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FREEHAND, PA., MAY 30, 1898.
FORGET THEM NOT.
In graves unnumbered and apart
Some soldier boys lie North and
South
Who held their country's honor dear.
Yea, even at the cannon's mouth.
Go strew the flowers; send up the
prayer;
Honor the humble and the great—
Save for the lonely brave the tears;
Their graves we may not decorate. ~~
A MEMORIAL DAY INCIDENT.
"It's not much I'll have to lay on
Jamie's grave this year," said Nancy
Brown, as she looked from her open
door over the small yard; "only a few
bunches of lilacs, and two peonies.
That late frost almost spoiled the
lilacs. But it's not so much the flow
ers I'm thinking of as of the blot that
still lies on my dear Jamie's name!"
Dropping upon her knees the mo
ther prayed. As Nancy Brown arose
and went about her simple prepara
tions for the next day's memorial ser
vice a serene look lighted her plain
face, a sweet peace filled her heart, for
she had left her trouble with her Lord.
Nearly twenty years had passed
since this mother watched her boy as
he went down the steep path before
the house, and out through the little
gate, to join the boys in blue.
It all came back to her now. She
could see again the lilacs that were
bursting into blossom when he went
away, and even hear the droning hum
of the bees as her Jamie, so tall and
handsome, turned just outside the
gate, and flung a kiss to her, calling
out, "Don't worry, mother dear. I
may come back a captain, or a lieu
tenant, and then how proud you will
be of mei"
Ah, the bitterness of that home
coming who can tell! He came wound
ed, emaciated, weary, only to linger
a few weeks and then to die. And
then, even before he was laid away
came the rumor that James Brown was
a deserter. People pitied the mother—
but they clustered in little groups to
whisper.
"It Is well that the poor fellow died
before it was known here," Nancy
Brown overheard, and a great pain
pierced her heart, never to be healed
during all these long years.
It was a dull morning, with a leaden
sky overhead, when Mrs. Brown with
her poor little flowers took her way to
Jamie's grave. Others passed by her,
some in line carriages, some on foot.
She did not raise her head, but passed
on down the road.
Mrs. Brown was nearing "Jamie's
corner," as she called it, when looking
through a mist of tears she thought
she saw a number of people standing
about her son's grave. What could it
mean? They had never noticed his
grave that way before. And what was
this slab that marked the grave, with
the words, "James Brown, who gave
his life for his country?" And who
was the line looking man who stood
beside it? What was he saying?
"The James Brown who lies here
was a brave, noble fellow. There was
another James Brown in the same
regiment who deserted. I know of
what I speak, for I was the colonel of
that regiment."
Happy Mrs. Brown was led to the
grave of Jamie by her pastor, while
the colonel came forward to congratu
late her on having been the mother of
such a son. The grave was heaped
with flowers; the mother could scarce
ly And room to deposit her "lilacs and
peonies" until the colonel stooped and
made place for them, saying:
"The mother's flowers shall rest
above the heart of her boy."
Then Nancy Brown knelt by the
grave of her Jamie, and raising her
eyes to heaven said:
"I thank thee, O my Father, that
Thou hast heard me; the stain is re
moved; to thee shall he all the glory,
both now and forever."
It had been kept a secret from Mrs.
Brown, when Col. Hamlin had visited
his native state, and hearing of the
stigma resting upon _ the boy's name,
had fully cleared him. Then the
neighbors planned to purchase the
slab and cover Jamie's grave with
flowers as a token of sympathy with
the mother who had suffered so long.
THE PHANTOM ARMY. ~
And I saw a phantom army come.
With never a sound of fife or drum,
But keeping stop to a muffled hum
Of walling lamentation;
The martyred heroes of Malvern Hill,
Of Gettysburg and Chancellorsville—
The men whose wasted bodies fill
The patriot graves of the nation.
And there came the unknown dead, the
men
Who died in fever-swamp and fen,
The slowly starved of prison pen;
And, marching beside the others,
Came the dusky nartyrs of Pillow's
fight,
With limbs enfranchised and bearing
bright,
I thought—'twas thy pale moonlight—
They looked as white as their broth
ers.
And so all night marched the nation's
dead,
With never a banner above them
spread.
No sign save the bare, uncovered head
Of their silent, grim Reviewer;
With never an arch but the vaulted
sky,
With not a flower, save those which lie
On distant graves, for love could buy
No gift that was purer or truer.
