PART II. UNDER BOTH FLAGS.

NUMBER {307}of years have gone by since the scenes told of in the first part of our book were enacted by the boy, whose interest has never wavered, and whose heart is as young as it was in that day. The scars of battle are tenderly smoothed away by the softening touch of time, and the blue and the gray are no more arrayed against each other, but stand shoulder to shoulder, eager to draw the sword, if need be, in defence of their beloved land and her institutions. The grassy mound and towering monument each tells its tale of the heroes who slumber beneath, and who are alike worthy of unstinted praise.

Our late war with a foreign power has proven the loyalty of Americans in every corner of our republic, and how earnestly the men of those days, from North and South, have come forward to fight the battles of their country--one, forevermore. Valuable services have been rendered by many of those who were the leaders of those days, in that sad conflict, and whose names have ever been renowned for courage, earnestness and bravery.

We are, as a nation, making history fast, and in a book written {308}for young people, it seemed proper to give them a few brief sketches of those whose names were prominently identified with the war of 1861. The boy who told his simple story is no longer a boy, but his pride and rejoicing are as hearty as if the “dew of youth” sat upon him yet, and in reviewing the lives of those who can truly be called great, and gone to their final reward, one of the first whose claims are strong.

ULYSSES S. GRANT.

General Grant's career was so extraordinarily brilliant, and was compressed into so short a time that it stands almost alone as one of the most astonishing succession of events.

His birthplace was Point Pleasant, Ohio. Here on the 27th of April, 1822, the future general was born. When he was but a year old his parents moved to Georgetown, where he grew into a sturdy, quiet lad, showing no particular smartness any more than the average boy. Indeed, he was rather dull, learning rather slowly, and with difficulty. There were no free schools when he was a boy. These institutions were supported by subscription, and one teacher had charge of all the pupils--from the primer class to the big boy or girl of eighteen.

General Grant never saw an algebra nor any mathematical work until he went to West Point. He had a great fondness for horses, and was never so happy as when he could be with them. He was an excellent judge of them. When he was but seven he drove his father's horses, hauling all the wood used in the house and shops. When he was fifteen he made a horse trade with a Mr. Payne, at Flat Rock, Kentucky, where he was visiting. The brother of this gentleman was to accompany young Grant back to Georgetown. The boy was told that the horse had never had a collar on (it was a saddle horse), but he hitched it up, and started to drive the seventy miles with a strange animal. The horse ran and kicked, and made the companion horse frightened, and Ulysses stopped them right on the edge of an embankment twenty {309}feet deep. Every time he would start, the new horse would kick and run, until Mr. Payne, who was thoroughly frightened, would not proceed any further in his company, but took passage in a freight wagon. The boy was left alone, but with that faculty for surmounting difficulties which distinguished him in after life, a happy thought struck him--he took out his bandana, a huge handkerchief much used then, and blindfolded the creature, driving him quietly to the house of his uncle in Maysville, where he borrowed another horse.

A laughable incident occurred when he was eight. He saw a colt which he very much coveted, and for which the owner demanded $25. General Grant's father said he would give $20. The boy was so anxious to possess the colt that his father yielded, giving him instructions how to make the bargain. Going to the owner the boy said: “Papa says I may offer you $20 for the colt, but if you won't take that I am to offer $22.50, and if you won't take that, to give you $25.” It is needless to say what he had to pay for the colt.

The elder Grant was not poor in the usual sense of the term--on the contrary, he was quite well situated for the time and place.

Ulysses was sent to West Point at seventeen; he was quite apt in mathematics, but had no love for military tactics, and resolved {310}not to stay in the army, even if he graduated. He was not brilliant in his class here, either--he says himself that had “the class been turned the other end foremost, I should have been near the head.” He graduated four years after his entrance, No. 21 in a class of thirty-nine.

It was feared at that time that he had the consumption, for he had a bad cough, but his outdoor life entirely removed it.

His real name was Hiram Ulysses Grant, but some one made a blunder in making out the document appointing him a cadet, and as U. S. Grant he will be known always.

On graduation he was breveted Second Lieutenant of Infantry, and placed in the Fourth Regiment, which was sent to the frontier. But two years went by, ere he was sent to Texas to join General Taylor's army, and here he became a full lieutenant. He was made quartermaster of his regiment early in 1847, after showing great valor in the battles of Palo Alto, Resaca, Monterey, and the siege of Vera Cruz. He participated in all of the engagements, and was promoted on the field of Molino del Rey for his bravery. A few days after an exhibition of the same quality won him special notice and praise from his brigade commander.

When {311}the Mexican War was over, he was stationed at: Sackett's Harbor, New York. He had long been attached to Miss Julia Dent, the sister of one of his classmates, and August 22, 1848, she became his wife.

Four years later he went with his regiment to California and Oregon, where he became captain. The summer of 1854 saw, apparently, an end to his military career, for he resigned his commission and tried to work a small farm near St. Louis, and attend to real estate in the city. He was {312}not intended for either vocation. Greater things were in store for him, and, disheartened at his poor success, he went to work for his father, as clerk in his store--the leather trade, in Galena, Illinois.

