Rensselaer Semi-Weekly Republican, Volume 36, Number 79, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 27 May 1904 — Page 2

MEMORIAL DAY. Bo 7*u know what It means, you boys and I girls Who hall from the North and South! Be you know what It means — This twining of greens— Bound the silent cannon's mouth: This strewing with flowers the grass-gtown grave; This decking with garlands the statues brave; ———— This flaunting of flags, All in tatters and rags: This marching nnd. singing;. Those bells nil n-ringlng; Those faces grave and those faces gay: This talk of the Blue and this talk of the Gray. .. In the North and the South, Memorial day? Wot simply a show-time, boys and girls. Is this day of falling flowers; Not a pageant, a play, Nor a holiday Of flags and floral bowers; It is something more than the day that starts War memories a-throb In veteran hearts; For across the years, To the hopes and the fears, To the days of battle, Of roar and of rattle — To the past that now seems so far away. Do the sons of the Blue and the sons of the Gray Gaze, hand clasping hand, Memorial Day. For the _ wreck and the wrong of It, boys., and girls, For the terror and loss, as well, Our hearts must hold A regret untold An we think of those who fell-; But their blood, on whichever side they fought, Bemade the nation, and progress bought I We forget the woe; For we live, and know That the fighting nnd sighing. The falling nnd dying. Were but the steps toward the future, the martyr's way! Adown which the sons of the Blue and Gray Look with love and with pride. Memorial Day. —Detroit Free Press.

The“Deserter's” Decoration Day

BY HILDA RICHMOND.

“Combining business with pleasure, I see,” said Addie Forbes, coming into her grandmother’s parlor, where her cousin Fred sat scribbling away for dear life with a lot of old china before him. “Certainly, Addie. ‘Make hay while the sun shines,’ you know. This is the first vacation I have had for three years. I always meant to write a description of Grandma’s china for our paper, so why not do iLnow? It will take me only an hour or two, and I can get a neat little price for it. Reporters are always on the lookout for material, and this will work up nicely. Let me see, Grandma, is this the pitcher the Revolutionary soldiers used, or the blue one?” “Neither one, child,” said the old lady, adjusting her glasses. “It was this big brown jpne. My mother brought it with her when they moved to the Western Reserve in Ohio.” The pencil flew along till Addie grew impatient “Well, good-by, Fred," she •aid, leaving the room, “I came to take you for a drive, but it seems you are too busy.” “Hold on a minute, Addie. I want the drive, And will be through in five min■tes.” As the drove along the smooth road, enjoying the first breath of spring, Addle said, “If you are always on the look•ut for stories for your paper, there Is one that might interest you,” pointing with her whip to a huge granite block tn the cemetery. “Tell me all about it,” said the young man, eagerly. “I’ll give you the skeleton of the story, and you can clothe it with whatever garments of flesh you see fit To begin at the beginning, do you remember old Mr. Richards?” “The old man who was always mourning for his son who was killed in the war? Of course I remember him. Is he still alive?” “Yes, he is alive, and quite active, but his son was not killed in the war. That is what my story is about. Ten or twelve years ago the old man went away for a few weeks, and when he came back he brought his son’s body with him. Shortly after the private funeral at the old home Mr. Richards put up that elegant monument. It gives the day and year of Joe’s death, corresponding to the time his father went away, but does not give the place.” “Didn’t the old gentleman ever say where he found his son?” “No; that is the odd part about it He never mentions him to any one. In fact he always jtvoids the subject of war, and you know how he usefl to.spend all his time talking about it People say Ms son was a deserter, and was ashamed to face his father. Mr. Richards was ajwaye boasting how brave his Joe was }!11 after he was buried here. Every iecoratlon Day the grave is literally covered with flowers, but the old soldiers ■ever go near it” “Who decorates it if not the old solfilers?” “Why, his father. You have no idea, Fred, how that feeble old man looks after that little plot of ground. I suppose he Is afraid folks will suspect the truth If he neglects it Rain or shine, he faithfully carries flowers to the’"cemetery as long as he can find a blossom. I’ll venture to say no other deserter was ever so honored. If you want a story es real devotion, you certainly can find it in John Richards.” ”W.hy .don't the soldiers decorate it just to please him?” asked Fred, bent on obtaining aoll the facts. “Why, they say they will not honor any man who deserted when his country was in peril. You ought to hear some of the veterans. They say it is a disgrace to have the flag floating over hie grave, and a lot of other things that I can't remember." “How do they know he was a deserter?” went on Fred, relentlessly. “My goodness, Fred, I can’t give you every little crook and turn of the story. Everybody says so, and it looks very gueer the way he was buried, and all." “Where did you first hear this story, Addle? It will make a very interesting one for the paper.” “Old Mrs. Green told It to me when I was a little girl. She said she could hardly sleep nights thinking of that traitor lying in the same cemetery with her three boys, who had given their lives for their country,” explained Addie, who had reached the advanced age of seventeen. “Isn't this Mrs. Green’s house we are coming to? Lot’s stop a few minutes ■ad X can ask her all the particulars.** Mra. Green proved to bo the very per■ea to rapply all the details. She talked