So all night long moved the strange
array;
So all night long till the break of day
I watched for one who had passed
away
With a reverent awe and wonder;
Till a blue cap waved in the lengthen
ing line,
Till I knew that one who was kin of
mine
Had come, and I spoke—and 10, that
sign
Wakened me frota my slumber.
—Bret Hart.
A STORY FOR DKCORYTION DAY.
ifij T was a sultry even
ifiJßl ingin July, ISO:!, that
ycalll Captain Poland and
pljflji his squad of foot-sore
f r?-. Sf soldiers readied the
JuybsFJß" picturesque town of
Hanover, near whiclt
there had been a skir-
VlW®l mlsh between Pleas
anton's and Stuart's cavaly on the preced
ing day.
But a little distance from the village,
not a hundred rods from the scene of
the cavalry fight, stood an old-fashion
ed farm-house, at the gate of which
was a well of good, cold water supplied
with a wooden pump and horse-trough.
The tired, over-heated soldiers flocked
around it to quench their thirst, and
for fully a half hour the pump-handle
was kept in constant motion.
While Captain Roland was waiting
patiently for his men to drink, his at
tention was attracted to a sunburnt,
gray-haired man leaning over the rude
gate, watching the troops.
"Good evening, sir," said the Cap
tain, riding up to the gate and touch
ing his hat in true military style. "It's
rather hot weather, this, for march
ing."
"I 'spose it is stranger, though I
never did anything at marching," was
the old man's brief response.
Just at that moment the Captain no
ticed a new-made grave among a
clump of rose bushes near the fence.
"Whose grave is that?" he asked,
pointing to the mound of fresh earth.
"The grave of an enemy," replied
the old man. "One that got killed in
a 'scrimmage' the horsemen had here
yesterday. They fought right over
there in the woods where you see the
leaves riddled and scorched. I buried
him myself. They left him lyin' in the
road just where he,fell. I could do no
less, you know; that is a dooty some
one will have to do for me some day."
"Certainly, you did right, but why
did you bury him in your rose garden?
People do not usually make grave
yards at their door."
"Wa-al, it was the wimmen that
wanted it so," replied the old man.
"You see, stranger, I Isad a boy once
myself. He went out with the Penn
sylvania Reserves and* fought along
with MeClellan, down among them
Chica-ominy swamps. There was a
fight, and then come a spell we did
not hear from Johnny, and then one
day we got a letter writ by a woman.
She told us about a battle that had
been fought near her house while she
and her sister lay hid in the cellar
all day. When the fight was over, them
wimmen come out of their hiding
place and found our Johnny lyin' dead
in the grass, his hair all tangled ar.d
clotted with his life-blood. There was
no men about the place, so these two
sisters dug a grave in the soft earth
of their garden and buried our Johnny
there, right amongst their posies, and
then they writ and told us about it.
So when I saw that poor fellow a-lyin'
out In the road, all dead aaid bloody, I
sed at once I would bury him, and the
girls said, 'Yes, daddy, do bury him
right among the roses; you know that
Is what them Southern wimmen did
for our Johnny.' That's/why I did it,
stranger."
The poor old father's, voice had been
growing more and more husky while
he spoke, and here it flailed altogether.
"Did you find anything on the dead
soldier by which he coulid be recog
nised?" inquired the Capttxin.
"Nothin' but this," and|nc pulled out
of Ills pocket a small knife with an
Ivory handle, tipon which were cut the
Initials "R. L. C."
"That may serve as a clue to un
ravel the mystery or lead some aching
heart to the resting place of a dear
one some day In the future, perhaps
after the cruel war is over," said the
Captain, noting down in a little pass
book the Information he had received.
The old farmer watched the gallant
Captain as he galloped away leaving
a Utile cloud of dust behind him, and
as he watched, tears came into his
eyes again, thinking of the fate to
which he might be hastening.
After the war was over the old man
and his girls kept the grave under the
"Johnny lyin' dead."
rose bushes in the best kind of order.
After the 30th of May had bocn set
apart for the purpose of keeping green
the memory of the dead heroes, two
wreaths were always laid side by side
on the hillock in the yard—one for
their own dead so far away and one for
the friendless soldier who had died at
their door.