At the first sound of war he offered his services to the government, and marched to Springfield at the head of a company. Governor Yates placed him on his staff, and made him mustering officer of all the volunteers from Illinois, but in June he was made colonel of the Twenty-first Regiment, which he had organized and drilled himself. Needing cars to transport it to a distant point, he was told they could not be furnished. So little a matter as that did not annoy him, but with that directness and energy which always marked his movements, he astonished the authorities by marching the entire regiment to the desired place.

In August he was promoted, becoming brigadier-general, and assuming command of all troops at Cairo. From this hour his successes were great, and have become matters of history. He was the idol of the army, and the surprise of the country, which gave him the popular name which seems to fit him so well--Unconditional Surrender Grant.

After the siege of Vicksburg and the defeat of General Bragg, it became plain to the government that one great mind should control all the forces, and General Grant was declared commander of the entire armies of the Union, early in 1864.

It was then that President Lincoln and General Grant met for the first time--a meeting between two great men. The commission of full general was bestowed upon Grant in July, 1866, this title being created especially for him. From August, 1867, to January, 1868, he was really Secretary of War, on account of the trouble between President Johnson and Secretary Stanton. He received the nomination for President, in May, 1868, at the hands of the Republican convention which met in Chicago, and was elected by an overwhelming majority. He was reelected to a second term and at its close he made a tour of the world, with his wife. He was received with unbounded enthusiasm everywhere.

In 1881 he {313}bought a house in New York City, which he made a home in the fullest sense, for his family and himself. On Christmas Eve, 1883, he slipped on the sidewalk, and injured himself so badly that he had to use crutches ever after. Becoming partner in a banking house, he was robbed of all he had by his associates in business and had to turn his attention to literary work, furnishing the _Century_ with some articles. Being solicited to give his experiences, he wrote his “Memoirs,” which he indited while suffering great anguish, and which he finished four days before his death. His wife received for the two volumes from his pen $400,000 as royalty.

The hero of many battles, the grand soldier, was doomed. In 1884 a trouble in his throat developed into a cancer, and for nearly a year he endured intense agony, never murmuring, but working on, that he might place those he so dearly loved beyond want.

On July 23, 1885, he died, in a cottage at Mt. McGregor, near Saratoga, New York--a man whom the world is better for having known.

JAMES ABRAM GARFIELD.

Few boys have risen from such humble surroundings to the highest gift of a great nation, as did the twentieth President of the United States, James A. Garfield. His boyhood's home was a simple cabin in the woods of Ohio, unbroken save by the few settlers who hewed the trees and made a clearing for a home. His father was one of these pioneers, and the future President of our great Republic was a genuine farmer's boy, and knew how to do all the hard work upon a farm. He chopped wood, and helped care for the few acres they called their farm. They did not live in luxury, for they had no means to squander. Living on the plainest fare, wild game and corn, or wheat cracked or pounded in a mortar, performing the hardest labor, the boy's strength grew, until he became a hardy, robust lad, the pride of his beloved parents.

{314}

He {315}never had much schooling, as it was only three months each winter that his parents could send him to the district school, but most excellent use he made of his scant opportunities. At fourteen he was apprenticed to a carpenter, and three years later he worked on the canal. When he was a mere lad, he longed to be a sailor, but he fell sick, and after that he never seemed to long for the sea.

The little village of Orange, Ohio, where he was born on the nineteenth of November, 1831, was soon to see him no more as a resident, for in March, 1849, he left home and entered Geauga Seminary at Chester, and soon was fitted to teach a district school. But he had to work at his trade (the carpenter's) to help pay his way, his mother not being able to assist him, save by a loan of $17.00 which she furnished him the first term that he was there. Every morning and evening, and Saturdays, as well as his entire summer vacation, he spent in labor at the bench. The next three years he passed in the Eclectic Institute at Hiram, and here his finances still continuing low, he willingly acted as student and janitor, and afterward as student and teacher. He was unable to earn enough to pay for his tuition at William's College, and although he practised the closest economy, when he graduated he owed that institution $500, a debt which he afterward faithfully discharged.

He accepted the Professorship of Ancient Languages and Literature in Hiram College, at twenty-six becoming its president, which he continued to be until he entered the army in 1861.

In 1858 he married Lucretia Rudolph, who was a teacher, and a very cultivated woman, who proved a valuable companion in his literary career. He had studied law while President of the college, and was admitted to practice in the Supreme Court cf the United States in 1866.

His {316}military services were large and valuable. He was an authority upon American finances. He held many important positions and was honored by all his colleagues. He was made an honorary member of the celebrated Cobden Club of England.

He made many able speeches in Congress, and was elected to the Thirty-eighth Congress in 1863, and reelected successively {317}to the Thirty-ninth, Fortieth, Forty-first, Forty-second, Forty-third, Forty-fourth, Forty-fifth and Forty-sixth Congresses.

The year 1880 was an important one to James A. Garfield, for in January he was elected by the Ohio Legislature Senator for the term beginning March 4, 1881, to succeed Allen G. Thurman. But on the 8th of June a still greater honor was shown him by the Chicago convention, which nominated him for president, and the November election showed him to be the choice of the people.

