Plymouth Tribune, Volume 3, Number 48, Plymouth, Marshall County, 1 September 1904 — Page 7

oüftd by a Spell

cnArTER in. Four years hare passed away since that October night- I am now eighteen. I am the last one left of Mr. Porter's old papils; they hare all been "bagged" by some grim custodian, and carried off I kne w not whither. Others have taken their places, but I am still left I am melancholy, moody and dreamy. My reading is limited to a few semi-religious books. How ardently I long for a copy of Shakspeare, but not one penny of pocket money has .rrer been given me; neither would the Itev. Mr. Porter hear of such a book being brought into his bouse. Every image of that one break in i-iy monotonous existence ia indelibly fixed upon my memory; and I can never disassociate that mysterious child that I met nnder the old Norman gateway with the Juliet of the play. What a strange memory she has left upon my brain; she is ever with me In my dreams. Shall I ever see her again? I am ever asking myself. Yes; I feel assured I ßhall. I feel that she is in some way interwoven with my destiny. We never saw Josiah Cook again, but I heard that he had gone away with the theatrical company, who left the town shortly afttr the time that marked my adventure. The Rev. Obadiah Porter, of coime. at oice settled his eternal prospects by condemning him, to the bottomless pit. During my boyish days the post of servant was occupied by a very cross old woman; but a twelvemonth previous to the period at which I have arrived, she left, and her place was taken by a young woman of about twenty years of age. When I ceased to attend the school room I was consigned to the kitchen, and helped in the household work. Martha and I soon became fast friend. Sho used to say that had It not been for me she would not have remained a month in the house. In the winter evenings, after she had finished her work, when Mr. Porter did not require our presence at Little Bethlehem, or at religious exercises, we used to sit by the fire and talk. She had but little education; but her shrewd mind was a better tutor for me ci that time than would have been a more learned, sedentary companion.. The second person of whom I must speak conjures up a very different set of images. I remember the first time I saw him was the very evening after my memorable escapade. We were at prayers; there was a loud, imperious knock at the street door. The Rev. Mr. Porter paused and signed to the servant to ens wer the knock. The next moment there entered the parlor a tall, elegantly dressed man, with a remarkably pale face, the pallor of which was greatly enhanced by a full, glossy black beard, black curling hair, and large black eyes. One of those strange shudders, at which the superstitious cry out that some one is walking over their grave, ran through me as I looked up at him. lie stood in the doorway, and cast upon the group a glance of infinite scorn. "When you have finished your devotions," he said, with a sneer, addressing my tutor, ' 'I have something to say to you." The Rev. Obadiah Porter colored, hesitated for a moment, and then rising, said, with his devotional whine, "We will ask a blessing upon idl here, and pray no more to-night." With an exclamation of contemptuous impatience, the