Democracy,
ee]
Bellefonte, Pa., March 19, 1909,
SANDNAN,
The Sandman’s filling his bags with sand,
Down by the Slumber Sea:
One roguish eye hath he filled on Jand,
Where the playing children be.
“Ho! ho!" he laughs—and the waves laugh too,
The waves of the Slumber Deep so blue—
Little Folk, listen! He's warning you!
“Ho, Little Folk, wait for me!"
The Sandman’s filling his bags so full
On the shore of the Slumber Sea:
He has one Lo carry and one to pull,
But he doesn't eara—not he!
“Ho! ho! he laughs, when the white sands
spill:
“Millions of bonny bright eyes to fill!"
Little Folk, listen! He's laughing still—
“Ho, Little Folk, wait for me!"
The Sandman’s creeping without a sound,
And in from the Slumber Sea
The Dream Fogs follow and close him round—
Like a shadow stealeth he!
The Sandman’s stealing so near, 50 near! —
They are rubbing their eyes, are the Little
Folk dear!
“Little Folk, hurry!” he's ealling clear:
“To the Land o' Nod with me!”
—By Aone E. Barr.
IN MUSICLAND.
Maurice Renaud, first barytone of France,
has many traits of mind in common with
the novelist in building up the characters
that he portrays. In common, too, with
she novelist, his every figure in opera isa
composite of many.
From the moment be begins to study a
role it fills his mind, even in the street ;
perhaps in conversation some stray remark
acts as suggestion.
His Rigoletto takes one of its strongest ef-
feots from a passage that he read in Journal
de Gonecourt, which tells of an actor whom
people had looked ou as the incarnation of
gaiety, but whose bair, the night shat he
went insane, turned white, disclosing for
the first time the agony that be bad saf-
fered. *
Is will be recalled that in Renaud’s por-
trayal of Rigoletto, in she first and second
aots he weare a cap as the jester ; in the
third aot, after learning the tragic fate of
his daughter, he appears bareheaded and
whitebaired, no looger a buffoon, but a
man, broken-hearted. The method is
simple, but one compelling of sympathy
from the moment of its disclosure.
This gleam of effectiveness came un-
sought, for Renaud was reading at random
when the soggestion presented itself.
The idea of a physical realization of the
character came ahout through viewing
“The Wedding at Cana,” by Panl Veronese,
whioh haugs in the Louvre Gallery ; be-
tween two pillars is a baffoon. This gave
him the idea for the costume.
Don (Giovanni Renaud regards as the
moss diffiouls role ever written, because of
the flagrant contradictions between the
man in the opera and the man in the poem.
In the latter, Don Giovanni is vulgar, a de-
banchee, yet of elegance and nement.
the role a bal ube: mii
e about e on
of the hook of Da Ponte, whose
habis is was to follow about theatrical com-
and get up a play for them in ten
or filteen days. To accomplish this in such
haste, he found it convenient to take from
the books of others ; in this case from she
pau by Moliere, makiog a caricature
5.
“‘Io order to do this role,” said Renaud,
in mentioning the subject, ‘‘the artist must
idealize him, as in the poem, findiog the
refinement in his own soul, hut along with
that refinement portray the hall-comic
spiris of the travesty.
“Theophile Gautier wrote ofl Den Gio-
vanni concerning the many [qualities and
contradictions demanded in portraying him
in the version chosen by Mozars ; then
closed with the words : ‘Judge for yoarsell
whether one man can play him.’ ?’
Revaund, whose portrait of Don Giovanni
hangs ‘‘on the line’’ with the greatest,
after considering the points to be battled
with, added modestly : ‘As it is so diffi-
oult to do, there is some oredit in trying
to doit.”
Most artists bave roles in their repertoire
that they prefer to all others, very often
the ones for which they are least adapted.
Renaud covers the ground in what he says
on the subject, and with a stronger spirit
of realization than comes to the majority.
“I like best,” he asserted, ‘‘the part I
am playing at the time. Like parents who
love most shose of their children ill-favored
by nature, the artist 1s apt to love most the
part for which be is least suited. With
age, this feeling diminishes.