His public life was destined to be a short one, for on the morning of July 2, 1881, with bright expectations of a pleasant trip to New York and the White Mountains with his wife and several members of the Cabinet, he started from the White House for the Baltimore and Potomac station. As Secretary Blaine and he entered the station, arm in arm, they passed through the ladies' waiting-room. As they walked briskly on, two pistol shots were fired in quick succession, one of which took effect in the President's back. He sank to the floor, but was conscious. Dr. Bliss was summoned, and took charge of the case, but he named three other surgeons as assistants. Later two very celebrated physicians were added to the list of medical advisers. Their united opinion was that the ball had grazed the liver, and lodged in the front wall of the abdomen, but that it was not necessarily fatal. Still they did not deem it wise to extract it.

The assassin who struck down a good man, was Charles J. Guiteau, a crazy, disappointed office-seeker. After suffering for weeks, and fluctuating between hope of recovery and unfavorable symptoms, he died at Elberon Park, New Jersey, whither he had been removed on the 19th of September, 1881.

His life, with its early struggles, is a lesson to the boys of this age, to show them what great possibilities are within the reach of an American citizen.

EVENTS FOLLOWING THE CIVIL WAR.

THE ATLANTIC CABLE.

ARLY {318}in October, 1851, the first effort at laying a cable for a submarine telegraph was begun by the United States brig Dolphin, which carried a line of soundings across the Atlantic. At that time there were but eighty-seven nautical miles of submarine cable laid, while now there are nearly 200,000 statute miles. Some of these cables merely connect islands with the main shore, others are thousands of miles long. A cable is laid so far below the surface that neither storms, tides or currents can disturb it. But the ends touching the shore are made much stronger and heavier, so that the waves will not impair them, and in some cases, near landings, they are heavily weighted to keep them in place--a thing it is not necessary to do in deep water.

In 1854 Cyrus W. Field obtained a charter for laying a cable, and when the first attempt was made at Kerry, Ireland, in 1857, the occasion was made a very brilliant affair. It was honored by the presence of a vast squadron of British and American ships of war. Representatives of many nations were there, as well as the directors of the Atlantic Telegraph Company, and most of the magnates of the English railroads. It was a momentous undertaking, but after laying 335 miles of cable, and causing the heart of its projectors to beat high with hope, {319}the strands suddenly parted, and their hopes were crushed.

The next year another expedition was commenced, which ended in a similar failure. But nothing could dampen the ardor of its friends, and on the 16th of August of the same year another cable was successfully laid, and on the 17th Queen Victoria sent the President of the United States congratulations upon the successful termination of this great international work, to which Mr. Buchanan returned the courteous wish that the cable might “prove to be a bond of perpetual peace and friendship between the kindred nations.” The two continents held great rejoicings, but disappointment was again their portion, for about the 1st of September the cable throbbed no more.

In 1865 a further attempt was made, and after 1,200 miles had been laid, the cable broke again. So grand an undertaking was not to be given up lightly. Mr. Field's perseverance was unconquerable. A strong, flexible cable was shipped on board the “Great Eastern,” and on the 13th of July, 1866, this gigantic boat started from Valentia, Ireland, and two weeks later it “glided calmly into Heart's Content, Newfoundland, dropping her anchor in front of the telegraph house, having trailed behind her a chain of 2,000 miles, to bind the Old World to the New.” It then went back to the mid-Atlantic, grappled the end of the broken cable of 1865, a splice was made, and the line was continued to Newfoundland by the side of the other. These lines have never failed to work. The cable having thus become a fact, the world was astonished and gratified. Mr. Field had worked heroically, and by our own land, by England and by France he was enthusiastically praised. The first message which passed over this line was a worthy one--the announcement of the treaty of peace between Prussia and Austria.

The charges for telegraphing were formerly very high, twenty pounds for a short message being asked, but as rival companies began to spring up, competition reduced the price considerably.

Marine cables have multiplied so fast that where there was originally but one or two, there are now eight, owned and operated {320}at a vast benefit to the entire world with which we are in communication. The events occurring in the most distant climes are brought to our doors through this medium so perfect is the system. Cyrus W. Field received a gold medal from Congress in recognition of his services, and the gratitude of the world, as well.

ALASKA

|Few can realize the magnitude of this far Northwest territory. To most boys and girls it seems a cold, barren, desolate country, a perpetual scene of ice-bound rivers and frost and snow the whole year round, with nothing growing. When Secretary Seward accomplished the purchase of this vast tract of land from Russia, he showed great wisdom and foresight. No wonder that, in view of its immense size and valuable resources, he declared the conclusion of this affair the crowning triumph of his life.

Russia had been anxious to sell for a long time, but many feared that she had drained all the value from the territory, and wanted to get rid of it. There was bitter opposition in the United States to the plan of buying what every one considered would prove but “a field of ice and a sea of mountains.”

We want to tell the young folks how great a mistake these sort of reasoners labored under, and how we came to be the fortunate buyers of this vast stretch of land.