S GilO HE 60110 of the bugles. JI Long hours before Memorial Day had dawned on the western world, a solitary bugler, clad in khaki, stood by i tlie side of a few earth mounds on the far away Island of Guam. Lifting his bugle to his lips, he sounded the mlllJtyT taut cadences of the “taps"—the call of slumber —pathetic Zfi ‘1 lullaby of those who sleep the sleep that knows no waking, tb® singing cadence of the bugle. / Fifteen hundred miles away to the westward rolls its refrain, and the silvery trumpets sound the same song of eternal rest. Now comes the mellow flow of the minor strains, from the fevered swamp and the dark bayou, and the wailing of the bugles steals from the wilds of tropic jungles and from Reside the flower bespangled rivers where bronzed squads of soldiers fire their volleys. Rising, the tnpnpet call’s measured modulations resound from isle to'isle of the great archipelago. The benediction of the bugles! 'China catches the crescendo, and from Pekin to the sea resounds the stirring, soothing tones over the narrow graves of the patriotic soldier dead. Then St. Petersburg and Berlin and Paris and London—wherever Americans in colonies are found —take up the slumber song and show “Old Glory,” lest the refrain be lost ere it cross the sea to Cuba and to Porto Rico. Ah, the invocation of the bugles. From the hills that look down in silence on Santiago harbor, along the heights of San-Juan,—fr-omsoldiers’ cemeteries under the shadows of the castles of Moro, from tropical forests where graves are scarce, from groups of mounds where reconcentrado and soldier are burled side by side —up to the airs of heaven swells the plaintive music of the bugles. Oh, the chorus of the bugles. Crescendo —minuendo! Lo, where the woods and rock fortresses of Maine reverberate to the singing of the trumpets which speak from city cemetery and country graveyard, in ever-swelling cry the bugle’s tones are echoed from soldier’s grave to soldier's grave across the land to “where rolls the Oregon,” to mingle with its dashing. Ah, the dirge of the bugles. The waves of the Pacific catch the dying cadence and bear it to Hawaii. “Lights out!” cry the bugles to the dead in their grassy tents decked with beauteous blossoms. Oh, the wail of the bugles. Samoa’s coral strand hears and re-echoes the requiem over storm-wrecked mariners who wore the blue, and sounds “the taps.” Ah, the benediction of the bugles. From Guam to Samoa how they sing this day of heroism and of glory! Above the sounds of the marching of the hosts, above the roll of muffled drums, above the voices raised in prayer and patriotic speech, above the fair maidens and the sweet flowers, above the cracking rifle's bold challenge of the bivouac of the dead, is the haunting voice of the bugle intoning the mass for a day that is. dead and breathing a blessing upon its heroes. Ah, the benlson of the bugles!—Des Moines News.

