Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 118, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 May 1912 — AROUND THE CAMP FIRE [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

AROUND THE CAMP FIRE

KISS BROUGHT BACK A LIFE Incident Showing Tenderness of Heart of Martyred President — Scene Worthy of Artist. No story of Abraham Lincoln so well illustrates the great tenderness, of Ms heart as that which tells of the kiss he gave a wounded soldier-hero. In a narrow cot in the military hospital at City Point MaJ. Charles H. Houghton was dying. He had been in comidand of Fort Haskell, a strategic point in the rear of Grant’s lines*; against which all the fury of Lee's attack was being directed in an effort to break the Union lines. Against MaJ. Houghton, a mere boy of 20 years old, were pitted the science and strategic knowledge of Gen. John B. Gordon, of Georgia. Shortly after, at 9 o’clock pne morning, the door at the end of the ward was opened and Dr. MacDonald, chief surgeon, called: "Attention! The President of the United States.” Those on the cots who had the strength sat erect; nurses propped others against pillows. Hands went to pallid foreheads in the military salute and weakened hearts beat fast again as in the doorway appeared the form of the man who stood for all that thousands of other men had fought for, died for and would live for. There outside the door, the sunlight streaming into the\room over square, gaunt shoulders, stood Abrhham Lincoln. Into the room he stalked, bending his awkward form ungracefully, for the doorway was low. At cot after cot he paused to speak- some word of cheer. At Houghton’s cot the two men paused. "This is the man,” whispered MacDonald. With a large, uncouth hand thePresident motioned for a chair. Silently a nurse'placed one at the cot’s head. Houghton did not know; he could not. As though he were afraid 1 it would clatter and hurt the sufferer* Lincoln softly plaoed his “stovepipe” hat of exaggerated fashion on the floor. Gently as a woman he took the wasted, colorless hand in his own sinewy one of Iron strength. Just the suspicion of a pressure was there,, but Houghton opened his eyes. Slowly, dully he realized who it was beside him.

A smilp which had forgotten suffering answered the great President’s smile of pain. In tones soft, almost, musical, It seemed, the President spoke to the boy on the cot, told him how he had heard of his great deeds, how he was proud of his fellow countryman, how he had saved an army. A few feeble words Houghton spoke in reply. At the poor, toneless voioe the President winced. The doctor had told him that Houghton would die. Then happened a strange thing. The President asked to see the wound which was taking so noble a life. Surgeons and nurses tried to dissuade him, but Lincoln insisted. The horrors of war were for him to bear as well as others, he told them, and

to him the wound was a thing holy Bandages long and stained were removed, and the President saw. “Oh, this war! This awful, awful war!" he sobbed. , Down the deep lined furrows of the homely, kindly face hot tears burned' their way. Slowly, ' tenderly, the President leaned over the pillow. Now the tears of which he was not ashamed cut heavy furrows in~.it rfnd splotched the white sheets on which they fell. While nurses and surgeons and men watched there in the little hospital Abraham Lincoln*took the pallid face of Houghton between his. hands and kissed it, just below the damp, tangled hair. “My boy," be said brokenly, swallowing, “you must live. You must live.” The first gleam of real, warm, throbbing life came into the dull eyes. Houghton, stiffened, with a conscious, elastic tension in the cot With a little wan smile he managed to drag a hand to his forehead. It was the nearest he could' come to a salute. The awkward form of the President bent lower and lower to catch the faint faint words. “1 Intend to, sir,” was what Hougfcton said. Ami he did. .«*■

Gently as a Woman He Took the Wasted, Colorless Hand.