“One only becomes a great artist at the
stage when one feels one cannot overcome
one’s faults.’
The ability of sell-analyzation is eo
strongly developed with Renaud thas he
becomes almost a contradiction among sing-
ers ; this shows iteelf, too, in his manner
in conversation. Fall of animation, with
gestures characteristically Gallie, when he
reaches a point of close interest he is as ab-
eolutely qniet o! manner as an English.
man. The alertness of the man’s whole
being is concentrated in his brain.
He is the strange anomaly, a singing
:
g
£
philosopher, oe who, with profound sem- |
perament has realized the maxim, ‘‘Man,
know thevsell,”” which the moss of us have
penned many times on the lines of a copy-
hook in ink smodged yoath, and with shat
considered the incident closed.
‘“Terror,”” he wens on in introspection,
“‘always seizes me on the stage ; thas feel-
ing has never diminished, and yet this is a
distinct contradiction to my sang froid in
matters aside from my respousibility as an
artiste.
“The exception to this feeling of terror
is when I hear in advance that people dis-
like a role, then there springs up the de-
sire to struggle to overcome prejudice that
makes me forget. In this case I feel that |
am strogeling against something tangible ;
otherwise the struggle is to make myselt
comprehensible, and against a something
that may not be nnderstood,”’
Renaud created Thlramund in the per
formance at the Paris Grand Opera with
Yau Dysk iad Madame Caron, when hatred
ran at prospect of the ntation of
Wi 's ‘Lohengrin,’ a barytone
for two weeks in advance bad received
threatening letters telling him that the
opera-house would be blown up.
The night of the performance a mob
stormed the place, and she municipal goard
was oalied ont to face it. *‘Yes I never
“That was
during a fot thao ol Ambroise Thomas’
the Hi There a eT i ing
i
al
&
3
;
It was a mot so applicable to Paris
theaters shat anxiety turned to langhter.
The next day Renaud received indignant
letters again, this time from architects and
superictendents. “‘It may be a joke,”
they said, ‘‘but the kind of a ove that re-
flects on our ability.”
Perbaps the aptest characterization of the
music Richard Strauss was made the
other afternoon by Cleofonte Campanini :
“Strauss has gone in search of the north
pole; he has not got there yet, but he de-
serves our praise for the hitherto unknown
things that be has discovered.”
“And the modern Italian ?”’ was the in-
quiry naturally following.
“Modern Italian music” —the reply was
modest, but the tone one of feeling—*‘is so
much liked and loved that I think there
must be something in it. It appeals to the
hears, especially Puccini.
“But the north pole of music will not be
discovered by Sirauss or any other ; its
ocean will never be crossed. Methods of
expression will change, hat finality will
never be reached, for music is part of the
forever of the world.”
Perhaps Campanini voiced unconsciously
the fact that the more calmly directed in-
tellect of the North will mainly make the
discoveries, but that of the South will ap-
ply them to she needs of the heart.
Bat find an Italian with head aod heart
evenly balanced, and yoa will find another
Campanini; begin your search, though, in
youth.
Grieg once spoke to me of Richard Strauss
as ‘‘the man who conducts with bis lege.”
The irony of his apt allusion lost its sting
in the smile thas went with it. But we all
know how important a part Stranes’ |
play aside from their use in his walking.
Campanini shares Grieg’s dislike for
gymuoastics. ‘‘I object to an acrobatic con-
ductor,”” he said that afternoon, bluntly,
“Italians generally have a great deal of
temperament, which runs away with them
in trying to hold sheir forces together. I
wae present onceat a performance of the
‘Tannbauser’ overture when the conductor
worked himself into a frenzy. An encore
followed. To show she thorongh training
of his men he sat down, and let them re-
peat it without his directing. ‘If it goes
#0 well without him, why not rest oftener,’
asked a naive auditor.
“According to my idea of conducting,
the thing is to know the score by heart;
with thas I bave the chorus and orchestra,
and can do whas I like with them.
“It is a mistake to suppose, as some do,
that instrumensalists are more intelligent
than singers hecanse of the great amonnt
of labor and thought required by the in-
stramentalist in his ars.
