The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1893-04-20

| not his only patrons. Hence these tears, scald-
ing even his steel-armored cheeks. Therefore
those sobs, soulful as if wrung from the viscera
of Sl3 melodeon
The Sutler was subject to military discipline,
ranking trihe lower than mule, but frac-
ton higher than a Corporal, in this princi
paiiy, that If mislaid or lost in action he need
not he officially accounted for in the returns
like mule, and would have a slightly better
prospect than Corporal of posthum0us mu-
tiiation of cognomen in the kilograms The
law recognized him and the orders shielded
him. That was theory. Everybody kicked
and cursed and plundered him. That was
practice. The difference was palpable as the
evolution of the human female divine, from
the cow-skin frock aud burlsp leggings of
semi-savagery TO the high-shouldered polka
DOT robings OF advanced civilization If pos
terty Is ever TO do him justice, we must take
up the case with tho speed of small boy ami
mated by an artificial celebrity.
II the pest of danger is the post of real honor
the Sutler has been scandalously overlooked in
the awards. HIS assigned position at the rear
during an advance. and at the front during
retreat fatally exposed him to the depredatious
OF the niixed society indigenous thereto En-
CON passed with perils, like a floating Atlantis
misiaid in a cannibal archi pelago, his only
source WAS rat-eyed vigilance and brass
breasted audacity. A recital of his exploits in
pcrishablos lay, would shine like torch-light
procession down the dark avenues of history.
Painting him in gaudy hues would be as an
aesthetic rs offering green goggles to a Delsarte
Club. But mild touch Of euogy, harmless
gingerpop of eilervcscence of panegyric may
supposedly be YentHred. Would Sir Patrick's
famed toast TO the bloody 69;h THE last in
the field aud tho first to leave it; equal to
none!" pass muster? If so. who will be-
grudge? None we dare aver. unless il be some
surviving marauder, who once wore half
shaved head for Sntler- burglary, then trod the
brambly path of humiliation out of camp to the
tune OF Rogue'S March. while the sad breeze
sighed through the rents in his responsibility.
The romauces of Fenimore Cooper depict
the army Suffer OF the Revolutionary contest
as a woman, ha5itually Irish, rubicund, snuffy,
blasphemous, and addicted to gin; in brief. an
object OF charity socially and financially.
When We read on, and learn that sho was the
camp washerwoman we abandon the pursuit
forthwith. Like the flowers that bloom in the
japanese Spring size has nothing TO do with
the case. Tho Suller of eur more refined era
was of the man masculine. A woman in that
sphere would have been as deadly as damp
basement. The most fluent champion of up
lifted fenlininity never dared rise with a
whirr TO claim this dizzy pre-eminence-nay,
not the brayeSt meat stall heroine of them,
with slaughte house eyes and lcafiard com
plexion, deciaiming suffrage syllogisms with
ali the witrherY of South Missouri angel.
of the masculine WIS he Nut wo-
man. Neither dude; gallon of gall in a
plaid snit owed for could have endured for
one swift, short, blistering month the Suffers
nui.lpiez ordeals OF catastrophe. Dudes have
their function; so have rose-sberbet and chew
ing gum: but not in wartime. Men, whisky,
and cnt-Pluy are then in request.
As rallying point III battle the Suffers
of eioqueRce at Reunion banquets where wit
and wine flowed sparkling like the dew. When
thrust cut between couteHding armies, by de-
sign accident, thai modest vehicle became q
gliitering prize worth fighting for and risl1ing
amrutation for, beside which even the old flag
raled FOR space It's Intellectual spnrge. Friends
rallied around its dubious treasures; foes. hun
CRY saw tooth sharks. assai,ed and reassailed
il. the rich fruition of their wbetted hopes.
Where was the hilarious Sutler then? Neither in
that h"leaguered thesaurus nor beneath it. you
may confidin2ly affirm, but iikeiest from the
safe shelter OF some conm0aious commanding
stump. observing the struggle with rural
Sunday morning smile of trust. As the rich
man, unlearncd in logic, hires logic in the form
OF 4 lawyer to provo anything it is profitable to
have proven. the Sntler, destitute of arms,
knows that his armed com patriots will rescue
his appetizing goods from the lean and ragged
enemy, hDwbeit but TO be skinned and skinned
10y themselves, next moment, before his horror
smitten face.
Where is the Sutler now? Vanished from
our ken, and beyond all caviI existenceless!
History yields few parallels to the absolute
ObiiteratIon Of tie Sutlcr. The pension rolls
bear many hundred thousand names, but his
holds there no obiurgatci blazonry. Myriads Of
veterans luzuTiate ia Soldiers Homes, but in
none OF them does he. lingering and voluble
shoulder cTutch and tell with rump-steak
rhapsody, how money never is but always to
be won. When we hale ca,npaigners meet and
point to ourselves with pride (who dare gainsay
our right2) his place is filled with yawning
River pilots Of the war era, St. Yitus-
stricken from dodging guerrilla buckshot, have
coveted the Grand Army badge and sons of
sanitary heroes have pleaded for the Loyal
Legion perqnisities vcarious, but no residual
sutler Dor the lineai progeny thereof signs
drafts like these on honors ample funds.
Hence there is no Sutler cxtant. O. l.. D.
Seek yc his obituary in the thin, cold records
Of the almshouse. Find his fat or sunken
resting place in the crowded silence of the pot
ter's field and be Herewith contont. lie lives
now only fond and fragrant memory