Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 166, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 12 July 1912 — Page 2

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N the early days of May, 1776, more than two score gentlemen wearing powdered pigtails, silk stockings, and wide-skirted coats, wended their way on horseback or in cumbersome, comfortless coaches from all sections of the country toward “the city of Philadelphia. They were members of the Second Continental Cpngrees, and they had a

right to their grave faces, for Lexington and Concord had just been fought, and all of them knew the disgusting details of the old British law of treason. Among those men were two whose fates from that time forward were to be linked in strange fashion. One of them rode down from the north, the other up from the south. The northerner was a somewhat sour-visaged man. nearing the

age of forty, whose big wig and the legalistic turn of his talk belayed the fact that he was a disciple of the then living Blackstone. Somewhat Inclined to be irascible, censorious and vain, he was yet a man of high public character and pure private morals —a diluted Puritan, viewing the world through the Puritan’s suspicious and somewhat Jaundioed vision. It was the second time that he had ridden down to Philadelphia, fbr he had been a member of the First Continental Congress, in which his knowledge of affairs, patriotic convictions, high eourage and keen legal mind had given him an honorable place. The man who rode up from the south was younger by seven years, slender of frame, with freckled skin, curly red hair and ha tel gray eyes that betrayed a kindly yet withal A. determined spirit Though a Virginia gentleman of large means, he displayed a disposition toward what in later days was called “democratic simplicity.’* He brought with him a reputation for science, literature and a happy talent for composition. It was whispered that 1n addition to the classics, be understood Spanish, French, Italian, was learning German and contemplated studying Gaelic; that he knew how to calculate an eclipse, plan a building, set a broken bone, try a lawsuit and danoe the minuet Those of his fellow-mem-bers who came to know him intimately discovered that he was, in addition, a most agreeable and considerate companion, that he was passionately fond of playing the- vlqlln, and that occasionally he wrote poetry. Theee men were John Adamß and Thomas Jefferson. They speedily became friends. is«iyi« wrote of his fellow-member: “He was so prompt frank, explicit and decisive upon committees and In conversation that he soon won my heart.” A year passed, and the revolt that was began to preserve our rights as Englishmen ripened into revolution. The time came when a separation that already existed in fact must be formally recognised in name also. And upon the roll of the committee of five named to prepare the declaration of that fact to the world stood the names of Thomas Jefferson and John Adams. Jefferson wrote the Immortal document, but the >,,v of defending it before the Congress fell chiefly upon the doughty Adams. And well did he perform H. “He was our Colossus on the floor,” wrote Jefferson in grateful acknowledgement. Unlike as Jefferson and Adams were in temperament, training, and political ideals, those anxious days of association in a noble work created a bond of sympathy that time nor all the bitterness of party strife could not destroy. For some years, however, their paths lay in different places. It was not until they represented their infant country at two European courts that they were again thrown into close association. When the Adamses visited Paris In 1785 they were frequently entertained by Jefferson, and the relations between the two families were so friendly that Abigail Adams wrote: “I shall really regret to leave Mr. Jefferson; he is one of the choice ones of esrth.” Subsequently, In describing the difficulties of her husband’s position at an unfriendly court, she said: “In Mr. Jefferson he has a firm and faithful friend with whom he can consult and advise . . . They tiave un limited confidence In each other.” . Our twain were next brought Into close association in the administration of Washington—Adams as vice-president and Jefferson as Secretary of state. And then began an unfor'Tunate “rift within the lute.” Adams, though of rather plebeian birth, inclined to aristocracy; he believed that the “rich, the well-born And the able” ought to feto. Shabbily as he had been while 'minister at the court of St. James, he sympathised with monarchical Britain In her struggle with republican France. Jefferson, though aristocratic lineage, was not an aristocrat **BQua! rights to all, special privileges for fiowr-a longer name for “the square deal”— tfas hlfl poHfical creed. Not for the sake of

