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VOL. I.
A CREAT EFFORT’S FINISH.
Mighty There’s glad to see you,boys'.
no use o’ tryln’
To express the radiant joys
Through our hearts a-tlyin’.
As we reached to clasp the bands
Of the lads returnin’
From the foes of distant lands
Or the fever’s burnln’.
Voices choke an’ eyes grow wet
When again we meet you,
Clean forgot them speeches sot
As w« planned to greet you,
From that long oration pat
Guess I ll have to free you;
Have to let it go at that—-
. Mighty glad to see you.
—Waahlugton Star.
PRIVATE DOOGAFS
A Story of the Santiago Trendies.
When you have shaved hardships
with a fellow—really shared them, not
merely seen the same places and
fought in the same fights, but gone
halves on the last hardtack, drank
the hot, putrid Santiago water from
the same canteen, lain side by side
with him in the trenches for days and
uights at a time, and had youv shirt
ripped by the same bullet that grazed
liis skin—when you have done all this
with a fellow yon get to have a feeling
for him that is hard to describe; not
exactly a brotherly feeling, but a
rough, hearty liking, the whole mean-
ing_ of which is conveyed by the words,
“my buuky. ”
Bunkies are pretty rough with each
other sometimes, in a good-hearted
way. When one fellow is lazy and
wants to lie in the tent aud let the
other fellow do all the work about
mess the other fellow kicks; he goes
into the tent, grabs his bunkv by tbe
neck aud pitches him out. '“Get to
work you lazy son of a gun,” lie says,
or something pretty nearly like it.
But it does not mean anything, that,
The othev fellow swears back aud puts
up a little scrap, jmrhaps, but he
understands. It is the bunky’s way.
There is one case of two bunkies really
falling out and scrapping,
that should be put on record. It hap-
peued when Private Doogan and Pri-
vate Henry of the — th infautry
fought and bruised one another “for
fair.” But it was nil about a Spaniard
dowu near Santiago, and the like of it
had not happened before and is not
likely to happen again. The story
comes from Private -Doogan himself.
Private Doogan aud Private Henry
were sitting near the fire at the end of
the company street the other day,
peeling onions. They had a good-
sized basket between them and were
working industriously at the pungent
vegetables with their knives. A huck¬
ster’s wagon appeared at the other
end of the camp, and Doogan looked
up aud said: “There’s that fellow
that was here the other day. Go over
there and buy some fish for dinner,
Henry.”
“Go yourself,” said Henry. “I
don’t give a continental for fish.”
“Go on, yez lazy son of a gun! Git
a hi" wan'” be‘condemned
“Pll if I do. Go
yourself ”
It ended with Private Henry’s
going. When he was out of hearing
Private Doogan said: “He’s a mighty
foine fellow, Henry is, only he’s too
cussed lazy. He’s been my buuky
ever since the war broke out, and
we’ve got on foine togither. Little
things like this happen now and ngiu,
you know, but they don’t amount to
nothing. But we had the hottest
scrap you ever see onct. We wnz
both mad. How was it? Why it was
down near Santiago in that fight with
the Spaniards. You see we’d been a-
marchin’ pretty much all day, in that
terrible Cuban climate. The whole
mornin’ the sun was blisterin’ hot,
aud all o’ a siuldint in the afternoon
the rain come down aud we wuz wet
and chilt through as suddint as you
please. About nigkt-toime we halted.
We et our hardtack and took out our
knives aud scraped the mud off our
legs.”
Hi We’re in for a good shlape the
night, bunky,’sez Oi, and we bot’ on
us stretched out on the ground, not
carin’ for not’in’ but to shlape. The
nixt thing Oi knowed some one wuz
a-tellin’ us to git up and move. It
were pitch dark and we hadn’t been
shla 2 >iu’ rnore’n a co^ile o’ hours may-
ha2>.
ii i Git up, bunky,’sez Oi; ‘orders
has come to march, Henry were
a-shlapin’ like a dead man, so I give
him a shake and say: ‘Git up, you
lazy vagabone,’ sez Oi; ‘quit your
ahlapia’aud git ready to march.’
THE TRIBUNE.
“Don’t Give TTip tlao Sliii?.”
BUCHANAN, GA., FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 4. 1898.