stranger threw himself upon the sofa, his head still covered. We were quickly hustled out of the room, and the tutor and his daughter were left alone with their irreverent visitor. More than a twelvemonth passed away before he came again to the house. Then, little by little, he became n frequent visitor. Miss Judith and he wero very frequently together. I used often to see them stroll down the road arm-in-arm: and by and by I began to observe how anxiously she watched for his coming. Martha soon comprehended how matters stood. "I don't like that Mr. Rodwell," she used to say; "and if Judith wasn't quite so high in her manner I should take the liberty of telling her so." One evening I was summoted from the kitchen to attend Mr. Poller in his "study." When I entered the room he bade me shut the door, and take a scat. I obeyed him, wondering what was coming. "Silas," he began, fixing his small, sharp eyes upon me," and brushing back the rebellious hair from his low forehead, "can you remember anything of your life previous to the time that Providence entrusted you to my keeping? Don't hatch a lie," he said, sharply; "remember the fate of Ananias." "Indeed, sir, I have no such thought, I answered meekly. "Remember how young I must have been when I first came to you, and " "Don't beat about the ,ush," he cried, yet more sharply. "Yoa are concealing something: you can't deceive me." Then suddenly changing his tone to his usual one of shuffling hypocrisy, he added: "Silas, I usa asking these questions for your good for the sake of those carnal interests that must be looked ' while we are sojourners in this world jf sin." He leaned forward witl: his arms upon the table, and fixing his1" snake-like eyes upon me, as though to read my very soul, he began in a low voice: "I will tell yoa all I know; perhaps that rill help ycur memory. Thirteen years ago, a middie-aged woman, looking like a -gentleman' housekeeper, or something of that sort, called here to ask my terms for taking charge of a child of five years old. Sue. had seen my advertisement, and thought it would s;ut the purpose she had in view. She was most particular in her injunctions that you should be reared strictly and religiously. Two days afterwards she brought you here. She gave the name of Carston, and said that you were to be called Silas Carston. The money was to be drawn half-yearly, of Messrs. -Fogle and Qnirk, solicitors. For the sake of the precious soul entrusted to my ketping, I tried as discreetly as possible to gJean a little more information; kpf. she was very close, and awfully stern, and I could not get eren an address out of her. The money has always been paid regularly to the Jay. Once I called upon Messrs. Fogle and Quick; but I found them stiff-necked men, of hard and uuregenerate hearts. Two years ago I wroto to say that, "as you had passed bejond the school boy age, I wished for further instructions. About a week after, I got a short note, saying that you were still to remain with me; but as they desired thf.t yon should not contract idle habits, 1 was to give you some sort of us-fc employment. Why don't you say rzyHm, Eilas?" he cried, striking thi tat!3 Ebarply with his fist. , . "VTh-t what do you vnt cs to say, til?' I ttzraerM. "ZLj truth vrkat yoi Leg." -

