Newspaper Page Text
TIIE PEYTON KINSHIP
A REALISTIC STOUY OF i'ilE VVAIi BV FILL
MORE PEARSON.
[CopyHpht, 1805, by’;he Author.]
During the early winter of 1864, on a
chilly, lowering day, in one of the main
streets of Petersburg, Va., stood a rough, I
ragged, wretched, desperate looking
crowd of men, who naturally drew the
attention of paseersby, many of them
Weil dressed women. They were prison
ers who hud been coniined in Castle
Thunder, near the more notorious Libby
prison, in Richmond, and were on their
way to Salisbury, N. C.. where rascals
generally and dangerous characters |
were sent as to a kind of military peni- |
tentiary. They were, indeed, a sorry lot,
made up of deserters, thieves, maraud- |
ers, ruffians, the riffraff of both armies,
without patriotism or principle of any- 1
kind, who sought war as a cover for |
their iniquities.
Some of them were handcuffed, and i
some wore balls and chains, to prevent
their escape, as they were evidently ac
counted desperadoes. One of these did
not look the character at all. He had a
noi iccable face, distinguished, if not
handsome, brown hair, gray, luminous
eyes, harmonious features and a deem- I
od air. He was slender, rather tall, well
knit, apparently about 20. How did he
happen to be in such company? He cer
tainly oould not be a vulgar criminal.
Had he not got among those scoundrels
by mistake? But, see, he was hand
cuffed. Who was he and what had he
done?
Such questions and comments passed
from lip to lip as the throng in the
street swept by. The contrast between
him and his mates forced itself on ev-
SHE LOOKED AT HIM ONCE MORE.
erybody’s attention. He was as soiled
and tattered as they, but the man seem
ed to be of another world The better
sort of women were visibly curious.
They had no sympathy with him. He
was “an odious Yankee,” “a Lincoln
hireling,” “a thieving abolitionist,”
anyhow (the southern women were very
bitter against their northern enemies),
but he could not be such a vile wretch
as the rest of them. Who could give any
information about him?
Miss Virginia Peyton, who had come
down from Richmond that very day on
a visit to some of her friends, and who,
as her name indicated, was a Virginian
of the Virginians, was much struck, as
she passed, by the young man’s appear
ance and still more by his fellowship.
She was a secessionist to the core in
evitably and most passionate in her
hatred, as she put it, of the invaders of
her state. She was just 19, had a great
local reputation for beauty and charm
and was without exaggeration a very
pretty, clever girl, exceedingly high
strung and “aristocratic.” Her interest
in the hostile stranger was increased,
in spite of her sectional aversion, by
something in his face and manner that
seemed familiar. Where could she have
seen him? She glanced at him again and
again as she stood there unobserved
and felt that she might have liked him
if he had not been a detestable Yankee.
“Liked him?” her mind echoed back to
her. “Impossible, absurd. As if I could
do anything but loathe the barbarians
that are laying waste the proud homes
of my ancestors. ” And she looked at
him once more with a flash in her eye.
The thought that sympathy might have
suggested the feeling that she had seen
him before never occurred to her.
The object of all this curiosity qpd
comment meanwhile showed no sign of
shame or humiliation. He returned ev
ery glance defiantly, and a mocking
smile played round his lips. His shac
kles plainly could not fetter his proud
spirit. His mind dominated the situa
tion. Suoh an expression as his was not
consistent with baseness or dishonor.
This thought was speedily conveyed to
the consciousness of the Virginia girl,
who was resolved to learn something
about him. She asked in a low tone a
Confederate lieutenant guarding the
prisoners about that particular man, in
dicating him, and learned that he was a
Captain Barbour of a New York cavalry
regiment, who had a very bad record
and was suspected of being a spy, though
sufficient evidence of his guilt was still
lacking. It was believed that he had
robbed women, burned houses and com
mitted murder.
“That cannot be,” exclaimed she in
dignantly. “He must have been con
founded with somebody else. Any one
of those other fellows might have done
those things, but he never. Oh, never!”
The name of Barbour, not uncommon
in Virginia, had illuminated her brain
with the idea that the captain was re
motely connected with her family. She
was perfectly acquainted, like so many
people of her state, with her genealog
ical tree, having studied it often, and
she knew that thore was a branch of the
Barbours, who had intermarried with
the Peytons, in New York state as well
as in New Jersey. Clannish to the core
and a believer in blood to a point of su
perstition, the mere similarity of the
name explained to her the cause of her
mysterious sympathy with the prodigal
accused captain. She would have
sworn that he was foully wronged.