One Decoration Day, while the morn
ing dew was still upon the flowers, a
carriage drove up to the gate, and a
gentleman and two ladies got out.
Pausing a moment to lock art the grave
almost hidden with flowers, they
walked up to the porch where tho
gray-haired farmer was reading. The
gentleman introduced himself by ask
ing if he remembered the incident
which occurred at the well so many
years before.
The old man answered In the affirm
ative, and then the stranger satd, "I
am Captain Roland, the man to whom
you related the story, and these two
ladies are the sisters who dug- your
Johnny's grave, and they have come
all the way from Richmond to find out
whether the grave you afterwards
made under the rose bush was not for
their only brother, who was losH. Have
you the little pen-knife that bore the
initials yet?"
"Safe and sound, sir," and he at
once went to bring the little relic,
which he had taken from the dead
soldier's pocket.
The ladles recognized the knife as
the property of their brother, Reed
Lawrence Cramer, and the older one
told a touching incident in connection
with the way he had written his ini
tials upon it.
"Here is a lock of hair that I cut
from the dead soldier's head," ruirl one
of the old man's daughters, placing a
little curl of raven black hair In the
woman's hand. "Father did not know
what I had done when he told the
stranger that the knife was all the
clew wc Ivtd by which to identify the
soldier we had buried."
"That is Reed's hair, I am sure,"
said the woman, touching it tenderly.
"Ah, nty dear friend, money could not
buy this little curl, for it is ail that is
left of him to us on earth."
"God is good," exclaimed the old
man devoutly. "We simply buried a
brother who fell at our door, not
icnowin' that we were returnin' a kind
ness to the folks who had cared for
our own sunny-haired Johnny."
"No doubt God's hand was in it."
said Captain Rowland. "Your pathetic
story on that scorching July day im
pressed me deeply, and ten years later
it was brought back to my mind by
the sight of another grave among
" They paused a moment to look at the
grave almost bidden with flowers."
flowers on- —Sou 'her* I went to
see the owners of tflie fliwer garden,
and, after relating what I had learned
from you, and consulting my note
book regarding the initla's on the
knife found on the dead soilier, these
friends concluded to make a ' Isit to the
lonely grave at your door, and they
have been led to the last res.lng place
of their beloved dead."
"There arc some bright sjots even
In the dark history written by war,
and while we have been *epuruted
from our dear ones in their d <ith and
burial, it is sweet to think *.hat we
have just exchanged graves, and that
love and tenderness have been freely
lavished upon the tombs of our adop
tion," said the younger of the two
strange women. "We understand the
meaning of that double wreath on our
brother's grave to-day, and on the
green hillock away in our Southern
home we left two white crosses—one
for the blue and one for the gray."
And so, as the years go on, these he
roes sleep in tlieir exchanged graves,
while loving friends, North and South,
mingle their tears with the flowers
they scatter over tho places where re
pore the dust of their precious dead.
A G. A. It. CAMPFIRE.
HOW THE VETERANS MEET TO FIGHT
THEIR BATTLES O'ER AGAIN.
JolliflcntioiiN at Which NiiiK'lnK, IHv
ol lit IOIIN ami Story •Tcllina: Have
the Flmt Place—All Take a Dip Out
>f the ('ump Canteen—A Kiaht of
Keiulnlneenccs.
j Simply stated, the post campflre of
to-day is intended as a medium
through which to cement still more
closely the bonds of friendship be
j tween comrades who, having fought
side by side in the ranks and preserved
the Union, now, in the evening of life,
meet to talk over the stirring scenes I
of the war in which they participated.
While there is a general rule of pro
cedure, much variety of entertainment
j characterizes the gatherings of the dif- j
1 ferent posts. Music, both vocal and
| instrumental, is always a feature on j
j such occasions. Story-telling and re- !
freshments are also included. Wives,
daughters and granddaughters are wel- :
corned, and women friends and rela- (
j tives of the post members.
Unless a temporary chairman is |
| chosen, the commander of the post |
j presides at these social functions. A
committee of arrangements prepares a
I programme for the evening, and the
I post rooms are decorated with "Old
Glory" and implements of war. Im
parting a military air to the apart
ments.
; In some cases, if the rooms are spa
| cious, army tents are erected and imi
tation campflres are arranged, with a
view to picturesque effect. Colored
lights are used, and camp utensils are i
strewn around. Hard tack, with cof
! fee, pork and beans, sandwiches and j
| chowder are some of the delicacies !
which grace the mess table on special i
fete days.