C ( < Go wan,’ sez ’ee, aud leave me
alone,’ sez ’ee. He was still ashlape,
Henry were, sp Oi rubbed his ears
aud shouted: ‘Git up, you son of a
gun!’ sez Oi; what are yez afther ex¬
pecting? To shlape all night whin
orders has come to march?’ Wid that
he give a bound up and wuz ready in
a minute, but he wuz in a mighty bad
humor, Henry were. We marched in
the neighborhood o’ six hours, may¬
hap, through the stinking mud that
come up to your middle, and Henry
never said a word the whole toime.
Whin we stopped they set us a-dig-
giug trenches, and about the brak o’
day we were a-slitandiu’ up to our
necks in ’em, wid the wather around
our belts. Henfy never said a word
the whole time, though I’d bin a-re-
markin’ on things, pleasaut-loike.
That’s my way, whin things don’t go
to suit—to say something pleasant
and cheerful. But Henry, he shuts
U P* I see by the mum face on him
that be was td amed aggravated,
“Well, just about the brak o day
the , begun to whistle all around
us aud w « knowed the Spaniards wuz
ncd ‘ ar o9 > though we couldti t see a
thia 8 but i un S le - Whin it growed
h S hte1 ' we raade ont wliel ' e the H pan-
lsh tretiches wuz, but we couldn’t see
' vau °f Dagoes. Y\ e kep a-puinp-
* n o elu > "*t * be bullets a-flyin
around above us, for all tbe world
like a 8 "' anri of hornets, whin Henry
shtuck his head up a bit to see what
be could see. Whist a bullet went
right along by the side o his face. It
didn’t touch him quite, but it burned
bbe a ledbcd blistei on the side o his
P klz '
“ ’Now,bad cess to the son of a gun
of a Spaniard that foiled that,’sez ’ee;
‘ if 0i ketch a sl S ht °’ him 0i ’ n P um P
’ im 80 ful1 °’ lead he won’t know what
knocked ’im into next week!’ Thim
wuz the first words he’d spoke since
* k e night afore. Well, he stood up,
l°i . ke a idjit, a-loadin his gnu. Just
then we see a Spaniard pop his head
U P> an whist! a bullet cut through
Henry’s hat.
“ neay got yez that time,
buuky,’ sez Oi.
“‘The nixt toime the wicked Span-
isb beggar shows his head,’ sez ’ee,
‘t)i . d ’im,’
sez ee.
“ ‘Oi’ll bet yez Oi hit him first,’ sez
t)i.
“ ‘What’ll you bet?’ sez ’ee, savage
loike.
“ ‘Oh, anything yez plase,’ sez Oi.
‘Half the month’s pay,’ sez Oi.
<< i Oi’ll take yez up,’ sez ’ee.
“So we shtood there a-waitin’, the
bot’ of us, for that Spaniard to. show
his head agin. Our guns wuz sighted
on the place we thought he’d appear,
you know, aud our fingers wuz on the
triggers. YVe waited in that same
2 iosition for two minutes, mayhap,
though it seemed like half an hour.
Finally, all a suddint, we see a head.
The very same moment I fired, aud
the son of a gun of a Spaniard dropped
down, picked sure enough that toime.
4 4 4 Begorra, bunky,’ sez Oi, ‘yez
owe me half tbe month’s pay,’sez Oi.
‘“The mischief, Oi do,’ sez’ee.
<0 i s b( ? t tbe 80 »° f a 8 un > “ eB ® b ’..
( 1 < That yon did not, sez Oi. Didn’t
Oi foire the very minute he showed
lusself, and didn t he fall down ot a
ka l 3e -' 1
44 4 What’s yez talkin’ about,’ sez
’ee. ‘Didn’t Oi foire tbe instant I see
him?’ sez ’ee.
ii i Alayliap yez foired,’ sez Oi, ‘but
’twas me that kilt’im, anyhow,’ sez
Oi.
< Ye loie, ye read-headed son of
an Oirishman,’ sez ’ee.
ii l What’s that,ye dirty blackguard,’
sez Oi. ‘Oi don’t take tbe loie from
auny wan, ’ sez Oi. ‘Come out o’ this
ditch and we’ll see who’s lyin’,’sez
Oi.
“Wit’ that the bot’ on us climb
out’n the trench, t’rew down our guns
and squared off. We had it hot for a
few minutes, the bullets a-flyin’
around, but niver touching wan of us.
