EsTAUMSIIISD, ISBB.
Cameron County Press
HENRY H. MULLIN,
Editor and Publisher.
PUBLISHED KYKKY Till iISDAV
TCOMMON ERROR.
The Same Mistaks is Made by flany
Emporium People.
It's a common errror
To plaster the aching back,
To rub with liniments rheumatic
joints.
When t'ne trouble comes from the
kidneys.
Doan's Kidney Pills cure all kidney
ills.
And are endorsed by Emporium citi
zens.
Mrs. Anna Ziiumet, W. Fourth St.,
Emporium. Pa., says:"l suffered from
kidney trouble for years und though I
<lo< :.ired and used numerous remedies I
could get no relief. I had backsche,
pain through my loins, severe headaches,
and a constant feeling of languor and
depression. The kidneys were much dis
ordered and the secretions passed so fre
quently as to cause me great annoyance,
112 finally learned of Doan's Kidney Pills
and procured a box from Taggart's
drug store. Tam now seldom troubled
with backache) .My kidneys have been
strengthened and I teel better in every
way. T strongly advise anyone suffering
from kidney trouble to use Doan's Kid
ney Pills. - '
For sale by all dealers. Price 50 cents.
Foster-Milburn Co., Buffalo, New York,
sole agents. Remember the name—
Doan's—and take no other.
Pure Maple Sugar and Syrup, at C.
B. Howard & CO'B.
What Tonics Are.
When the papers are full of advertise
ments for this or that great tonic, s people
are apt to be tempted to try them, but
it does not take long to discover that
after all there is nothing equal to Sexine
Pills for any form ot nerve weakness in
meu and women. We seldom find any
body who can say he or she was cured by
this or that wine, extract or liquor, but
almost any one can testify to the great
nerve and body-building qualties of Sexine
Pills. Sexine Pills are absolutely guar
anteed. Each box has a cash coupon in
it. They cost 81 a box, (3 boxes for 35.
Four months' treatment for S5. Sold
by R. C. Dodson, Druggist, Emporium,
where they sell all the principal remedies
and do not substitute.
DeWitt's Carbolizcd Witch Hazel
Salve is good for cuts, burns and bruises,
and is especially good for piles. Refuse
substitues. Sold by all druggists.
Heart-burn, sour risings,belching, dull,
heavy feeling and such tilings are caused
by indigestion. Kodol stops them by di
gesting all the food you eat.
Biliousness and Constipation.
For years L was troubled with bilious
ness and coustipatioD, which made life
miserable for toe. .My appetite failed
me. 1 10.-t my usual force and vitality.
Pel -in preparations and cathartics only
made matters worse. I do not know
where I should have been to-day had I
not tried Chamberlain's Stomach and
Liver Tab! ts. The tablets relieve the
ill feeling at once, strengthen the diges
tive functions, purify the stomach, liver
and blood, helping the system to do its
work naturally.—Mrs. Rosa Pott.-. l>ir
mingham, Ala. These tablets are for
sale at Taggart's.
The Best on Earth.
Protection agai ist Accidents and
Sickness is an absolute necessity. It
costs but $5 00 a year for $15.00 weekly
benefits, and $2,000 death claim. The
only policy paying such liberal bene
tits. This Company also writes policies
for SIO.OO ami $25.00 per year. Liberal
to agents, by the Merman
Commercial Accident Co., PhiPa, Pa.
W. R. Sizer, Gen'l Agent, Sizerville,
Pa. C. R Husted of Emporium, is a
representative of the Company.
Drop him a postal—He will do
the balance. In case of sudden injury
this Company provides temporary re
lief to the amount of $2-5.00. if notified
by wire of an accident. 17-ly.
Cedar Shingles $4.50 perjthousand at
C. B. Howard & Co's.
For Rent.
A good house, located on West Creek
Road, west of Emporium
Will givejwork for rent.
13-tf. E. J. ROGERS.
REDUCED RATES TO GETTYSBURG,
Dedication Regular Army Monument.
On Monday May 31, Memorial Day, tlie monu
ment to the regular army engaged in the battle
of Gettysburg will be dedicated on the Battlefield
by the United States Government. President
Taft will participate in the ceremonies.
Excursion tickets to Gettysburg will be sold by
the Pennsylvania Railroad from all principal
stations May 27 to 31, good to return until June
:i, inclusive, at reduced rates.
317-14-2t.
Latest Popular Music.