While she was still gazing in his direc
tion the band of prisoners was ordered
forward, and as he i toved toward the
adjacent Weldon railway station his eye
met hers, and the effect was mutually
electric. “That is nature’s disclosure,”
she said mentally. “Taut man is my
kinsman.”
In a few minutes the train rolled
away. “He has gone, but something
tells me that destiny will yet bring us
together. ”
******
On her return to Richmond she caused
numberless inquiries to be instituted—
her family had great and wide influence
—concerning Captain Barbour, whose
Christian name proved to be Sydney.
The many charges against him were be
lieved in the south, and he had narrow
ly escaped hanging. But she was so
firmly convinced of their falsity that by
a vigorous search into his antecedents it
was rendered wholly probable, especial
ly as he was known to bo of excellent
family, that he had been made respon
sible for the sius, much exaggerated, of
a Captain Barber of a Pennsylvania cav
alry regiment, who had boen killed sev
eral months before in an engagement on
the Chickahominy.
As soon as so mnch was ascertained
Captain Barbour was allowed, through
her importunity, the benefit of the
doubt, and orders were sent to the com
mandant at Salisbury, N. C., to mitigate
the hardship of his captivity. But when
the orders arrived he had escaped, no one
knew how. He had not been missed un
til the evening roll call. Every one of
his prison acquaintances was delighted at
the news, for he was known there to be
a gallant, noble fellow, and the Bevere
treatment he had received had brought
him much sympathy. Grave apprehen
sion was felt for his life, as there was
small chanca of his getting over the
mountains during the harsh winter, and
his intimates felt sure that he had suf
fered too much to allow himself to be
retaken.
The captain had slipped by the guard
at night in a disguise he hud somehow
secured and had started on his solitary
march for Strawberry Plains, where a
Federal garrison was protecting the
bridge over the Holston river. He got
beyond Statesville, some 40 miles from
the prison, procuring food from the ne
groes and hiding in barns and hayricks
by day. But he had grown so weak from
months of confinement, bad air and
scanty, wretched provisions that he
could travel no farther. He was well
nigh exhausted. At this juncture, as he
was, about dawn, creeping for shelter in
to a deserted cabin mar the rough coun
try road, he saw a saddle horse tied to a
sapling, thus presenting unexpected
means of farther flight. As it was no
time to consider the rights of property,
he jumped on and rode off at a brisk
pace toward the west.
Within two hours lie was conscious of
pursuit. He could hear hoofs in the rear,
Hud the faint cries of men, who ap
peared to be well mounted, while his
own animal was inferior and jaded.
They gained on him rapidly. They
called to him to halt. He was unwill
ing to be captured again, vividly re
membering he penalties of capture, and
feverish, half delirious, he pushed on,
wildly tbiuking he might yet elude his
pursuers. They fired on him. The bul
lets whistled by bis ears. He urged bis
poor beast to the utmost, and the next
moment he fell from his seat uncon
scious, though not before the words,
“We’ve killed the and and Yankee
thief!” reached his fainting sense.
Then and there Sydney Barbour vir
tually died. He afterward spoke of the
events of that day as the close of one
life and of the beginning of another,
which he die not realize for two months.
When fully restored to himself, ho
was lying in a comfortable bed in a well
furnished room, the breath of the early
spring coming into the slightly lifted
window. A trim, neatly attired colored
woman sat at his side, and a little
farther off a very attractive young wom
an reading, who appeared to be her
mistress. Everything was strange to
him. Where was he? The surroundings
were so delightfully different from the
scenes of camp, battle, prison, in which
he had passed nearly four years, that he
imagined he had been transferred to a
new world. He essayed to speak, but
could scarcely command voice. Then
the young woman arose, and approacli-
■' I
THE NEXT MOMENT HE FELL FROM nIS SEAT.
ing the beside laid her soft hand on his
and said in a low, singularly sweet
voice: “Cousin Sydney, please be silent
You have been very ill. You are much
better now, but your complete recovery,
With which I am charged, depends on
your keeping quiet. Be loyal to your
burse. ” And she put her finger on her
lips and smiled.
“Where am I?” he half articulated.
“Who are you?” And just then a dim
ray of recognition fell on his clouded
consciousness.
“Ask nothing. You shall know all in
due time. Yon are with good friends.
You must sleepmure. ” And slieslipped
out of the room.
