Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, May 26, 1895, Page 10

THE OMARA DAILY BEE: SUNDAY, MAY 26, 18935. A Story of Decoration Day. DY WILLIAM MURRAY GRAYDON (Comyright, 1895.) On the afternoon of the 20th of May a dozen boys, ranging in age from 15 to 17, were grouped in front of the Harrisville | High school, which had just been dismissed. | They scemed to be all trying to talk at once, and the Joudest and noisiest of them was Willard Manning This lad among leader by no | means a small opinion import- | tance. His mother was wealthy and lived | in a fine mansion in the most fashionable | rt of the town. His father had been Killed Chancellorsville while fighting for the | widow were justly | acknowledged and he had of his ow an his schoolmates at tnion, and his and proud of his gallant record. At heart Willard had ties, and it was unfortunate that circum stances should have combined to stifle and hide them under a mask of pride and arro- gance. He was simply a spoilt Though the war was sixteen years in the | past, he cherished a boyish hatred of the | south for the sake of the father whom h ‘ many good quall could mot remember. He had inherited a taste for soldiering, and was the captain of a juvenile military organization called the | Harrisville Cadets, whose neat blue uni forms and lightweight rifles were mainly | due to his liberalit | The group of boys in front of the school house all belonged to the Cadets, and some of them were the sons of soldie who had died for the wunion. vfull\wrl row was Decoration day, and they were discussing the part they wer to take In this great event, to which they had been looking forward for month: There was one exception. Over school steps sat a handsome, dark-featured lad, neatly but inexpensively dressed, and with a fook of honesty and truth in his deep brown eyes. Lee Curtis had begun to attend on the her baby boy. But she had a fixed purpose in mind, and did not lose sight of it. Years afterward she returned to Virginia, eold a small property belonging to her there, and finally came north to Harrisville. Here, close to the remains of her beloved dead, s hoped that her scanty means would permit her and her son to live. The first thing she jid was to order a fitting headstone for her husband’s grave, which had been marked only by a mound Decoration day dawned bright and clear, and at an early hour the streets of the town were atirring with life and commotion, _After breakfast, as was their usual custom, Willard and his mother drove out to the cemetery to put flowers on Captain g's grave, Mrs Manning was In a very sober mood, and Wil- lard fudged from her absent expression that she was thinking as much of her lost brother of her dead husband. The subject was one that the lad dared not speak about, but he knew that his uncle had been cast off by his family before the war, and he had some reason to think that he fought against the urifon While his mother was strewing the floral tributes on the handsome monument of her husband Willard moved over to a mound about twenty feet away, where two men were erecting a marble headstone. Tt was plain but massive and the lad could make out part of the lettering: *To the memory of Lieutenant Reginald Curtis, Tth Virginia Cavalry—" Lee Curtis’ father,” said Willard to him- sell. “It's a_shame to have a stone like that here With a burning sense of re- sentment he turned back and joined his mother. When they returned to town the streets were filling up with country people nd citizens, and bands of music and drum corps were adding to the general din. At 2 o'clock the great procession started, close pressed by a host of enthuslastic ad- mirers. In front pranced the governor's troop of cavalry, in blue and yellow. Then followed the governor of the state him- self, riding in an open carriage, and after & TWNOSE fl”’/“%flfm p ik achool only two months before, at which time he and his widowed mother had moved from Virginia to Harrisville, They were evidently poor, for they lived in a tiny cottage on a shabby street. Lec was reserved by nature, and partly for this reason, party because he was a southerner, his schoolmates held aloof from him, treat- ing him with chilling indifference. Though the lad did not suspect it, his social ostr cism was mainly due to Willard Manning. Lee was listening to the conversation with niore interest than his face indicated, and the eager words of the lads, with whom he was mot in touch or sympathy, filled his heart