‘‘Some great singers are not great artists,
But a singer like Renaud, for instance, who
is both a great singer and a great artist,
there you find the profound intelligence.
“In the old made op of a duo, a
trio and a romanza, intelligence playe small
part, bus with modern opera the question
is another.
“All really great musicians, though, no
matter in w field, are always simple,
always approachable. But there are many
others who bave heard that Beethoven was
ecoentrie, and in emulating him, think they
also have genius because they have acquir-
ed sccentricity.”’
Presently there came a rift io the cloud
of generalities that let in a light on Cam:
panini’s nature, or rather on the natares of
both; it was when he spoke of his wife.
“From the day we were married,” he
said, ‘‘we have made our careers together.”
And that means that for twenty years
these two Italians have led their art-life
together, he conducting and she singing in
the same companies,
Had Daudet known of this his ‘‘Les
Femmes d’Artistes’’ might have contained
at least one comforting exoeption to a list
of discomforting verities.
Those knowing the history tell briefly
this: In Madrid, Lishon and elsewhere
Madame Campanini, ander the stage name
of Tetrazzini, received, as is the case with
Latin audiences, first honors as prima
donna. When, last winter everythiog
made for tremendous successes for Mr.
Campanini, although more than once urged
to sing, the wife remained in the baok-
ground, happy at lass to leave all family
laurels to the husband. It is only recently
in “Andrea Chenier,’’ that she was heard
for the first time in the history of the pres-
ent en, ens.
It was Madame Campavini who once dis-
Played the collection of decorations granted
im by sovereigns. ‘‘I never wear them,”
be said, balf-apologetically eying them,
aod then with a blush: “But I like to
have them, it pleases the artist.”
The personality of Dabussy is interest.
ing, as shat of a new international figare
in the musical world, and all the woe
strongly because distance and retirement
have lent to him something of the elusive.
hearsal. The night of its premiere he
smoked a hundred and ten cizarettes in a
neighboring cale, while the andience fought
over it at the Opera Comique.
| Of tbat night Dubosey said : ‘When I
. gave it to the pablio is was a love that was
| dead; it was no longer mine.”” Bus the
| moment of Dubussy’s relinquishing of the
| opera was exciting
| When Wagner's ‘‘Taunbanser’” was
{ brought out in that same Paris, which is
| always pining for novelty, yet never recog-
| nizes it when it sees it, a worse scene was
enaoted, but ‘‘Pelleas et Melisande’’ was a
good second.
Duabussy chose well, not only as central
artist, hut as champion, when he selected
Miss Mary Garden to deliver bis wusioal
propaganda. Had Wagner bad an Elizabeth
of equal courage, the message of ‘‘Tann-
haaser’’ might not have been so long de-
ferred in its Parisian delivery.
The first night of ‘‘Pelieas et Melisande’’
Mies Garden describes a scene in which
management was very nearly obliged to
close the theater.”
“What did you do?"
‘I stood up and looked them in the
eye,” was the answer,
or tened ?’ No, on the contrary. I
love a not with but obstacles,
To A dv ty That
e828 | lighttul,
He has never attended a single public per. |
formance of his master-work, ‘‘Pelleas et
Melisande,’’ though present at every re-|
|
an ropply tie n
it
£
i
i
i
3
i
:
g
;
|
|
f
i
:
|
|
F
i
i
ty. one
marvelous in its sim-
; is trying mentally, bas
y.
“Wherever it is given there will be dis-
quarrels and camps, as with
Wagner, though Dabussy is no more like
Wagoner shan black is like white. The
slowness of its growth in appreciation is
best reckoned hy the fact thas in four vears
it has had bus fifty presentations in Paris,
while Erlanger’s ‘Apbrodite’ received sixty
in a twelve month.”’
Daring her study of Melisande, Dubussy
would come three nights in the week to go
through she music with Miss Garden. She
would hegin by singing as random some
phrase; from that point on they would pro-
ceed, repeating a passage indefinitely until
she had gained completely bis conception
in its delivery, which he recognized when
he heard is, shough anable himself to sug.
gest the exact expression be wished.