Many years ago a party of American explorers conceived the idea of establishing a telegraph between our country and Asia, and they went to Alaska for this purpose. Fancy their surprise when they saw what they had supposed was a desert waste, producing the largest pine and cedar trees in the whole world, and the most extensive seal-fisheries, with here and there a town, with {321}its churches and buildings. They at once saw how rich it was in natural advantages, and they became very anxious that our government should confer with Russia as to its purchase. They presented good reasons for this desire to Congress, and Secretary Seward saw at once what an acquisition it would be to us, in many ways. So in March, 1867, the treaty between our country and Russia looking to its sale was ratified. It had at that time a native population of 60,000, and since we have come into possession of it, the United States Commissioner of Education has started schools and appointed teachers to care for the education of the young. There are now twenty-four of these schools in the different settlements, two of them in Sitka and a manual training school has been organized here also, where they receive instruction in the various trades. This school must be very popular, for it has a large attendance for a small city like Sitka, it numbering over 200 pupils on its list.

The chief city, or capital, is Sitka, very romantically situated on the shore, while high mountains rise behind it, forming a beautiful background for the streets and dwellings. It is an old-fashioned, quiet place, when compared with bustling American towns, but it boasts a lively weekly paper, and the Russo-Greek church has a good edifice there, showing that the religious education of its people has not been forgotten. The harbor is very beautiful, being deep, and affording safe shelter for vessels.

The purchase of this territory has extended our northern boundary from the 49th to the 71st parallel, and added to our growth westward by sixty degrees of longitude. It can boast of the highest mountain in America, Mt. St. Elias, which rises 14,000 feet above the sea. The magnificent Yukon river runs through the territory, and steamers of light draft can sail on its waters for 1,500 miles. We have gained 600,000 square miles, and this vast area really cost our government the trifling sum of two cents an acre, the sum paid Russia being $7,200,000. It would require thirteen of our States to equal its extent. As a writer jovially remarked, “It is a gilt-edged real estate investment.”

The {322}climate is quite endurable. The winters in the northern portion are excessively severe, but on the southwest coast it is warmer at that season than either Maine or Dakota.

The salmon are very plentiful, as well as mackerel, cod and herring. The streams are full of them. The salmon rival those of the Columbia and Fraser rivers, and immense canneries are daily in operation in the summer, preparing them for the markets of the world. The Chinese do this work principally, and they are brought up from San Francisco for this purpose and taken back there in the Fall. Fish are mostly caught in fish traps and nets, but the natives spear them.

The largest stamp-mill on this continent for reducing gold-bearing quartz is in operation near the town of Juneau.

Agriculture does not flourish on account of the shortness of the summers. Gardening on a small scale goes on, and plenty can be raised for home use. The region so long remaining almost unknown, has suddenly become the desired bourne for men and women of all classes. It has always been known that its mineral resources were fine, and gold has been found there in small quantities, but the hardships endured in getting it from the soil were too great in proportion to the amount, but a new impetus to the labors of the gold seeker has been given by the discovery of the precious metal in such large quantities that thousands have rushed to this field eager to dig for the yellow ore. Steamers are leaving Pacific ports weekly, laden with those who are willing to brave the terrors of the Chilkoot Pass. If the tales are true, it is surely a land of' untold riches, as the entire region is gold-bearing, and for some years to come, that metal will be found by some, in paying quantities. One authority, Dr. Becker, states that the beach sand all along the Alaskan coast contains enormous quantities of gold. But even though there was not an ounce of it in the whole territory, Alaska has paid back to our commerce its price several times over.

CENTENNIAL EXPOSITION.

|The {323}United States, now in the midst of prosperity concluded to hold one of the most notable fairs any land has ever enjoyed. The first one was held in commemoration of the one hundredth birthday of our nation, and was projected on broad lines, and carried out in the same manner. It was opened May 10, 1876, and continued 159 days. It was a general invitation to all the world to bring their productions to our shores for admiration and instruction, and caused a unity and sympathy between the severed parts of our country such as no other event could have succeeded in doing. People flocked to Philadelphia from every land, and the North and South met in a friendly rivalry as to which section should be most fully represented. Over 61,000 visitors attended each day of the Fair, and at the close of the Fair the receipts were, in admissions, concessions and royalties, in round numbers, $4,307,749.75.

It had been the desire of many patriotic people for ten years to make a showing of our resources, and to invite, as it were, the whole world to see us at home. The hope had never met with favor, but by repeated representations as to the importance of the idea, the people of the United States were at last {324}aroused, and worked so faithfully and rapidly to carry it out, as to surprise the world.

President Grant, on behalf of the United States, asked the nations to take part in our rejoicing, and they responded promptly, by sending commissioners to attend to the details. Congress appropriated large sums, and all the States entered into the undertaking with hearty good-will.

City governments and private individuals also contributed freely. A site was chosen, Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, one of the most charming locations which could have been found. Five large buildings were constructed, covering an area of twenty acres.

Each State erected a building, as did many foreign nations, within which to exhibit the products and manufactures of that particular State.