! Comrades from other posts are al
j ways welcome, and are invited to take |
J a dip out of the camp canteen. Jollity !
j prevails, and the veteruns break into
i song. "The Flag of Our Unlou For
-1 ever," "The Slar Spangled Banner,"
| "Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!" "Marching
J Through Georgia" and "Sweet Band of
i Liberty" are the popular favorites.
A GRAND ARMY CAMPFIRE GATHERING
One particularly popular song is the
"G. A. H. Button," composed by Com
rade W. W. Bailey, and sung to the air
of "The Old Oaken Bucket," the words
of which are as follows:
How dear to each comrade that little
bronze token
We hail as we wander In regions afar;
The symbol of friendship and ties still
unbroken,
A beaconing light as of Bethlehem's
star!
That tiny brown button, thaf oxi
dized button,
That one precious button, that
gleams as a star;
Our glorious button, victorious button,
Earth's noblest adornment tried veter
ans wear.
Another equally popular refrain is
"The Capture of the Pig," arranged to
the air of "Pop Goes the Weasel."
When some especially catchy air is
started, ail of the veterans jump to
their feet and march in single file
around the room. Not all of them,
however, can join in these simple evo
lutions, for many a limb is missing
and a crutch takes the place, so that
the owner stumps away in the rear, or
sits idly by, smiling at the antics of his
fellows.
Entertainers are at a premium while
the camp tires burn, and recitations are
not confined to tales of the war. Every
good point is appreciated by the audi
tors, and the performer is rewarded by
liberal applause. When women are
present, Comrade Reddlngton's "I'm
the Daughter of a Soldier" is usually
sung.
After a while cakes and ale are
served, and "Army Heun No. 1" Is sung
to the tune ot "The Sweet Bye and
Bye."
As the night goes on the old boys
grow more reminiscent in their talk.
Pipes and cigars are in great demand
and little groups congregate in various
sequestered corners and talk over Me
morial Day or the last post celebration.
Another theme of melancholy interest
is the ever-increasing death list, and
the virtues of the dead comrade are
discussed.
At the usual hour "taps" are sound
ed by either a bugle or cornet. If
neither of these instruments is avail
able, a muffied drum is used and the
ceremonies are ended,
WOMEN SOLDIERS.
One Girl Served Four Ycam Daring;
the Civil Wnr.
Many stories are told of women who
served as soldiers during the civil war
—but records of the department at
Washington arc silent concerning most
of them. There are two ca6es well au
thenticated, and only two, of women
commissioned by the Government who
served disguised as men.
In Company F. Second Michigan,
there enlisted, at Flint, Franklin
Thompson (or Frank, as usually
called), age twenty, ascertained after
ward and about the time "he" left the
regiment to have been a female, and
A FK.V.U.K 501.1,1F,1t.
a good looking one at that. She suc
ceeded in concealing her sex most ad
mirably, serving in various campaigns
and battles of the regiment as a sol
dier. She remained with her command
until April, 1863, when, it is supposed,
she apprehended a disclosure of her
sex, and deserted. Such in brief is
the history which it attached to the
record of Sarah E. E. Seelye, born
Edmonds, in the War Department.
She shared all the trials and priva
tions which befell her regiment; par
ticipated in the first battle of Bull
Run; followed McClellan through the
Peninsular campaign, and was never
absent from duty while wearing the
blue. While Yorktown was besieged
she carried the mall on horseback tor
the brigade from Fortess Monroe —let-
ters, papers and packages, averaging
from two to three bushels each trip—
the distance being about twenty-five or
thirty miles. Owing to the condition
ot the roads, she was often compelled
to spend the nights along the roadside.
At one place she was ordered to
secure some stores from a farm-house,
and while there was caught between
two fires, the enemy opening up and
her comrades responding. She secured
the provisions, though, and returned
unhurt.
About the middle of March, 1863,
she accompanied her company to Ken
tucky. Here she was debilitated by
the chills and fever. She applied for
a furlough, hut it was refused, and.
fearing that her sex might be discov
ered, she deserted. Civil life had too
few attractions for her, and soon after
she returned to hospital duty under the
auspices of the Christian Commission
at Harper's Ferry. She remained
in the Department of the Cumberland
during the remainder of the war. That
she was able to so long hide the secret
of her sex has been to soldiers a great
wonder.