with a loneliness more bitter than he had ever known before, and made him fecl like an exile in a forelgn land. “I hope it will be clear tomorrow,” Tom Dane was saying. “This Decoration day is going to beat the record. Just think of marching with the governor!" What a shame if it rains,” replied Jim Crossman. “You know low it poured last year.” “Pshaw, of course it wou't rain,” exclaimed Willard. “Look at that blue sky, and the wind from the west. IU's going to be the finest kind of a day, and that's why I want a full turnout. It was provoking of Andy Mendows to get sick at such a time. Do you fellows kuow any one that can take his place?" There was a moment of silence. The boys shook their beads, and no one spoke. Then Lee Curtis, moved by a sudden impulse, aprang to his feet and came forward with flushed checks, “Do you think T would do, Willard?" he asked. “I had a litile military training at a school in Virginia, 1'd love to march with the cadets, f—if you don’t mind.” Some of the boys laughed alowd and Wil- 1ard’s lips curled in a smile of garcasm. ‘Why, you're from the south,” he replied doubtfully. *and we're going out tomorrow to decor the graves of union soldiers. Dide't you know that? Lee nodded too, | ool M and h fatlier was a sol s buried cut there B in the stery.’ Your father a soldier?” exclaimed Willard, “And burfed out here in our cemetery? Where was he hilled? “He was wounded and Geliysbarg," replied Le him here to the hospital, where he died.” aken prisoner at Gettysburg!” Willard eried in a tone of anger and scorn. “Then he was a rebel. You must be erazy, Lee Curtls, to talk about marching with the Cadets.” Loe's cheeks flushed a decper red. “Why, | the war is over long ago,” he said, “and north and south are at peace. I—I didn't think--"" hat's taken prisoner at “and they brought enough,” Willard interrupted curtly. ‘“Peace or no peace, the north don’t forget. Your father has no business out in our cemete and 1 don't underst he was put there. Ho was a traitor rebel and heiped to kill our fathers.” hat's “It's a shame several of the boys, Leo stepped uickly anger in his eyos. s0." exclaimed forward, a flash of My father was as_true and brave a man as yours. Willard Man ning,'" he sald in a husky to Don't you dare to slander his memory.” “He was a rebel, 1 tell you,* Willard cried hotly, and lifting his hand he struck Lee a smart blow on the eheek The southern iled and turned pale. He clinched his fizts towered them “Coward!" sueered Willard, and his com- panions took up the taunt. “If 1 should strike you back I would be a gowurd,” said Lee, in & low tone, and turn- Ing guickly ho walked away, followed by shouts of mocking laughter and ridicule. Thero were tears iu the lad's eyes, aud | bittorness of grief and passion at his heart Ho wandered about in secluded streets for 2alf an hour, and finally went home to sup- per with the resolve to make no mention of what had happencd to his mother, What Lee had told the boys was true. His mthor, Lieutenant Curtie, was brought to the urrisville hospital, after the battle of Get:ys- surg, I a delirium of fover caused by sevar wound; He dicd without recovering con sciousness, and his identity w establshed a3y papers found on his persan. Ho wos | uried fn the town cemetery, close to the graves of union soldiers, and his name and ‘esting place were noted fn the government weords. Thus the wite, Inquiring for the missing ausband, dearned the sad news at her humble some in Virginia. She could not come north at the time, as an fnvalid eister in Louisiana aceded her care, and thither she went with ! his face and then | Mannig. him came the town company of the National Guard, the trim ranks of the Cadets and the grizzled veterans of the Grand Army posts Sad, sweet musie was played along the way, and half an hour's march brought the procession to the City of the Dead. Here the troops and veterans were drawn up in long line opposite the graves of the soldiers they had come to honor, and after the gov ernor had made a brief and stirring address the Cadets and tho company of the National Guard fired a salute. As the volley rang out Willard stepped a few feet in front of his command, watch- ing with swelling heart his father's monu- ment taking & shape amid the drifting smoke He did not hear a lond commotion to one side, or the furious clatter of hoofs. Not until a warning voice shouted his own name id he glance around, and then he was hor- rified to see the trumpeter's horse of the