I 1

"I don't know anything indeed, I do I not." There was a savage look about him, as though he would have liked to have squeezed something more out of my throat. Then he took out of a desk beside him a small gold locket, and passed it to me, saying, "This was sewn up in your frock when you were brought here. I don't think she who brought you knew anything about it." It contained the portrait of a very beautiful young woman a foreigner, I should have imagined; dark hair, olivetinged complexion, also a lock of brown hair; and upon the back was engraved the initials "F. B." and E. M." joined together by a true levers' knot. "The woman who brought you here," he went on, "was tall; and big-boned; thin, white lips; t nose like a parrot's beak: light gray eves, as cold as stone. She wore a front of dark brown hair, dressed in small flat curls, and bound round the forehead by a band of narrow block velvet; she was dressed in black silk, and wore a muslin handkerchief crossed upon her bosom." While he spoke, a veil seemed lifted from my memory; the woman seemed to stand before me. I had trembled before those cold, stony eyes. That portrait, too my heart told me it was my mother's, and a shadowy remembrance came upon me that. I had been at some time fondled by such a face. The Rev. Obadiah Porter was evident ly disappointed at the result of his reve lations. lie snatched the locket out of my hand, and then locked it up in the desk again. "Well, well, if you can't remember. you can't," he said, irritably. "But when you are alone, or in bed, try and think. Who knows? yon might be the child of some great or rich people," he added, cunningly. "Think what an advantage it would be If. you could find this out! But we won't talk any more of 'this at present. I have something else to speak to you about Silas, it has much troubled me, for some time, to see a youth of your appearance and probable prospects doing menial work. I've long been thinking whether I couldn't more profitably employ you; and, after a talk with my daughter. I've come to the conclusion that you sh.!l. henceforth, assist her in the care oi the boys." My duties as tutor were to commence on the next day. I really felt very grateto him for what appeared, to my unsophisticated mind, a great kindness; and so I told Martha when I went back to the kitchen. "Well, I don't know about being grateful, Silas," she cried. "Depend upon it, master's serving his own turn. Miss Judith's getting very tired of the work; and if she was to go away, what would he do? It wouldn't suit him to have a stranger in the house. Now don't jou Bee that he couldn't do without you that yon re the very thing he wants?" Martha's 'worldly view of the matter somewhat dashed my exalted feelings of gratitude; yet, for all that, I still felt very thankful for the change. CHAPTER IV. In less than a week I found myself sole tutor to the Rev. Obadiah Porter's pupils.- Martha was right; Miss Judith had grown tired of the work, and, seizing the opportunity of my initiation, reI nquished it altogether. I now dined in the parlor, but took the rest of my meals in the kitchen, where I also spent my evenings. By and by Martha called my attention to a great alteration that had taken place in her mistress. There was a worn, anxious look in her face; and she seldom quitted her own room. Then we began to notice that Mr. Rodwell's visits grew more infrequent, and at last ceased altogether. One day Mr. Porter informed me that he was going to London for a few days. Such an event had never happened in my memory; it was to me the climax of all the changes. "To you, Silas," he said, "I commit the care of the precious lambs of my fold, and you must also give an eye to household affairs, as my daughter's health is not strong at present. It is a great trust, but you will prove worthy of it. You are almost like a son to me. Süss." He paused upon the last words like one struck with a sudden idea, and while he stood gazing at me, a, strange look stole across his face. For the first time ni his life he took my hand; his clasp was cold and clammy; he meant to be kind and caressing, but I had never felt so repelled against him. I shuddered, with a boding presentiment of evil. While he was away Miss Judith took all her meals-in her own room. Thus the house was almost entirely under the care of myself and Martha. On the fifth day after his departure, at 5 in the erening, Mr. Porter returned. I was in the front garden. Now this gronnd was kept sacred to him and his daughter, but having a great love of flowers, and having acquired some knowledge of gardening, I had of late been privileged to tend the beds, and prune the shrubs of this exclusive spot I had no desire to presume upon, this privilege, as I greatly preferred the more extensive grounds that lay at the back, which were free to alL A wall of about ten feet in height separated this garden from the road. When I saw Mr. Porter come through the gate, I was busily employed in cutting away the dead blossoms from a very fine rhododendron bush which stood near one of the parlor windows. Although I was in full sight, he did not perceive me. The buh stood between me and the window, which was wide open, and entirely concealed me from any one who might be within. I heard my master enter the room, and a minute afterwards he was joined by his daughter, whom I heard eagerly ask him, "What he had done had he been successful?" "He has gone to Paris," was the reply. Ia a harsh tone. "Gone to Paris! Oh, what will become of me what will become of me?" I heard Judith cry, in a tone of despair. "I loved him very dearly! But he cannot he will not he shall not desert me!" "Bat he has done it His last letter was quite enough. And now he's goiie off to Paris, to get out of the way of your reproaches." "Bnt if he went to the world's end, he should not get beyond the reach of my revenge!" she cried, excitedly. "Bnt how do you know he's gone? VVho told yon so? Perhaps you have been purposely deceived?" "Not such a fool. They'll have to get up bitimes to deceive me! In the first flzc?, I never made any inquiries ruyc:!f; a fiicnd that they couldn't suspect did thst fcr me. ne left ten days ago." "TTi-i thill I do what shall I do?" .-Ar J vrL-t th-!l I do?" he cried, ia a tirzz) t:r Ar 1 I iizri Lira cz:!i

his fist down upon the table, and contff almost fancy I heard the grinding of his teeth. "But in the meanwhile we must think of the present time. We are in snug quarters here, and I don't feel in-