In another fortnight he was compara
tively strong. He learned that he was
in the house of Colonel Whaley Peyton
in Richmond, who held a command in
the city, while his son was on the staff
of General Fitz-Hugh Lee. His daugh
ter had tali on care of him, having
THE TIMES: BRUNSWICK, GA, SUNDAY MORNING. APRIL 25, 1896.
cl: ..;cd him as her rawly discovered!
cousin as soon as too hud read in the
newspapers of hishu.ing hoc-n danger
ously wounded and captured at States
ville. Through tho Peyton connection
and on the ground of kinship he was re
moved from the military hospital to the
colonel’s home, the change being re
garded as essential to the saving of his
life. The captain had been so much of
the time delirious that eight or nine
weeks wmre a mental blank. He was de
lighted to have discovered so charming
a cousin, but it must be admitted that
he esteemed the relation to be apocry
phal. He told her frankly on leaving
her father’s house that he owed her his
life, but that it had already been conse
crated to bis country, and that he must
rejoin the army.
“Do your duty as you seo it,” she
said. “I have been interested in you as
my kinsman wholly. Tim Peytons count
blood as the strongest of bonds. Our po
“I FEAIi 1 AM NOT YOUR COUSIN.”
litical enmity cannot sever our cousin
ship. After the war we shall be glad, if
we live, to welcome you again to our
hospitality.” She had greatly expand
ed in the last three months.
The war ended suddenly, as wo know,
a few weeks subsequent to that inter
view. Captain Barbour entered Rich
mond soon after Jefferson Davis and his
suit had abandoned it and aided with
his command in securing order in tho
blazing and distracted capital. He placed
a guard in the Peyton mansion, having
found Virginia pale, but calm, the pic
ture of tranquil despair.
He said to her: “Virginia, in the ab
sence of your brother and father, I can
better offer you protection if you will bo
my wife. I fear lam not your cousin.
But I love you devotedly, more than a
thousand cousins could. After all you
have done for me you must care for mo.
Don’t you?”
Ho stretched out his arms, and she fell
into them all passion and tears. Be
tween her sighs she said : “Cousinsbip
was the artifice of love. I prefer you in
finitely as a husband. Oh, my darling!”
And their first embrace was taken amid
the crackling of flames and the explosion
of shells—the true accompaniment of
war.
*M9R
GENERAL J. B. GORDON.
Instantaneous Deaths in llattle.
The fact that a man is down and out
of the fight is about all that friend or
foe can take account of for the time be
ing. It is reasonable to suppose, how
ever, that some deaths are instantaneous,
the men being literally killed in action.
One such case 1 had an opportunity to
study with unusual care at Fort Has
kell, in the Fort Stedman battle, in
front of Petersburg. The action there
was defensive on our part, the scene
very small and the fight prolonged,
hence many things were observed that
would escape notice on an open field.
At one time, just in front of me, as I
looked toward the enemy, there was a
soldier of our garrison firing liis musket
from a gun staging, that raised his head
and shoulders above the parapet. He
was the oldest man I ever saw in battle,
and for that reason, doubtless, I ob
served him closely. His hair was white
and his form had reached the stage of
unsteadiness. He fired very slowly, and
after each shot ho would scan the en
emy’s lines as though watching the re
sult of his last ball or spying out a tar
get for the next.
Finally when I had my attention al
most wholly on him ho half turned to
reload, and I saw his cap fly off smartly
without any visible help, and the large
and bony frame shrunk together and
sank down into a heap. There was no
spasm, no agitation, whatever. It seem
ed to me that he simply sat down slowly
until he rested on his legs bent under the
body, his head going down to iiis knee or
to the trail of the cannon. A little
stream of blood ran from his forehead
and made a pool on the plank, and this
blood reached the plank about the time
that his frame settled down motionless.
From the time that his hat flew off
until the blood appeared on the stag
ing and the motionless body caused me
to say, “He is dead,” could not have
been more than thirty seconds, and prob
ably was about twenty. The fatal hall
had penetrated the left temple, or near
it. This was the only case that 1 t ier
saw where a man was killed “.so quickly
that he never knew what hit him,” as
the saying is.—Hew York Sun.
‘ MEMORIAL DAY.
Its Observance Iteealls Crave Deeds and
Lvokirt Lofty Sentiment*.
On Memorial day, wherever a soldier
of the late war sleeps the sleep that
knows no waking, comrades or relatives
will strew flowers above him and other
wise commemorate his valiant deeds.
The Grand Army ■posts will hold public
services, and eloquent orators will recall
in glowing language tbe deeds and sacri
fices of tho days and times in which near
ly every household in tbe land was rep
resented upon the battlefields of the na
tion.