Miss May Gould, teacher of piano
forte has received a full line of the lat
est and most popular sheet music. All
the popular airs. Popular and class
ical music. Prices reasonable.
44-tf.
Living Rooms for Rent.
Convenient suite of living rooms,
over our store, for rent. Apply to
MRS. E. S. COPPERSMITH.
Deer Brand Tomatoes, 3 cans lor
25c, at C. B. Howard & Co's.
| Aunt Manila's
Memorial Day
| .—, —
IF you ain't never had no Aunt
Martha in your family, ma says
that you have missed one of the
best things that ever happened
in tbis world. She is ma's oldest old
maid sister. Well, now, you needn't
turn up your nose! She ain't one of
them sour, lean, cranky, weazened,
vinegary dispositioned, spit curl, spit
' fire, oilcloth fading critters—not by a
; long shot! She's short, stout, white
j and carries a smile that warms and
lights a hull room, just as when father
| lays a lire in the llreplace.
Some folks say that the reason she
| ain't married is because she ain't nev
jer had no chance. Ma says 'tain't so.
! For live years Uncle Silas' hired man,
| Henry Peters, kept company with her,
j ma says, and come to see her every
Wednesday and Saturday night right
"I'LII OO IN TOUR FLACK.' 1
through corn plantin', hayin*, harvest
in' and thrashin', no matter how busy.
I have beard ma tell the story about
Ilenry Peters a good many times.
Henry lived alone In a little house on
Uncle Silas' farm, which jines ours—
that is, Henry roomed there. Uncle's
house was pretty small for the growin'
family, so the hired man slept there.
So did extra help durin' hayin', har
vestin' and thrashin'.
It is a little two room affair. Aunt
Martha lives there all alone now ex
cept when she is stayln' with some of
the relatives, helpin* care for the sick,
layin' out the dead or something like
that. And it keeps her pretty busy,
because both pa and ma have a grist
of brothers and sisters livln' in these
parts.
Well, durin' the war ma says pa
was drafted. It didn't seem as if he
could be spared. Ma had been sick
| all winter and had run up an awful
i doctor's bill. The crops had been
| mighty poor the season before, almost
| a failure. There wasn't enough sold
| from the farm to keep us going and
I pay the interest on the mortgage,
i There was no money to pay for a
; substitute, and things did look blue.
Through the orchard one mornin',
scythe on shoulder, come Henry Pe
ters, who had learned of the trouble.
Pa was out by the pigpen when Hen
ry walked up to him, placed his hand
l on pa's shoulder and said: "Uncle Hi
ram"—he always called pa that, they
; say—"l'll go iu your place. I am a
single man, without any ties. Xo one
cares for me, and there is none dc
pendin' on me as there is on you."
Pa bursts into tears and says, "Ilen
, ry, I have no money to pay you."
I "Drat the money," says Henry,
1 liangin' up his scythe in the apple tree
by the pump.
I Henry went to the county scat and
i 'listed and went to war. Ma says
| there was a tearful partin' between
I Aunt Martha and Henry, she guessed,
| because Martha's eyes was most
! swelled shut next day, but her smile
J was still there.
! Good news was heard from Henry.
' He was brave and got to be second
i lieutenant till at some big battle, the
j name of which I forget, he was
| among the missin'. From that day to
| this nothin' more has been heard
I from Henry Peters. Aunt Martha was
| clean heartbroken, ma says, but she
I went about her work, carin' for the
! sick and layin' out the dead, as usual.
1 Aunt Martha organized a society, ma
I says, to send lint bandages, canned
j fruits and jellies to the sick and
I wounded in the hospitals and worked
! on that all the time she could spare
from family matters.
Henry Peters' scythe hangs out in
the apple tree right where he left it
when he went to war. Pa said none of
us boys should tech it, and we never
have. The blade Is terrible rusty—
sp'lled, I guess—but nobody has ever
dared take it down.
Aunt Martha never goes to Memo
rial day down at the Forks, and I
often wondered why. All the rest of
us do, rain or shine. I didn't think I
could go this year, because I was just
over the mumps and it was a coollsh
day, with a raw wind. Just over the
hill from our house, at Its foot, runs
the road to the West Branch cemetery,
and, while it Is out of sight of the
house, you can hear the band as it
! marches by, but you can't see any
j thing. It is quite a ways round by the
j road, but cross lots it ain't far.