“Strange to say, I found it only when I
gave the accompanying action,"’ was Miss
Garden’s experience.
; ‘‘And Dobussy the man ?'’ was the ques-
tion.
“A great man,’ was her sammary,
“‘sensitive as a baby, but cruel as a child.”
Dabussy’s opera has not farnished her
with ber only exciting incident. Another
came during the long rou of *‘Louise,” at
the Opera Comique. It was in the third
act, just after the final note of her big air
that some one in the gallery eried “Oh!
Those io the neighborhood mistook it for
“Fire !"” and paudemoniom ~tarted in the
house from top to bottom. For five min.
utes people battled with each other, and
then the theater was empty.
Hersell nuderstandiog the exclamation,
and knowing thas fire had vothing to do
with it, Miss Garden wae at sea; perhaps it
was a demonstration against her? What
ever it might be, it was distinctly remark-
able. Then Miss Garden did something as
characteristic as it was homorously de-
She sat down on a chair ou the
stage to see what they would do next.
Meanwhile, another situation as delight-
fully humorous, in the senve thas is Gallic,
took place in the foyer. Monsieur Carre,
the mal , seeing his sheatre bereft in a
twinkling of ite audience, and unable, for
the life of him, to ascribe a reason for it,
rushed into the foyer, where he found it
more or less incomplete in details or per-
sonal adornment.
‘What are you doiog here ?’’ he called
in astonishment.
““Whast are you doing here ?'’ echoed the
mass, unruffling ite feathers, and wonder-
ing what it was all abous.
After this little improptn, Louise began
to sing again. One-ball of the aodience
bad retorned, and was demanding a repeti-
tion of the big air, as the end of whioh, a
short time before, a lady in the gallery bad
fainted, after thoughtfully crying ont
“Oh mn
At sixteen Madame Schumaon-Heink
was ready for her debus, singing at Gratz
as one of the quartette in a performance of
Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony. Madame
Marie Wilt, the great prima donna, and the
soprano of the occasion, delighted with the
new contralto, promised to introduce her
in Vienna. This was more easily proposed
than accepted, the officer’s salary of her
father, thirty doliare a month, not allow-
ing many sours for his six daughters.
t when Field-Marshal Von Benedick,
who bad fought with bim in the cam
of 66" in Italy, heard that the child of a
comrade was about to lose a fine
tunity, he came to the rescue with a et.
book less full than the gold braid on bis
oniform would outwardly warrant. So
Ernestina, daly chaperoned, set out for
Vienna. There accompanied by Madame
Wils, she sang to she Imperial- Royal Court-
Opera: Director Janver.
The shoes that the young singer wore
that day were a trophy from the barracks
at Gratz. Like those of her younger sis-
ters, they were made of the scraps of leath-
er lefs over from the #oldiers’ brogauvs, and
cost nothing. Clamping across the par-
quet floor, iv a diess that reached to her
ankles, she entered her judge's dandified
resence. Mutual aversion was immediate.
nestina could not sing any more than
Janner could listen, and she went back to
Gratz with no visible result from the spend-
ing of the field-marebal’s money.
At sixteen one cannot be very long un-
bappy. This time there was ground for
light-heartedness, and a month later she
was able to make another journey, to Dres-
den, to enter a competition for a vacant
at the Royal there. Fate was
inder than at Vienna. Two other appli-
cants sang, but she was the one chosen for
a three years’ contracs.
Her first was as Azucena, in
Verdi's “II Trovatore,’”’ and she laughed
all the evening, because ao many Joople
were there and her salary, sixty dollars a
mooth, was double that of her father for
drilling his soldiers.
At that early day she sang all her roles
by ear ; they came to her out of the air, as
it were, for no great amount of musicial
knowledge bothered her, as did a oertain
oid oboe-player in the orchestra, who
toiled for every atom of it that he gos.
Viewing the young contralto, laughing as
Azuecena in captivity and all the rest of her
dismal moments, and learning a new part
without a tithe of the labor thas he had in
learning a cadenza, he promptly annoonced
that she woald never amount to anything
as a singer. Having a good share of that
antipathy which the orchestial player so
i
d=
ii
:
i
|
vocalist, he told her so.
but in a critical moment of disaster later
she remembered it.
