Democratic Sentinel, Volume 11, Number 39, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 21 October 1887 — Page 6

MISS SUSIE. XT C. X. RAYMOND. Do you see that gebtle lady. With the sweet smile on her faee. Talking to that ragged urchin Standing in the market-place ? Well, sir, she has done more good now In this wicked little town Than the teachers, and the preachers, And all others, I'll be bound. Why, sir, she’s a very angel; Least we think so in these parts. What’s her business ? Let me see, now— Healing crushed and broken hearts. Have a chew, sir? You don’t use it? I’ve no doubt but that you'ro right; I’ve spent many a dollar on it, Even when my purse was light. That’s the curse of all bad habits— First thing you know you’re a slave. Strange, a man should be so foolish As to help dig his own grave! Yes, but what about the story? There, it slipped my memory quite. A strange story! but I trust, sir, God knows always what is right. She was just the sweetest lassie To be seen in all the town— Rosy cheeks, and sunny ringlets, And large laughing eyes of brown. Every one loved dear Miss Susie, But young Allen most of all; They, so long affianced lovers. Would be wedded in the fall. Swiftly sped the golden summer; Came the glorious autumn days,— Golden rod and soarlet maple, Hills all veiled in purple haze. Just the night before the wedding Allen met a dear old friend; Would he not for “auld lang syne" sake— But you know where those things tend. How it happened no one knew, sir, But they found young Allen dead; Flesh all torn and badly mangled, And a deep gash in his head. When they told her the sad news, sir, Oh, it was a fearful sight! Befo re morning golden ringlets All were changed to snowy white. For a time they feared her reason Would be shaken from its throne, But at last peace, pure and holy, Made her trusting heart its own. Then she went out in tho world, sir. Breathing hope and joy, and lovo ; Till the listening angels bockon, Watching from their homo above. Madison, Wis.

HOW ONE SOLDIER OBEYED ORDERS.

Twenty-two years ago, if you followed the pike out of Winchester, Virginia, going south, you would see on the left-hand side of the road, about sixty rods from the town, a small twostory frame house, standing near the pike, in a barren yard. That house was the scene of a military tragedy such as did not often occur in the armies, and which illustrated in the most striking manner the fidelity of a young recruit to duty, and to the strict military maxim—"obey orders!” Let me tell the story. It will be best to say at the start that the real names of the principal actors in this episode are suppressed. They are fresh in mind, and could easily be used; but when the account has been read the reasons for withholding them will be perfectly understood. The hero of the adventure was at the time a lad of less than twenty years, a recruit of the Fifteenth Maine Infantry, and had been but six weeks in the service. His share in the events of that night was not only honorable but highly praiseworthy; yet as he may now be, if surviving, the father of a fami.y, possibly a man of wealth and prominence at home, I should not wish, without his consent, to attach his true name to the sketch. We will therefore call him Private Brigham. As for the unhappy victim of the encounter, whose rashness, or worse, led him on to his death, charity to his memory and to the feelings of surviving relatives appeals to me to withhold his name. He will be styled Lieutenant Y . The time was April, 1865; it was a few days after the news had reached us of the surrender at Appomattox. I was Judge Advocate of Dwight’s Division, which was thrown out about two miles in front of Winchester. Early one morning the field Officer of the Day came riding in to headquarters to report. I stood by and heard what he said to the Adjutant General. “Everything is all right on the picket lino; but 1 hear of a row that occurred at a house where we have a safeguard, on the pike, back near town. There was a man killed—some say an officer. ” 1 was immediately dispatched to investigate. As I rode up to the house I saw a group ot idlers in front. One of them said something about “blood.” Dismounting, I stopped long enough outside to see what they were looking at. Sure enough, it was blood; drops of it on the steps and on the ground. I went in. Two or three women were in the hall, pale as ghosts, and almost hysterical. They all began to talk at once, but I stopped them. I told them who I was, my errand, and that they must tell me the exact truth as to what had happened. I got their story and then went into the back room. There was Private Brigham, a slender slip of a fellow, about as pale as the women, but looking just like a soldier as he grasped his good Springfield musket with the bayonet fixed. I had learned enough already to satisfy me where the truth lay, and I talked kindly and assuringly to the young soldier while I took notes of his Statement. “Give it to me just as it happened,” I said. “If you have obeyed orders and done your duty, no harm shall come to you. ” He told me his story, which perfectly matched that of the women, in a simple and straightforward way. These accounts, I have never doubted, gave the whole truth of the affair. Before going back to headquarters I went into another room, where something on the floor was covered by a