Ma left her blanket shawl and my
pea jacket lyln' on the sofa in the slt
| tin' room, lntendin' to take them along
| to use If we got cold, and In the ex-
I citement of gettln' started forgot 'em.
i "Georgie," she says to me—ma always
1 calls me Georgie when she wants me
! to do anything—"can't you run home
and get our wraps that I laid out on
i the sofa?" I hated to. The procession
was just formin' for the cemetery—the
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, MAY 27, 1909.
hand ahead, next the orator of tlie da*
find the preachers of the town in car
riages, then flic flower wagon, with Hit
little girls dressed in red, white and
blue; next the Grand Army post, Wo
man's Belief corps, followed by eiti
yens in carriages and on foot.
I bustled along home, and when git
tin' near the house I thought I would
steal in and see what Aunt Martha
was doin' and mebbe I would find out
why she don't ever goto Memorial
day. The doors was all open. I slipped
into the sittin' room and found the
things as ma said. Then I went into
the buttery by the window and lis
tened and watched.
I heard Aunt Martha com In' down
stairs. Instead of belli' dressed 111
white, as usual, she had on a dress as
black as uight and wore Aunt Pa
tience's bonnet and veil that she got
when Uncle Wall was killed on the
log slide up Kittle creek.
The band was marehln' along the
road to the graveyard. I could hear
the dirge, and Aunt Martha walked
with slow step, keepin' time to the sad
music, around the house, out to the
pump, where hung the scythe that
Henry Peters hitched up there before
lie went to war. There Aunt Martha
stopped. She had a book in her hand,
and I heard her read somethin' from
it. It is somebody's oration; can't re
member the exact words, but it is
something like this: "We cannot con
centrate; we cannot desslcate this hol
lowed ground." It's a noble piece. I
have heard it read on many a Memo
rial day by •some lawyer at the Forks
durin' the exercise. It winds up. "A
government from the people, with the
people, to the people, shall not perish
from off this 'ere earth."
After this I heard Aunt Martha say
in', "We will now pet-cede to decorate
the graves of our fallen heroes." And
she stepped up and hung a wreath of
everlastin' flowers on that old scythe
snath. Then she dropped 011 her knees,
bowed her head, clasped her hands as
if she was makin' a prayer to God. I
could look 110 longer and took my
sneak. I felt mean to think I spied on
her, but now I knew why Aunt Mar
tha never went to Memorial day.
I went back to the cemetery, and ma
was plad to get her wrap. After drlv
in' all around through the graveyard
and lookin' at the decorations we went
to the ball game and saw the Catliu
Hollow Daisy Cutters mow down the
Stony Fork Giants by a score of 34 to
20.
We got awful cold goin' home, but
when we all piled out there was a
big fire In the elevated oven kitchen
stove, the table was spread with a
white cloth and a dandy supper ready,
thanks to Aunt Martha—eggs "boiled
just three and one-half minutes in the
shell and sure the water's boilin',"
says she; potatoes cut up fine; cooked
in ham grease and then cream poured
over them, which she knows so well
how to fix; fresh apple sauce, warm
biscuit, honey, spiced peaches and a
one egg cake as light as a feather.
Aunt Martha In her white dress,
warmln' us all with her smile, bus
tlin* about, helpin' us kids off with
our things and givin' us several help
ill's of our favorite dishes.
After supper I teased ma to walk
out to the pasture with me and see
some now lambs that had come while
we were gone to Memorial day, and
then while walkln' back I told her
what I saw about Aunt Martha. She
just broke down and cried and said
she had never knew such love and de-
A WBEATU OF EVEIiLASTING FLOWEItS.
votion. She made me promise not to
tell, and I uever have, nobody but
you. But you won't give me away,
will you?
I have been thlnkln' what ma said.
For the life of me 1 can't see why
Aunt Martha's dressin' up iu Aunt Pa
tience's -widder's weeds and goin' out
to the pump and hangln' a wreath of
everlastin' flowers on Henry Peters'
rusty old scythe that has hung there
for forty years has anything to do
with love and devotion. Can you?
A Story of Grant.
General Fred Grant's favorite story
of ills father is one that very aptly
illustrates that great soldier's faculty
of sizing up a situation in a few
words.
"We had au old coachman," he says,
"who was not tlie brightest man iu the
world, but what he did not know about
a horse was not worth knowing. Moth
er used to call on him to do all sorts
of things that were not in his line, and
old John, of course, was always making
mistakes to annoy her. Once she sent
him to tlie bank to do some business,
and he did it wrong. She told father
about it and said:
"'I guess you'll have 1> I-t John go.