; cliued to give them up. Remember, If I lost my chapel, I should lose the boys, too; for although their friends would receive the tidings of their deaths with the utmost satisfaction, yet their consciences and their sense of duty would be troubled by the thought that the unhappy little wretches were under a master of lax morality. With such people, you know, everything is doing the- proper; they don't care for the humane. Now the very day I started for the city on idea came into my head, which a chance circumstance has since strengthened. It all depends upon you whether you'll act upon it" He paused, as though expecting an answer; but none came. After a moment, he resumed, in a somewhat hesitating tone, "You'll stare when I tell you what it is; but for your own peace of mind, as well as mine, you must be married." "Married to whom?" she asked, drearily. "Suppose I were to tell you that I had a husband in my eye? What do you say to Silas Carston?" I could scarcely repress the cry that rose to my. lips at the sound of my name so strangely associated. "Whatl" she cried, impetuously, "I marry that puny, contemptible, sneaking boy! You are mad!" "He would make a very good husband." "A very meek one, no doubt," she said scornfully. "Listen to me. Worm as he is, it may be a better match than you suspect I thought I would call upon Fogle and Quick. In the first place, to endeavor to get the mouey increased, in consideration of his age; and in the second place, to try and glean a little informa tion. Jutt as I got within sight of tht door, who should I see coming out but the identical old woman that brought the boy herf. There was no mistaking her; she seemed to have on the rry same dress that she wore thirteen years ago; and as to her face, it is one of those iron faces upon which years seem to have no power. 'Here's my chance,' I thought; I don't lose sight of you ' till you're earthed.' So, instead of calling upon the lawyers, I followed the old woman at a respectful distance." At this point of the dialogue, to me the most interesting, I lost the thread Two pleasure vans, full of peaople who had been out holiday keeping for the day, were returning to the town; the occupants were singing, shouting and langh ins, in a most vociferous strain. To make the matter worse, just as they got beyond the house, a delay of some kind occurred: either something was wrong with the carriages or the horses. Whatever it might have been, it detained them for two or three minutes, during which the bawling and shouting contin ued so loudly that I could not catch a word that wa spoken in the parlor. When at last the noisy crew drove away the revelation that I so eagerly desired to hear had passed. "May be he would not have me," were the first words that fell upon my ears. "How could he help himself, if I were determined upon it? Besides, you could soon make him a puppet in your hands. "Don't let us talk any more row." "Very well. And here comes Martha with the dinner." And so the conversation ended. 1 heard Martha come and close the win dow, and draw down the blind and then I crept from my hiding place, and got round to the back garden. For a time I could not go into the house; eiery nerve was trembling. I felt like one surrounded by a circle of fire the victim of some foul plot the exact nature of which I could not understand, but from which I could perceive no escape. " (To be continued.! PAIRING OF AGE AND YOUTH. Rarely Dots a Young Man Marry an Old W oman Except for Money. The Countess of Ravensworth, England, aged 59, has married her coachman, who is young and smart. This is her third venture in matrimony, and her friends will opine that it is not her best Women of her age are not supposed to be consumed by the passion of a Juliet, and Romeos do not tumble head over heels In love with matrons oC wide experience, who are old enough to be their mothers or grandmothers. There Is a veal love, to be sure, which attacks the subject at the necktie" age, and Is commonly disclosed by becoming enraptured with the school-teacher, or with some woman cousin a dozen years older than the admirer. This Is transient, and is almost never discovered In a case where the schoolmarm or the cousin Is gray-haired and has rheumatism. There is, frankly, but one construction to put upon a wedding of this sort and it is that the man has married for money, and the woman has married because she is susceptible to flattery. Youth and age 'never paired welt1 in the marital relation. If the matron is tolerably well preserved at the ume of marriage, there comes a time, and it (s not far, when the young husband winces for8cause. He probably absents himself often at his club, if he can find one open to him, and -waits In such patience as he- may for his wife to die and leave her money to him. In marriages of this kind, which are fortunately few, it will generally be found that there is a social v disparity between the couple as wide as their years. Self-respecting men do not mar ry for money, any more than they sell their honor for money. Unless, of course, they are brought up as they are in Europe, to look on marriage as a commercial convenience, and hail the arrival of an American pork packer to pay their bills. We hear a &vod many excuses for the commercial or the state marriage; that the cases of dissatisfaction which follow such are no more numerous than they are In marriages of love, and all that ort of thing, which is shown to be untrue by the conduct of kings; but in our own land we have our opinion cf the man who takes a wife for the sake of her dollars, and it is not an opinion that he cares to hear. Brooklyn Eagle. The bodies of men who have perished In sandy-deserts become so thoroughly dried by the sun and wind as to be reduced to SO per cent of their weight in life. The light of the firefly is produced by some combination of phosphorus, though In what manner has not yet been determine!. Charity and personal force are tha enly investments , worth anything. Walt Whitman. ;': He .T7ho decires i3 always pocr.Claucüius.