STRANGEST COINCIDENCE IN HISTORY

setting up aristocracies and monarchies had our forefathers emigrated to America, subdued the wilderness and won independence. “Born free and equal” was a phrase that mifßt have concrete reality. Against the aristocratic tendencies that he saw about him Jefferson set himself to fight with a quiet but grim earnestness. For a time, however, the Adams-Hamilton party triumphed. Adams was elected president to succeed Washington; Jefferson was forced to be" content with the vice-presidency. Then came the quasi-war with France, and .with it a decided reaction against Jeffersonian republican- - ism. But In the pride of their might the Fed- j eralists overreached themselves In the fatal alien and sedition acts, while Adams bravely refused to be pushed into an unnecessary war with France by the reckless Hamiltonians. By so doing he wrecked his party, but rendered his country the greatest service of his career. Tears later he said: ‘I desire no other inscription over my gravestone than this: “Here lies John Adams, who took upon himself the responsibility of the peace with France In the year 1800.” During these years the friends frequently reminded each other that there was nothing personal in their political conflicts. But personal pique inevitably crept in, and neither was always able to refrain from attacking the other. His defeat In the election of 1800 was a great blow to Adams. Deprived of the coveted second term, he behaved with a pettiness that was out of keeping with his real greatness, After putting Federalists in every vacancy on which he could lay his hands, he shook the dust of the capital off his feet, and on the early morning of March 4, 1801, before his triumphant enemies were astir, drove off northward without waiting to see his successor installed in office. It was seemingly a final sad ending to a friendship between two men who, each In his own way, were as sterling patriots as ever lived. But time works great changes, Jefferson’s administration, especially during the first few years, proved so successful that most Federalists turned Republicans. Though he had bitter enemies who even plotted the formation of a “Northeastern Confederacy,” they were not numerous enough to figure largely In the election returns. After all, Adams hated Hamilton and his satellites far more than he hated Jefferson. His son. John Quincy Adams, unable to swallow Buch British outrages as that committed by the “Leopard” on the “Chesapeake,” severed his relations with the feeble remnant of the pro-British Federalists and became a Republican. When Timothy Pickering published a pamphlet arraigning the administration, John Adams replied to it, thus appearing as a supporter of Jefferson’s policy. In 1804, Jefferson lost his “ever dear daughter,” Mary. *T of my want," he wrote sadly, “have lost even the half of all I had. My evening prospects now hang on the slender thread of a single life.” The news proved too much for great-hearted Abigail Adams. Without her husband’s knowledge, she wrote Jefferson a letter of condolence, in which kind feeling, goodness of heart and a proud, unforgiving spirit were curiously commingled. ■ | Y J . 1 •' • Jefferson’s reply was that of a noble man to a noble woman. After thanking her in suitable language, he made an earnest effort to revive the perishing friendship between the two families. Several. letters were exchanged, but the wounds the Adamses believed they had received still smarted, and cordial , relations were not then restored. In 1811 Dr. Benjamin Rush of Philadelphiaexpressed to Jefferson a desire to bring about a reconciliation, and Jefferson gladly embraced it In a letter to Rush he said many complimentary things of Adams, and added that in the preceding summer two of his Virginia neighbors had visited Baintree and that Adams had said to them: ‘1 always loved Jefferson, and still love him.” “This.” wroteJefferson, “is enough for me. I only needed tills knowledge to revive toward Urn all the affections of the most cordial moments of oar