Part of her duties was to sing in the
cathedral. One great feast-day, Corpus
Chrigsi it was, the King and Queen of Sax-
ony and their court marched in procession
to mass, for which great musicial prepara.
tions had been made. All went well until
Ernestiva’s first solo came, Lost in won-
der over the scene, and the sight of ‘‘s0
many beautiful yonug lieutenants,” as she
describes it, the new contralto forgot thas
such things as solos existed. A poke from
Court Director Krebs’ baton bionght her
back to reality. At the same instant she
caught sight of bis stately, dignified pres.
ence, and the wrath shining out through
prediction swept over her to combine with
the fright of she present.
Tones came, not written in the mausio ;
| ach and
a
w
|
opera, gave a new turn to ber art, a turn
that began with the descent of Kreh's
baton in the cathedral at Dresden.
Bat through it all ber Austrian gaiety
her teens and into celebrity abroad.
Meanwhile, the old oboe-player, heing of
a frank aud musical nature, repeated his
dire predictions in season and ons. When
she wesurned from her first successfol en-
gagemens in London to sing agaio in Dres.
den, she said to him: “Well, 1 have
amonnted to something, baven’s I ?
“The newspapers say 80.’’ he answered,
with nigeardlv tartvess, ‘‘hut how dol
know it ?'—By William Armstrong in
Ainslee’s.
The Baker Family.
Editor Democratic Watchman.
I have been interested in reading Sam-
uel W. Raker's “Forty Years in Iowa.” I
was well acquainted with hia whole family,
his father, grandfather, ard father’s broth-
ers, Joe and Charles. Charles belonged to
company A, 45th regiment, and died from
wounds received at South Mountain, Sep-
tember 14th, 1862. Joe was in one of the
departments at Washington and died soon
after or during the war. Mr. Hiram Ba-
ker, father of Samuel, was the last clerk in
the store at Caurtin’s old rolling mill, when
the firm of R. C. and 8. Curtin quit the
store business in connection with the works
and began paying all cash to hands in 1864.
Mr. Baker was then taken to the forge and
kept the books. My uncle Austin, who
bad beeu book keeper, removed to his farm
across the creek from the old rolling mill.
Wheuo at the store Mr. Baker lived in my
father’s family. When at the forge, until
his family moved there, he lived at the
house of my uncle, Joho Cartin. He re
mained at the forge, in the house now oc-
cupied by James Barger, until he left for
the west in 1869. Samuel and the late
Harry Cartin were boys together and were
great friends.
Hiram Baker was one of the best men I
ever knew, quiet, religions, careful of
everything, a good scholar, a good book-
keeper, a good clerk. I was in the office
with him for several years, as manager of
the business of the firm. He was a great
chewer of tobacco and quite anxious to
quit it, so he would take a pledge for thir
ty days and pus the tobacco and she pledge
in a desk opposite one he used, and every
day would go and read the pledge. The
minute the month wae up he would take
the pledge and tear it up and begin obew-
ing tobacco again, but some years before
bis death he wrote me and said he bad at
lass been able to overcome the tobacco bab-
it, and was then as much opposed to it as
he was favorable to it years ago.
Mr. Baker was the first postmaster at
Curtin, and I was sworn in as his assistant
at the time the office was opeved. It
conld not be called *'Curtin,” like the sta-
tion, as shere was one Curtin postoffice in
the State, in Dauphin county, so the office
was called Roland, after my father and
grandfather. Is was opened in 1866 or "67,
bat has lately been changed to ‘‘Cartin’
to make it correspond with the station, as
the Cartin office in Dauphin county has
been discontinued.
Very truly yours,
AusTIN CURTIN.
Remember that your birthright is health.
A diseased condition is unnatural. Nature
hates disease. She is always working
againss is, trying to oleanse it as a blos on
her dominion. But Nature cannot work
without material. If youn do not eat, you
will starve in epite of all Nature's effors.