STYLES FOß MY LADY,

FALL STREET DRESSES WILL BE PLAINER IN DESIGN. In Afternoon Coätunie Fashions for Autumn Are Much' Like Those of Past Summer Ti Thought Silks Will Reappear In Course of Winter, Nef Tork eorrsponJrjceJ ND1CATI0N of fall and winter preference Is given in tbe matter of hat trimmings through the favor shown during iummer for osüich plumes. These were on the list of fashionable mediums from the first, &nd from then on gradually grew in favor. As they are quite as well suit ed to winter modcit is clear thai their stylishness will be continued. Of even higher grade than at least all but the very finest of ostrich feathers will be paradise plumes. These are costly trimming in ail the better grades, and since there is small danger, in consequence, of their being overdone, they are held In high esteem by exclusive dressers. Whole birds-of-paradise will be employed, too, tie head placed well toward the front of the hat the plumes sweeping down over the back to well below the edge of the I'M. u Ii Ly i.i - Ii n, . i 1 STYLES SET Jress collar. The larger ostrich feathers are to be disposed similarly. Little of the abundaut featv.;r trimming that is to come will lend an effect of height apparently, for the styles now favored and now being advanced in tentative form place the plumes in low lying ways. That street dresses may be plainer than the elaborate affairs worn all summer and yet that they may be distinctly in the mode, is apparent after a brief examination of the models prepared for fall wear. Whether the more individual of them are more correctly classed as dressy or as jaunty may be left undecided, since they unquestionably will be reserved for morning use and for wear on other than dressy occasions. Jacket and skirt of cloth in solid color, with pieces of Velvet in bright color, make up many of these suits. Now and then a little embroidery appears, and no little braiding is employed, though the amount to the gown is rarely large. Now and then pieces of smooth cloth in contrast with the goods are used in place of the bright vePret This last trick is at its best when the dress material is a rough surfaced stuff. All manner of simple vest and waistcoat effects are incorporated In these simple morning suits, and at times these fancies are not so simple as thy might be. As they should be, many will say, for it is not in the best taste to plan these suits fancifully. Stitchings and buttons add to the decorations, and are used with moderate freedom. Sleeve finish Is confined almost exclusively to tome original idea in wrist finish, which means that the sleeves of the jackets to Cicse suits ire far simpler than those thct have ruled during summer. In afternoon dresses, however, the standards of summer and of fall are more akin. There ia change of materials and of trimmings, but most of the great elaborateness of summer afternoon getC73 is held to. The woolens now being evicted fcr such gowns are ; light of trdht sxd remarkably pliable of tex-

IIP mMm

W fr AFTERNOON PROVISION. ' .

ture, so are well suited to the tocldngs, gatherings and shirrings that prevailed in summery fabrics, and these tricks will be practiced in a considerable degree. On the whole, however, there will be less of very highly wrougat effects, though hardly anything that will suggest severity of treatment The dresses of the accompanying pictures were for early fall, and surely will have later use. The gown of the initial was grein voile, with reen silk pleating and fancy embroidery. In the next sketch are two afternoon dresses, a dark brown cloth self-flounced and embroidered in darker brown, and a blue voile trimmed with flounces of the material and made with yoke of Irish point lace over blue. Then in the concluding illustration find a pattern gown of embroidered gray cloth, a green and white checked suiting made with a white vest and a gray Sicilian with collar of embroidery. This last model's pleated bolero is one that will appear in the fall fashions hi many variations.