governor's troop bearing straight down upon him. The rifle volley had terrified the animal and it was beyond it's rider’s control. The imminence of his peril dazed Will ard. He turned this way and that, started to run, and fell heavily over a stone. As he rose to his knees and glanced back he gave a loud ery of fear; the maddened steed was witbin six feet of him. . But before the iron-shod trample the life out of the helpless lad a slim fignre darted forward from one side It was Lee Curtis. By an agile and daring leap he caught the horse’s bridle, and hung on grimly. The brute swerved a little to one side, narrowly clearing Willard, and went plunging on it's course, swinging Lee from side to side in the air. An instant later the 1ad’s hold was broken by a terrific jerk, and as he fell in the soft grass the hoofs missed him. He rose and slipped away, almost unnoticed in the wild rush of soldiers and civilians after the fugitive steed. Some of his own company helped Willard up. He was pale and trembling, but not in the least hurt. He stood s one dazed for a moment, while the excited crowd rush by. Of to the left there was loud cheering and some one shouted that the horse was caught “It was Lee Curtis that saved you,” sald Tom Dane. “Pluckiest Crossman Willard did not toward the graves he the newly placed stone, close to a slim woman in black. A sudden sense of shame and contrition overwhelmed him and he wondered how he could have hehaved so meanly. He realized, too, that he had utterly mistaken the true and forgiving meaning of Decoration day. ‘Lieutenant Dane,” he said, “pleaso take command of the company.” Then he strode quickly over the grass to his father's monu- ent, and chose from the decorations upon it two handsome wreaths and a bunch of lilies. With these in one hand he softly proached the humble grave of the con- federate cavalryman. Lee, hear the foot steps, turned around with a smile Willard touched him on the shoulder. | “Won't you forgive me, old fellow?” he said, in a broken voice. "I behaved shame- fully to you yesterday, and today you saved my life at the risk of your own. I ca tell you how sorry I um, but—but here some flowers for your father's grave. was a brave solier, I'm sure, and you ought to be just as proud of him as I am of my own fathe Lee's eves filled with tears as he warmly | clasped the hand that the other offcred him. | “It's all right,” he whispcred. “Don't say any more, Willard. Therc's nothing to forgive, This is my mother. Lot me intro- duce you.”" The lady had just twrned a sweet, tear- stained face toward Willard when a carriage stopped close by, and out of it stepped Mrs Manuing and a tall, handsome gentleman with an iron-gray mustache and beard “Yes, here he is," sald Mrs. Manning, in a voice that shook with emotion. *Willard, | this is your uncle,” she added. approaching her son, and scarcely noticing the presence of strangers in her agitation. “My uncle? Willard gasped, as the gen- | tleman clasped his hands in a Ught squeeze “Yes, my own dear brother,” sald ‘Mrs He bas come back at last. He has forgiven the past. and there was much to for- give, Willard. You never heard the story. His ‘family cast him off because he insisted on keeping his eugngement to a Virginin girl | whom he had met In the north. He went hoofs could thing I ever saw,” added Jim reply. Looking over w’Lee standing by 1 seo how cruel sided with them! in those days—" “Why speak of it now, Emma?" her brother said gently. “Let us forget the past—at least that part of it. I am glad to know that my parents forgave me before they died, and now that T have found you and Willard I feel that I have something left to live for. My life h been a blark since I lost my wife and child— He paused abruptly. While speaking he had glanced around, and his eyes now rested on the marble slab.” He stepped toward it as one in s dream. “Lieutenant Reginald Curtis, Seventh Vir- glnia cavalry!" he muttered hoarsely. *My own name! My own tombstone! What does this mean? Am I going mad?" Mrs. Manning gave a little cry, and Lee's mother, with one glance at the bearded stranger, turned deathly pale. ‘“Reginald!” she gasped, tottering forward in a &woon He caught her before she could fall and strained her to his breast. “Lucy! My wife!"” be criel. “Thank God! Thank God “You surely can't be my father, sir claimed Le “Yes, I am your father, my dear boy. dead have come to life.” “Then you are my cousin, Lee,” declared Willard. ““And I'm glad of it. This