Democratic Sentinel, Volume 8, Number 16, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 May 1884 — AN ARMY EXPERIENCE. [ARTICLE]

AN ARMY EXPERIENCE.

How n Old Veteran Escaped AnnlMlatioa and Lined to Impart a Warning to Other*. [National Tribune of Washington.] A pleasing occurrence which has just come to our notice In connection with the New York State meeting of the Grand Army of the Bepublio Is so unusual in many respects that we venture to reproduce it for the benefit of our readers. Capt. Alfred Reasons, of New York, while pacing In 'the lobby of the armory, previous to one of the meetings, suddenly stopped and scanned the face es a gentleman who was in earnest conversation with one of the Grand Army officers. It seemed to him that he had seen that face before, partially obscured by the smoke of battle, and yet tils bright and pleasant countenance could not be the same pale and death-like visage which be so dimly remembered. But the recollection, like Banquo's ghost, would not “down" command, and haunted him the entire day. On the day following he again saw the same countenance, and ventured to speak to its-owner. The instant the two veterans heard each other's voices, that instant they recognised and called each other by name. Their faces and forms had changed, but their voices were the same. The man whom Capt. Rensom had recognized was W. K. Sage, of St. Johns, Mich., a veteran of the Twentythird New York Light Artillery, and both members of Burnside’s famous-expedition to North Carolina. After the first greetings were over, Capt. Rensom said: “It hardly seems possible, Sage, to see you in this condition, for I thought you must have been dead long ago. ” “Yes, I do not doubt it, for if I am not mistaken, when we last met I was occupying a couch in the hospital, a victim of ‘Yellow Jack' in its worst form.” “I remember. The war seems to have oaused more misery since its close than when it was in progress,” replied the Captain. “ I meet old comrades frequently who are suffering terribly, not so much from old wounds as from the malarial poisons which ruined their constitutions.” “ I think so myself. When the war closed I returned home, and at times I would feel well, but every few weeks that oonfounded ‘all-gone’ feeling would come upon me again. My nervous system, which was shattered in the servioe, failed me entirely, and produoed one of the worst possible cases of nervous dyspepsia. Most of the time I had no appetite; then again I would become ravenously hungry, but the minute I sat down to eat I loathed food. My skin was dry and parched, my flesh loose and flabby. I could hold nothing on my stomach for days at a time, and what little Id d eat failed to aßsim Hate. 1 was easily fatigued, and my mind was depressed; I was cross and irritable, and many a night my heart would pain me so I could not sleep, and when I did I had horrid dreams and frightful nightmares. Of course, these things came on one by one, each worse than the other. My breath nvas foul, my tongue was coated, my teeth decayed. I had terrific headaches which would leave my nervous system completely shattered. In l oot, my existence, since the war, has been a living death, from which I have often prayed for release.” “Couldn’t the old surgeon do you any good'/” “1 wrote him and ho treated me, but, like every ocher doctor, 1 ailed, 'they all said my nerve was gone, and without that to build upon I could not get well. When I was at my wor6t, plies of the severest nature came upon me. Then my liver gave out, and without the use of cathartics I could not move my bowels at all. My blood got like a stream of Are and seemed literally to burn me alive.” “Well, you might belter have died in battle, quick and without ceremony.” "How many times I havo wished I hod died the day we captured Newberne.” “And yet you are now the picture of health.” "And the picture is taken from life. lam in perfect condition. My nerve tone is restored; my stomach reinvigorated; my flesh is hard and healthy; in iact, I havo new blood, new energy, and a new lease of life wholly as the result of using Warner’s Tippecanoe. This remarkable preparation, which I consider the finest tonic and stomach restorer in the world, has overcome all the evil Influences of malaria, all the poison of the army, all traces of dyspepsia all mal-asslm-llation of food, and indeed made a new man of me.” The Captain remained silent for a while, evidently musing over his recollections of the past. When he again raised his head he said: “It would be a godsend if all the veterans who have suffered so intensely and also all o-thers in the land who are enduring so much misery could know of your experience, Sage, and the way by which you have been restored.” And that is why the above conversation is recounted.