Such cloths as those in which these dresses were found are not to be the whole story for fall, however. Indeed, it seems likely that as winter goes on such materials will give way gradually to silks. How much they will be replaced it is impossible now to say, but return of silks to the first place in iressy attire and the relegation of cloths in large degree to morning and workaday uses may be the eventual outcome. Whether or not such a radical change is effected, taffeta Is in for an inning. Re taining the softness that has been its most marked characteristic all summer, it will be had in heavier weaves, and the solid color sorts, though many and ad mirable, will be outshone by striped and figured weaves that are likely to increase in striking effects as winter lengthens. For fall coats and wraps, those to be put on and worn right away, women who like to advertise their disregard of ex pense are choosing the linens and like stuffs that prevailed in the hot season. FOR FALL. But as most of these must be discarded altogether so soon as the cool weather whistle blows, cloth is a wiser choice. The former grade were lavishly trimmed with embroideries and hand work generally, numercu acd wide bands of the latter being re-enforced by rich laces, and like garnitures will still prevail, though In lesser quantity. While the fall wrap will not be so highly wrought as the summer garment, it won't be plain or planned chiefly with a view to inconspicuousness. In the second of these pictures is one model, an ecru colored cloth affair trimmed with silk and passementerie in fancy design. Original ideas for trimming these garments will be at a premium, for nothing like sameness is to be permitted by fashionables, and some of the wraps are sure in consequence to run to fanciful extremes. Fashion Notes. French blue is notable among fashionable colors. The fashionable gloves are champagne or pure white. Spotted and pastille materials continue to be popular. Tiny spangled fans in the geisha size come for the hair. The lace and linen suits are two-thirds lace and one-third linen. Plain shirt waists are the only kind invored for outdoor sports. Bolero jackets of Irish lace are worn with any handsome linen skirt Colored silk gloves, showing white between the fingers, probably have more use than btauty. Necklets made of rCVs of amber, jet, cornelian or amethyst are again worn. Eion ceftts, Russian blouses and short sacks of black glace silk are very smart Crumpled and pinched straw is used a good deal in the smart little toueai that must ct close.

IUI

SOLDIERS AT HOME.