white sheet from a bed. One of the women turned it down. A dead man lay there with a bayonet wound clear through his breast. There were no straps upon the shoulders of his blouse, but I recognized the face at once. It was that of Lieutenant Y , of the cavalry, whom I had met in Winchester the winter before. He was a wild fellow, much given to drink and dissipation, but of handsome face and fine appearance. And this was how it happened: The occupants of the house were a widow and her two grown daughters. They had been annoyed by depredations of some soldiers, to which had been lately added an occasional visit by Lieutenant Y . He was, or professed to be, in love with one of the girls. Both she and her mother had requested him not to trouble them, and fearing that he would not heed the request, they had asked for a safeguard, which had been furnished the night before in the person of Private Brigham. To “force'a safeguard,” in military parlance, is a grave crime. The officer or soldier who would do it would lay himself liable to no less penalty than that of death! The safeguard stands for the protection of peaceable citizens and their property, and has the power of the whole army at his back. It is doubtful whether Private Brigham, fresh in the service as he was, fully realized this; but he knew what his orders were, and he was determined to obey them. They were toadmit no one to the house but an officer on duty. Some time after dark three horsemen rode up to the door and dismounted. One of them, Lieutenant Y , opened the door, and was confronted with a bayonet at the end of a musket, in the hands of the resolute safeguard. One of the women held a lamp back in the hall.

What happened did not take two minutes. The officer swore at Brigham, and ordered him to stand back. The soldier told him flatly that he could not enter, and that he would be hurt if he tried it. The officer swore again, was taunted by his companion outside for being kept back by “an infantry toad-stabber, and he made a rush. The soldier put the bayonet straight through him. He must have died instantly; liis heart was cloven through. He tumbled to the floor, and Private Brigham stood again on guard. There was more profanity outside, and another man appeared on the steps and attempted to enter. He, too, was warned, but pressed on, and promptly received the bayonet through his arm. He waited for no more, but beat a hasty retreat, was helped on his horse by the orderly, and rode away. On the report that I made to General Dwight of this affair, I was ordered to defend the soldier whenever he should be brought before a courtmartial. I expected to have to do this, and made ready to do it; but the occasion never came. Brigham was never tried, and honorably finished his service. I never knew precisely why no greater stir was made about the matter, but the reasons are not hard to conjecture. Tho cavalry division in and about Winchester was commanded by G enerai Torbert, the same who lost his life by drowning, a few years since, off the coast of Florida. 1 have no doubt that he made his own investigation, and became satisfied that the safeguard did exactly the correct thing, and that a court-martial would be a useless form when the facts were so well known. Nothing but reproach to the dead man and his companion could have come from the trial of Private Brigham; so the whole business was wisely dropped. But I doubt if another instance of such promptness and fidelity to orders can be found in a lad not two months in the army. It is such stuff makes heroes!

EXCSSIVELY HONEST.

BY OPIE P. BEAD.