is the most wonderful thing that ever happened! Indeed, it all seemed too strang: and won- derful to be true, but there was no mistake about it As a curious crowd was gathering Mr. Curtis lifted his wife into the carriage, and Lee followed with Willard and Mrs. Manning. Joy seldom kills, and before reached home Lee’s mother had from her swoon and was able to realize the great happiness that had come to her and her son. “It's a strange stor: explained Mr. Cur- tis, “but not a very long one. I was shot in the breast on the field of Gettysburg and b lieved myselt to be dying. A fellow officer happened along and I begged him to take my letters and papers and send them to my wife. Poor Carson, it was he who died in the hospital and now lies here under my name.” Well, after Carson left me, and hurried back to his command, I was trampled into unconsclousness by a runaway horse. The next thing 1 knew I was lying in bed in a Pennsylvania farm house. The old couple who lived there were Quakers, and they nursed me back to health and strength. It was six months before I was well, and for almost as long a time my memory was gone. It sud- denly returned one day, and that very night 1 picked up a paper containing an account of a railroad accident In Virginia, in which Mrs. RReginal Curtis and her baby were killed—" “It was another Mrs. Curtis,” interrupted his wife. I had intended going on that train_and that's how the mistake was made. ‘Well, T believed it,” resumed Mr. Curtis I was a broken-hearted man, and no longer had any ties to bind me to this country. I drifted east, and then to South America, where T finally engaged in busine And there I have been ever since. Two months ago 1 suddenly tired of it all. I sold my plantations in Brazil for a fortune and came home to hunt up my parents and si It was surely providence that guided me here today. 1 doubt if there is a happier man in the world. My wife and boy restored to me! My sister ali these are greater mercies than 1 deserve There is little more to tell and his family settled down in Harrisville and Lee and Willard became the best of friends and cou: They ‘e grown up men now—for these things happened some years ago-—-and as ch Decoration day rolls around they celebrate it in the true and fitting spirit of the occasion, remembering that scars of the war are long since healed and that the heroes of north and south Alike are deserving of respect and honor. Nor do they forget to strew flowers upon the grave of the Virginia cavalryman, the headstone over which now bears the rightful name of the soldier who lies beneath the sod my parents were. And 1 There was bitter feeling " e The the party Mr. Curtis A CHILKAMAUGA BOY, He Exchanged Unifor a Dead Con- federate Soldie senped. BY JAMES R. GILMORE, EDMUND KIRK. (Conyrighted, 1805.) The father of the boy of whom I write was the president of a western college, who, when the civil war broke out, volunteered, with a large number of his students, in the union army. His son, then a lad of oniy 12 vyears, pleaded to be allowed to go to the front with his father, but the father refused until he had himself been in active service with the army more than a year, and had risen to the command of his regiment. Then he took Willie—which was his son's nam along as a drummer boy. The hoy had been at the front not more than a week when the army came in pres- ence of the enemy, and was drawn up in two long lines to receive an attack. When ag army is moving drummer boys and other musicians march at the head of their regiments, but when it goes into battle they are sent to the rear to care for the wounded. On this occasion, however, Willie's father rode along the lines to encourage his sol- diers to act like men, and he caught sight of the little drummer boy, standing with his drum over his shoulder, at the very head of the column. ) “We are going into the fight, my son sald the father. “‘Your place is at the rear. “But, if 1 go back there, father,” answered the hoy, ‘“everybody will say I am a coward. “Well, Will," said the father, “‘stay where you are. He stayed there, an] when the attack began he handied a gun as well as any member of the regiment. The bullets whistled, and the shells burst all around him, but he ‘came out uninjured. In the midst of the fight, when the union men were going down before the storm of lead, as blades of grass go down before a storm of hail, one of the regimental orderlies was swept from his saddle by a can- non ball, and his horse