You must eat gond food. Nature osnnot
make bad
8
Is is
Discovery finds its
assist Natare; to
it cures the diseased condition of the stom-
of digestion and nutrition,
so that food is not fouled belore being
made into blood and flesh. It eliminates
poisonous and effete material, and #0 pre-
pares the way of Natare and makes het
paths straight. In the whole range of
medicine there is nothing which will heal
the stomach and cleavse the blood like
“Golden Medical Discovery.”
Working Women
Who are exposed to the strain of daily
labor, the changes of weather, and who |
| must work no matter how they feel, are!
frequently has for the easier success of the |
At the time ber | rogglar periods, and suppression, lead to
heart was too gay to take bim seriously, |
those most liable to ‘female troubles.” ir.
more serions diseases ununsil the wan face,
the shadowed eyes, the nervoos switchings
of the hody all tell the story of serious de-
rangement of the delicate womanly organs
or arrest of their fonctions. In all such
cases Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Presoription has
wonderful efficacy. It quickly restores
regularity, and gives health to the diseased
parts.
become full and bright. The whole body
reflects the conditions of perfect health,
When constipation clogs the system Dr.
Pierce's Pleasant Pellets will work an ab-
solute oure.
A half a buodred vexing ailments ozn be
traced to constipation. liousness, head-
aslle, vertigo, ‘ avin Raivoduness,
sleeplessness, tahility, men epres-
gion, aod cold and feet are only
some of the symptoms of constipation. Dr.
Pierce’s Pleasant Pellets cure constipation
and they cure its consequences,
——The star arose at the school enter-
tainment to declaim his piece.
“Lend me your ears !"’ he bawled.
‘*Ha 1" sneered the mother of the opposi-
tion, bus defeated, pupil, ‘“‘that’s Sarah
Jane Doran's boy. wouldn’t be his
mother’s son if he hadn't want to borrow
something.”
The nervousness ceases, the cheeks
Forty Years in lows,
[Written especially for the Warcumax. |
CHAPTER ¥.
For the year of 1888 the Iowa state lair
closed on Friday, September 7th, and on
thas evening at 9.30 o'clock voar corres-
pondent boarded a Rock Island train, with
a visit to the old home countiy as the ob-
jection. Au all night ride landed as in the
inter-ocean city where the two following
days and nights were spent visiting friends
and taking advantage of she opportunity
0 again see a portion of that great oity of
bueciness energy, and though somewhat
acoustomed to such surroundings, we were
perbaps possessed of somewhat alike wide-
mouthed and opened eyed feeling, as the
yearly Belleloute visitor from Marsh
Creek or she other hack valleys in the
county. On Sanday woring at the Clark
& Washington streets M. E. church we
listened for the first time to a sermon de-
livered hy Chaplain McCabe as he was then
called. Later he bas frequently so officiated
in our own city, the last time joss previous
to his demise, as a Bishop in his church.
On Monday morning, the Iowa Special
loaded with Des Moines and vicinity peo-
ple en route to Colambas, Ohio, to attend
the National Eocampment of the Grand
Army of the Republic, arrived and took us
along with its happy erowd of howe friends
aud peighbors. The tip acioss Indiana
and a portion of Ohio, was perhaps the
most enjoyable we ever made, and if the
editor whom we have koown to be al-
ways just as much of an unconipromising
Democrat as the writer is and bas been a
Repuplican, will permit we will particular-
ize politically, in a slight friendly manner.
Towa 1s a Republican State notwithstand-
ing the fact thas friend Meek’s party afiil-
liated brethren of the press had she aundac-
ity to place us in doubtful column in
their last fall ante-election estimates. Our
50,000 to 80,000 majorities are jast as
finely established as she 200,000 to 300,000
of our party in Pennsylvania, aod it is just
as impossible to ‘‘root out the gang’ in
Des Moines, as it is in Harrisburg and she
only difference worthy of note is that we
know how to build a State House fully
equipped and ready for occupancy, with
every penny of the public found used
therefor honestly acconuted for, yet on the
election eve, when the returns from the
Keystone State are flashed across the street
macy a throat is made hoarser than they
wight bave been bad the WATCHMAN heen
privileged to display its array of roosters,
long kept in storage for use alone for its
viotories in old Centre which, by the way,
seems to have been turned over to Missie-
sippi or Oklaboma.