rapidly till she found that her visitor was writing down all she said. “What are you putting in that book?” she inquired, pausing in the midst of a graphic account of what she would do if ever the deserter’s grave was decorated on Memorial Day by any one save his father. “Oh, I simply want to report the facts in the case to the War Department at Washington,” said Fred, carelessly. “It will be very interesting to them to find out what became of a deserter from the army.” “For the land’s sake!” scYeamed the old lady. “Don’t say that I said this to you. 1 hain't never really heard that Joe Richards deserted, but folks said it looked mighty queer. Are they likely to send some government man to ask about it?” “I shouldn’t wonder,” said Fred, pocketing his book. “They certainly ought to.” “I’m goin* away on a long visit, so he won’t find me if he does come. Anyway, I never said a bit more than the rest of the folks around here, so they’ll have to stand it I’d just like to see old Mrs. Lee in trouble. She’s the one that started the story about poor Joe. He was one of the nicest, brightest boys in this part of the country before the war, and I can’t think he would run away like a coward!” “The government will be glad to look up the matter, and they won't hesitate to call on you whether you are at home or not” To himself Fred said, “I’ll give you one good scare. Maybe it will do you good.” Then aloud he said, “I am very much obliged to you for your Information, Mrs. Green. Goofl day.” In the weeks that followed Addie forgot al about Joe Richards. True to her word, Mrs. Green went away for her visit, taking care to keep her destination a secret Fred Forbes was back in the city working as only busy reporters do, and his brief letters to his cousin did not mention the story. Day after day John Richards carried flowers to his son’s grave, dividing his time between this task and the garden where he raised the blossoms at home. The young people were decorating the church for memorial services one day late in May, when the postmaster came In all out of breath with a special delivery letter for Miss Adeline Forbes. Special delivery letters were rare at this little country office, so the obliging official closed up shop and hurried out to find the owner. “I ’lowed something must be wrong, so I brought it right away,” he said, fanning himself after his hasty walk. “Just listen to this!” exclaimed Addle,

“LIGHTS OUT.”

after reading the letter. Everybody gathered around to hear it. “My Dear Cousin —Do you remember your story about the deserter’s grave in the old cemetery that Mrs, Green told you? Before writing it up for the paper I sent Joe Richards’ name and regiment to the War Department, and asked them for his record in the army. I send you the reply I got, and hope you will give it a wide circulation without letting it come to the ears of his sensitive father. “It seems that Joe was detailed to look after a lot of sick and wounded soldiers in an old farm house down in Georgia, and the sight of the suffering turned his brain. He did everything for the poor, mangled sufferers that he could, but lost his reason. He and his comrades were captured by the rebels, and in the troublous times that followed Joe’s identity was completely lost After the war he was confined in an Insane asylum, and only when death came to release him was he able to tell about his former life. “His poor old father was heart-broken at the thought of his son suffering all those years among strangers, and never spoke of it to any one. “I will never print the story. It is too pathetic and too sacred; but I hope you will see, Addie, that the poor fellow has justice in the minds of his neighbors and one-time friends at last I had hoped to come back and bring the letter myself, but cannot get off. I am sure you will show it, though, to as many as possible before Decoration Day. Hastily, “FRED." John Richards sat near his son’s grave, as he always did while the work of decorating was going on, and looked wistfully at the white-robed children strewing flowers while the band played a solemn funeral dirge. “My Joe was as brave as any of them,” he said aloud. “And yet they never put flowers on his grave. Poor boy, as long as father lives you will not be neglected.” Nearer and nearer came the music, and nearer and nearer marched the flowerladen children. Keeping step to the music, tho old veterans took their places around the Richards’ lot, and one by one twelve exquisite floral pieces—one for each year he had been neglected—were laid near Joe’s blossom-covered grave. Through his tears Joe’s father saw a white pillow inscribed “Comrade,” and a lovely crown laid reverently on the green sod, and then he sobbed like a child. A choir, led by the musicians, sang, “Rest, Hero, Rest,” after the wealth of flowers had been lavished on poor Joe; and then the crowd drifted away leaving the old man, who never knew his son

had been thought a deserter, to gaze with proud satisfaction on the tardy tributes tp the memory of his soldier boy.—Farm and Fireside.

Outraging Memorial Day.