He never d "M as lie s' «::ll lliyrhPi.','
I want hi 1.1 i j i!o.'
'"Well, mother.' said my f.ither. '!."
John could do everything you w.ini
him to do, and do it right, he would not
have to bo our coachman.*'"—Philadel
phia Ledger.
A Relic of
John Brown
IN n very dilapidated condition—in
the midst of the accumulation of
old casting boxes and scrap lum
ber in the yard of the Emery
company's coppc-r smithy on Railroad
row, Springfield, Mass., now given over
to the tender care <»f rats and pigeon.!,
with an occasional tramp drifting in as
tin extra guest-stands the identical
warehouse used by John Brown and
his sons, John junior and Jason, be
tween the years 1547 and 1851.
John Brown had lived in Massachu
setts before. lie studied to be a min
ister in the family of IJev. Moses Iltl
lock of Plainfield just before he readi
ed his majority in the winter of 181!>.
At that time he was described as
"rather tall, sedate, dignified," and lit:
was sent back to his father's tanyard
in less than a year because of Inflam
mation of the eyes.
In the warehouse John Brown work
ed daily with his men, some white and
some colored, sorting, classing and
transshipping wool. There (IKIS) Fred
erick Douglass called upon him and
"was surprised to find him in such a
small wooden house on a hack slreet."
In that same year Brown, elated at
ids successful sales, "plunged'' to the
extent of going to Europe to interview
English buyers. It is related that he
was phenomenally astute in grading
wool by the sense of touch. A half
dozen Englishmen met the Yankee
farmer and, having heard of his keen
ness In tills particular, resolved to put
it to the test. He was led into a dark
room In which three small sample
packets were lying. Brown instantly
detected which was Saxony, which
was from Ohio, but at the third lie
hesitated a moment. Turning to the
jokers, he said, "If you have any sau
sage machines in England that will
work up dog's hair, put this 111 it!"
The laugh was on his companions, for
they had indeed used the shearings
from a poodle to fool him.
Brown greatly endeared himself to
the blacks. In his Springfield ware
house he formed a lodge of "Spring
field Gileadites," primarily aimed to
protect the negroes from gathering
trouble with the whites. Forty-four
members joined, Beverly C. Downing
heading the list. He would have them
come to the downstairs, low ceilinged
office an hour before work began In
the morning, and they were there far
into the night after work was over.
The late Thomas Thomas, long a res
taurateur In Springfield, was engaged
at the very first of Brown's career in
JOHN BROWN'S WAREHOUSE.
that city as a porter. lie said that
when he asked Brown how early in
the morning he should come to work
the reply was, "We usually begin work
at 7, but come earlier, for I want to
talk with you." He declared that
Brown was wont to talk by the hour
with white or black sympathizers.
It made little difference how press
ing the business; the enthusiast was al
ways ready to call a halt when the op
portunity to exploit his views present
ed itself. He preferred to do most of
the talking and appreciated a good lis
tener.
In the collated correspondence of
Brown there are two later items hav
ing a distinct bearing upon tills wool
working Springfield era. On the copy
of Brown's letter to his son John, as
given in Dr. G. W. Brown's book, ap
pear these words apropos to the la
ther's elation at making a business
connection with Colonel Perkins (Jan.
11, 1844):
"This, I think, will be considered no
mean alliance for the poor bankrupt
and his family in a manner so unex
pected. I most certainly hope we will
have the wisdom given us to make the
most of It."
In the letter quoted in Frank B. San
born's book, under date of April Hi.
1858, when lie was rapidly nearlng hi •
self imposed martyrdom, addressing
"dear wife and children, every one."
Brown speaks of"the liabilities I In
curred while connected with Mr. Per
kins" and further says. "Most of y-'i
know well I gave up all I had to Per
kins while with him."
It was somewhat startling to sec re
cently, after almost sixty years lu
passed. on the great billboard whi '
now completely hides this dilapidate'
tumbledown wool storage warelicu • •
from passers en the railroad, the lurid
advertisement; of a traveling "I"i <■!
Tom's Cabin" e-'mprny, with fw!:i<
slaves being i ha e-l b" h'fx d'> -r •'
when less than j'-t—c o • ' ■'
bane of tile !':l ",!C I :MU- l!|.'
same ceuntlng f' ■ «• 'lich t-d ' • '
In f'cry <! :.tn< I ui--- •• 112
such scenes from the lips of old "<' :
watoml"" Prown hlws'lf. even then
planning the tragi - crurse which led
liim at last to the Harpers Ferry raid
and to the gallows.—Boston Globe.