As the civil war bad the reputation of
politically converting its returned soldiers,
oar train was loaded with mostly onesided
people. The campaign was on hand and
our crowd seemed to be a united opinion,
that Cleveland (one of the most consistent
Democrats that ever held the job and bes-
ter perhaps than some Republicans) shounld
get and Ben Harrison given the place. Our
train was appropriately decorated which
seemed to arouse our brothers of these two
States who were either asleep or husking
corn on election day four years previous
and our crowd just bad to respond to the
yells and waving of, as it appeared, every-
body ; farmers in the fields thrashing or
plowing, occupants of vehicles on the roads
families on the porch, crowds in every
town at which we stopped, it was Harrison,
Harrison, and the election later produced
the same sound.
Never before or since have we ridden on
a train, loaded with Republicans entirely,
and all the day long through a country
that seemed to he aleo entirely of that
political faith,
Arriving at Columbus at 9.30 p. m. we
were given the impression that the place
was composed of passenger coaches and
people, so great was the crush of humanity,
and it was almost impossible to find a
place of rest, thongh we did finally, ona
cot in an attic. The following two days
compassed the entertainment for the non-
member of the G. A. R. Twenty years
ago, nearly all of the leading commanding
Generals were alive and in active evidence
at this encampment and the array of these
great men shat led the armies that saved
our country, in the parade and on the
reviewing stand ; some as badly maimed
avd scarred as their brothers of private
rank—Sickles who left a leg at Gestysbarg
and Howard an arm at Seven Pioes, and
both yet among the liviag was a privileged
sight nst often accorded to we of the com-
mon walks of life,
Weduesday night found us ona train |
bound for Pittsburg where we found our
train ready to give the mountain trip to
our destination. Deprive the 18 year old
school boy of his castom from infancy of
mountain rambling and transplant him to
a plain, with the horizon and blue <ky
only in sight above his own level ; impris-
ou him thus for twenty years and then re-
turn him to his native heath, be and only
such of like conditions can realize the pe-
culiar sensation that took possession of
this chap when after such a lapse of time
he again found hymself among the moun-
tains and hills of his old home. A freight
wreok ahead between Tyrone and Miles
burg, kept our train until after night, =o
that 11 00 p. m. Friday, September 13th,
found usin bed in a hotel at the latter
place. The following morning in the
house known many years ago as the resi
dence and drug store of C. G. Ryman, a
lady, sweeping the dooryard, was recog-
aized as the daughter of John Lyman, of
Ms. Eagle, and it took some time to oon.
vince her that the bearded man before her
was once a schoolmate and really the
party be represented himself to be. George
H., who lived near Curtin’s Forge, was her
brother. Avother brother Thomas, was
found by the writer, prior to this time in
an emaciated condition scarcely able to
walk, oo the streets of Des Moines. He
had recently come from she south west
where be bad contracted a complication of
kidney and long trouble to which be suo.
| cumbed three months later. We coovidered
| it a duty to take him into our home, cared
for him and gave him a christian barial in
our beaatiful Woodland cnantry.
A morning walk soon found us at Car-
tin’s Works, and Mount Eagle, where we
took an afternoon train to Howard. In
passing the former places, quite a few old
friends were called upon, but as as Miles-
barg unknown and passed up as a stranger
io a strange land, until our identity was
enforced. At Mount Eagle was met several
of the well known Leathers family and bad
first entertainment among friends, by par-
taking of a noonday meal with the family
of William B. Leathers, whom we were
pained to, a few years later, learn of his
tragic death in his own factory.
As Howard the first friendly encounter
was with a former chum and schoolmate
who performed the tonsorial act and knew
not his customer until the next day.
A Sonday school picnic, in ‘‘Butler’s
Woods was at its height, and many a
wondering, searching Jook was directed
toward the unknown stranger who lingered
around and returned up town with the
last of the crowd ; and withheld his identity
until at the ice cream festivities held in
Kline's vacant store room that evening.
