Democratic Sentinel, Volume 10, Number 20, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 June 1886 — Page 6

THE KEEPSAKE KISS. BT NATHAN D. ÜBNEB. Fare then well, and fare thee sweetly 1 And, since we must shortly sever, Name some keepsake that shall meetly Symbolize our love forever. Gaud of gold or costly jewel, Which, my true-love, shall it be? ■"Ahshe murmurs, “that were cruel, These would be unworthy thee.” ■Name it, then, before we sunder— Gift that ne'er will fade or perish. Is there naught on earth or under That for love of mo would’st cherish? Over it to thrill and linger When my face is far away? ■“Yes!" and the uplifted finger Bids me listen to her say. “Give me bnt one sacred kiss, love, And while on my lips it hovers Breathe a silent vow by this, love, Ne’er while heaven the round earth covers To bestow on other woman What by right belongs to me ; So, with love intense and human, Still my heart shall beat for thee." Angel wife 1 so much to offer, For a gift so poor and simple, When each kiss my soul shall proffer Mouth, cheek, brow, or charming dimple Gan but breathe its worship gently— Love, faith, hope, and truth eterne, If thy heart bnt list intensely To the words that live and burn. Take, then, with this kiss that settles On thy lip3’ imperial blossom What I pledge between the petals To thy pure and saintly bosom— Faithfulness to thee completely, Ne’er from thy fond heart to stray; « .Fare thee well, and fare thee sweetly! Now, my love, I must away:

The Colonel’s Story.

BY CAPTAIN JAMES MONTFORD.

■‘No dog was at the threshold, great or small; No pigeon on the roof—no household creature, No cat demurely dozing on the wall, Not one domestic feature. ■“Tho centipede along the threshold crept, The cobweb hung across its mazy tangle, And in its winding-sheet tho maggot slept, At every nook and angle.” — Hood. “The person who passed through ihe war without meeting adv entures which thrilled his blood, or mysteries -which chilled it, must have been a very' queer individual.’' “We all met with adventures enough, Colonel,” I replied; “but they flitted past so vaguely that very little is remembered by the great majority. What was noticed has now become historical. Every table groans beneath the weighty of that great mass.” “Umph!” said he, sitting down in his chair. “But what is to become of the mass of events which the historians of to-day would swear at, eh?” “That must furnish entertainment for those who will listen. But I see you have a story; I’m not pne of the sneerers, I promise you.” “Well,” said the old gentleman, laughingly, “the tale will diminish in the telling, hut I will relate it plainly.” “There was an old ruined house upon the plantation of a gentleman named Murray, in Tennessee, which had gained a celebrity for being the harboring place of the spirit of a giant soldier, who was said to have fallen under disgraceful circumstances during the War of Independence. “The gentleman who owned the place at the date I am speaking of disclaimed all knowledge of the ghastly warrior, and, indeed, scouted the idea altogether. “The house, which I shall attempt to describe after a moment, had been erected by a gentleman of French descent called Gaston; but whether that was a family name or not I do not know. “According to the story, he had two sons, and, as very often happens in romances, they both loved a lady, the daughter of a neighboring thane. “The elder son was unsuccessful in his suit, his brother marrying the lady and bringing her home to his father’s house. “As might naturally be expected, the disappointed suitor became very jealous of his brother's good fortune, and, being of a fiery disposition, his anger rankled into a stern determination to be revenged. “Both young men were patriotic, and immediately joined the revolutionary forces at ihe first ringing of the bell of freedom. “Gaston, as I shall call the elder, concealed his hatred from his brother; but, watching his opportunity, killed him. “Accounts differ as to the circumstances, But the act was so cautiously carried out that no one suspected Gaston of the crime except his brother’s wife, who was probably in possession of knowledge which satisfied her as to the real assassin. “Soon after his brother’s death Gaston returned to the plantation to pass a few weeks with the bereaved family. “Then it was that his brother’s wife accused him distinctly of the crime, and warned him of exposure as soon as his mother, who had become very ill upon receiving news of her son’s death, recovered, ’ and was able to sustain this still more ter- ‘ rible disclosure. .. • “The several narrators whom I have heard relate the legend give a very full account of the Scene, and Gaston’s -uncomfortable position after the accusation. “However, upon’ finding that neither threats nor promises, could restrain her tongue, he watches hie opportunity until he finds her one night in a solitary part of the ✓mansion, when he strangles her neatly, *nd buries the corpse in the cellar beneath the house. “There is..great excitement the next day, and a strict search is instituted, but without a satisfactory result, and the family at last •decide that the young lady has, in a moment of mental disorder, thrown herself into the lake (a very beautiful sheet of water, which I have seen) not far distant from the planfation. ‘'Soon after, Gaston returns to the army; . but his good fortune has deserted him. His guilty conscience preys upon his body and mind, and in a slight skirmish he displays the most unmistakable cowardice. “As a fitting close to his career he is court-martialed,' found guilty of cowardice and treason, and executed by martial law. “Such is the substance of the story I have heard related several times. The negroes who dwell within a dozen miles of the ruined house firmly believe the legend, with all its embellishments, and no sum of money would bribe them to. enter the house after nightfall, .and even under the full light of the sun they look upon the place with awe. “In 1882 I was stationed for the space of three months at a point about half a mile from the Gaston ruin, and passed it regularly several times a week. “It was a low, weather-beaten structure, -entirely dismantled, and overgrown with creeping vegetation, which was fostered by

