Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, May 31, 1902, Page 2

Gold Pantryman Pensioned. Among the official announcements that have appeared in the last few days “is one to the effect that the first yeo- man of the gold pantry at Windsor Castle, has retired from the service of the king on a pension. To the uninitiated the title sounds tike so much Greek, Asa matter of fact, the first yeoman has charge of the gold plate which belongs to the crown, the value of which is said to be £2,000,- 008 $10,000,000.) So, it is easily seen that the quaintly-named post is by no means a sinecure.—London Special Ca~ le to New York Herald. Treasure in Sunken Steamer. A dispatch from Vancouver states that a contract io raise the sunken steamer Islander, which was sunk last ummer by a collision with an iceberg, hi been let by the agent for Lloyd's to the Sureties Hope company of Seattle. The work is to be commenced within sixty days. The Canadian Pacific Nav- igation company made a search for the ander after she sank, but failed to locate her, owing to the great depth of the water. When the steamer sank she had on board $35,000 in gold, consigned to the Dominion Express company in Vancouver, and many people coming out each had various amounts, which brought the total value of the treasure in the charge of the purser up to over $100,000.—San Francisco Chronicle. Burning Heat. Star City, Ark., May 26th—A very rkable case has just occurred here. H. McFalls has been suffering for two years with an ailment ied the doctors and every~ he trouble seemed to be all in i, which had a burning sensa- r. W 1 the time. Sometimes this burning pain in the xd would be worse than at other imes, but it never left him. he tried a new remedy called Kidney Pills, and was agreeably urprised to find that the burning grad- ally disappeared. n attack of La Grippe has laid him for the last few weeks, but Dodd's Pills have banished his old le entire! At la Dodd trov His son, C Pills which his father did not need, and they have done him so much good that orge, used a few of the ‘ays he would not take ten dollars a pill for the few he still has left. When the masses are corrupted in a state, laws are «seless without despot- ism. Stops the Cough and Works Off the Cold Laxative Bromo Quinine Tablets. Price 25e We can do more good by being good than by any other way.—Rowland Hill, IF YOU HAVE A COUGH Go to-your nearest druggist and insist on getting a bottle of Cole's Cough Cure. You can have your money back if it doesn’t help you. All druggists, 25 and 50 cents. PATENTS. cd Last Week to Inventors. ‘List of Tatents I Northwester Alpkenso Doty, Owatonna, Minn., ch ‘box holder; David Houston, unter, N. D., photographic roll hold- Robert Lester, Mapleton, N. D., tor; John Owens, Minneap- smut machine; Severre rd, Minnesota, mirror brack- Toltz, St. Paul, Minn., gas str ng system; Edwin McHenry, Paul, ‘Minn.> weighing machine. Lothrop & Johnson, patent attorneys, O11 @ 912 Poneer Press Bldg., St. Paul, Minn. Hall's Catarrh Cure is a constitutional cure. Price, 75 cents Common sense extracts more solid comfort from life than genius does. ¥ do not believe Piso’s Cure for Consumption for coughs and colds.—Joan F Bork, Trinity Springs, Ind., Feb. 15, 1900, A man is wise only when he makes ood. use of his knowledge. Mrs. Winslow's Soothing Syrap For children te ens the gums, reduces fm .@ammation, all wind colic. 25¢ abottie. Peliteness is the zero mark of love's ermometer. (FUTS Rormanently cared. No fies or nervousners after first day’s use of Dr. Kline’s Great Nerve Restor er. Send for FREK ®2.00 trial bottle and treatica, Du. R. H. Kiive, Ltd., 931 Arch Street, Philadelphia, Pa Hypocrites pray cream and live skim milk. I Feel So Tired. ‘How often do we hear this and similar expressions from tired, overworked women and weary men, who do not know where to find relief. For that intense weariness, so -common and so discouraging, we earnestly srecommend Vogeler’s Curative Compound. It is not a stimulant but a true blood purifier \vand strength restoring tonic, safe and sure, -which will gradually build up all the weak organs in such a way as to be a lasting ‘benefit. A fair trial of a free sample bottle which St. Jacobs Oil, Ltd., of Baltimore, Md., will send you for the asking, will