It was a happy thought that fixed the
day in which the gallant dead of the
great conflict to preserve tbe Union
might be fittingly commemorated, and
it was a still more happy inspiration
that selected the day in tbe very heart of
the season of flowers, when all nature is
clothed in resurrection robas. It wa3
still more fitting that this day of com
memoration should be made a holiday,
so that all might participate in its exer
cises. Nothing more inspires the patriot
ism and lovo of country essential to
maintenance of a free government in
the living than recalling the brave deeds
of the heroic dead, and Memorial day is
scarcely second to the Fourth of July as
a day iu which the patriotism of the ex
isting generation ms y-bs! -Ktirunbited.
But in a wider sense even than as a
day for recalling the deeds of the heroic
dead has Memorial day come to be cele
brated. The planting of flowers upon
the soldiers’ graves turned all men’s
thoughts to the dead, and now nearly
everybody remembers tlieir dead on that
day. Flowers will be planted today upon
the grave of the child that was "buried
but yesterday as well as upon that of its
grandfather, who fell at Gettysburg or
in the Wilderness. A whole nation will
remember its dead of all ages and con
ditions today and in the most fitting way
typify by the planting of flowers at the
threshold of summer that resurrection
which a Christian faith teaches will be
the future experience of ail the dead.—
Philadelphia Times.
The Second United States Cavalry,
It is doubtful If any other one regiment
furnished an equal number of distin
guished officers during tho civil war.
Among the officers were Albert Sidney
Johnston, colonel; Robert E. Lee, lieuten
ant colonel; William J. Hardee, brevet
lieutenant colonel; George H. Thomas,
major. Rob#c E. Lee and A. S. Johnston
became generals in the Confederate army,
and Hardee became lieutenant general.
Thomas became a distinguished general
in tho Federal army. Among tho captains
were Earl Van Dorn, E. Kirby Smith and
N. G. Evans, all of whom became generals
in the Confederate army. I. N. Palmer,
Goorgo Stonenmn and R. \Y. Johnson held
the Kune positions in the Union army.
Among the subalterns John B. Hood,
Charles W. Field, Chambliss and Phifer
became southern generals, and H. Garrard
and others attained the same place in the
northern army. Captain Evans left the
United States service before Colonel Rob
ert E. Lee did, and when they parted at
Fort Mason, Xex., Colonel Lee said: “I’m
sorry to give you up, Evans. Don’t know
what may h. >pen before we meet again.
Perhaps they’ll make you a general.”
JOSEPH WHEELER.
Sted Clieht Protectors.
As recently as our civil war no man
would dare let it he known that he wore
a bullet proof garment of any kind. I
myself once sa w in an abandoned camp
a wornout waistcoat that had a steel lin
ing. It had been kicked and battered
apparently by the troops that had occu
pied the camp, and the troops who came
on to the same spot picked it up, and it
was passed about for nspection as a cu
riosity. with an unceasing expression of
contenjpt for the coward who would
wear such protection. An analysis of
this feeling would probably show that it
had its origin in the circumstance that it
was worn secretly, and that such excep
tional protection was considered an un
fair advantage over comrades who expos
ed their unprotected bodies to tlie death
storm of battle. Sure it was that no
man on either side had aught to say
against the knights of the age of cnival
ry, who went about clad in armor from
head to foot and were held in memory
as paragons of bravery.—Louisville Cou
rier-Journal.
Briii£ Your Karcat Flower*.
Bring all your rarest flowers, and weave them
well.
Or fling them broadcast o’er the modest
graves
That hold unwritten histories ’neath their
swell.
Like hidden treasures under ocean waves.
-Ellen Hardin Walworth in Washington L j vjL
Tribute to Dari*.
“Other leaders have had their tri
t m >hs, conquerors have won crowns
and honors have been piled oil the vic
tors of earth’s great battles, but never
yet, sir, came man to more loving peo
ple. Never conqueror wore prouder
iiiudein than the deathless Jove that
crowns your grey hairs today. Never
king inhabited more splendid palace than
the millions of brave hearts in which
your dear name and fame are forever
enshrined.”—Henry Grady, ISSO.
‘•No North, No South.**
*‘l would to God we could today for
get every bad feeling engendered by the
war, that we might live in peace and
affection, and march hand in haud,
shoulder to shoulder, no north and no
south, in pursuit of one common, great
and glorious object—the prosperity of
our common country.’’—General Pierce
M. B. Young, 1889.
•ENERAL STEPHEN D. LIZ3.