THEY TELL SOME INTERESTING ANECDOTES OF THE WAR. How the Boys of Both Armies Whiied Atvay Life in Camp-Foraging Experiecces, Tiresome Marches Thril ling Scenes on the Battlefield. "I have never been ab!e." said the Sergeant, "to satisfactorily account for the panic in Sheridan's army on the morning of Oct. 10, lSGi, at Cedar Creek. I take account of all that has been said about the fog; that prevailed on that morning and of the suddenness of the onset when men were asleep or only half awake, but 1 remember that the advance brigade was composed of old soldiers, commanded by one of the most alert generals of the army, and that the men on picket were veterans in the service and cognizant of the obligations resting upon them. The mystery of the panic opens on the picket line. My own recollection is that not a gun was fired by pickets, and I know the rebs rushed on us without warning, opening with artillery as well as rifle fire. "There is no more appalling spectacle than a panic in battle. Let the bravest and best trained soldiers lose their grip at a critical moment and they are like frightened horses running away. I know, because I happened to be in two of the greatest panics of the war. In both cases I was knocked down and run over by our men, and the queer thing about It Is, I never could talk with any of the boys who joined In either stampede. You can't get the men who were on the advance line at Cedar Creek on the morning of the 10th of October to talk about that affair coherently now. They were simply overwhelmed by the stunning fact that the rebels came out of the fog and by the Impression that their own men were firing at thorn. Therefore, they acted like men struck by a hurricane, or like men on a sinking vessel at sea. "No officer in that army had any inclination to report in detail the operations of that morning. The government had to compel every brigadier general snd colonel to write a report of the-operations of his command. The men themselves, as they sat about the camp fires two or three days later regarded the whole transaction as a mystery. They honestly believed that Early's men impersonated members of one of our own cavalry regiments and took the places of our own pickets, opening the way for the charge of the rebel column that had been concentrated only a few hundred yards from our picket line. This question was under discussion as long as our regiment remained in the service, but I never heard the testimony of any one of the pickets said to have been relieved. "It is significant that there was the same disinclination on the Confederate side to write of this battle of Cedar Creek as there was on the Union side, because in the afternoon the panic in the rebel army was more appalling and more disastrous, ten times over, than the panic of the morning. General Early, in his report took the same attitude as General Bragg did in his report of the battle of Missionary Ridge. Bragg contended that his troops, as stationed on Missionary Ridge, could have held their ground against any force that could have been brought against them, but. Instead of making a fight, they ran away like frightened deer. Early talks in the same way about his army at Cedar Creek, saying that if only 500 men could have been held together he could have stopped the Union charge. "There was in both armies a disin clination to talk of panics, because, as a rule, some of the best regiments m the service were involved. No ' one could account for them. No man who joined in a wild stampede ever tried to explain his conduct Panics were catalogued ' as the mysteries of army life; as the seismic disturbances in which organization and . discipline counted for absolutely nothing. The only thing that could quiet a panic was the presence of a magnetic, dashing man like Sheridan, or. for that matter, like Rosecrans. But in. the face of the panic at Chlckamauga Rose crans was as helpless as Early was at Cedar Creek." v "Speaking of army mysteries," said the Captain, "I know of one that still remains a mystery so far as the public Lare concerned. After Pemberton's sur render at Vicksburg his army, 31,000 strong, was 6ent into a parole camp near Black river, ten miles from the rity. Pemb ertön wa s in com man d, an d his idea was to hold the paroled men together in camp, drill them, keep up their discipline, so that .when they were exchanged they would De ready for immediate service In the Confed erate army. But in a few days hundreds of men disappeared from the camp. In two weeks the deserters were numbered by the thousand, and Pemberton appealed to Grant for ruards, complaining that the Union soldiers were enticing his men. from camp and assisting them to get away. "The truth was that the Union men on guard at Vicksburg heard, through the people of the city, that fully onehalf of Pemberton's men were very mucl dissatisfied, and tnat in their talk with their friends in Vicksburg they had said that, if they could get across the Mississippi river they would go so far into the Northwest that no Confederate officer would ever find them. The boys of tfce Union regiments reasoned that every paroled prisoner . who escaped was so much gain to the Union cause, and it was soon understood in the parole camp that if the Johnnies wanted to -emigrate the Yanks could give therti information as to boats and provisions. "A squad of rebels would escap? frcm the parole camp, would prowl Kxound the country between the camp and Vicksburg, would come across a squad of our boys in charge of a boat, and they would be taken across the river. Neither General Grant nor any cf his subordinate officers knew anything of this, and they were at a less to explain how it was that Pemberton's command dwindled down finally to about 4,000 men. Some people in the North, among them General Ilal-

I leek, believed that the men had escaped by Pembcrton's connivance and : had returned to the Confederate service, in violation of their parole. But : the truth is that most of them went 1 Into the Northwest territories, and that