Finally, Henry lauded wan alongside
of me face. It made me biling mad,
it did, and Oi forgot me tacties and
wint for him. Oi slugged him wan
on the tip o’ the jaw aud he went
down of a hape.
i t i Git up,’ sez Oi, foldin’ me arms,
‘and we’ll see who hit the Spaniard
first. ’
.. Henry jumped up and we went at
it agin. Begad, we drew more blood
out’n wan auitber iu them few minu-
tes thin the Spaniards did in the
whole war, but we didn’t decoide the
matther, for 2irisiutly a big sarjint come
along.
C( t What do you mane,’ sez ’ee ‘to
be afther foighting ache ither.. Brake
awav there,’ sez ’ee, knockin’ about
wit’ his gun b’twane us. ‘Git dowu
in the ditches there, and shoot the
Spaniards,’ sez ’ee.
“ We picked up our guns, shapish
loike, and jumped down into the
trench. The sarjint stood a moment
watclrin’ us, and thin he said:
44 4 If I catch you two mugs—’ He
niver said anything further thau that,
for just then a xnauser ball hit him in
the stomach and he were down in the
grass a-groanin’ and clutehin, and bit-
in’.
“Well, sir, we niver said anything
more about the dead Spaniard the rest
o’ the day. The enemy kep’ us pretty
busy till toward night, when we wuz
wit’drawu from the firin’ line, and
whin we got to our quarters we didn’t
give a raj) for nothin’, but to get some
shlape. It’s me private opinion, sir,
that we bot’ kilt that Spaniard, but
we’ve niver cared particular about
arguing the matther out-”
“Begorra, Henry, that’s a foiue fish
yez have there. Eighteen ciuts?
Begad, it’s dear, but it’s worth the
price to git a taste o’ say food. Oive
just been telling the gentleman about
our scrap down in Cuba.”
“I warrant you made yourself out a
reffiilar Fitzsimmons” said Henrv
“Sometime, sir, when he ain’t around
von you shall shall bear hear mv my sidp side of ot the the nfbiir utian. ”
—Walter Strong Edwards, in New
York Commercial Advertiser.
Generosity Among Soldiers.
The sight of the war cured the
writer of one notion—that the military
profession may tend to make those
who follow it brutal aud cruel. On
the contrary, it seems to make them
more generous and kind. It is not
to be supposed that it is war that
makes them so; it is probable that the
removal of the professional soldier
from the field of competition for exist¬
ence among independent workers and
“business men” leaves him little
chance to fall into that hungry and fox-
like instinctive hostility-No one’s fel-
lows that is developed by the social
struggle for existence. All soldiers,
whether officers or privates, seem to
be engaged, on the other hand, in a
kind of competition of generosity. It
is a great point with them—a kind of
invariable rule of conduct—to be
ready to share wbat they have with
others. This rule of generosity does
not, of course, save them from doing
cruel things occasionally. They have
not ordinarily a very delicate sensi¬
bility to one another’s pain; they do
not seem to waste much sympathy on
one another’s physical sufferings.
They bear their own without com-
plaiut, aud seldom ask favors when
they are suffering. But when it comes
to “grub” or shelter, they will give a
comrade, or even a stranger, better
than they have themselves, if they
possibly can. And the work of an
officer, even in the most active and
terrible campaigning, seems to be
easily consistent with the finest man¬
liness aud most delicate sympathy.
Aud yet we should not encourage war
in the expectation of cultivating fine
sentiments any more than we should
invite yellow fever epidemics simply
because a yellow fever epidemic de¬
velops fine cases of heroic self-sacri¬
fice.—Boston Transcript.
According to Promise.
“Can you build a bridge over this
washout strong enough to take a train
over,” asked the conductor, looking
at his watch, “in two hours?”
“I can, sir,” replied the section
boss.
“Then go ahead. ”
It was then two o’clock. At four
the conductor went down to inspect
the work
“How’s this?” he demanded.
“Didn’t you say you could build a
bridge in two hours that I could run
tki3 train-over?”
“No, sir,” responded could the section
boss. “I said I build a bridge
you could run the train over in two
hours. It ain’t none of my business
what you want to run so thundering
slow fo\ - , bnt I’m makin’ the bridge
all right. It’ll be done by tomorrow
mornin’.”—Chicago Tribune.
Tile Oldest Inventor.
