The Eaton Democrat. (Eaton, Ohio) 1875-1903, 1880-08-19

at S3, Oil muskets, which, as 1t was,
never left Belgium. So much for my
treading into that blessed piece of wire
on the shelf of the cedar closet, up
stairs.
"What was the bit of wire ?"
Well, it was not telegraph wire. If it
had been, it would have broken when it
was not wanted to. Don't you know
what it was? Go up In your own cedar
closets, and step about in the dark, and
see what brings up about your ankles.
Julia, poor child, cried her eyes out
about it. When got well enough to
get up, and as soon as could talk and
plan with her, she. brought down seven
of these old things -Belmontes, simplex
.eliptics and horrors without name
and she made pile of them in the bed
room, and asked me, in the most peni-
tent way, what she should do with them.
"You can't burn them," she said /;
"fire won't touch them. If you bury
them in the garden they come up at the
second raking. IF you give them to the
servants they say 'Thank-e, missus,
and throw them in the back passage.
If you give them to the poor, they
throw them into the street in front, and
do not say sThank-e.' Sarah sent sew
enteen over to the sword factory, and
the foreman swore at the boy and told
him he would fog him within an inch
of his life if he brought any more of his
the poor child, "I just rolled up these
wretched things, and put them in the
cedar closet, hoping, you know, that
some day the Government would want
something, and would advertise for them.
You know what good thing I made out
of the bottle corks."
In fact, she had sold our bottle corks
for 81, ,216 of the first issue. We after
ward bought two umbrellas and q cork
screw with the money.
Well, / did not scold Julia. It was
certainly no fault of hers that I was
walking on the lower shelf of her cedar
closet. told her to make a parcel OF
the things, and the first time we went to
ride I hove the whole shapeless heap
into the river, without saying mass for
them.
But let no man think, or no woman
that this was the end of the troubles
As I look back on that winter, and or
the spring of 1855, it seems to me only
the beginning. got out on crutches a.
last had the Office transferred to my
house, SO that Lafarge and Hepburn
could work there at night and communi
cate with me when I could not go out
but mornings I hobbled up to the de
partment, and sat with the chief, anG
took his orders. All me shall / soo1
forget that damp winter morning, wher
we all had such hope at the Office? Ont
the window as they ran past, and VIZ
knew that they felt well; and, though
would not ask Old Wick-as we nick
named the chief-what was In the wind
I knew the time had come, and that tn,
lion meant to break the net this time
I made an excuse to go home earlier thai
usual rode down to the house in thu
Majors ambulance, I remember, ant
hoped in to surprise Julia with thu
good news, only to find that the Who'll,
house was In quiet uproar. which show
that something bad has happened of
sudden.
"What is it, Chloe?" said I, as tn
old wench rushed by me with buckle
of water.
"Poor Mr.. George, I 'fraid he's dead
sah.
And there he really was, dear, hand
some, bright George Schaff-the delgh
of all the incest girls of Richmond; b
lay there on Aunt Eunice's bed on tn
ground floor, where they had brough
him in. He was not dead, and he di
not die. He is making cotton in Texa
now. But he looked mighty near ik
it then. The deep cut in his head wa
the worst I ever had seen, and the bio,
confused everything. When McGrego
cot round he i said it was not hopeless
but we were turned out of the room, and
with one thing and another. he got tn
boy out of the swoon, and it proved hi
head was not broken.
No, but poor George swears to thi
day it was better it had been, if it coul
only have been broken In the right way
and on the right field. For that ever
ing we heard that everything had gon
wrong in the surprise. There we ha
been waiting for one of those early fog'
and at last the fog had come. And Jubi
Early had that morning pushed OF
every man he had that could stand, an
they lay hid for three mortal hour
within I don't know how near the pickt
line at Fort Powhatan, only waiting fl
the shot which John Streight's part
was to fire at Wilson's wharf, as soon {
somebody ON our left center advance
in force on the enemy's line above Tu
key island, stretching across to Mans,
mond. I am not in the War Depar
ment, and forget whether he was
advance en- barbette or by echelon of il
fantry. But he was to advance som
how, and he knew how: and when
advanced, as you see, that other ms
lower down was to rush in, and as SOC
as Early heard him he was to surprii
Powhatan, you see; and then, if yc
have understood me, Grant and Butl
and the whole rig of them would ha'
been cut off from their supplies, wou
| have had to fight battle for which tht
were not prepared, with their right MAJ
, into new left, and their old left une,
pectedly advanced at an oblique ang
{ from their center and would not tn
| have been the end of them?
Well, that never happened. And Il
reason it never happened was that Pc
5 George Schaff, with the last fatal ord
for this man, whose name l forgot I'll
. same who was afterward killed the d.
t before at High Bridge), undertook
! save time by cutting across behind I
house, from Franklin to Green stree
2 You know how much time he save
. they waited all day for that ordt
. George told me afterward that the Is
thing he remembered was kissing |
!, | hand to Julia who sat at her bedrot
= window. He said he thought she mig
Q be the last woman he ever saw this 81
of heaven. just after that, it MI
y have been, his horse-that white M
:, senger colt old Williams bred-we
! over like log, and poor George v
: pitched fifteen feet headforemost agail