ITRDB STORY OF i f FOURTH Or JOLT 1 (AND WO QKE^MEN

lives.” Thus encouraged, Rush addressed to the two fellowJaborers in the cause of freedom an eloquent appeal to bedew their “letters of reconciliation with tears of affection and joy.” The hopes of the peacemaker were realized. Although Adams answered the appeal in a facetious and somewhat deprecatory letter, he ended with a half promise to comply with Rush’s wishes. Taking as an excuse the sending of some specimens of New England homespun, he wrote a friendly letter to his old comrade and rival. The joy with which, Jefferson received this overture is visible in every line of his happily worded reply. Without even waiting for the arrival of the homespun, he hastened to write an answer that In part was as follows: “A letter from you calls up recollections very dear to my mind. It carries me back to the times when, beset with difficulties and dangers, we were fellow-laborers in*the same cause, struggling for what is most valuable to man, his right of self-government Laboring always at the same oar, with some wave ever ahead threatening to overwhelm us, and yet passing harmless under our bark, we knew not how, we .rode through the storm with heart and hand, and made a happy port “Of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, I see now living not more than half (l dozen on your side of the Potomac, and, on this side, myself alone. Y" '"You and I have been wonderfully Bpared. and myself with remarkable health, and a considerable activity of body and mind. I am on horseback three or four hours of every day; visit three or four times a year a possession I have ninety miles distant performing the winter journey on horseback. I walk little, however, a single mile being too much for me; and* I live In the midst of my grandchildren, one of whom has lately prompted me to be a great-grandfather. I have heard with pleasure that you also retain good health, and a greater power of exercise in walking than I do. But I would rather* have heard this from yourself, and that, writing a letter of mine, full of egotisms and of details of your health, your habits, occupations and enjoyments, I should have the pleasure of knowing that In the race of life you do not keep, In Its physical decline, the same distance ahead of me which you have done in political honors and achievements.”Thenceforward no cloud was ever allowed to come between them. Both had wrongs to forgive and forget, but they did it nobly. Though they never again saw each other In the flesh, they wrote long and frequent letters, telling of their daily lives and discussing politics, religion, philosophy and other topics. In one of Jefferson’s letters occurred what seems almost a prophecy of something strange to come. “The simultaneous movements in our correspondence,” he wrote, “have been remarkable on several occasions. It would seem as if the state of the air, or the state of the times, or some ether unknown cause, produced a sympathetic effect on our mutual recollections.” Could it be that between these two great minds there existed a sort of mental telepathy? At all events, a more touching intimacy of patriotic souls was never beheld. In the fulness of years and of honors, did these two venerable patriarchs, once friends, then enemies, and now again friends, march in concord down the path of time toward a day that was to link their names yet closer in a glorious immortality. Eight years passed, Jefferson was eightythree and Adams ninety, yet both retained the full enjoyment of their faculties. It was the year X 826, the fiftieth anniversary of the nation’s birth. Throughout the land great preparations were making to observe the national holiday. Party feeling was sunk in common love of country, and the attention of the public was universally tuVned toward these venerable patriots who, with Chss. Carrol! of Carrollton. were the sole survivors of the “Signers." Both men were in the feeblest of health, and were aware that their end drew near, but both desired to behold the glorious day; and life, like a flittering taper, proloncad Itself in

obedience to wills that had not flinched before the wrath of kings. On the thirtieth of June, the orator for the celebration at Quincy called upon Adams to his home and asked for a toast “I give you,” said the feeble patriarch, “Independence forever!” Asked if he desired to add anything to the sentiment the old hero replied: “Net s word.” The great day dawned and John Adams still .lived. But the candle had burned to its socket and could give but a feeble flicker. “ ’Tis a great day! ”Tls a good day!” he said to the anxious relatives who surrounded his bed. Reason wavered, but the fluttering mind in its last earthly moments recalled the friend of Monticello —the old comrade who had stood with him shoulder to shoulder In the fight for freedom. “Thomas Jefferson still survives,” ho murmured in a voice so feeble that the last syllables were scarcely distinguishable. Those were his last words. His spirit departed with the descending sun. He died in error. Thomas Jefferson did not survive. For days the good Democrat had fell the approach of death and had prepared for it, desiring only that he might live until the Fourth. On the third the stupor into which ne had fallen became almost continuous. ‘Ah, doctor," he said, awakening in the night, “are you still there Is it is Fourth T s “It soon will be,”, answered the physician. As midnight approached those watching noted anxiously the passing of the minutes, hoping and praying that the feeble thread might hold and death be hallowed by the great anniversary. The wish was granted. Not until fifty minutes past the meridian did the soul of the great commoner exchange immortalities. " ft was before the days of telegraphs and railroads. The news spread slowly. Five days elapsed ere the denizens of Baltimore and Washington learned of what had happened at Braintree. Meantime the inhabitants of Virginia and neighboring states, mourned the death of Jefferson, marveling greatly over the strapge coincidence that one who had been the author of the Declaration should die upon the fiftieth anniversary of its adoption: Then came the news from the north, and men realized that not one but two patriarchs of liberty had departed on the day when hearts were bounding with Joy over blessings which sires of a former age had handed down—that almost simultaneously these two had been translated In the midst of the acclamations of millions to the judgment of their God. Had ;teeds and chariots of Are descended to fake up these partners in earthly fame and coheirs of eternity it might perhaps have been more * wonderful but not more glorious. As the news spread over the land to the villages and the hamlets, “it raised everywhere a thrill of emotion, such as has never been caused by any public event. It was not the wail of grief, such as is drawn forth by the sense of privation by the loss of valuable lives. The advanced age of the persons, if nothing else, neutralized that. It was the offspring of the mixture of feelings, the chief of which was the surprise at the strangeness of the occurrence, veneration for the men themselves, and delight in the splendor which it would reflect upon a page of the national annals. Certainly the fabulous passing away of the first Roman king, nearly on the same anniversary, in the midst of elementary chaos, does not compare with it in grandeur. Men loved to meet each other and to dwell on the most minute particulars, as they were sedulously laid before the public by the newspapers, and to read the comments raised to unusual Eloquence by the tone of the general mind.” “Never has it fallen to the lot of any com mander,” wrote the adjutant general, “to announce to an army such an event as now calls forth the mingled grief and astonishment of the republic. Never since history first wrote the first record of time has one day thus mingled every triumph with every tender emotion, and consecrated a nation's Joy by blending It with the most sacred of sorrows. - For weeks the newspapers contained little else but descriptions of the lives and deaths of the depsurted patriots. In every city in Ihe land memorial meetings searched sacred and profane history for a parallel. Of the hundreds of such orations one at least will survive, Webster's classic on “Adams and Jefferson." In his message to Congress, the noble son of a noble father, in calling attention to the country's loss, reverently announced that “the time, the manner, the coincidence are visible and palpable marks-of Divine favor, for which I would humble" myself in grateful and silent adoration before the Ruler of the Universe." .„ T> ■: Nor was such language extravagant. The passing of the fWo patriots formed not only the strangest coincidence in the annals of nfankind. but it marked the end of an era— ot the heroic age of American history.