Very few negro preachers have abandoned the pulpit on account of the vanities of recent religion or the dishonorable transactions which have been imputed to the cloth. Among the very—we may say solitary—few may be reckoned old Gus Marcus. Mischief-breed-ers—-and they are to be found in nearly every congregation—declared that old Gus gave up the calling which he had so long pursued because his people failed to pay him adequately, but those who had most largely partaken of the old man’s rigid casuistry knew that he could no longer associate with co-work-ers who, while on their way to prayermeeting, marked with calculating eye the height of the chicken-roost, and who heard, with the keen ear of interest, the turkey’s sonorous gobble. Gus moved to town, rented a small shanty, and opened a vegetable store. He hung up a motto, which, with almost pardonable pleonasm, declared: “Widout no honesty dar ain’t no man dat desarves ter prosper,” and was explaining it to several members of his former flock when a white man entered, and, after looking around a few moments, said: “By the way, I left my umbrella in here this morning. It’s lying over there. Hand it to me, please. ” Gus stared at him. “I say, hand it to me, please.” “Look vere, mister, I doan know yer name, but I’se gwine ter be perlite wid yer; so, jes’ lemme tell yer ter go on erbout yer biznesss erfairs an’ doan’ come ’roun’ yere projickin’ wid me w’en I’se got erfairs ter Ten’ ter. ” “I tell you that I left that umbrella Here, and I want it. “Oh, I knows mighty well w’ut yer tells me. De closest ’quaintances I

eber had ain’ ’cased me o’ bein deef. Oh, yas, I knows w’ut yer says. ” “If you don’t give me that umbrella 11l go after an officer. ” “Dat’s one o’ de rights o’ de ’Merican citizenship, sah, sot down by the consertution an’ ’fended by de Preserdent; but dar ain’ no clause in de langwidge ter make er pusson gin np de property dat he’s dun ’cumerlated. I’se had dat ’brella er long time, sah; longer den yerse’f has been able ter ’dorse fur yerse’f at de banks in dis town. Bought dis 'brella wid some mighty hard-’arned money. Go on, mister; go on, fur I’se in er ’scussion wid sum o' mer frien’s.” The man hurriedly withdrew. Old Gus continued: “Dat’s de way it is. Dat w’ite man, es he had been fotch up right, mout er been er honest pusson, but ez it is, he gwine ’roun’ de neighborhood tryin’ ter cheat folks outen dar rights. I tell yer, dis yere worl’ is going ter rack mighty fas’; an de preachers, ’stead o’ tryin’ ter stop it, 'pear to be smilin’ on de ’formance.” The claimant of the umbrella, accompanied by an officer, entered the store. * “Oldman,” said the officer, “this gentleman claims that umbrella.” “las, sah, yas; an’ he mout claim do moon, but dat doan mean dat he gwine git it. It’s my ’brella, sah; bought an’ paid fur. I ken go an’ show yer w’ar I bought it—show yer de very place. ” “How long have you had it?” “ ’Bout two years. ” “Must have kept it well.” “I has, sah. I alius takes kere o’ de property dat de Lawd lets me ’cumerlate. ” “My name is R. D. Lane,” said the claimant. “Hand the umbrella here a moment. ” Old Gus began to argue, but the officer seized the umbrella and handed it to the claimant, who, moving a silver slide, disclosed his name. “Old man,” said the officer, “that is sufficient. It is clear that you are a thief. ” “Git outen dis house, bof o’yer. Git out. Wen er man comes slip pin’ ’roun’ yere writin’ his name on my property w’en I ain’t lookin’, w’v, I ain’t got no use fur him. I tell yer w’ut,” turning to his friends, “I’ll hatter lock up dis yere house tighter. Dat triflin’ white pusson will slip in an’ write his name on all dese yere cabbages an’ cowcumbers. I reckon es he wuz ter write his name on me w’en I is ersleep he’d take me erway, too. Oh, my dyin’ sinner frien’s, we all hatter be mighty keerful. It pains me ter say so, but it is er plum’ flatfooted sack. Wall, es ever’body wuz hones’ I doan reckon half de folks would know w’ut ter do wid dar spar’ time. But it is sad ter think erbout, Brudder John; powerful sad.”—Arkansaw Traveler.

Left Alone with the Money.