con- vince anyone of its wonderful medicinal value. It will drive all impurities from the blood, give nerve, mental and bodily strength sand vigour and make the sufferer wholly a mew being. It creates an appetite, makes one :sleep and makes th weak strong. Do not forget that Vogeler’s C rative Compound és made from the formula of a London physician, who has given years of study to same. Sample bottle free from St. Jacobs Oil, Ltd., Baltimore. Mrs. Soan, “The Royal Standard,” Frimley Road, Frimley, writes ; “I was a great sufferer from sciatica for many years. I tried all sorts of liniments ions which had no good effe aad embrocati ‘St. Jacobs Oil, and the pain left me instantly.”* THE CONTENTED FARMER fs the man who never has a failure in crops, gets splendid returns for his labors, and has Mee ACE ‘best. social and relig- ious advantages, to- gether with splendid climate and excellent health. These we give to the settlers on the lands of Western Can- ada, which comprises aa? the fa rain and ranching lands of Manitoba, Assniboia, Alberta and Saskatchewan. Exceptional advantages and low rates of fare are given to those desir- ous of inspecting the fall grant lands. The handsome forty-page Atlas of Western Can- -ada sent free to all applicants. Apply to F. Pedi intendent Immigration, Ottawa, Batley. euPe nen Davies, #1 Jackson St, St Minn., or T. O. Currie, Callahan Bldg., Mil- erties, ‘Wis.. Canadian Government Agents. My grandpa went to war , Among the “missing” was They never heard of him And so we know that grand; And when I think of him, I wish we knew where he I feel so sad, and sometimes To see the soldiers’ graves While grandpa cannot have For grandpa’s sake, this The Last Charge. BY J. WHITFIELD SGATTERGOOD. Copyright, 1902, by Daily Story Pub. Co.) Dressed in his only suit of navy blue. Dld Weak-Eyed Jones sat uncomfort- tbly on one of the backless benches in tront of the speakers’ stand. The post adjutant was reading the post orders. The boys in blue, scattered hither and thither, bent an attentive ear and held their yellow-corded hats to one side to shade their fading eyesight from the waning sun, Far away under the trees of the park founged hundreds of people. Polite attention prevailed among those with- in hearing distance; farther away the hum of voices and shouts of unsup- pressed laughter arose on the air in unmistakable volume. This was sac- rilege to the ears of Weak-Eyed Jones. To him no event was more solemn than the present, and it seemed the bame dignity and reverence he felt should actuate the conduct of others. The air was suffocating. Early in Old Weak-Eyed Jones sat on one of the backless benches in front of the speaker’s stand. the day the heated atmosphere had be- come saturated with clouds of choking dust, which rolled into the city behind hundreds of incoming farmers’ con- veyances. But Weak-Eyed Jones took it all with a generous degree of hu- mility and uncomplaining. A young couple at his elbow indulged so busily in conversation he could not hear the voice of the adjutant, yet he bore it silently. Even though his obscure sight, years before made almost use- less by a rebel minie ball, which car- ried away the bridge of his nose and grazed both eyes, was powerless to penetrate the dust-heavy distance be- tween him and the speaker he was se- cretly happy. His meditations were cut short by a sudden commotion at his elbow. Peo- ple were hurrying from their seats; the program must be over. He was carried along with the rest, towards the speakers’ stand, but he hadn’t gone far when he noticed some one trying to speak. Above the noise he just caught the last phrase: “Will close with a selection by the young ladies’ quartette.” Then it wasn’t over yet! There was to be one more number! He tried to be seated, but a buxom country woman jostled hard against him, nearly send- {ng him off his rheumatic legs. The quartette commenced to sing, but their voices were drowned in the tumult of confusion. Presently a drum corps somewhere out in the street struck up “Marching Through Georgia’—the line coni- menced to form. Hurried along with the throng, Weak-Eyed Jones took up & marching position with others of his blue-coated comrades. The heat was still more stifling here, as they stood waiting for what seemed like hours. Presently