The exposition was opened by President Grant, with Dom Pedro, Emperor of Brazil, and his empress, by his side. Theodore Thomas' orchestra furnished the music, playing eighteen airs at the opening, the last of which, Hail Columbia, met with tumultuous applause. A cantata came next, a prayer by Bishop Simpson, and a hymn followed written by Whittier, the Quaker poet. General Hawley presented the buildings and their contents to the President, who accepted them in a few words, announcing that the exhibition was open. The two ponderous Corliss engines which were to put the whole machinery going, were set in motion by the President and the Emperor.

The exhibition was formally closed November 10, 1876, after a season of unexampled prosperity, in the simplest manner. Addresses were made by General Hawley and several others, the entire audience sang “America,” and President Grant declared the International Exhibition closed. But it had taught foreign powers a lesson of respect for our republic, and caused wider intercourse between the Old World and the New.

EDISON, THE GENIUS OF THE AGE.

|To-day the old system of illumination is giving way to the splendors of electric glow. With man's progress came the much needed {325}question of artificial light.

Electric lights not only adorn the streets of our cities, but grace our parlors, furnishing a stronger, a cleaner and more healthful light than any other known. {326}To Thomas A. Edison, who was born in Milan, Ohio, in 1847, belongs the glory of bringing electricity for lighting purposes to a successful basis.

Other scientists before him had experimented, {327}but to Edison remained the work of removing the final difficulties. Electricity is to-day furnishing the motive power for street cars, railroads, engines, etc., and it is predicted that before the dawn of a new century more wonderful still will be the achievements of this untutored and remarkable man.

With no less possibilities in scientific research comes the Kinetoscope, his latest invention, which by a thousand instantaneous pictures one is enabled to see the lifelike motions of “a child at play,” “a distant battle,” or the varied scenes of a “County Fair.”

CHICAGO FIRE.

|The terror which fire excites exceeds all other causes for fear. It is a subtle power that the average person cannot cope with. Its exhibitions are so terrible, so changeable, and so unmanageable, that it temporarily unnerves or unbalances the calmest brain. Great conflagrations have raged in many lands, and in all ages, doing exceeding great damage, but it is yet to be recorded that a fire ever swept over so wide a territory, and swallowed up so large an amount of wealth and products, sacrificing so much life as did the great Chicago Fire.

The history of the prominent events of the times would be incomplete were not the attention of the boys and girls of to-day directed to an occurrence so startling as to arouse the sympathies of the entire world.

The fire started on the night of October 8, 1871. The previous summer had been especially dry and hot, and was prolific of fires, many cities and towns having suffered in this respect, and the lumber districts of Minnesota, Wisconsin, Michigan, and the forests of New York State, having been visited by the destroying element. Many causes have been assigned for this fire, but its origin will probably remain forever unknown. It burned with unabated fierceness for two days, and three-fourths of the city were literally reduced to ashes.

On the evening of Saturday, the 7th, a fire had broken out in {328}a portion of the West Division of the city, and consumed property to the value of a million of dollars. This was thought a terrible fire, and was heralded in all the Sabbath morning papers; thousands visited the spot on that day, and commented on and shuddered at the loss. Little did they apprehend that the same evening, Sunday, October 8, a fire would take place which would do the most deadly work, ruining business, licking up homes and property, destroying human life, and almost wiping out a whole city, whose prosperity and energy had become famous.

Nothing escaped. Private homes, public buildings, churches, banks, theaters, the postoffice, courthouse, newspaper edifices, hotels, {329}all fell before it, and not until General Sheridan ordered the blowing up of buildings, was its progress stayed.

At half-past three in the morning, while a strong southwest wind was blowing, the anxious citizens were informed that the North Side was attacked by the fire fiend, and one of the first victims to its wrath was the engine house of the waterworks, thus cutting off the supply of water for use in fighting the flames, and driving the terrified people to despair. From here it leaped northward, taking in the elevators on the river banks, with their millions of bushels of grain, setting fire to vessels lying at anchor, then to the cemetery nearest the city, and to the beautiful park known as Lincoln, in short, to every conceivable object which could furnish food for the monster of destruction.

The tramp of hundreds of people fleeing from the fire, the shrieks of terror, the noise of the engines, the hoarse shouts and calls of those who searched in vain for their dear ones separated from them in the mad chase for life, the thunderous fall of stately structures, the roaring, crackling, howling flames, made a wild scene that Pandemonium was silence compared with. The fire burned the North Side until there was no trace of a building left standing save one, the residence of Mahlon D. Ogden, which stood in a large plat of ground, entirely detached. On the site of this house has since been erected a fine building of stone, devoted to a public library, and called the Newberry. The northern city limits and the lake were the only barriers to the further encroachments of the fire.

Blazing brands were seen sailing through the air, and, falling in some spot as yet untouched, they would kindle a new fire. The heat was intense, the very air one breathed almost scorched the throat. One vast sea of flame melted marble and stone till it crumbled and fell. But oh, blessed relief! The thousands who camped out on the prairie that night welcomed the torrents of rain that fell, even though it chilled them through. People went nearly mad with terror on that dreadful night. Robbers and thieves were busy plying their trade, taking everything they could {330}carry away. Some of these perished with their ill-gotten gains. The lake was a welcome refuge, and hundreds waded out as far into its waters as they dared, to escape the heat that lay behind them. It was said that many were drowned through their temerity.