the dampness of its situation; for it had been built in a hollow, but little above the level of the lake, which was about a mile distant. “It extended back for a considerable distance, but had, in the daytime at least, nothing romantic in its appearance. “I often wished to pay a visit to the inside, but leisure was wanting for a long time. “But one afternoon, shortly before sundown, I was returning to my barracks by the road which pa-Sid the house, when one of those sudden thunder-storms so common in the country arose. “I was entirely unprovided for it, and as the huge drops pattered upon my head, whde the play of lightning overhead was startling from its intensity, I forced my horse through the thin hedge that fenced the premises. “The ruin now bore a different aspect. The bright flashes of lightning seemed to burn their way through the walls for an instant, only to be followed by gloom still more terrible. “I felt a tremor of fear as I dragged the unwilling steed in through the broken walls, and I was not made tnore comfortable by the groaning of timbers, and falling wood inside. “Leading the horse into one corner, where he would be protected by the wall from the full force of the storm, I crouched down at his side. “The storm which followed was terrible; the rain fell in sheets, the t muder was almost deafening, and the wind seemed determined to tear the crime-concealing walls f om their foundations.

“My horse was a young animal, and had become very excitable. I found myself liable to be crashed by him at’any moment, and was at last forced t > leave the shelter whiili his body promised, and creep away through the darkness to some further corner of the building, out of the reach of his heels “The floor was full of pitfalls; but, taking a quick glance at my surroundings by the momentary flashes of lightning, I neared the opposite side, where a portion of the upper floor which still remained would shield me from the storm. “Suddenly there was a blaze of flame, under which I shrank back appalled. “It came just in time, however, for in front of me, and yawning before my feet, was a large ragged hole in the broken floor. “I at the same instant caught a glimpse of a tall figure not more than three feet distant. “His features became so impressed upon my mind iu that instantaneous glance that, had I known him for years, the knowledge would have added nothing to his description. “A very tall man, with a dark face, exceedingly handsome* but with wild-looking eyes, that curdled the blood in my veins. I shivered with apprehension, and, with a scarcely human cry,*the specter, as in that fearful moment I thought it to be, leaped across the chasm and seized me by the throat. “I struggled with the desperation of madness to release myself; but, whatever his appearance might be, the muscles seemed formed of steel. “He forced me backward toward the hole; but the instant I was falling the floor gave way, and we fell downward into the gloomy cellar beneath. * * * * * * “The storm did not continue long,” said the Colonel, after a short silence, “and the horse found his way out of the building and to his quarters. “When I awoke from my faint I found half a dozen of the boys bending over me. “I lay upon my back in a pool of water in the cellar of Gaston’s house. “I related my story before I was well out of the place, and from the ill-disguißed grins with which it was heard I realized that my veracity was suspected. I never related my difficulties of the night afterward. “It is my opinion that the tall specter was some adherent of the Southern cause, who had sought shelter there for the same reasons as myself. “At any rate, it added another legend to the house of Gaston.”

THE BATTLE OF SHILOH.