Weak-Eyed began to grow faint. The morning had found him physically indisposed, but never yet having missed meeting with his ‘sol- dier comrades on the thirtieth of May, he didn’t propose to to-day. It might be the last time—probably it would— but he’d ge this once! The band up the street struck up “The Star-Spangled Banner’—he was conscious of the column moving. He had stood still so long his legs’ were almost stiff and action made him stag- ger, but with the use of his cane he maintained his balance and managed = FOR GRANDPA’S SAKE. I- never saw him, but they told me so, And how, after a battle, sad news came, When Decoration day comes, every year, So if some little Southern girl should know A nameless grave where never blossoms grow, I'd love her so, if there some flowers sned lay long years ago, my grandpa’s name. again, they said, ipa must be dead; so good and brave, had found a grave. shed a tear, all spread with flowers { one rose of ours. Decoration day. —Youth’s Companion. to move along. Shouts of “Hurrah!” Hurrah!” greeted his ears from every side. Proudly he lifted his head and threw his shoulders back with une- tious military dignity. The ovation continued with increas- ed enthusiasm as they passed up the street. Someone tried to retaliate with a “Hurrah for the boys of ’61!” but the voice was lost ‘in the lusty tide of cheering for “The boys of ’98!” Following the squad of soldiers came a bicycle brigade, men on horseback, and, lastly, wagon loads of flower girls dressed in white—wagons | for strong, healthy girls, while decrepit old veterans must go afoot. As the long line rounded a corner and passed from the boulevard into an east and west thoroughfare, Weak- Eyed Jones tottered. Bravely he pull- ed his remaining strength together and ambled on, his faltering footsteps unable to beat time to the rapid mu- sic. Many of his comrades, too, had long since forgotten how to march. And how few they numbered now— these veterans! Mount Zion cemetery was a beauti- ful spot—lifted above woods and sky just beyond where the lake nestled quietly between two hillsides—the val- ley, with its ribbon of a rivulet, wind- ing verdure-laden at its woody base, the azure heavens outlining its great white gates, its marble monuments, its flowering shrubbery, its trees of green, with rare exactness beyond, ‘Weak-Eyed Jones raised his eyes to the hill yet im the distanee. He coulda see but the outline of the hallowed spot rising against the lurid sky. His spirit was awed! The heavy march was telling on his weakened body, his steps were getting more and more un- certain. A momentary dizziness came over him. “Hark!” Suddenly the muste of the fifes and drums floated to his ears with a strangely familiar sound. It took him back to the front again, back to the days of ’63! Once more he was a youth—strong, vigorous, in arms! And could this, then, be Thomas’ bri- gade?—-and yonder—yonder hill—Mis- sionary Ridge where, proudly drawn’ } in battle array, the Confederate legions awaited them calmly with a welcome of leaden death? And whence all this rub-a-dub-dub, tub-a-dub-dub, that fired the very blood within the veins? Ah! Foolish question! Why ask when there was Soffels, the drummer boy? Nobody but Soffels could drum like that! Sof- fels was the only one who could make his drum “talk” in accents so clear and true—now gay, gay as the morn- ing sunlight; now sad—sad as the hour of death, as he turned the tide of battle into victory or defeat! “Take the rifle-pits at the base, then’ halt and reform!” Weak-Eyed Jones heard the order as clear as on the day it fired the souls of thousands of Union soldiers to battle and to vic- tory. The march of many feet was heard; the glint of polished bayonets seen. The stars and stripes stood straight to;‘the breeze as like clock- work that human phalanx moved to obey. ‘Was that the foe ‘there, entrenched at the base of the hill, calmly waiting with muskets primed and ready? But never a man did he see falter. On- ward they pressed, with music soaring and flags flying, into the fray and into the face of death. Then, when the first volley had been met and passed, they were over the breastworks and upon the foe. He felt an absence about him then. He looked for Billy. Billy was gone! A bullet had carried him down at the first