The Hocking sentinel. [volume] (Logan, Ohio) 1871-1906, 1899-09-28
xhere has II seemed to me more touch

West Virginia to Philadelphia through
PENNSYLVANIA. The south-bound trains
that summer were heavily loaded with
troops and provisions for the army,
but going back they carried few pas
sengers.
At Pittsburg. when the train roileh
into the station, a great, silent crown
waited for it. A splendid funeral-car
stood in the background surrounded by
troops, and the street was filled by
long line of closed carriages. volun-
teer officer in the Union army, who
had been a man of influence and high
position in Pittsburg, had been killed
in the last battle, and now his native
city mourned for him and did hiIo
honor.
The coffin, rich in decorations and
covered with flowers, was reverently
borne from the car. The troops pre-
sented arms; the standards. draped
with black, were lowered, and the air
was filled with the solemn music of
funeral marches.
After short delay, the train rolled
on it's way.
Late that afternoon it stopped at
little station among the Allegheny
Mountains. The station-hOuse was but
a rough shed; pig was roofing under
the platform. In the background was
a squalid cabin in pOtato-patch. The
whole landscape spoke of barrenness
and helpless poverty.
Standing on the platform was wOm-
an, a poor country girl. She wore an
old, patched gown that clung Imply
to her thin body, and a calico sunbon-
net which she had thrown back that
she might better watch the train. 4
little barefooted boy clung to her. bur
she did not heed him. Her face was
pinched and bloodless. She leaned for
ward, staring with childish. dilated
eyes into each car as it passed.
There was a grating sound as the
| trainmen dragged a rough pine box
! from the freight-car and laid it on the
| platform The woman went up to ii.
| and without word or tear dropped
i down and clasped her arms about it.
| There was not man on the train who
! did not uncover his head. but she saw
nothing of the many strange, pitying
| eyes fixed on her.
Her boy came to her, crying, "Where
is papa? You said he would comew
+ She did not hear or answer; only
| clasped the box closer.
The tragedy was so squalid, so hope
less. that the onlookers saw only It's
cruelty. Why should this poor farm
| boy be struck down, and this helpless
wife and her child be left to struggle
and to suffer? Why need there be this
waste of human life? Just then a man
ran out of the station carrying a tat
tered old flag, and spread it proudly
oven the box. =
And at the touch Of 1t, it seemed to
us who watched, as If our country laid
her hand on the poor coffin and said:
"This is my son. He died for me.
Pay reverence to him"
The train steamed slowly away. The
setting sun threw its low light over
tbe lonely group on the platform-the
woman and her child and her dead
but the flag ennobled this poor martyr
dom. Never in the triumphs Of peace
or fury of battle did it express with
more emphasis the majesty OF our
country than when it claimed the poor
volunteer as its son, one of its heroes
TO be honored for all time.-Youth's
Companion.
"CaIibre 81"
| a
alive he was often greeted with the
shout. "CaIiber .54." Old soldiers would
sbout it sometimes without understand
ing it's significance. Its origin is well
deserving of place in history, especial
Iy as it proves that even the little
drummer boys who were in the field IN
the civil war often did us efficient ser
vice as the older boys.
"Caliber 81 had its origin at the bat
tie Of Shiloh. Gen. Sherman was riding
along over the field hurrying to get te
his troops, when he heard delicate
t voice calling: Gen. Sherman. Gen
t Sherman The old war hero stopped
and the boy piped out:
, 1.-The - Illinois Regiment IS Oyel
there on the hill, holding the enemy
back as much as they can, and they're
{ all out of ammunition and they wan
some" And then, with as much vol
{ | ume of voice as he could muster, h'
= | added: .Caliber .54" That was tbs
most important part of the message
S for the wagon trains might have gon'
| with loids of ammunition, and If 1
5 hadn't been caliber .54 it would no
7 | have been of the least use.
e Gen. Sherman got down from hi
=. horse to pat the urchin's head. and Il
/ call him noble little fellow" whei
). he saw three or four tears on the boy
:, cheek. and he said: There's don't cry
e my little fellow: get right along back
e for we're going to whip them.
Il Il know that" said the boy, "bu
when l was coming over here to Civ
e YOU the coloneFs message bulle
struck me here pointing to the calf o
his leg,. l was crawling along tn
ground the best l could, and knew II
t catch YOU Then the general assisted
the lad to the hospital, and a few day
| later he went home 10 MS mOtnsr II
J Vermont. But "Caliber "a" lives in his
> ! tory.
p He Wanted a Compromise.
9 Gen. Horace Porter tells the follow
i ing story, which is both true and time
n ly: 1t was about the middle of the ciyi
o war when a freshly appointed colone
@ with a newly enlisted regiment joine'
v the Union forces in the far South. The.
J. were beautifully new, both in expert
II ence and in uniforms, and they wer
g very anxious to fight. The routine o
# camp life drove them almost to mutiny
One bright October morning word wa
,f received that small detachment o
d Gen. Wheeler's cayalrymen were ol
If the other side of the hill, and fore
& started out in pursuit. The next da.
/ .t.,I al.