Death of General Le.
“As the old hero lay in the darkened
room, or with the lamp and hearth fire
casting shadows upon his calm, noble
front, all the massive grandeur of his
form and face and brow remained, auu
death seemed to lose its terrors and to
borrow a grace and dignity in sublime
keeping with the life that was ebbing
away. The great mind sank to its last
repose almost with the equal poise of
health. The few broken utterances
that evinced at times a wandering in
tellect were spoken under the influence
of the remedies administered; but as
long as consciousness lasted there was
evidence that all the high controlling
influences of his whole life still ruled;
and even when stupor was laying its
cold hand on the intellectual perceptions
the moral nature, with its complete orb
of duties and affections, still asserted it-,
self. A southern poet has celebrated in
song those last significant words, ‘Strike
the tent,’ and a thousand voices were
raised to give meaning to the uncertain
sound when the dying man said, with
emphasis, ‘Tell Hill he must, come up. ’
These sentences serve to show most
touchingly through what fields the
imagination was passing; but generally
his words, though few, were coherent,
and for the most part his silence was
unbroken. ” —William Preston Johnston.
Inauguration of Jefferson Davis.
As the hour of noon approached an
immense procession was formed, and
to the music of fife, drum and artillery
it moved toward the capitol building.
On the platform awaiting the arrival of
Mr. Davis were the members of con
gress, the president of that body, the
governor of Alabama and committees
and a number of other distinguished
persons. Round after round of cheers
greeted Mr. Davis’ arrival. After being
seated on the platform, the Rev. Dr.
Manley arose and offered a deeply im
pressive prayer. President Davis then
arose and read his inaugural address.
Then turning, he placed one baud upon
the Bible, and with the other uplifted,
ho listened to the oath. His face was
upturned and reverential in expression.
At the conclusion of the oath, in sol
elm, earnest voice, he exclaimed: “So
help me God!” He lowered his head in
tears, and hundreds wept as they viewed
the solemn scene. Thus was officially
launched upon a tempestuous political
sea the confederate ship of state.—Con
federate War Journal.
Without tlie Picture.
During “Stonewall’s” brilliant cam
paign in the Shenandoah valley it be
came necessary that a bridge over a
small creek should be built in groat
haste. One evening Jackson sent for
his old pioueer captain, Myers by name,
and pointed out to him the urgency of
the occasion, saying that he would send
him the plan of his colonel of engineers
as soon as it was done. Next morning
Jackson rode down to Captain Myer’s
quarters, and saluting the veteran, said:
“Captain, did you get the plau of the
bridge from Colonel ?” “Well,”
said the captain, “the bridge, general,
is built, but I don’t know whether the
picture is done or not. ”
SIMON B. BUCKNER.
General OfHcera of the Confederate Army.
There were in the confederate ser
vice one commander in chief, seven
generals, 19 lieutenant generals, 84 ma
jor generals. 313 brigadier generals.
The commander in chief and seven full
generals are dead. Of the lieutenant
generals the following six only are liv
ing: Stephen D. Lee, Starkville, Miss.;
James Longstreet, Gainesville, Ga.; Si
mon B. Buckner. Frankfort, Ky.; Jo
seph Wheeler, Wheeler, Ala.; Wade
Hamilton, Columbia, S. C.; John B.
Gordon, Atlauta, Ga.
AFTER APPOMATTOX.
It was April w°".iher. Softly the raffling air,
With subtle and vital touch, set blossoma ev
erywhere;
Daisies dappled the grass; all the apple trees
Stood brave in bridal bloom for their lover
honeybees;
Tho matins of the fairies tho chiming bluebells
rang,
Acd the clf of ; he fronded fern uncurled, and
the grass sprite upward sprang.
And through his coral clarion tho trumpeter
woodbine
Throughout the land reveille blew to laggard
leaf and vine.
Tho Southland, waste and weary,
With all but honor lost,
Heard singing trumpets blare defeat
From mountain top to coast.
“Bewail 1 Bewail!** the trumpets sang,
“Bewail a nation dead!
Ashes and dust your swelling hopel
Your quick come glory fled!
Fold up, fold up the starry cross,
The meteor of fight
A world hath watched with bated breath
Through all its burning flight.
No more In shock of battle joined
Its light shall gleaming shino
To lead to victory or death
A steady thin gray line.
Weep, Southland! Weep your ravagod fields,
Your homes all desolate,
Your fat lands, scarred by war’s red scathe—
Weep all your piteous fate I
But smile above your happy dead.