onslaught, he con- cluded. Then he saw the men in the trenches waver for a moment, club their muskets for a last feeble stand. That was all; then they fled. The Fed- eral troops, forgetting their orders in the enthusiasm of the moment, were as quickly over the ramparts and after them—through woods, over logs, past gulches, and into the face of a murderous musketry from above! Presently Weak-Eyed reeled and fell from the marching column, strik- ing his head as he fell. Grasping a shade tree by the side of the thor- oughfare he slowly raised himself to his knees, Had he, too, been struck by a flying bullet? He put his hand to his head. Yes, there was blood! —and the bridge of his nose was gone! But he forgot the pain momentarily as he heard the order: “Charge the crest of the hill!” pass from mouth to mouth as it eame from Grant. His pulses leapt. His blood fairly bounded at the words. He tried to rise and obey, but he could neither see nor walk, “Hurrah fer th’—stars an’—stripes!” he shouted in the exultation of the moment, but the effort cost him throbs of pain. A vehicle full of belated ecelebra- tionists, hurrying after the procession, heard his shout. “A drunken soldier,” they said. Weak-Eyed thought an ammunition wagon was hurrying to the front. My His sight cleared a little after the first daze from his fall, In the dis- tance he saw elouds of dust arising. Weak-Eyed Jones feebly raised him- se? upon his elbows and peered at the blood-red sun. “The smoke of the battle,” he thought. The musie was still playing, clearer and louder than ever, indicating the enthusiasm of battle. Someone ap proached his side. “Only a—scrape—comrade!” he said. “Never—mind me—I’ll be—all right— soon, There’s work—fer you—up there!” He indicated the hill with a wave of his hand. “I tell you he’s not drunk; he’s sick.” The man at his side addressed some one near at hand. In pity they tried to raise him to his feet. His legs would not support him; he collapsed again at the foot of the tree. A roll of drums floated across the valley and into the old man’s ears, “Hark!” he exclaimed, raising him- self with heroic effort. “I hear—th’ sound o’ vict’ry!” Volleys of musket- ry rang out on the air. “Give it—to ’em—boys!” he added. “Chances are against him,” a voice was heard to remark nearby, “He must be taken to a physician.” “Aw! He’s only had a drop too much t’ drink, I tell you,” some one an- swered. Weak-Eyed didn’t hear; his whole mind, his whole being was centered in another direction. Back of Mt. Zion’s crest the sun began to set, and, pres- PEACE! ently, there came the long, Yow, sol- emn roll of the drums—the slow, mel- ancholy, almost human roll. “Ah! it’s—all—over!” he said, faint- ly. Only a few women were at his side now. “It’s—over,” he gasped, “an’—Rilly —you'll have t’—go—with th’ rest —into th’ trenches—an’ under th sod. But—not—me! They said—l c’d—go home. I’m wounded. I’ll— tell her—Billy—when I git—there— that you—died a-fightin’—an’ a-think- in’—o’—her! An’ I’ll—give—her—th things—you sent,—her , picture—an’ th’ testament! You’ve—got—mine yet —Billy, I give—’em—t’—ye, but—I’li— not need—’em.” He attempted to rise, but could not Some one held a flask to his lips and he drank. The procession meantime wended down the hill again. The first columns swept past where Weak-Eyed Jones was prone upon the grass. Some one stepped out to hail some passing vehicle. The mayor’s earriage aproached. “A jolly old drunk, there!” the occupants remark- ed, then bowled away up the street and out of hearing. Another carriage swept past without a heed, a load of flower girls drew near. The driver was beckoned to halt, but his atten- tion was centered upon his screaming, laughing passengers. The sun was now almost set. Presently Weak-Eyed Jones feebly raised himself upon his emaciated elbows, peered with all the power he could muster through his almost sight- less orbs in the direction of the blood- red sun and moved his lips to speak: “Yes—they’re waitin’—fer me, Bil- ly. I wish—you—was—a-goin’—too!” he said. Later, when strange hands gathered from the wayside all that was mortal of the dauntless soldier, a withered spray of honeysuckle slipped unheed- ed from his nerveless grasp. In the meantime the eity had resumed the noisy tenor of its way, and Memorial } day