Reunions of army organizations call to mind old associations, and thrill me often with recollections of my experiences during the war. I have noticed since its close the popular impression exists that at Bhiloh the entire army was routed, and fefl back in the fore part of the day, and that no part of that grand army held the enemy to exceed two hours. Now, sir, from my standpoint, in com-, mon with a part of my brigade, members of the Seventy-first Ohio, Fifty-fifth Illinois, and the Fifty-fourth Ohio; we saw matters in a very different light, and as no historian or General has done us justice for what we did on April G, I deem it my duty to correct the impression, and let the world know what a mere skirmish line accomplished without reserves or artillery. Our camp was amid a peach orchard in bloom. We had been there some three weeks, doing fancy band-box duty. As a few straws or leaves accumulated in camp a detail was made to clear it. Hence we had made no. preparation for the reception of the enemy. Although the flower of the rebel army lay some twenty miles away, in co.uyJ'Mn.d of one of their ablest generals, we had no pickets out! ■*' It was quite early on that memorable lovely morning of April G, 1862, that heavy cannonading was heard far down to the right from our camp. It increased rapidly and seemed to near us. My brigade consisted of the Seventy-first Ohio on the right, the Fifty-fifth Illinois in the center, and the Fifty-fqurth Ohio on the left, and was the First Brigade of Sherman’s Division. When we took our places at the front our brigade was isolated from the rest of the division, and sent to the extreme left flank to guard a ford on Lick Creek. The remainder of the division was sent to the right. Our position was* on the nearest ridge, a little over on the north side. Every part commanded the. ford. The creek ran in a northeasterly direction into the Tennessee, and our line was nearly parallel with that river for some miles. A ledge of rocks on the south side rendered it impossible for an army in column to cross except at this ford. . At 9:30 a. m. we could begin to hear musketry, and we were all in line, eager for the fray. AlO a. m. we were saluted by a twelve-pound' battery* on the bluff; we hugged mother earth, but they threw the shot into the tree-tops. Very soon, a little past 10 a. m , General Chalmers, at the head of his brigade, pa-sed at the ford and did not attempt to cross, but moved down the creek until the center of his command rested on our left flank, and concen-

trated his fire upon our line. We had to get out of that, a 3 a “military necessity,” or soon they would have saved us the trouble. In that We were outgeneraled. We moved over to the next ridee north. He moved back and crossed the ford, and ordered a halt in a valley, at some twenty rods distant. Now, reader, our skirmish line was strung out the length of two regiments, the Fifty-fifth lilinois and the Fiftyfourth Ohio, and they covered our front with a full battle line, with a gap on our right, left by the Seventy-first Ohio. Such was the situation in David Stuart’s brigade when the ball opened. David Stuart was acting as Brigadier; Scott, Lieutenant Colonel; Oscar Malmburg was acting Colonel of the Fifty-fifth Illinois; C. F. Thurston Adjutant, and N. P. Sanger Major. I saw our position would allow them to flank us easily. My position in line happened to be in the rear of an oak tree four feet thick. It might have been ordained to grow there before the world began for our benefit. It proved a splendid “minie halter, ” and several stepped in rear of it to load and deployed to fire. Tne rebs were partly ambushed by young bushes and dead leaves, the color of their uniforms, so that after the first fire I could see naught but a line of smoke, although the musketry was a solid roar, mingled with peals from the batteries. I will notice some incidents as I proceed, as they occurred. After a half hour they seemed to fall back, and our company’s officers rushed forth and called to us to “Come on, they are retreating.” Soon a volley from the second relief sent them back. The enemy was relieved at intervals of half hours all through. Some of the boys in my company had boasted before they were near the enemy that when they should be in action we would not see them crouchiDg behind logs and stumps, but they would stand out in bold relief. Glancing to my right I saw Sergeant S. D. Cronchbrest. I said,“Stephen, you are a splendid mark.” At that instant he fell, and such was the fate of nearly all who did likewise. As the south wind cleared the smoke, I saw that many brave boys had fallen. One of my shoes was covered by clotted blood. I looked to the rear, and there Mr. Ford lay, his head in reach of my feet, a mass of blood. I said to myself he is surely dead, but he afterward turned up, recovered. After some two and a half hours of fighting a breeze cleared away the smoke in front, and I saw some eight or ten rebs in a clump of bushes flaunting their colors. It made my blood boil, and I said now is my opportunity. I brought mv gun to the side of the tree and tired twelve well-directed rounds at the color-bearer, praying he would take one or more of them to heart, and at last the colors fell to earth. The battle raged and ’both parties stood where they did at first. I and nearly all of our men had eighty rounds of balls, and by this time our boys had acquired confidence and felt that we could hold the fort if the good Lord or somebody would bring cartridges, for ours were growing few, and the rebs kept up a bold front. Our water had given out and there was not a cracker in the pai’ty. We had left them all in camp for the* Johnnies, and I doubt if they thanked us for them. After six hours of terrible fighting our skirmish line ’said, “If you come over this line you will come over us dead. ” I noticed the tiring in parts of our line was less. I knew then some were out of cartridges. I had three left. I looked around and found I was alone on the line; all had leaped to the rear. I fired my last ball and followed them, and found them trying to drink a creek drj, I helped them. We then moved up the steep hill, Indian file. Qur company cook fell beside a big tree and we left him for dead, but he turned up all right in due time.