The 10th of October rose upon a waste, whose dwellers were clothed in the apathy of despair. For eight days after the fire, the city was without water, and the dread of a second outbreak hung like a pall over them. The city came under military rule, citizens patroled the streets, and every stranger was looked upon with suspicion, lest he be an incendiary. General Sheridan, by virtue of the fact that he was commander of the Military Division of the Missouri, took charge of the city, to protect it from the thieves and incendiaries who were at work. He ordered two companies of regulars from Omaha, three from Fort Leavenworth, and one from Fort Scott, here. General Halleck also furnished him with four companies from Kentucky.

A hundred men were put to work on the engines of the waterworks, and in a week the mains were filled by pumping water into them from the river. Some sickness resulted from drinking this water. But eight days' labor resulted in forcing water from the pure lake into the pipes, and once more Chicago could drink its fill. Meanwhile peddlers had dipped water from the lake and sold it from house to house at a shilling a pail. Mayor R. B. Mason, on the 10th, forbade any fires kindled for cooking, and “cold victuals,” and in many cases no victuals at all, for a day or so, until the Relief Committee could distribute the stores pouring into the desolated city, were the order of the day.

And then the great heart of the world beat with noble generosity. From every city, and town, and village, and from foreign lands, the beneficent gifts flowed in, and food and clothing. From New York, Boston, Cincinnati, St. Louis, London, England, and all over the world, generous contributions of money were poured into Chicago, to feed the starving--not the “starving poor,” but the starving people, for all were made beggars by the {331}calamity. Banks were destroyed, local fire insurance companies were wiped out of existence, and for months our fair city was kept alive by the noble and unstinted liberality of the world.

The loss in property was over $290,000,000, at the lowest estimate. How many lives were laid down no statistics have ever been positively given, as there was such a large floating population, of whom no account could be made, but accepting the lowest computation, at least 250 people perished on that fearful night, and over 100,000 were left homeless, and without a shelter.

A writer, speaking of the great loss of the fire of 1871 says that $1,000,000 of property was consumed every five minutes, and 125 acres of buildings every hour.

THE TELEPHONE AND PHONOGRAPH.

|No invention of modern times equals in interest the Telephone. It has remained for an American to solve the problem of communication between persons at a distance from each other. Scientists, by means of electricity and sound, have devised an apparatus for transmitting the voice to a distance of hundreds of miles. To Alexander Graham Bell, of Massachusetts, and to Elisha P. Gray, of Chicago, is due the honor of originating this wonderful invention.

Closely following the telephone is the Phonograph, an invention based on the same principle of science, but brought about by different means. The phonograph is made to talk and sing, thus enabling one to read by the ear instead of the eye.

THE JOHNSTOWN FLOOD.

|Fly for your lives! The dam is going!” Such was the warning the inhabitants of the towns received from the lips of a man who rode madly through the valley, warning every one he saw, on that sad afternoon of May 31, 1889. It was five in the afternoon. The people were beginning to think of leaving their {332}work and going to their peaceful homes, when this dread news broke upon their ears. They could not credit it, and as they heard the news, they looked doubtingly at each other. To most of them, it seemed impossible. The dam was away up in the mountains, on private grounds, and few had ever seen it or dreamed how vast it was. Besides, they reasoned, it had broken once or twice before, and no great harm was done. All these causes served to lull their fears. But even when they were warned, it was too late, so impetuous was its course. Nothing could have stayed the mad waters in their descent into the doomed valley.

The Johnstown flood followed a long rain storm in the Alleghanies--a storm of several days' duration. All the rivers running east were swollen, and the immense dam of the huge Conemaugh valley burst with a thunderous report. The reservoir was a large one, four miles long by one broad, and over seventy feet deep. This vast body of water swept a wave twenty feet high at the rate of twenty miles an hour, right down into {333}the narrow and deep valley, where were eight villages boasting a population of 58,000. Johnstown, Pennsylvania, the largest of the towns in the valley, lay at the junction of Stony Creek and the Conemaugh river, and had extensive iron works, banks, and many business houses. This and all the villages were swept out of being in two hours, so rapid and vehement was the coming of the torrent. Thousands were drowned, and nearly two thousand people were burned to death by means of a mass of wreckage which was caught and held at a new bridge near the town. The houses were all made of wood, timber had floated down the current and stacked up, and hundreds of trees were piled up at this bridge for a space of sixty acres. It is presumed that some furnaces set fire to this mass, and the poor creatures whose helpless forms had been entangled in the débris, met an awful death by fire. There was no chance for escape; the raging torrent was ready to engulf them, while the fierce flames were eager to lap up all that the waters spared.

Railroad tracks were swept away, telegraph poles leveled, and though Philadelphia and other cities sent help and food at once, it was impossible to reach the helpless victims for forty-eight hours, and when at last soldiers and navvies on rescue trains reached the scene, there was nothing to be done but to feed the living and bury the dead.

Nearly 10,000 perished, and all who had escaped with their lives tried to succor the sufferers, save a few Hungarian Slavs and Italians, who plundered the dead, but who were shot at once as a reward for their greediness.