went galloping madly over the battlefield. Willie, leaving the ranks, caught the frightened animal, and sprang into the dead man's saddle. Riding then up to his father, he said: “Father, I'm tired of drumming—I'd rather carry your orders.” He was then only 13 years old, but after that, in most of the great bhattles of the south- wesi, he acted as orderly for the brave lonel, his ther, carrying bis messages through the flery storm, and riding unharmed up to the very cannon’s mouth, until he was taken prisoner by the confederates on the bloody field of Chickamauga T, Al day long on that terrible Saturday, he rode through the fight by the side of his father, and at night lay down on the ground 1o dream of his home and his mother. The battle paused when the sun went down, but not long after it rose on the following day, red and ghastly in the foggy air, the faint crack of musketry, and the heavy roar of ar- tillery, sounding nearly three miles away, told that the brave men under General Thomas were meeting the desperate onsets of the enemy. Fiercely the confederates broke against their ranks, till they rolled away in broken waves upon the union center, whero the young orderly was with his regiment. Battle and disease had thinned their ranks, till from 1,000 they had dwindled to scarcely 400, but bravely they stood up to meet the wild shock that was coming. Soon the colonel's horse went down, and glving him his own, Willle hurried to rear for another. He had scarcely rejoined the ranks, when on they came—the stal- wart rangers of Texas and Arkansas—rid- ing over the brigades of Davis and Van Cleve, and the division of the gallant Sheri- dan, as if they were only standing wheat all ripe for the mowing. One-half of the colonel’s regiment were on the ground, wounded or dying; but the remainder stood up, unmoved in the flery hurricane that was sweeping around them. Such men can but their legs are not fashioned for running. Soon both their flanks were enveloped in flame, and a terrible volley burst out of the smoke, and again the colonel went to the ground in the midst of his heroes. The boy sprang to his side, saying you dead, father, or only wounded? “Neither, my boy,” answered the iron man, as he clutched the bridle of a riderless hors: and sprang mto the empty saddle. Two horses had been shot under him, and 200 of his men had gone down never to rise “Are | again, but still he sat unmoved in the awful tempest. At last the fire grew even hotter; one unbroken sheet of flame enveloped the little band, and step by step, with their faces 10 the enemy, they were swept back by the mere force of numbers. Then the father aid to the son: “Go, my boy, to the rear, as fast as your horse can carry you." “1 can't father,” answered the lad may be wounded.” ver mind me; think of your mother. outh and married her at the beginning of war, and 1 have never beard of bim since. i A AR A B AP said the father, peremptorily. Obedience had been the rule of th¥ boy's recovered | the | ate, | lite, and nof, Yurning his horse's head, he rode back to ffe hospital.* *Note—Thi§ ‘jpcident is thus related by Benjamin ¥/ Taylor, the poet-editor of the Chicago Jopfadf, who had personal knowl- edge of the plrcumstances. Writing to his Journal fromy \iie bloody field on that terrible Sunday, he RAid: “‘Beside the colonel of the Seventy-thirg Tifinots rode his son, a lad of 13; a brighf, brave little fellow, who be- lieved in hjy ' father and feared nothing Right up to)thg enemy—right up anywhere— It the father went, there went the boy; but when the byllets swept In sheets and grape and canister, cut ragged roads through the columns of hlug and plashed them with red, the father bade. the young orderly out of the fiery gust. The little fellow wheeled his horse, and rede for the hospital. The hospital was captured; and the boy a prisoner.” 