The following ten days were given to re-
rambling over the community where be-
yond twenty years we bad grown up with
and learned to know so well. The old
sobool yard, the swimming hole, the coast-
ing hills, and the ‘‘Back alley’ wherein
we hid with other ‘‘towp boys'’ when
playing Hallowe’en pranks ; down to the
furnace and rolling mill, up to Mons.
gomery's tan yard, up the mountain side
where we went in boyhood to trail down by
aid of that well known bell, the old spotted
cow, who led she way home, by mean-
dering paths, rather than driven.
A trip out in the ridges, pear the
“Divide” was taken and a stop at the old
farm, where we lived for one year, a por-
tion of the ‘Uncle John Smith place’ and
in the neighbor of the Halls, and with a
friend Jobn Holter, did not omita visit
“down the creek’’ among the Pletcher’s,
Shank’s and Holter’s, old friends and ao-
quaintances were everywhere at band, and
only those of like experience cav realize
the real enjoyment and pleasure of again
minoglinog with friends and boon ocom-
panions of boyhood days. Howard at the
time we lefs is, bad no thoroughfares
called streets. One ‘‘Big road” extended
from Packer's bridge to Heverly’s black-
smith shop ; another orossed this, extend-
iog from Knoll’s tavern to 300 feet beyond
the ‘‘cross roads.’ The only public
“Back alley?’ extended along the rear of the
scheol play ground perhape two-thirds the
distance of the ‘‘Big road.” The newly
incorporated town bad just passed an ordi-
navoe permitting ‘‘hoardwalks ;'’ and the
many ‘‘woodpiles’’ were thereby forced to
the rear premises. Ono this visit, advance
ment was very apparent. Streets were in
use from Montgomery's tan yard to Spring’s
Lock, while Tipton’s Field and the Baker
clearing were well covered with residences
aod necessary streets, beyond uncle Johnny
Longs. Oar old howe still the same stood
opposite the Methodist chnrch, and we
were bold enough to ask the stranger oo-
capants, to permit an inspection of the
premises and a look through the rooms,and
at the walls, that were the first onr eyes
have remembrance of heholding. In the
graveyard across the way, (or cemetery of
today), familiar names were seen cut on
the headstones marking the resting places
of very many of the older people of our
day and among them many ancestors, some
of whom were among the first to be placed
in that Silent City. The WATCHMAN of
February 26th announces the death of
another old schoolmate, Miss Sallie Hager-
man. Asoue hy one we pass away, we
heed the notice that our generation will
soon be of the past.
The allotted time to be spent in the old
bome having expired, we passed on to
other places in the State and county that
olaimed an interest, and as we again find
encroachment on space getting in is work,
| pase up further reminiscences for a future
| writing, but may remain in Howord while
| we intervene, with the next article on
| “kuockers’’ at home.
S. W. BAKER,
Towa, March 5th, 1809.
| Des Moines,
——'"7on say this man stole your coat,’’
said the magistrate. ‘‘Do I understand
that you prefer charges against him ?*’
“Well, no, Your Houor,” replied the
plaintiff. *‘I prefer the coat, if it’s all the
sate to you.”
Fig and Not Jelly.—Make the usoval
plain lemon jelly ; put some cut up figs
and shelled nats into a ring mold, and fill
with warm jelly; pat on ice,and after turn-
ing out fill the centre with whipped cream.
——Cracks in floors may be neatly and
permanently filled with a paste made from
old newspapers, flour, alam and water,
thoroughly boiled together.
——Do you trust your husband implio-
itly?"
**What a question! Why, of course Ido
—%0 a certain extens.”
——Jimmie—*'My ma’s gone down-town
to 00 some bills.”
‘ommie—*‘Pooh! The man comes to the
house to collect ours!”
~The cause for scours is overleeding,
filthy quarters, cold milk, sour milk, feed-
ing grain with the milk, dirty pails, ex-
posure to cold rains and such unnatural
conditions.
~The giant bees of India build honey-
combs as high as eighteen feet.