The affairs of Montenegro were conducted in a very peculiar fashion when Lawrence Oliphant visited it, some years ago, says Youth'n Companion. On arriving at the little town of Cettinje, the capital of the principality, he found that it contained no hotel, but that room was made for the rare stranger at a lodging-house containing one or two spare bedrooms. Having been put in one of these chambers, he found it simply furnished, and, as there was no table, his dinner was spread upon a large chest which it contained. While he was enjoying his repast the door suddenly opened and a stalwart Montenegrin stalked in. Says the traveler: “He addressed me with great politeness in his native tongue; at least I gathered from his manner that he was polite, for I could not understand a word he said. “I rose and bowed with much ceremony, addressing him fluently in the English language, upon which he drew an immense key from his pocket and pointed to the lock of the chest, thus giving me to understand that he wished to open it. “In order for him to accomplish this it was necessary for me to remove my dinner, an operation which was speedily performed. As he seemed a frank and engaging sort of person, without any secrets, I looked over his shoulder while he opened the chest, to see what was in it. “To my astonishment, it was full to the brim of bags of money. Not only this, but my strange visitor opened one of them, and poured out a handful of gold. “ VVhen he had counted out what he wanted, he tied up the bag again, replaced it, locked up the chest* helped me with many Sclavonic expressions, which I have no doubt were apologies, to spread my banquet again, and, with a final polite salutation, vanished, leaving me alone with the untold treasure which he had thus revealed to me. “The absolute confidence placed in me, an utter stranger, appalled me, and I went to sleep vainly trying to unrival the mystery. “It wa3 not solved until next day, when I acquired the information that the chest upon which I had dined contained the entire finances of the principality, and that the Montenegrin who had unlocked it, and vacated his chamber in my behalf, was its chancellor of the exchequer.” Sceews that are too small for separate treatment may be cleaned from rust as follows: Take a pound of screws and place them in a small box—a cigar box will do; put a small quantity of oil on them and shake for a minute; then put a piece of cotton waste in the box and repeat for a minute ; finally, put a handful of sawdust in the box and shake for another minute or so, and remove the sawdust by sifting it from the screws in a fine sieve. The screws will come out well cleaned.

FOR HIS MOTHER.

A Chicago Banker Shot Down by His Step-Son While Coming from Church. -- ___ _____ Tragic Ending of What Has Been an Extremely Sensational Divorce Suit. LChicago special.] All the scandal that has set the town agog over the divorce salt of Kawson vs. Rawspn is again dragged to the front by the shooting, on Sunday, of the famous banker by his stepson, William Ralph Lee. Tbe people who sat in front and behind Mr. Stephen W. Rawson in the 'lhird Presbyterian Chnrch at the comer of Ogden and Ashland avenues arose with him at the pronunciation of the devout benediction, and with him stepped out into the sunshine of the front entrance. There their senses and breath were driven from them at the sight of a slip of a young man who quickly stepped behind the banker and opened fire upon him with a revolver. The first crack of the weapon was the banker’s warning, but the bullet caught him and he staggered to the curbing, followed by the youth, who never

paused an instant in his work with tho revolver, which he clutched with both his hands, tugging at the trigger. The second shot came at the curbing. Then Mr. Rawson staggered half-way to the car tracks along Ogden avenue and fell forward upon his elbows. The women had begun soreaming by this time, but before any odc could interfere the assassin stood within six feet of his prostrate victim and fired three more shots directly at his body. Then there was a pause, for the double-acting pistol was empty. One man rushed upon the murderous youngster from behind aud jostled him into the arms of another running from the opposite direction, and the weapon was knocked from his hand. Three or four hundred members of the church had seen one of its most prominent members shot down before their eyes in the most cold-blooded manner, and for the moment their excitement got the better of their piety. There were excited yells of “Hang him!” “Kill him!” but Officer Jack Hartnett was close at hand, and had the prisoner in charge in a second. The murdered man was lifted into a carriage and driven to his palatial home on Monroe street. A consultation of physician was held. After a critical examination of the wounded man it was decided to give up all attemnta to extract any of the five balls and to devote all efforts to removing the effects of the shock and building up the system. This was held to be the only

THOMPSON. GANZELL. SHINDLE. BROUTHERS. WHITE. ROWE. RICHARDSON.