The veterans and those who appreciate what they did from 1861 to 1865 arc indignant over the way Memorial Day has come to be regarded by a large element of the American people. Instead of being looked upon as an occasion for paying respect to the departed American soldier who has served honorably in the field it is turned into a holiday to be passed frivolously and without the slightest regard for the sacred nature of an anniversary dedicated to high aims and lofty patriotism. Each succeeding anniversary is more and more a joyous occasion and less and less an object lesson of gratitude to those who so nobly served the nation in the hour of trial. When first instituted there was no thought of levity in connection with its observance. The parade moved through streets to the strains of the funeral march, the beating of the muffled drum, the shrouding of the flag with crape, the soldiers with arms reversed. The respectful attentiouof the multitude corresponded to the somber processional. In the cemeteries crowds assembled for the exercises and to see the floral tributes on the mounds of the heroes who had answered the final roll call. In the churches congregations listened to addresses in keeping with the solemnity of the day. That was a generation ago. A great change has come over those who have come upon the stage of action since. The present generation does not appreciate the sacrifices the soldiers made in the long drawn out war of the GO’s, such as their forbears well knew, or they would never allow the day to degenerate into a season of merrymaking, with contests on land and water by day, and dances at night, upsetting completely the meaning of the anniversary. The desecration has come to such a pass that unless a change comes over the public mind it will be necessary to abolish Memorial Day. Of course this will be a hardship to those who now make it a festival for it will mean one less holiday struck from the calendar, and on that account solely it will be deplored. The flowers can be strewn just as well without ceremonial and Interruption to business and have equal honor and equal meaning for our sleeping heroes as if a day were set apart for this distinction. In this way the mockery and heartlessness which now discredit Memorial Day will cease to disgrace it before the world. —Utica Globe.

AN EARTHLY TRINITY. .

Health and Wealth Ought to Be Linked with Happiness. We are used to feel, to put itcrudely, that folks who have health and money ought to be happy. And so they should. A sufficient income promotes comfort, and that contributes to cheerfulness of spirit, and to have health, of course, means to feel well, and that is a long step toward feeling good. But how far do we have to look to find persons with health to squander and more money than they know how to spend making strenuous efforts to attain happiness and merely achieving impaired health? If you have health and money you can usually buy pleasure, but enjoyment Is a different article, and even when you have got enjoyment happiness may still elude you. Pleasure palls and sometimes demoralizes; enjoyment easily yields to weariness, but you don’t get tired of being happy, and you may be ever so tired and be happy still. Happiness is a state of satisfaction. One reason why It Is so elusive may be because we human creatures are a complication of body, mind and spirit, and require for our complete satisfaction a particularly nice adjustment of blessings and of conduct, If we indulge the body too much the other two partners become mutinous; If we overcultlvate the mind the body may break down, and If we bestow all our attention on mind and body, the spirit, Ignored, takes a sure vengeance on us for our neglect. It is so difficult so to measure and direct our efforts as to appease all the demands of our triplicate natures that the simpler way Is to regard happiness as a byproduct, give over all direct attempts to acquire a constant supply of It and simply accept however much of It may come while we go about our business with such Intelligence as we can. We can usually keep our bodies In fair repair if we are not too lazy or too self-indul-gent. If we have to earn our livings our minds and bodies, too, find occupation that Is usually wholesome, and the discipline of work done, as It usually Is, for others as well as for ourselves, helps to satisfy the exactions of the spirit.—Harper's Weekly.

Decoration Day,

For them no more the cannons roar, The riot of charge or sally; No more they reel from the shock of steel. Nor thrill when the drum beats “Rally 1” Low they He In the warm earth's breast, Breathe not of war above them! They conquered peace and a laureled rest And the whole broad land to love them. In Hiles white, In roses bright, Again we tell the story Of our love and pride In the men who died In the shadow of Old Glory.

An Occasion that Is Unique.

No other nation bos a Memorial Day just like this of our own, save, perhaps, Germany, which every year renders to the soldiers of the Empire certain honors modeled after our example. * In spite of the occasion which it offers for sports and amusements —innovations much regretted, but entirely inevitable —Memorial Day of all our holidays remains the most picturesque, characteristic and impressive.

Fighting Ohioans.

The history of the Thirty-fourth Ohio infantry Includes account* of several battles which are not generally mentioned in war chronicles. It fought n great deal out of the beaten track of armies, doing much fighting in West Virginia against the guerrilla*. In 1803 ths regiment served as mounted infantry, fighting a* auch at Wytheville, Va., July 18, where CoL John T. Toland was killed. We judge ourselves by what we feel capable of doing; others judge us by what we have done.—Longfellow.

Great Age of Sequoias Tree.