The second authentic case on the
records is not so interesting. The hero
ine was only able to remain in the
service sixteen weeks. Her sex was
then discovered, she was sent to the
hospital, and as soon as cured sent
home. She enlisted under the name of
Charles 'Freeman. When discovered
she refused to give her correct name,
and she left the hospital a mystery.
"Where Heroes Sleep.
General Sheridan's body lies on the
grassy slope in front of the old man
sion at Arlington, with a dignified and
imposing monument, and his widow
w;ill he buried there also. At the other
end of the lawn, in a corresponding po
sition, lies Admiral Porter, of the
Navy, and his widow will have a place
at his side. From their tombs is of
fered one of the most beautiful pros
pects in the world, across the Potomac,
including the whole city of Washing
ton, from the Naval Observatory to the
Arsenal, with the Capitol In the center,
and a clear, open vista to the dome,
which is considered the most noble and
Impressive example of modern archi
tecture.
§e petted Questions
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weak and lame ? Docs your urine have a whitish, milky color ? Is there a
smarting or scalding sensation in passing it ? Docs it pain you to hold it?* Do
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If you have any of theso symptoms, your Kidneys are diseased and your life
in danger. Mere people die of such disorders than are
Dr. David Kennedy's Favorite Remedy is a
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s eases of the Stomach and Liver. It acts at
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=f "For years I suffered with my Kidneys,"
writes THOMAS QUACKENBUSH, of Pittsfield,
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Every man and woman who reads this paper and is in need of medicine, is
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and the fact that it appears in this paper is a guarantee that the trial bottle will
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A large bottle costs SI.OO at all drug stores.
Olde.nt War Veteran.
In St. Louts lives the oldest veteran
in the world, Capt. Jack Haync3.
He is 110 years of age. In the war I
of 1812 he won distinction and his |
title. He is—poor, old war horse —an |
CAI'TAIN* JACK IIAYNEK.
inmate of the Memorial Homo for Vet- J
erans in St, Lo u1 s. Through his double
glasses he peered closely at the pages |
of the papers containing the tales from j
the scene of the Maine wreck. His ■
hand, tremulous with age at best,
shakes more with anger. He hobbles
about on his stick with the unquench
able fire of patriotism and of battle
love brightening his old eyes and
(lushing his old face. He is a type that
is fast disappearing; an old man, but a
patriot still.
SIOO Howard, SIOO.
The readers of this paper will bo
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CASTOR IA
For Infants and Children.
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sJnaTurtof
New Jersey's Pioneer Kll'ort.
It is believed that the veterans of
New Jersey were the first to make an
effort to have Decoration day set apart
as a legal holiday. The State depart
ment of the G. A. It. in that State ap
pointed a committee in 1874 to bring
the matter to the attention of the Leg
islature. A bill was introduced pro
viding for the institution of the lieii
day, but it failed.
OR. David ffayoritc
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DePIERRO - BROS
-CAFE.-
Corner of Centre and Front Streets,
Freeland, Pa.
Finest Whiskies in Stock.
Oibson, Dougherty, Knufer Club,
ltoßcnblutirs Velvet, of which we h vo
EXCLUSIVE SALE IN TOWN.
Milium's Extra Dry Champagne,
HunriCflsy Brandy, Blackberry,
Gins, Wines, Clarets, Cordial.i, Etc.
Imported and Domestic (Jigam.
OYSTERS IN EVERY STYLE.
llam and Schweitzer Cheese Sandwiches,
Sardines, Etc. •
MEALS - AT - ALL - HOURS.
Bal lent ine and Hazleton beer on tup.
Baths, Hot or Cold, 25 Cents.
P. F. McNULTY,
funeral Director
Prepared to Attend Calls
Day or Night.
South Centre street, Freeland.
VIENNA : BAKERY
i. B. LAU3ACH, Prop.
Centre Street, Freeland.
CHOICE nine AH OF ALL KINDS
(JAKES, AND FAS Til Y, DAILY. '
FANCY A.NO NOVELTY CAKES
CAKED TO ORDER.
Confectionery $ Ice Cream
supplied to balls, parties or plcuics. with
all necessary adjuncts, at. shortest
notice and fairest prices.
Delivery and supply wagons In all parts ot
town and surroundings every day.