1L was o few tents clustered among the trees, a short distance in the rear, and thither the union wounded were being conveyed as fast as the few medical attendants could earry them. There the boy dismounted and set about doing all he could for the snfferers. While thus en- gaged he saw the remnant of his father's regiment emerge from the cloud of flame and fall slowly back toward the woods behind them. In a moment a horde of rangers poured down on their two flanks to to envelop the little band of heroes. The boy, at a glance, took in his own danger. The hospital would inevitably be surrounded The hospital CHICKAMAUGA BOY. and all in it captured. Springing upon the back of the nearest horse, he put spurs to its sides and bounded away toward the nearest forest. But it was a clumey beast, not the blooded animal that had borne him so nobly through the day's conflict. Slowly ft trotted along, thoughthe rowels pierced its flanks till the blood ran gown them. The forest w still a long u)‘lyfi aff when the rangers cau slght of the hoy and the sieepy animal gave chase, xir.m.'ii.mu,; their carbines and yelling furiou3 L The boy heard the shouts and slung highgelfjalong the flank of his horse to e out ofthe range of bullets; but not one of the rangers offered to fire or even lifted his carbie) for there is something in thie breasts G (Me roughest men that puts them in love with daring; and this running with a scoreydf rifles following at one's heels is about a¢ Aingerous as n steeplechuse over a country filled, with pitfalls and torpedoes. Soon the rangers’ fleet steeds encircled the boy's clumsy- hnfmal, and one of them scized his bridle, erging out: ‘“Yer a bully un; jest the pluckiest ¢hunk of a boy I ever seced, Willio wasdnow a prisoner, and prudenc counseled him to make the best of a bad bus- iness: so hessld nimbly to the ground, and coolly answ : “Give me a hunired yards the start, @wd I'll get away yet—if my horse is slower than a turtle, “I'm durned if we wom't,” shouted the man. “I say, fellers, give the boy forty rod, and let him g0 scot free if he gits fust ter th' tim- ber. “None uy nd yer nonsense, Tom," other, who, from his clothes, seemed some petty officer. “Luck at the boys cloes? He's #on ter come uy the big 'uns. 1'll bet high he bllongs ter ole Linkum hisself. 1 say, young 'un, hain’t ye ole Linkum's boy?" “I reckon!” answered Willie, laughing, spite of his unpleasant surroundings. But what he said in jest was received In earnest; and with a suppressed chuckle the man said: 1 knowed it. Fellers, he's good fur a hundred thousand—so, lets keep & bright eye on him." They bore him back to the hospital and the leader of the rangers, riding up to the officer in charge of the prisoners, said: *'T say, cunnel, we're cotched a fish yere as wuth catchin'—one uy ole Linkum's sons. The officer scrutinized Willie closely and then asked: “‘Are you President Lincoln’s son?" “No, sir," answered Willie, one of Lincoln's boys.” “Ye tclled me yer was, ye young hound,” crled the ranger, breaking into a storm of unprintable adjectives. “No, 1 did not,” sald Willie, looking him coolly in the face. *I let you deceive your- self, that was all. The colonel, who had burst into-a fit of laughter, now turned upon the rangers sav- agely. “You're a set of cowards,” be said. “You have got this up to get out of the fight. Back (o the ranks, every one of you. Old Bragg has a way of dealing with such skulkers as you are.” 1L About a thousand wounded men, under guard of two companies of confederate sol- diers, were collected in an open fleld not far from the hospital, and, with them. without food, without shelter, and with nothing but the hard ground to lie on, the boy remained till the next morning. At night he lay down to rest in the crotch of a fence and counted the stars, as one by one they came out in the sky, telling the Great All-Father who has his home In the high heavens, but comes down to visit and relieve his heart- weary children who are wandering here on the earth. Was he not heart-weary—heart- weary with thinking of his home and his mother, who soon would be sorrowing for her oniy son, lost amid the wild storm of battle? And would not God visit and re- lieve him? As he thought of this he prayed; and even as he prayed, a dark cloud broke away over his head, and the north star came out ard looked down, as if sent by the Good Father to guide him homeward. He watched the star growing brighter and brighter, until” its rays stole into his soul, lighting all ft&' dark corners; and then he sank to sleep and dreamed that a white- robed angel cime and bore him away, above the tree tops, ‘to his father's tent beyond the mountaims. In the morfihiig he awoke hopetul and stout- hearted. Kutel(dg down, he prayed again; and then a,plen of escape came to him clear and distinct’as ever plan of battle came to a generak’ FKe did not think it out; it flashed upon Mm dike a beam of light break- ing into a dark-room, or like a world-stirrin thought flashing into the soul of genius from the source of al thought in the heav:ns. But this thoyght)was not to stir the world; it was only o, spir a