A history of one of the sequoias of California, as shown when it was cut for lumber, is given by a United States Senator. It was but fifteen feet in diameter, while many of them are twice that size. In 245 A. D. when it was 516 years of age, a forest fire burned on its trunk a scar three feet in width. After 1,196 years of placid life in another fire in 1441 A. D.. the tree, aged 1,712, received another injury. Another scar followed In 1850, and was not covered with new tissue for fifty-six years. The worst attack of all was in 1787, when the tree, then 2,068 years of age, Was attacked by a fire which left a sear eighteen feet wide, reduced by 1890, in 103 years, to fourteen feet. Only, ten isolated groves of these trees remain, and only one grove is protected by government ownership.

An Ohio Notary.

Salineville, 0., May 23.—Mr. John W. Manning, Notary Public for Columbiana County and one of the most respected men of the State, has caused to be published the following letter: “About one year ago I was suffering tdrrlbly from Kidney Trouble. I saw an advertisement of a medicine called Dodd’s Kidney Pills and sent for two boxes. “In the meantime I suffered awfully and as soon as I got the Pills I began taking them according to directions and got almost immediate relief, and I have this further to say, that after using the.two boxes I have never been troubled with my Kidneys since. “I have recommended Dodd’s Kidney Pills to others who have tried them and everyone who used them has been cured. I think they are a great remedy and all that is claimed for them.” Mr. Manning’s letter is a strong recommendation for Dodd’s Kidney Pills and is worth the attention of all who suffer with Kidney troubles.

Two Young Cavaliers.

During a heavy thaw, when the crossings were running brooks, a lady making her way up a quiet street found herself confronted by a small lagoon. Going back to a corner, she crossed the street, only to find another barrier between her and the sidewalk. Doubtful, she stood still, examining hummocks of snow which might serve as stepping stones. Two small boys saw her difficulty and with eager words and gestures pointed out a crossing place. “Step here, and step there,” said one, while the other, with the gallantry of Sir Walter Raleigh, seized a large block of ice and deposited it in the gutter for a causeway. Delighted with such usual attention, tho lady bowed cordially, saying, “Thank you, my young cavaliers.” Then as she passed on to meditate on the charms of youthful chivalry, one of the gallant knights cried out, “Say, ain’t you goin’ to give us a cent?”

Make “Pat" Phrases.

The gift of the Irish peasant for making expressive and humorous phrases Is not by any means a fiction of literature. The use of “pat” phrases is natural to him, says illustrated Bits. A clerical traveler In Cavan not long ago asked a peasant how far it was to a certain village, and was answered, “Two miles.” “What! Only two miles?” said the traveler, who had before traveled the distance and found It a long road. “Well, your reverence,” answered the peasant, “it Is two miles strong and rich, so to sphake.” A somewhat similar story is told by one of Lord Zetland’s party, who were making Inquiries into the condition of a distressed district. They were crossing a lake; a 'gale was blowing, and waves were dashing over the boat The gentleman referred to had been assured that an Irish peasant, if treated ■well, will always agree with what is said to him, rather than appear disagreeable. It struck the gentleman that here was a good chance to put the assertion to proof. “There is very little wind, Pat” he said Ho one of the boatmen. The answer came through the howling elements: “Very little, indade, yer honor, but phwat there Is Is mighty sthrong.”

WHAT THE KING EATS.

Wbut’s Fit for Him. A Masachusetts lady who has been through the mill with the trials of the usual housekeeper and mother relates an interesting Incident that occurred not long ago. She says: “I can with all truthfulness say that Grape-Nuts is the most beneficial of all cereal foods in my family, young as w’ell as old. It is food and medicine both to us. A few mornings ago nt breakfast my little boy said: “ ‘Mamma, does the King eat GrapeNuts every morning?’ “I smiled and told him I did not know, but that I thought Grape-Nuts certainly made a delicious dish, fit for a King.” (It’s a fact that the King of England and the German Emperor both eat Grape-Nuts). , x x' “I find that by the constant use of Grape-Nuts not only as a morning cereal, but also In puddings, salads, etc., made after the delicious recipes found in the little book in each package It is proving to be a great nerve food for me, besides paving completely cured a longstanding case of Indigestion.” Name given by I’oatum Co., Battle Creek, Mich. There Is no doubt Grape-Nuts Is the most scientific food in the world. Ten days’ trial of this proper food In place of Improper food will show In steady, stronger nerves, sharper brain and the power to “go” longer and further and accomplish more. There’s a reason. Look In each pkg. for the famous little book, ‘‘The Road to Well villa.”

