time it was
thought the wound was mortal.
"Tell Gen Meade," said Hancock, ad
dressing his aide, Col. Mitchell, "that
the tioops under my command have
repulspd the enemy and gained a great
victory. The enemy are now flying
in all directions in my front."Brook
lyn Eagle.
Where Kissing Still Flourishes.
From the Christian Million, London.
Side by side with the astonishingde
velopment of prurient literature there
has grown up in Sunday schools and
temperance societies with a close mem
bership an equally astonishing devel
opment of kissing games. The old
fashioned out-door kiss-in-the-ring of
school-treats and the equally harm
less forfeits played (and paid) beneath
the mistletoe havegiven place to a set
of kissing games in which teachers and
senior scholars indulge for hours to
gether, and which form the great at
traction of many gatherings. It
was our painful duty to \isit a Lon
don Sabbath school entertainment
where the- things were being carried
on from six in the evening until mid
night. We protested A ei bally, and
also leaving an entertainment where
we felt the presence of God was not
being recognized. It began with
a can-can which, to an idiotic
song and tune, first the up
per then the lower membeis of the
body were raided and swung about.
After this an hour was spent in "kiss
ing and hissing." Then came the
great lieat called "thearmy." March
ing around in pairs, these Sunday
school teachers went through a dull
in whifh "present arms" and "fire a
vollc-y" meant embracing and kissing
Vietween the sexes When we state
that the male "teachers" knelt down
befoie their artners to embrace them,
and that six "volleys" were ordered at
once, or that kissing that posture
was ordered to continue until the
word halt" from the bugleman, the
reason of our departure and strong in
dignant protest will be evident.
"Low Briilsc-'*
The Cojonel of a raw New-York reg
iment, which had bepn hastily raised
and sent forward, suddenly found Ids
command the only reser\e or sup
posing force to a brigade engaged
his front and which was fast breaking
to the I ear. The stream of wounded
and stragglers, with direful reports
from the front, made his new men
ner\ ous and distracted then-thoughts.
They had been recruited largely in the"
towns aiong the Erie Canal." The or
der came to move forward under fire
and engage the enemy. With manv
misgivings, not unwarranted, as to
the result he put the line in motion,
and, in spite of his utmost efforts',
saw it bend, waver, and partially sep
arate. Jup*t then two enoinious
elongated percussion shells struck the
ground about 20 yard* in front, and,
without exploding, bounded over his
regiment with the most terrible whir
ring sound imaginable. Of course
every man stopped and ducked hi*
head almost to the ground. H felt
sure the line would go to pieces. But
at that instant some canal boy with
native drawi sang ouf'Low bridge:"
The effect was almost magical. "Low
bridge!low bridge!" was shouted amid
cheers and Jaughter from, one end to
the other. The regiment assumed its
proper shape and went in to stay and.
to win.Chicago Tribtme.

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