and its meaning had all but be- come. forgotten. Battle Ground Made Sacred. Old soldiers on Memeria. day live again in the memories of the past. The fierce battles and weary marcaes are looked back to with pride. Of the sanguinary day at Gettysburg an eastern writer says: “Reader, when you visit the field of the first day’s fight, and you walk past the spot where xeynolds fell, and enter the woods where every gnarled tree is torn by shot and sheil, you will see a line of monuments crossing your pata. Pause when you reach them, stand for a time by the stone that marks the center of the Iwenty-fourth Michigan Regiment and recall the day of the battle. You will then be standing near the center of the Iron Brigade. Qn the right of that organization was tne brigade o£ Roy Stone, and on the left that or Col. Chapman Biddle. Walk the line of these brigades from right to left— ah, yes, you may walk the line of the whole First Corps—and you cannot step without treading upon ground every ineh of which was saturated }and made sacred by the blood of heroes.” . . Honor the Living. Persons of middle age who but dim ly remember the closing days of the awful struggle and the scenes of joy that followed the return of the sok diers to their homes, participate in the ceremonies of the day with feel- ings of reverence, and the children with almost a sense of awe. Rever- ently and gratefully we remember the services of those who fought and suf: fered for the union. We can but strew with fragrant flowers the graves of the dead; we should with fragrant deeds remember the living. Not long are they to be with us. More graves call for tribute each year. Let us do the living honor while we may. Remember the Sailors. A worthy custom of Memorial day exercises is the strewing of flowers on the waters in memory of the sail- ors of the civil war who perished in the mighty conflict. And surely worthy of honor are the men who fought with Farragut and our other great naval leaders. In the exercises of the day they should never be forgotten. SUFFERED 25 YEARS With Catarrh of, the Stomach— Pe-ru-na Cured, = OSS SIS — Congressman Botkin, of Winfield, iwewe were re verererrrrrrree. In a recent letter to Dr. Hartman, Congressman Botkin says: “(My Dear Doctor—It gives me pleas- ure to certify to the excellent curative qualities of your medicines—Perunaand Manalin. I have been afilicted more or less for a quarterof acentury with ca- tarrh of the stomacl and constipation. Aresidencein Washington hasincreased these troubles. A few bottles of your medicine have givem me almost. ecom- plete relief, and lam sure that a eontin- uation of them will effect: a permanent. cure.”—J. D. Botkin, Mr. L. F. Verdery,. » prominent. real estate agent of Augusta, Ga. , writes: “I have been @ great sufferer from catarrhal dyspepsia. Itried many phy- sicians, visited a good many springs, but I believe Peruna has done more for me than all of the above put together. 1 feel like a new person.”’— L. F. Verdery. The most common: form ef summer catarrh is catarrh of the stomach: ‘This. is generally known as dyspepsia.. Pe- ruua cures these cases.like magic: If you do not derive-prompt and satis- factory results from the use-of Peruna, write at once to Dr. Hartman, giving’a full statement of your ease;.and he will be pleased to give yow his: valuable ad- vice gratis. 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Consisting of CUTICURA 304P(25c.),tocleanse the skin of crusts and scales, and soften the thickened cuticle, CUrICURA OINTMENT(50c.) to instantly allay itching, Infammation, irritation, and soothe and hea}, and Curicura RSOLVENT PILLS (26c.), to cool and cleanse tho blood. /Coticura Resotvert Prurs (Chocolate Coated) are anew, tasteless, odorless, economical substitute for the celebrated liqui RESOLVENT, as well as for all fiers and humour cures. 60 doses, 250, Sold throughout the world. ~ British Depot: 27-28, Charterhouse Di > CuEM. SSedahes Sate, Ce AVE MONEY Buy your goods at ' Wholesale Prices, Our 1,000-page catalogue will be sent ‘upon receipt of 15 cents. This amount does not even pay the postage, but it is sufficient to show us that you are acting in good faith. Better send for it now. Your neighbors trade with us —why not you also? : a CHICAGO f ‘The house that tells the truth. mama