Abner C.Goodel, aged ninety-three,
of Salem, Mass., is said to be the
oldest inventor in the United States.
He perfected the design of the first
printing press which printed on both
sides of a paper at once, and he also
discovered the process for preparing
steel and copper 2 >lates for engravers.
Later he helped build the first loco¬
motive for the Boston & Lowell rail¬
way. He worked on the first electric
motor ever constructed, which after¬
ward ran between Baltimore and
Washington, and on the first engine
lathe for the railroad repair shop.
PONDEROUS FLOWER.
The Blossom Weighs Fifteen Founds anti
Is a Yard Wide.
Among the marvellous plants that
the last century has made known none
is more reinarkuble than the huge par-
asite Eafflesia. It derives its name
from Sir Stamford Hallies, who in
1818 was governor of Beneoleeu, m
Sumatra. He was at one time oil a
tour of the island, accompanied by
Lady Rallies, Dr. Arnold and quite a
party of Europeans and natives. Sud-
denly they alighted upon a flower of
prodigious size and repulsive odor,
moro than pounds. a yard across, and weighing
fifteen Its color was a light
orange, mottled with yellowish white,
the whole thing livid and visited by
carrion insects. Later investigations
showed the plant to consist of flower
alone, directly parasitic on a species
of cissus. It never has stem or leaves
of its own. The famous Robert Brown
bestowed the name on the plant RafHe-
sia Arnoldi, commemorating thus the
titles of both discoverers. Several
species are now known, differing much
in size, but little in essentials. Their
eutire S rowth occll P ies bnt a few
mo “ tl f’ They first appear as knoblike
protuberances protruding from tbe
Lark o£ val . ioua species of cissus. The
flowers remain expanded only a few
days, then becoming a disgusting mass
of putritiym As in the similar case
of one well-known carrion flower, the
insects, attracted by the odor, also
assist in the pollination. These par¬
asites flower at a different time from
the host plants, thus making their own
blossoms more prominent. They have
been cultivated in various botanic
gardens, especially in tbe East.
This plant is among the giant flow¬
ers ranking in size with the great
water lily of the Amazons, and with
some of the huge tropical avoids. A
pea-flower in Trinidad is said to "be
several feet in leugth, its banner, or
upper petal, beingalone one foot long.
The range from these titans to the al¬
most invisible flower of tbe water star-
wort is tremendous, but the little is
fashioned as carefully as the great.
Nature leaves no corner unfinished
for the reason that it is minute.—
Providence Journal.
The Kuzzacoti Field Oven.
Our war department, in spite of the
example set by European armies, be¬
lieves and clings to the plan of carry¬
ing rations in bulk, with the neces¬
sary ovens, pots and pans for quick
cooking in camp. To that eud it sup¬
plies the regiment with company out¬
fits of the Buzzacott ovens, and the
, , are doing . . the ,, same „ tor their .
militia. Massachusetts tor a long time
has hud ready the full complement ol
these ovens, and it was the work of a
moment to send the regiments out
ready for camp life.
The Buzzacott oven is a most in¬
genious contrivance, composed of a
nest of sheet iron pans, with boilers
and roasting racks. It is 3 feet long,
2 feet broad aud 14 inches thick,
weighing 175 pounds.
On inarch the Buzzacott oven serves
as a crate, enclosing all tbe necessary
utensils—thirty-five in number-for
cooking for seventy-live men. The
utensils are specially hand made to
permit the rough and constant usage
incidental to geld service. In camp
the oven disgorges the supplementary
a 2 rparatus, aud transforms itself into
a skeleton stove. It has three large
colla 2 >sible boilers, by the aid of which
it can cook fifteen hams together, or
one barrel of soup. Otherwise em-
ployed, it can prepare at one time 55
pounds of bread, 200 pounds of roast
meat or fisb - or 90 P ound8 of ve S e ‘
tables aud puddings American Kit-
cbeu Magazine.
Veteran Working Implements.
G. C. Barton of Brownsville, Mo.,
has a scythe snath that he has used
every haying season for forty-five
years, and it is in good condition now.
He also has a cart built iu 1839, aud a
2 )air of wheels built the same season,
the tires of which have never been
reset, and do not need it. While Mr.
Barton was telling this he was sitting
on a little bench, built over a hundred
years ago, such as the blacksmiths of
that date usetl to sit upon to straighten
uails.—New York Tribune.