When we were half-way up they showered us with balls. On the top of the ridge Colonel Malmburg formed us, a handful of in a hollow square. We all thought we were to be sacrificed to the enemy, but as soon as they saw the square they ceased firing. We remained a short time, until we saw them ranging a battery at us, when Colonel Malmburg moved us slowly toward the landing, getting something to eat on the way, and we finally met the cheering news that General Nelson, of Buell’s command, had arrived across the river, and would cross as fast as possible. Cheers rang through the forest. It was then near five o’clock, and all was quiet in the woods, as all the balance of the army had fallen back hours before. We moved back to the deep ravine that Grant speaks of as the place where the second attempt to turn his flank occurred, and we supported the siege guns on the line a half mile from the lauding. This line was established as a military necessity quite early in the day, as the army commenced to fall back, under orders of‘Webster, Chief of Artillery, and was composed of guns in sections. I say there was no water in this ravine as per General Grant’s story. On Saturday, at G p. in., it began to rain, and the rebs made their debut across the run at the same hour, and formed a line. Our folks did not molest them until they opened with some twelve-pounders. Two volleys and then a volley from our entire line silenced them, and we heard no more from our neighbors. There was no sleep for us that night, as every fifteen minutes our gunboats on the river,sent a shell creeping through the treetops, while the rain poured iu solid sheets, and at daylight it was still raining. At Ba. m. we were relieved, and near the landing we had the best breakfast I ever ate. Roll -call told a sad tale; our company left camp Sunday morning with fifty-seven men, and to answer in their place now were but nine. After all was over we were introduced to Stuart as bis “immortal nine,” and all the regiment was drawn up in line before Sherman’s headquarters, and received quite a demonstration. A few days after, part of my brigade marched out iu front eight miles to a rebel hospital. As we rested in a valley a flag of truce came over the bill, borne' by some dozen rebels, members of the regiment that engaged us on Sunday, the 6th. We soon entered into conversation about the battle, and many questions were asked; in fact, all hatred was forgotten, and it was the most interesting inquiry meeting I ever attended. They asked what kind of guns made a hole in them big enough to throw a rabbit through. They were most eager to know if our men were not all in line on the ridge. v They explained to us that some half hour alter the ball opened they-urged • Chalmers to chase that skirmish line and take it. He paid no attention 'until they grew desperate, when he said it was simply a Yankee trick; that the deep ravine in our rear was full of Yanks, and we were trying to pull the wool over their eyes and draw them in to charge. They also said Chalmers had orders to take his command

to the left flank of the Union army, and wipe out a small brigade at the ford, then to go on to the landing, and destroy all the transport trains, and all the appurtenances of Lincoln’s army. He would then have been in the rear, the front would have been taken care of, and they would have had it all in a nutehell.— Scotty, in Chicago Ledger.

Foster, the Medium.