Having a Pic-nic.

There is something particularly enjoyable about going to a plenie. Ths very word Pip-Nic brings pleasant anticipations of a good time. The Idea of going out to the woods and fields or down by some brook or lake, with luncheon to be served on the grass and under the trees, has a peculiar fascination. The fresh air and exercise contribute to give a hearty appetite to all nrul everything at luncheon seems far better than the finest course dinner that a French chef ever served. Wooden dishes supplant Dresden china, and paper boxes silver trays, when the “good things to cat” are spread upon the ground. Pic-Nics are never complete without the sandwiches, sweet white bread with a generous layer of meat between. Libby’s canned meats are ideal for picnics and outings. The cans are so easily opened and the contents so fresh and palatable that no plc-nic is a success without Libby’s “Natural Flavor” Food Products.

Never Occurred to Him.

“I don’t know why It is,” said Mr. Glossup, as he came down-stairs redeyed and sleepy, and greeted his guest, “but I never get used to the striking of that clock in our room. “It has such a loud insistent ‘bang* when it strikes the hours that it wakes me up nearly. every time. We’ve had it in the house two or three years, but I can’t become accustomed to it We would have put it in the attic long ago, only it’s a present from my wife’s mother, and that would never do. Good clock, too, aside from that, buts it warrlets me nearly to death. I wish I knew what to do with it” “Why don’t you wind merely the timekeeping part of it,” said his guest, “ and let the striking part go unwound?” “Johnson, you have saved my life!” exclaimed Mr. Glossup, joyfully. “I never thought of that!”

Catarrh Cannot Be Cured

with LOCAL APPLICATIONS, as they cannot reach the seat of the disease. Catarrh Is a blood or constitutional disease, and In order to cure It you must take Internal remedies. Hall’s Catarrh' Cure is taken internally, and acts directly on the blood and mucous surfaces. Hall’s Catarrh Cure is not a quack medicine. It was prescribed by one of the best physicians In this country for years, and is a regular prescrlptloa. It is composed of the best tonics known, combined with the best blood purifiers, acting directly on the mucous surfaces. The perfect combination of the two mgredlents is wnat produces such won* derful results in curing Catarrh. B<nd for testimonial*. free. F. J. CHENEY & CO., Props., Toledo, Q. Sold by Druggists, price 75c. Hall’s Family Pills are the best.

A Jap's Different Names.

Every European child can anm the question, “What is your name?’* without hesitation unless he Is dumb, but the Japanese boy must think a little to make sure, for ,at various periods of his life he is called by different names. He receives his first when ha Is just a month old. Then three different names are written on three slips of paper and thrown Into the air in the temple while prayers are addressed to the family deity. That which falls first to the ground bears the name the child Is called till he Is 3 years old. At 15 the Japanese boy receives a new name In honor of his coming of age. His name Is changed again on the occasion of his marriage and on any advance in his position.

Overheard on the Pike.

Mr. Easy—Why should people visiting The Exposition at night use more Allen’s Foot-Ease than in daytime? Miss Foote—Because under the brilliant illumination of the grounds every foot becomes an acre! Mr. Easy—Fair, Only fair! Pray, conduct me to the nearest drug store and I promise never to accept a substitute for you or for Allen’s Foot-Ease. ♦ • FOOT NOTE.—The twain will be made one in June. In a year nearly 100,000 persons traverse the forty-seven miles of railway across the isthmus. We are never without a bottle of Pise’s Cqj-e for Consumption in our house.— Mrs. E. M. Swayze, Wakita, Okla., April 17. 1901. The minimum rainfall at which trees will grow is twenty inches. Mm. Winslow's Soothing Btrcp for Children teething; softens the gums, reduces inflammation, ak lays pain, cures wind oolio. 25 oents a bottle.

W®' trudc Straighten Up The main muscular supports of body weaken and lot co under Backache or Lumbago. To restore, strengthen *■ end straighten up. use St. Jacobs Oil Price 2 Sc. end SOc.

frEM Qlven Away WUUU Writ* moruk in A Iblmatine dealer for particular* and frM aamplo sard or DootniyadloeM.vrnnoDd Tannin. N«’*r mbaoraoalea. You can apply It—mil with