WELCH. COMISKEY. ROBINSON. BUSHONG. BOYLE. KING.

possible hope for the desperately wounded man’s recovery. Lee is a slim, nattily built youth, about five feet two inches in height, and between 16 and 17 years of age. His bearing was cool and collected to a surprising degree, taking into consid eration the tragic scene just concluded at the church doors. When Mrs. Rawson was informed of what her son had done she exclaimed: “I am glad of it; he got what he deserved." Stephen W. Rawson has been a well-known figure in banking and church circles for a great many years, is a prominent member of the Illinois Club, one of the “heavy” men of the Pres-

William Ralph Lee Shooting Banker Rawson.

The Detroit Club.

The St. Louis Browns.

byterian Church, and stands high in the financial world. The case of Rawson vs. Rawson has been from its inception one of the spiciest that Chicago was ever treated to. Petitions, bills, cross-bills, and about all the other kinds of documents known to the legal profession were filed without number, and everything from In compatibility of temper to adultery was charged. It was March 1, 1886, that Stephen W. Rawson was married to Mrs. America Lncretia Smith, and so inharmonious was their married life that within six months from the date of the wedding the public was being regaled with accounts of their marital infelicity. As far as previous marriages were concerned they were very evenly mated, she being nis third wife and he her third husband. She was first married at the age of 15 years to William Slaymaker in New Orleans, but secured a divorco from him very shortly afterward on the ground of drunkenness. Her next venture was with Charles G. Lee, of Mississippi, and it terminated in the same way —i. e.: she secured a divorce because of his drunkenness. By blaym&ker she had a son, Ralph William Slaymaker, and by Lee a daughter, Maria Read Leo. After hoc divorce from Lee Mrs. Rawson went to Washington and secured a position in the Patent Office, where she worked for some time. In September, 1883, she came to Chicago and bought the house No. 1247 Michigan avenue, previously owned by Rawson ; ana there she resided until her marriage, when Mr. Rawson took her to his own home. No, 496 West Monroe street, Their separation occurred a little over three months after their weddings Mr. Rawson going to the Grand Pacific Hotel to live, and Mrs. Rawson remaining in the house. Of course, it is impossible to say just what the real causes of the separation were, further than that there

was a very startling incompatability of temper. The case has never come to trial, and all that the public knows is that there were numerous serious and damaging charges made by both sides. It may have been the fault of either or both; it is not likely now that the truth will ever be known.

BASE-BALL.

The Champion Teams of the National League and the American Association. The Two Now Engaged in a Contest for the World’s Championship. The base-hall season of 1887 has been the most successful one, from every point of view, .in the history of the national game. The batting has been heavier, the pitching more scientific, and tho base-running finer than was ever before exhibited, while the attendance has been a third larger than in any previous season. There is not a ciub in the League or in the American Association

BENNETT. TWITCHELL. BALDWIN. DUNLAP. HANLON. W. H. WATEINS. GETZIEN.

O’NEILL. GLEASON. LATHAM. PRESIDENT VON DER AHE. FOUTZ. CARUTHERS.

that has not made some money, while the majority of them have cleared thousands of dollars. The Detroit Club, by superior play in the belcl andLat-ihe bat, have won the League peupant. \ The St Louis Browns having distanced all Competitors and won the champion play'=<si the American Association, these two giant teams of the green diamond are now engaged in an earnest struggle to settle the question of supremacy and determine which of the two is entitled to the proud distinction of “world champions.” On account of the interest which centers in these two combinations of unrivaled base-ball talent, we present herewith portTaitaj of the player'