small boy's legs, and make him & mangin resource and resolution Long he- pondeyed wpon it, turning it round and round, andJooking at it from all side and then he set about working it out into ac- tion. The officar commanding the guard was a mild-mannered man, with pleasant features, and a kindly heart, though he had so severe- ly scored the rangers. Him the boy ac- costed as he made his morning round among the prisoners ou seem to be short- handed at the hospital, sir,” he said. “I have done such work, and would be glad to be of service to you." “You're a good boy to think of it,” replied the officer—"100 Eood to be one of Lincoln's boys,"¥and he laughed heartily at the recol- lection. “But, won't you try to get away it 1 let you go there?" “I can't promise,” said Willie wouldn't If you were a prisoner.” “No, 1 woulin't” answered the officer. “But it won't be safe for you to try. Some of our men are wild fellows, and they would shoot_you as soon as they would a squirrel, The Unfon lines are now ten miles away, and an- in “but 1 am “You | anothier had crushed the bones of the ankle. R Light-weight Suitings, Overcoatings and Trouserings getting gentlemen to thinking and acting at the same time! 3 50 5 0 00 S S 6 0 80 00 440 S0 IR It’s Thrilling! It Keeps Up OUR UNMERCIFUL WAR ON TAILORING VALUES is bringing the crowds! Such a marvelous closing-out of 1S T T T T T T R T SR R R o R i The trimmings, linings and work on every garment will be just as faultless as ever, ED HART, The Tailor, 210-212 S. TELEPHON LADY ATTENDANT. 16th St. Y. M. C. A. Building. DECAYED I HE EFFECT on the stomach produced by constantly swallowing bacteria and pus from diseased teot mingle with decomposed particles of food, is sometim ularming and is recognized by scientific men as the founs dation of sorious constitutional disorders. In ever community there are those who are cranks on the fres! air subtect, but whose mouths are frequently in such a neglected condition that the air which passes through them is as poluted as that of the most crowded tenement house, and ever the stomach millions of baeteria. Take time by the fores = mouthful of food swallowed carries intd lock; lay the foundation of good health by first atiending to your mouth. Consult DR. ROWLAND W. BAILEY, . DENTIST .. 3d FLOOR PAXTON BLOCK, our men are thicker than the fleas in mlnl cornfield.” “I'd rather not be shot. 1'd sooner be a prisoner,” said Willie, smiling. “You're a sensible lad. I'll let you into the hospital, and you may get away if yo can; but if you are shot, don't lay it to me. The officer gave Willie in charge of Dr. Hurburt, who was chief surgeon of the hospital. He was a_humane, kind-hearted man, and he laughed heartily at the story of the boy’s capture by the rangers. “You served them right, my little fellow,"” | he said, “and you are smart—smart enough | to be a surgeon. There is plenty to do here, and if you go to work with a will, I'll say a | | geod word for you.” And the surgeon did, and Willie's father sent his thanks across many leagues of hos- tile country. v, The hospital was a little village of tents scattered about among the trees, and in it were nearly a thousand union and confed- erate soldiers, all of them wounded, some of them dying. Among them Willie worked for a fortnight. He scraped lint for their wounds, bound bandages about their limbs, | held water to their parched lips, wrote words to their faraway friends way through the dark valley that leads to the hereafter—for he had been taught to believe that there is a great and good rules both in this world and in that. | Among the wounded was one in whom Willle took especial interest—a bright-eyed fair-haired boy, mot much older than him- self, who had been fatally hurt in the great battle. He was a confederate boy and he | had gone into the war with the same pur- pose as Willle, to do all he could for what | he thought was freedom. He had been told that the north wanted to enslave the south, and his soul rose in strong resolve to give his young life, it need -were, to beat back his country's invaders. In all this he was mistaken; but only a demagogue will say the spirit which moved him was not as noble as led many a northern youth to be a martyr for liberty. Young, as he was, he had been in half a dozen battles, and in the bloody struggle of Chickamauga had fallen pierced with two union bullets. For two days and nights he lay on the battlefield before he was discovered by the party of men who had Brought