i they were given a good send-off !y the i Union troops. Years afterward 1 met scores of men In Montana, Idaho j a.na utan, some or mein empioyeu in the mines, others successful in general business, and not a few of them ia service as cowboys and mule drivers on the plains. "As evidence that the oCicers of the Union army knew little of the facts as to the disappearance, of men from Pemberton's camp no definite mention is made of the camp in any of the official reports. General Grant speaka of 700 of Pemberton's men who refused to be paroled and were sent North as prisoners, and of the deserters from Pemberton's force, but no one seems to have had information as to the part played by the Union troops as emigrant agents for the Northwest territories. There was the best of feeling between the men who surrendered at Vlckßburg and the mea who captured them, and there were many long talks as to the future. Some of our boys were familiar with conditions in the Northwest, and the rebels, knowing that they could not return home wltliout being subject to arrest or return to service, acted on the advice of Western men, burned their bridges behind them, went beyond the range of Confederate inuence and never returned South." Chicago Inter Ocean. Tlie Army Haversack. Last night I dreamed the shouts came back: "What have you in your haversack?" "I'm hungry, comrade, as can be. Have you some hardtack left for me?' "It looks as though we boys at last Must keep our forty days of fast!" I wakened, and my thoughts went back To rummage through my haversack. A weary march, a hopeless fight, A sad retreat at dead of night, And then we alL at dawn of day. Lay down, like cattle, by the way; The pangs of hunger and of thirst Were rending us like things accursed; A comrade shouted at my back, "Come, open up your haversack." Each spread his treasures at his feet. In lieu of something there to eat: A story book, a testament, A housewife by his mother sent; And one a picture fair to see, A baby on its mother's knee; And so sweet scenes of homes came back Around the empty haversack. A comrade broke into a song 'Twas "Home, Sweet Home" and soon a throng Had gathered around us where we tat, Of home and home delights to chat; Of tables laid with royal fare. And served with woman's loving care. "Zip, zip!" a volley swept our track. And each man grabbed his haversack. A stricken comrade strove to rise. The film of death waa-in his eyes, "My haversack take there's soma bread, A letter home," was all he said. We caught him ere he sank to rest. We crossed his hands above his breast. His mother's picture, some hard tack. vv e found within his haversack. We broke the bread, and as I live It seemed the Lord was there to give, The morsels were so magnified By love of him who just had died; Whose spirit lingered around us there To solace us in our despair;. And fling a ray of splendor back To rest on memory's haversack. O glad am I for a dream that bring So many half forgotten things The comradeship that closer grows When sorrow darkest shadow throws; The comradeship that until death Is breathed with every soldier's breath And shares its crust, in joy or wrack. From that old army haversack. Kate Brownlee Sherwood. Kastern and Western Soldiers. "The thing about the man from the Potomac that the Westerners thought most peculiar was his persistent admiration of McClellan," writes CapL. Henry King in the Centhry. "They could not understand why he should thing a man a great soldier who had organized so cav.ch victorj- that never came to pass, and avoided so many defeats by reversing the theory of Hudibras, that military honor Is to be won, like a widow, with brisk attempt, not slow approaches, like a virgin.' It seemed to them that while their Eastern brothers' McQeilanlsm, as technical virtues that were undoubt edly worth having, it also tended to confuse and hamper him in the presence of circumstances to which they were always superior. He excelled them in drill, they frankly acknowledged; he wore his uniform as If he had never worn anything else, and In all his actions there was a distinct and self-conscious air of martial propriety. It was not true, as was grotesquely asserted, that he wore a corset, used cosmetics and slept with gloves on. But It was true that he was remarkably fastidious, and attached much importance to his wardrobe. The deprivations of the eiege of Chattanooga would probably not have vanquished him had he been there to bear them, but his endurance would have lacked the capital cheerfulness which was displayed in that extremity of hunger and raggedness. Certainly he ' could not have sruveyed himself in patches and tatters and found it possible to explain, as did a Western, soldier under those conditions: 'Oh, no, I ain't suffcrin' for clothes, but -ny heart's brcakin' for a diamond breastpin!' He was not so constituted. His home life had . not qualified him for sacrifices of that kind. lie could and did make them, let it be remembered to his honor, but he never learned how to do it in the Western mood of readyarid tonic buoyancy." Sweet a Honey. Ernestine Yes, indeed, Jack brocght me a box of the most delicious candies I ever txsted. Era You don't say! Did you smack your lips? Ernestine Oh, he attended to that The Japanese system of letters ia called Iroha, from the names of th first three letters, "I," "ro" and "ha." on precisely the same principle as that which gives to our own system tht title "alphabet."