It is not possible to picture the condition of the Valley after the waters receded. In many places the whole town was swept as bare as though a gigantic broom had passed over it, nothing but sand and gravel being left. Where a house chanced to be left standing, it was filled with mud and slime to the third story, while trees, broken timbers and debris was piled up to the second story. Not a house was fit for occupancy. Dead bodies were found in cellars, and in some dwellings horses had been forced into the rooms by the rushing waters, and lay there putrefying. {334}They all fared alike. A few citizens were held prisoners in their frame houses, and floated over two miles to a place of safety, but these fortunate ones were the exception.

Medicines, clothing, money and food were liberally poured into the unfortunate region. Men and women from all over the country offered their services to care for the living and the dead.

The dam whose bursting caused this awful loss of life was very carelessly constructed, and had no stone work in its makeup. Indeed, it might well be called a vast embankment of earth.

EARTHQUAKE AT CHARLESTON.

|Charleston, South Carolina, seems to have more than her share of misfortunes.

This thought occurred to me when the papers all over the country on the morning of September 1st, 1886, {335}gave to the world an account of that dreaded convulsion known as an earthquake, which had taken place the night previous, just as the hour for retiring had come. The first intimation that the Signal Service Bureau at Washington city had of this catastrophe was only a surmise. They knew that something was wrong, for communication was not to be had. All the telegraph wires were suddenly cut off. Without a moment's warning the city had been shocked and rent to its very foundation. Hardly a building escaped injury and almost a third of the city was in half or total ruins. The whole Atlantic coast was more or less affected, and for leagues from the shore the ocean was thrown in a turmoil.

People fled from the tottering houses to the parks and public squares, where they erected tents and remained for weeks, afraid to return to their own homes. It was soon discovered that these shocks were only the dying away of great convulsions and that further alarm was unnecessary, so they returned home.

With true American energy the debris was in a few months cleared away, business was resumed and to-day were it not for a few cracks and fissures in buildings we would never know that anything had happened there to disturb their peace.

INDIAN WARS.

ATING {336}from the time of the discovery of our continent there have been disturbances between the whites and the Indians. The first Indian war was between the colonists and the natives, and dates back to 1622.

At the beginning of the nineteenth century the Sioux Indians held all the lands between the Mississippi and the Rocky Mountains, north of the 40th parallel of latitude. These lands were grassy, rolling prairies, with a plentiful supply of timber growing along the rivers and creeks which abounded. The government established reservations thirty-two years ago for the purpose of keeping those Indians who are hostile, separated from the peaceably disposed ones, who only went upon the hunt for game for food and sale. When buffalo and large game grew scarce, the United States furnished them with food and clothing, and placed the means within their power, to support themselves.

The Indian question is full of interest, and comes forward constantly to perplex our government, which regards them as its wards. Articles by the hundred have been written about the red man, his possibilities and capabilities set forth; plans have been proposed to subdue, or rather civilize him, and still the fact remains that the savage nature, save in exceptional instances, is as untamed as the first day he came upon the scene. {337}

The {338}first mail to California from the East was carried by the overland route, in stages, and lucky was the party that made the lonesome journey across the plains unmolested by the Indians, who swarmed about them and sent showers of arrows into the coach which was carrying its bag of mail and the trembling passengers. The stage was always guarded by United States soldiers, but in spite of this the half-naked savages would press closer and closer, hurling their sharp arrows with unerring aim, as the stage went plunging along, the horses half-mad with fear, but straining every nerve to outrun the screaming foe. The settlers of those early days were brave men and women, or they would not have risked falling into the hands of the roving bands who were always on the war-path on some pretext. Many a brave man has died defending the mail which the government intrusted to him.

While our land was torn with dissension, the Indians cunningly planned a general uprising. This was in 1862. The Indians in Minnesota and Dakota massacred the settlers everywhere, In Minnesota the Sioux attacked outlying towns, committing {339}terrible atrocities. They pounced upon New Ulm, a small but thriving village, and killed 100 of its people.

They turned their attention to two other villages, but were driven away. {340}Colonel Sibley was sent after them, and met several bodies of Indians, whom he defeated. They fear cannon greatly, and two were turned upon them, much to their terror.

The garrison at Fort Kearney was surprised by Indians December 21, 1866, and 100 soldiers were slaughtered.

The Indians have many peculiar customs. One of them is, their habit of daubing on the war paint and indulging in a war dance whenever they resolve to attack the whites.

{341}

Once seen they {342}can never be forgotten, for their lithe forms, hideously painted faces, and demoniac yells would startle the bravest.

September of 1867 the Indians on the North Platte called a council to confer with General Sherman. They demanded that the building of several roads should be stopped, and particularly the work on the Southern Pacific, as it interfered with their hunting. The General would not accede to these demands, but promised that any loss they suffered should be made good to them.

September 18, 1868, the 'Indians attacked our troops at Republican River, and Lieutenant Beecher and several other officers were murdered. In 1871 the Apaches killed over 200 white settlers, not in battle, but skulking in ambush, and shooting them wherever they met them.

The whites met the Indians at Washita River, and defeated them, November 27, 1868.