What the Professor Wanted.
The profcx teps Into the barber
>hair and ; times an attitude of pro
meditat ion.
"Hair cut. sir?"
"Please!" The barber cuts his hair.
"Like a shampooV"
"I'm pleas*;!" lie gets the shampoo.
"Shave you, Kir':"
"Urn—yes!" One shave.
"Massage?" He nods assent and
consequently is massaged. The barber
removes the towel; the professor arise
and mechanically takes the proffered
check.
"What's this?"
"Tour check, sir."
"My check ?"
"Certainly, sir—hair cut, shampoo,
shave and massage."
The professor rubs his hand over
face and head.
"Did I get all that?"
"Surely, sir."
"It's queer—very queer -most ex
traordinarily queer! A most wonder
ful example of philosophical phenom
ena !"
"What's queer?" asks the barber in
dismay.
"Why, the working of the human
mind. What I came in for was to get
my razor honed."—Puck.
What Constitutes Baseball?
The essential apparatus of baseball
is simple, and inexpensive. All that is
required is a field, a stick, the ball it
self and police protection for the um
pire. One advantage of the game as
played professionally is that those sit
ting in the grand stand can play the
game a great deal better than Ilie
eighteen men 011 the diamond. It is
also true that any one of the specta
tors, even though perched on a tele
phone pole across the street or looking
through a knothole In the fence be
yond right field, can judge of the pitch
er's skill or the runner's fleetness
much more Intellicrently than the ar
biter who stands behind the battery.
The great merit of the game is that
the people can participate in it. It Is
not like bridge whist. Its science Is
not synonymous with silence. The
thing to do Is to take off your coat
and root as long and as loudly as you
can, even if you don't know what is
happening.—Philadelphia Ledger.
THE DRUMMER BOY OF SHILOH
Colonel John L. Clem's Story of How
He Got Into the Regular Army.
An Interesting story is told of the
way Colonel John L. Clem, the famous
"drummer boy of Sliiloh" and now
assistant quartermaster general, got
into the regular army. In the early
days of General Grant's first term as
president Clem, without aid. secured
an audience.
The president said, "What can I do
for you?"
Clem said, "Mr. President, I wish to
ask you for an order to admit me to
West Point."
"But why," said the president, "do
you not take the examination?"
"I did, Mr. President, but I failed to
pass."
"That was unfortunate," said the
president. "Haw was that?"
"Why. Mr. President, you see, I was
in the war, and while I was there those
other boys of my age were in school."
"What!" said the president, amazed.
"You were in the war?"
Clem was then scarcely eighteen and
boyish looking.
"Yes, Mr. President, I was in the
war four years." And he related his
experience.
Tlie president then wrote something,
sealed it and. handing it to Clem, said:
"Take this to the secretary of war.
1 guess it will fix you all right"
Clem went to the secretary, to whom
he had already applied, and was re
ceived somewhat coldly. He delivered
the note. The secretary read it and
said:
"Do you know what this is?"
"No," said Clem, "but I supposed it
was an order to admit me to West
Point."
"Well, it isn't," said the secretary.
"It's an order to commission you sec
ond lieutenant in the regular army."—
Leslie's Weekly.
Hooker's Grand Chestnut Charger.
General Hooker probably had the fin
est looking horse in the Union armies.
This was Lookout, a horse of rich chest
nut color, standing seventeen hands
high and possessing all the dainty and
elastic action of the most delicately
fashioned colt. This was the horse,
Kentucky bred, which bore Ilookei
during the "battle above the clouds."
The horse was intended for exhibition
In England, but got no farther than
New York, where Hooker bought him,
although having to compete with the
agent of the emperor of France, who
wanted him for his majesty Louis Na
poleon.
Close Quarters.
At the bottle of Charleston, Mo., in
August, 1801. Lieutenant Colonel Ran
som of the Eleventh Illinois was urging
his men to the charge when an officer
rode up to him and said: "What do you
mean? You are killing our own men."
"I know what I am doing," replied
Ransom. "Whom are you for?" "1 am
for Jeff Davis." was ihe reply. "Yoe.
are the man P:n after," returned Ran
som, and instantly two pistols were
drawn. The Confederate fired first,
hitting Ransom in the arm. Ransom
shot his antagonist dead.