Some years ago, when Foster was giving sittings on Girard street at $5 a sit, he was visited by a friend of mine, a man of intellect and common sense, and yet when ho came away he was in a completely dazed condition of mind, not knowing what to think about what lie had witnessed. Let me relate one thing that amazed him. He was ushered into a small reception-room and told to write his name on a piece of paper and with his own hands seal it in an envelope. He sat down before the only table in the room and 'wrote his name—we will assume it to be John Smith—as directed, taking care to so conceal the writing that it could not be seen from abeve or from any other direction. He placed it in an envelope, sealed it and held it in one hand. The attendant then withdrew. In a few moments Foster entered and eyed his visitor with a piercing glance, as though reading his innermost thoughts. Suddenly extending his right hand, he ejaculated, “How are you, Mr. John Smith?”

The visitor started back in surprise, as he was certain Foster had never seen him before. “How do you know .my name ?” he wonderingly inquired. In deep tones Foster replied: “It is written in my blood.” With that he bared his left arm to the elbow, and seizing the still sealed envelope from Mr. Smith’s hand, crumpled it vigorously over the under and tender part of his arm. Over that member spread a glow through which bright crimson lines appeared, and in a few moments, emblazoned on the arm in fiery letters of blood, was the name of “ John Smith.” The amazed visitor, at Foster’s invitation, tried to wash the letters out with water, but the more he rubbed the brighter they became, until he was convinced—which was the fact—that the letters were beneath the skin and were caused by the man’s own blood. Wonderful you say, and that is what I said when I first heard of it. But I didn’t believe it was supernatural, for the very simple reason that if disembodied spirits are roaming around us they have certainly something better to do than to be writing names on men’s arms in order to enable a lazy scoundrel to put a five-dollar note in his swelling purse. Now that I know how the trick was done I am surprised only at its simplicity. In the first place, Foster has to ascertain his visitor’s name. This he did by a simple device. When Mr. Smith sat at the only table in the room he was unaware that beneath the writing pad was'what is called “copying paper,” an oiled and blackened sheet, which, when placed beneath the paper one is writing upon, conveys the impression to another piece of paper beneath it. The same kind of paper is used in making duplicate copies in tpye writing. A hard pencil was placed where Mr. Smith would pick it up, and in order to write his name he unconsciously bore down upon the copying paper. The attendant expertly withdrew the copy and carried it to his employer. Now to prepare for the blood act. Bare your arm to the elbow. In the right hand hold a thin piece of steel, but with a slightly rounded edge that will not cut. As you probably do not possess such an instrument, take a portion of a very stiff visiting or business card, and bearing its edges rather hard upon the under portion of your arm, follow the outlines of any letters you choose. The result will be barely-dis-cernible white lines that soon pass away. Five minutes later, with your hand on a crumpled piece of paper, rub that portion of your arm as vigorously as you can, and you will be surprised when you see the letters you have outlined appearing beneath the skin in the full vividness of your own blood. Now you see what Foster did. He marked the name “John Smith” on hi s arm, drew down his shirt sleeve, put on his coat, and walked into the reception room. His rubbing the envelope over the arm was simply intended to delude John Smith with the be-. lief that his name was conveyed from the inclosed paper to Foster’s blood. Simple, isn’t it? Yet it is far more complex than most of the mediumistic tricks. There are endless varieties o| the deception.

How strange it is that ideas in various parts of the globe are so contradictory! For instance, take the question of girls. In spite pf our advancing ideas we have a general conviction that girls should not be put to very hard work. We shield them if we can. In Asia and Africa, on the contrary, in spite of all we are always hearing oi lazy lives of women in those countries, an old belief prevails that they were born to labor. The same is true in many parts of Germany. In Turkestan and on the Tartar steppes the Kirghese sultanas and their daughters, in whose veins flows the of long lines of, kings, still milk the sheep, cows, and goats, and perform the menial duties of the household. They reverse the order of things. The mother wears silk and the daughter calico; the mother cultivates accomplishments and the daughter does the drudgery; in fact, they really consider the mother entitled to the.best of everything! Such is it to be uncivilized. There the mother is at home in the drawing-room and the daughter in the kitchen, and we would look in vain for the fashionable and well-educated girl to scorn her mother. What a blessed state ol affairs!

HUMOR.