him to the hospital. Willie helped | to bear him from the ambulance, and to lay him down on a blanket in one of the tents, and then he went for the chief sur- geon. A ball had entered his side and His leg had to come off, and the amputation, the tong exposure and loss of bleod rendered his recovery hopeless. The kindhearted sur- geon sald this to Willle, as he finished the operation and bade him tell it to the con- | federate lad as gently as was possible. Willie did this and the wownded boy answered calmly, “For two days I have been expecting this and I am willing to g0; for, doubtless, there is work for me in the other life."” He lingered for a week, every day grow- ing weaker and weaker, and then he sank to sleep as gently as the water drop sinks into the ocean. A few hours before he died he sent for Willle and sald to him, “You | have been-very good to me, and as far as I can, I would return your kindness. My clothes are under my pillow. Take them when 1 am gone. They may help you to get back to your mother. I am golng soon Stay with me until I die." V. They laid his body away in the ground and Willie went about his work; but something loving and pure had gone out of his life, leaving him lone and heart-weary. 1 would like to tell all the details of Wil- li's escape—how he dressed himself in the confederate boy's clothes, and one cloudy night boldly passed the sentinels at the hos- pital; how he fell in with several squads of T I ) 3 1 Y [ I and spoke | words of hope to them as they groped their | being who | 16th AND FARNAM STS¢ ) OCooO 0 prevent it, The billious done. remedy which is s troubles. ] Ripans Tabules: S It the price (80 cents School Children will eat sweetmeats and you can't it there is a head ache; the child is and something must be Use Ripan’s Tabules, a pans Chemical Company, No. 10 Spruce at, N. Y. first you know of standard for such 1d by druggists, or by man & box) is sent to The Ri- = B [T (i (e confederate soldiers, was questioned by them and got safely away, because of his gray uniform; how on his hands and knees he | crept beyond the outmost confederate pickets, and after wandering in the woods two days and nights, with only the sun by day and the north star by night, to guide him, he got within the unfon lines, aund worn out with walking he lay down under a tree by the roadside and slept soundly till toward the following night. 1 will only say that Willie was rouscd from his slumbers under the tree by somcome shaking him by the shoulder. Looking up . he saw a small party of union cavalry and the o derly who had awakened him said, “What are you doing here, my young gray back Just then Willle caught sight of a famill face—that of his mother's own brothe Colonel Melntyre, of the Forty-second reg hem Indiana infantry. Why, uncle,” he shouted, “don't you know me?" | In a moment he was.seated behind on his uncle's horse and on his way to Lis father, I shali not recount the anxiety of that father nor the persistent search which he and™all that was left of his reg ent Kept up during tho long fortnight for tidings of the lost boy in every encampment of the army in front of Chattanooga. Many and | conflicting reports came to the agonized father but the only certain tidings were that the hospital had been captured and Willie had been flung out, a little waif, on the tur- bulent sea of battle, Was he living or dead—well or wounded? Who could tell him? And what tale could he bear to the boy's mother? These were the questions that knocked at the father's heart, drove sleep from his eyelids, and made suspense a horror scarcely to be emdured. He had sat on this last day every hour in his tent listening to overy coming footstep, and dreading the approach of night when he felt that he could no longer delay writing to the boy's mother. Then, just as the sinking sun was touching the tops of the far off trees, there was a great shout out- side his tent, the rapld footsteps of more than 100 men, and Willie burst into it s e e s [ e ! l Infants’ Complete Outfits. - First Short Clothes. - Ladies’ Underwear Send name and get Made to Order. Hlustrated Descriptive Lists Free. SCHULZ & CO., hingtor CHICAGO, rly Dora Bchule Mfg. Co, followed by one-half of the regiment. The boy threw his arms about his father's neck, and then the bronzed colonel, who bad #0 « often ridden unmoved through the storm eof, shot and shell, bowed bis head and wi like & child; for this, his son that was dead, was alive again—that was lost, wus found. 3