CAMP FIRE HISTORIES

SOLDIER’S BOOTS SAVED HIM ----- How a Member of a Wagon Train Made a Thrilling Escape From a Band of Savage Indians. ----- At Fort Kearney, before our train started up the Platte river for Fort Laramie in the summer of 1867, each driver that needed boots drew a pair from the government store. When Peter Small’s (a little fellow) turn came to select his boots all the smaller sizes had been drawn, and the nearest his fit was a pair two sizes too big for him, but he concluded to take them, as he was about barefooted, and no chance to get any more till we got through. Our train consisted of seven wagons loaded with supplies for the post, six mules to the team, and we were escorted by ten soldiers to protect us against possible attacks by Indians, writes Freeman O. Cary of Hamilton, Wash., in the National Tribune. Each

They Were Gaining on Him Rapidly.

driver was furnished an army rifle and ammunition by the government. We had been out a week, when one afternoon about four o’clock we camped on a small stream called Sand creek. Up to. that day we had seen no signs of Indians, so Pete, as we called him, concluded to go out on the high prairie and, see if he could kill an antelope and have some fresh meat. He took his old Enfield rifle and a few cartridges, and struck out north across the creek. He had gone about half a mile when he noticed over on another ridge, about half a mile away, what at first he took to be a drove of antelopes, but on looking closer he saw they were in Indians—ten of them. They were dismounted and stood behind their ponies, and their heads only appearing above their backs. As soon as he had made sure that they were Indians he turned and started for camp. When the Indians saw that their decoy to draw him nearer to them failed, they sprang upon their ponies and came pell-mell after him. It was a race for life, with the odds against him. They were gaining on him rapidly with their fleet-footed ponies, and he saw that they would soon overtake him unless he could devise some way to hold them in check. He thought as he ran along with his loaded gun that it would not do to shoot at them, however tempting the mark, for the instant his rifle was discharged they would pounce upon him, and his scalp would be hanging to one of their belts in no time. So he watched over his shoulder, and when they got near enough to begin shooting at him with their arrows (they had no guns) he stopped, turned and leveled his rifle as if to pick one off, and they instantly checked their steeds and hung over on the opposite side of their ponies; then Pete whirled around and ron [sic] for dear life again, and before the Indians could get their ponies up to full speed he had gained a little on them, and when they closed up again he repeated the tactics. When he reached the creek opposite the camp, where water was about 14 feet wide and a foot deep, underlaid with treacherous quicksand, Pete hesitated not a moment, but gathered all the strength that was in him and leaped as far towards the other bank as he could. He struck about four feet from the farther shore, and sank to his waist in water and quicksand. The Indians rushed up and commenced to shoot at him. One arrow struck his hat and knocked it off. He twisted around and raised his rifle as if to shoot, and the Indians dodged behind their ponies. Then Pete, with an energy born of despair, wiggled his feet out of his big government boots and jumped ashore and ran bareheaded and barefooted into camp, shouting “Indians.” The warning came too late. The Sioux galloped down below, crossed the creek and rushed in between our mule herd and camp, yelling like demons. They drove off the whole lot. The herder had a close call, being cut off, too, but his fleet herding pony saved him. We had to lie there two weeks until another outfit could be sent us from the fort.