The New Photography.
A young man in New York city has
invented a process whereby photo¬
graphs can’be developed inbroad day-
light. This revolutionizes the 2 ^°-
ture-taking art. No more dark room
and red light, no chemistry. " The
greenest amateur, ri-ith only brains
enough to sna 2 » his camera at a barn,
may now develop his own plates.
NO. 4!>,
A CROWING STONE.
A Maine Curiosity That Cargo Sums of
Money Fall to Huy.
The most interesting thing I saw
down in Maine, writes W. E. Curtis,
was a growing stone that belongs to
h. H. Hammond of Smith’s Cove,near
Winter Harbor,and lies upon a granite
pos t beside tbe steps that lead to his
frontdoor. It is egg-shaped and of
perfect symmetry, with the exception
that it is somewhat flattened upon the
side which rested upon the ground,
Thirty years ago or more, William
Hammond, a brother of H. K., who
now lives in San Francisco, picked up
this remarkable stone upon the edge
0 f fho cove. He was then a boy ten
years old, aud was attracted by its
regular shape and smooth surface,
which contains a good deal of mica
shist and sparkles in the sun as if it
had been sprinkled with diamond dust.
The boy took the stone home in his
pocket, for it was very small in com¬
parison with its present size, and
could have been easily slipped into a
quart cup. He played with it in the
yard for several years, and it lay upon
the mantelpiece in the house during
the winter months, but .as he grew
older be lost interest lilacUsl, in tile'plaything
and it rolled under a beside
tlie front door. There it remained for
fifteen years or so. WliAu young
Hammond returned from San Fran-
cisco he recognized it, but was niuub ’
astonished to find that it had increased
in size anil weight to a most remark¬
able degree. When he was a child,
as I said, he carried the stone in his
pocket. When he recovered it, as a
inau, it was larger than the crown of
a stovepipe hat and weighed at least
twelve or fifteen pounds more than
when he saw it last. H. H. Hammond
became so much interested in the
phenomenon that he removed it from
the ground beneath the lilatTbush.and
placed it upon the granite step at the
right of his front door, where the sun
rests upon it the greater part of the
day.
Shortly after it was placed there,
about six years ago, Mr. Hammond
got the meat pedler to put it on his
scales, andjts weight was forty-one
pounds, pencil which was ijiarjmd jyth a
upon the stone itself with the
date. Threqyears later it had grown
to fifty pounds. On the 12th day of
May last the stone was weighed again
by the same scales and tipped the
beam at sixty-five pounds. Mr. Ham¬
mond then made a series of measure¬
ments and will preserve them for
future comparison. The circumfer¬
ence of the stone by tape measure, the
longest way, is three feet two and one-
third inches, while at the widest part
the narrow way it is two feet four and
one-half inches.
Mr. Hammond is a respectable
farmer, is a deacon in the Baptist
church, and was born in the house
where he lives. Even if he did net
have so high a “reputation for truth
and veracity” the facts about the
growing stone have been known to
everybody in the neighborhood ever
since young Hammond came back
from California and found it under tbe
lilac bush. Mr. Hammond has been
offered large sums of money for the
curiosity, but will not part with it for
any price.
A Fly-Catching Scheme.
“Joe, I’m sadly afraid you have
been idling about in my absence,”
said a young and clieutless solicitor,
just returned from his honeymoon, to
his office boy. “This typewriter hasn’t
been touched the whole time.”
“Indeed, sir, I was working it only
two hours ago,” replied the lad.
“Then how comes it that a spider
has spun a web across its keys?”
asked the solicitor, pointing to a
flimsy network which almost covered
the keyboard.
“Why, sir, I caught that spider and
put him there myself,” exjdainpd the
boy, after a scarcely 2ierceptible pause.
“There’s a fly buzzing nbout in tbe
works of the typewriter, and aS I
1 didn’t want to take the machine to
pieces to get at it, I thought the
spider dodge would serve, You let
him alone sir, and that fly will be
trapped in no time.”—Pearson's
Weekly.
Hogs That Never Hark,
There are three varieties of dogs
that never bark—the Australian dog,
the Egyptian shepherd dog aud the
“lion-headed” dog of Thibet.
Elephants have only eight teeth—•
two below and two above on each
side. An elephant’s “baby teeth” fall
out when the animal is about fourteen
years old, aud a new - set grows.