Your martyrs truly bloat—
They fought and f*ll while hope was high—
Asleep in your soft breast,
Nor dreams may come, nor heartbreak touch.
And to your latest age
Your constant heart shall keep their names
Writ on its clearest page.*’ ~
Through the April weather's heartbreak,
The April weather’s peace,
Past mountains steep as black despair,
Through flowery vales of ease,
Mocked by the liquid sunshine,
Tho lilt of nesting birds,
The men in gray went straggling horn®
With grief beyond all words.
Still In each heart there echoed
The beat of the last tattoo,
And still they thrilled to the last wild charg®
Tho Southland bugles blew.
Paroled! At large! It was all a dream
Whoso marvel might not cease.
The good fight fought, the good tight lost.
How boar a vacant peace?
_—Martha McCul!#h Williams.
i
GEN. LONGEST HE hT.
An Artillc-rylnan’s lira very.
“During the civil war,” said Major
Thomas McWilliams, a gray haired vet
eran of the Confederate army, “I saw an
act of bravery of one of the Union sol
diers that I will remember as lorn.-, as I
live. It occurred at Leesburg, where
the regiment I belonged to was then sta
tioned. On the 2lst of October, 1801, a
brigade of General McClellan’s troops,
numbering nearly 2,000, was thrown
across the Potomac at this point. With
out proper support or a chance to make
their escape, they were attacked by our
troops and driven to the river. Colonel
Baker, their leader, was killed, with fully
800 of his men.
“In that retreat the act of bravery,
which showed a love of the stars and
stripes that I can never forget, occurred.
The bank was steep and covered with
underbrush, which made it difficult for
the artillery to save their guns. We
were in full pursuit and firing rapidly.
One of their cannon became entangled
fn some gnarled roots, and the gunner,
seeing no means of escape except by
abandoning his piece, faced squarely
about, and laying one hand on his gun,
caught the regimental flag from the en
sign who was fleeing past, flung it
abroad and stood facing our advancing
column. The cry of ‘Don’t fire’ ran
along our lines, hut too late, the fatal
bullet had already sped, and the gallant
soldier fell dead beside his cannon.”—St.
Louis Globe-Democrit.
Empty Honor.
1 During the war a man, great in his
own eyes, was, by some influence, ap
pointed a brigadier general. His sense
of his own importance was greatly in
creased. Ho could hardly speak of any
thing else but liis new dignity. Meeting
a “homespun” Yankee one day he ac
costed him thus: “Well, Jim, I suppose
you know I have been appointed a briga
dier general?” “Yes,” said Jim, “I heerd
so.” “Well, what do folks say about it?”
“They don’t say nothin’,” replied James;
"they just laugh.”—Exchange.
Over Their Graven.
Over their graves rang once the bugle’s call;
The searching shrapnel and the crashing ball;
The shriek, the shock of battle and the neigh
Of horse; the cries of anguish and dismay.
And the loud cannon’s thunders that appall.
Now through the yoars the brown pine needlesi
fall.
The vinos run riot by the old stone wall.
By hedge, by meadow streamlet, far away.
Over their graves!
We love our dead where'er so held in thrall—
Than they no Greek more bravely died, nor;
Gaul.
A love that*'- deathless! But they look today'
With no reproaches on us when we say,
"Come, let its clasp your hands—we’re broth
ers all,”
Over their graves!
—Henry Jerome Stockard.
The Death Kail.
The following distinguished veteraus
passed away since last Memorial day:
May 24, 1896—General John Echols, in
Stanton, Ya.
June 25, 1800 —General Gustavus W.
Smith, in New York city.
July 2, 189(1—General A. R. Lawton,
at Clifton Springs sanitarium; aged 78.
July 6, 189(1 —General Pierce M. B.
Young, in New York city; aged 57.
Aug. 3, 189(1—General R. E. Colston,
in Richmond; aged 71.
Feb. 13, 1897 —General Joe Shelby, in
Adrian, Mo.; aged (id.
Oar Hero c Dead.
A king once said, of n pvince struck down:
“Taller he seems in death!
And this sneeeh holds true, for now as then
’Tis after death that we measure men,
And as mists of the past are rolled away,
Our heroes, who died in their tattered gray,
Brow taller and greater in all their parts
’Till they fill our minds as they fill our hearts,
And for those who lament there is this belief:
That glory silo by the side of grief.”
—J. BALUtOX HoPlfl.
3