A man may have no ear for music, yet have a mind to play. The spring-time of life—when you discover a bent pin under you. A very plain and plainly dressed girl may cut a swell. All that is necessary is to refuse to recognize him.— Boston Courier. Employer: “Don’t you see what’s on the door?” Pat: “A bit of paper, sur.” Employer: “It says, ‘Please shut the door.’” Pat: “Faitb, I didn’t hear it, sur.” Customer in restaurant: “Waiter, this chicken soup has feathers ia it ” Waiter: “Yes, sah. If vo’ want soup made outer chickens dat am old ’nough to be bald, sah, vo’ll have to go to some odder establishment.” A correspondent wants to know if it is proper to urge a young lady to sing at an evening gathermg after she has refused once. It is proper to urge a little, but not too much, least she should change her mind.

So witty a compliment is rarely made es that of Sidney Smith to his friends, Mrs. Tighe and Mrs. Cuffe: “Ah! there you are—the cuff that every one would be glad to wear, and the tie that no one would lose.” WHAT IS THE USE? Whv should we fret, why should we sigh, Wh it is the ua9 of repining? Every dark cloud that conies into our sky Is a cloud with, a silver lining. —Boston Courier. One of the most characteristic stories told about Mr. W. E. Forster turns ou his whist-playing. Mr. Payn, the novelist, is an enthusiastic whist-player, while Mr. Forster only “joined in” when some one was wanted to make up a rubber. On one occasion they were partners, and Mr. Forster was playing execrably. For a time Mr. Payn kept his temper, as in the circumstances good players find it hard to do; but at last he broke down and looked things unutterable. His partner saw what was wrong, and came to Mr. Payn’s rescue. “Say anything you like,” he said, genially; “if you think it would relieve you, call mo Buckshot!”— St. James’ Gazette. » INCONSTANCY. The soft, inconstant, plashing rain Beats warmly ou tlis window pane, Then ceases altogether. The jealous clouds oppose in vain; The sun shines brightly out again— And that is April weather. With such a gush of sudden tears, A young, romantic maiden hears Her pa dismiss poor Harry. But soon the cloudy weather clears. She smiles again, when there appears A richer man to marry. —Somerville Journal. Some papers are criticising the President because in a recent message he used the phrase “innocuous desuetude. ” We do not think this is fair. If Mr. Cleveland wants to turn clear back to the hind part of the dictionary and take out a pair of such words ft isn’t any one’s business. There is no proof that he skipped any of the book in bunting them up; doubtless he has studied it all the way through till he came to them. We have ourself explored back in that part of the book to a certain extent and can say that the President might have done much worse. In the comparatively unsettled territorial portions of Webster’s dictionary, chiefly used as stock ranges for the elephas Indicus, the chrysochloris capensis, and the thin and hardy pterodactyl, there are words which it would have been much more difficult for a large man like him to have caught and halter broken than “innocuous desuetude,” and also ones which would have had a much worse effect on the Senate. Let the President continue his great camp hunt among the fastnesses of the English language undisturbed. —Estelline Bell.

Recognition of Farces.

Gratitude is a grace by far too rarely found. The story of the lepers in a book which reveals not only more of the divine nature, but more of human nature, than any other, represents the usual sad disproportion of gratitude in the world. The lepers were peculiar in the misfortune of leprosy, but not peculiar in the other misfortune of in--gratitude. Every feeling grows by expression ; hence we should strive to increase our appreciation of favors by every possible acknowledgement of them. Yet a great many favors are habitually accepted by us as a matter of course, and if not entirely unacknowledged, are very carelessly and indifferently received. A domestic said once, in speaking of a deceased mistress with respect and affection, “It was a pleasure to do anything for her, for whatever It was, great or small, she always had a bright smile, and a hearty ‘Thankyou.’” “Why do you suppose Madam B has so many friends?” asked a young girl about an aged lady who received a great many visits and tokens of remembrance. “Everybody seems to like her.” “I can give yon one reason,” answered her aunt; “she is always grateful for every kindness, and shows that she appreciates even the slightest favor, —a flower, the loan of a book, whatever it may be —by a prompt and heartfelt recognition of any attention, any personal thoughtfulness on the part of others. M Ie you are a wise man, you will treat the world as the moon treats it. Show only one side of yourself, seldom show yourself too much at a time, and let what you show be calm, cool, and polished. But look at every side of the world. • J ust think of the brilliant field that old Noal* had for a fish stbry, with not a witness of his efforts ; but he wasn’t up to the times.— Germantown Independent.