The Watch 3rlow.
Brlnpr blossoms for the sailor dead
Who rlif. in oece.it grove*.
Brintr fragrant Miles, p■ 111• and pure
To l!oat upon the waves.
And dewy purple lilacs, too.
From mmy n cottage home.
And starry daisies, white and sold.
To mingle with the foam.
How Sherroan
"Put the Lid On"
DURING the siege of Atlanta
SOUK; of t!i" ('onfi lerate but
teries oppn.siii:: Shell: in oil
the we: i front of the city
were sheltered from attack by a
mountain which could IM»I readily be
Mailed by I'oiVral artillery. After long
delay and tedious lab' r th:' light field
pieces of the Kicventli li.diamt battery
were hauled to the crest of ili:- moun
tain, where the men of the Second
Massachusetts had cut a roadway and
constructed earth and log pits to shield
the suns. A day was fixed, the earliest
possible, to open fire upon the line
below. Sherman, General George 11
Thomas, the "Rock of Chiekamauga,"
"Fighting Joe" Hooker and General .1.
M. Brannan, Thomas' chief of artil
lery, were on the ground to witness
the effect of the fire, which was ex
pected to open the way for a success
"TO WILIJ NOT OPEN FIRE TODAY."
ful attack upon Confederate positions
which baffled the advanco of Thomas'
troops.
The time was August, and the heavy,
stifling atmosphere inclined the men of
both armies to suspend activity. The
stillness of death reigned everywhere
except around the isolated battery on
the mountain top. There the gunners
moved with the grim energy of sol
diers facing a crisis. Guns wen'
trained upon the most conspicuous and
vulnerable -targets. Sherman and his
lieutenants stood apart, scanning with
fieldglasses the camps where the shots
were to strike.
At last the signal was given. Bat
terymen went forward to pull the lan
yards and send the shots home, when
attention was diverted by the soft
pealing tones of a bell trembling on
the heavy air across the valley. Loud
er and still louder the measured
chimes sounded over the city, over the
camps, up to the mountain crest. Sher
man raised a warning linger to gun
ners. who looked into the eyes of their
officers for explanation of this strange
gesture. The officers, equally non
plused, looked to the generals, and
Sherman spoke out calmly, but in
tones for all to hear, "Gentlemen, we
will not open fire today." Then, turn
ing to the chief of artillery, he said, in
the same quiet tones, "General Bran
nan, you will open fire tomorrow."
"Today" was the Sabbath, a day, ac
cording to Sherman's orders, not to be
interrupted by the inferno of guns ami
shells.—Harper's Weekly.
Minus the Picture.
The bridge builder with Stonewall
Jackson's army was a rare character if
the following story be true:
The Union soldiers, retreating from
the valley of Virginia, burned a bridge
over the Shenandoah. Jackson, who
wanted to pursue, sent for his old
bridge builder.
"Sir," he said, "you must keep men
at work all day and all night and fin
ish that bridge by tomorrow morning.
My engineer shall give you the plan."
Old Miles saluted and withdrew.
Early the next morning the general
sent for Miles again.
"Well, sir," said Jackson, "did the
engineer give you the plan for the
bridge?"
"General," said the old man slowly,
"the bridge is done. I don't know
whether the picture is or not."—Her
ald and Presbyter.
Swearing In the Cook.
The darky contrabands who fre
quently strayed wltliiu the Union lines
were often very acceptable as serv
ants, particularly as cooks. The non
commissioned officers frequently had a
heap of sport with these unsophisticat
ed negroes. Occasionally there was
great formality in swearing in these
cooks. The drums would be sounded
or the bugles blown, and amid much
impressive pomp the darky would as
sume his new duties, having sworn to
perform them properly, to support the
constitution of all the loyal states,
clean the plates without wiping them
on his coat sleeve, solemnly swearing
to put milk In the coffee every morn
ing and other like deeds.
The Unknown D;ad.
Now many a soldier slumbers.
His resting place unknown;
His hind* were crossed, his lids were
closed.
The dust wis o'er him strewn
The drifting soil, the molderin ; leaf.
Along the sod were blown.
Ills mound has melted into
Kla memory lives alone.
So !"t it live unfadin ;.
The memory or tlie dead
long as tlvs pale anemone
Springs where their tears were she!.
Or raining in the summer's wind.
In flakes of burning red
The wild rose sprinkles with iti leav •
The turf where once they bled
—Oliver TVerdMi Holmes.