Thus the continual outbreaks of the Indians, have been a source of trouble and anxiety to the government, which has sought to adjust the claims of the red men in a fair and just manner. That the latter have often been cheated and robbed by unscrupulous agents and traders, no one can deny, but the fact still remains that the Indian nature is peculiarly hard to subdue, and their natural instincts are cruel. {343}

There are, fortunately, many bright examples among several tribes, {344}of the beauty of civilization, and its beneficial influence upon them.

The Modoc massacre was a cruel return for intended kindness. This tribe had for its chief Captain Jack, a very intelligent man of fine abilities. Their removal to another reservation was violently resisted by them, and they retreated to the Lava Beds, where trouble was anticipated. At last a peace council was arranged for and although Colonel Meacham, the peace commissioner, urged the whites not to attend it, they paid no attention to his warning, but went. The Indians had concealed weapons, and they rose in a body, and attempted to massacre every white man present. General Canby and Dr. Thomas were killed, and Colonel Meacham received a dozen wounds, but survived them. Three months afterward the band surrendered, and Captain Jack and some of the other leaders were executed at Fort Klamath, Oregon, October 3.

GEORGE A. CUSTER.

|A the close of the war of 1861 most of the boys in blue went back to their homes--but not so with General Custer. He was one of the most brilliant soldiers of the war, and had the distinction of being the youngest general in the army. His graduation from West Point took place just about the first year of the conflict, and he was made lieutenant, but before the close of the last year he had attained the rank of major-general, and assisted in some of the most remarkable victories.

He was not allowed time to visit his home in Michigan, but was ordered to lead a cavalry command through Texas, to teach the people there that the war was over, and to check the ravages of the “bushwhackers” who still infested that beautiful State. On his return home he accepted the lieutenant-colonelcy of the Seventh United States Cavalry, and nine years were passed in service at the frontier posts of Kansas and Dakota.

His wife lived with him through those scenes of interest. She {345}had the gift of transmitting to paper the vivid pictures of this wild and daring life. She passed four months in an army wagon, and rode the long marches which her brave husband was forced to make. He was a hero, she also was a heroine, for the hardships and privations which she endured so uncomplainingly, were worthy of so grand a spirit.

The Sioux (Soo) is the most powerful tribe of red men on our continent. They preyed upon all alike--with the defenceless settlements of our Minnesota frontier, with the Pawnees, the Cheyennes, the Arapahoes, and the Shoshones and, indeed, with all the other tribes, far and near.

They spared no one. At the end of the war of 1861 our army was called on to protect the peaceable settlers of the far West, for the Sioux were more hostile and bloodthirsty than ever. For ten years the cavalry regiments knew no rest. The Indians were on the war-path continually. They were always rash fighters, but when in 1874 they obtained breech-loaders and rifles, they became a foe more to be dreaded than ever. They burned our forts and massacred the small garrisons in a most atrocious manner.

Our government used every method to subdue them, feeding, clothing and coaxing them. Agencies and reservations were placed at good points, but this care for their comfort had no effect. The old worn-out Indians, women and children lived on these reservations, partaking of the government's bounty, while the young and vigorous warriors sallied out to murder and pilfer the whites wherever they could find them. The soldiers of the United States were not permitted to attack them on their reservations, and so they kept out of their way, and escaped punishment.

An Indian in his wild state has no respect for another of his race who has no scalps to show. There were, however, some who made treaties with the whites, and kept them. But among the many who never made any promise to behave was a powerful medicine chief known as “Sitting Bull.”

In March, 1876, General George Crook was sent against this {346}renowned warrior, who had entrenched himself in the hills with 6,000 “bad Indians” around him. From the south General Terry was sent with a strong body of cavalry and infantry, and General Gibbon with a small but brave band of frontier soldiers. They approached the stronghold of the chief. Major Reno left camp to reconnoiter, and was readily convinced how rash it would be to attack Sitting Bull, who was daily receiving accessions to his numbers.

General Terry thought, however, it was time to start an expedition to discover and dislodge the enemy, and he gave the command to the brave and fearless soldier, General Custer. He named the 26th of June as the day when he and Gibbon would be there to assist Custer, but the latter, impatient to open the conflict, had urged his horses and men to their utmost so as to reach the scene. He started on the trail with the Seventh Cavalry, riding sixty miles in twenty-four hours. His aim was to have a bout with the Indians and defeat them single-handed. Coming within sight of the village on the left bank of the Little Big Horn River where Sitting Bull was encamped, he observed such tokens of excitement and hurrying away of ponies as to him had but one explanation--that the chief and his warriors were running away. Dashing forward with panting chest and the fire of courage flaming in his face, he placed himself at the head of his men, plunged hastily into the valley, and the last that General Reno, who followed him closely, ever saw of the brave Custer and his three hundred, was the cloud of dust their trail had left behind.

The valiant Custer had gone to his death! Expecting Reno would make a dash such as his own, he had gallantly ridden forward, to be met by a perfect storm of flame and lead. In an instant he saw how vain was his attempt, and giving orders to mount he sought a way out, but the red men swarmed around his followers. Boys and even old squaws were firing at him and his band most viciously. {347}

Vainly they tried to remount--they cut their horses loose, and on a little mound, General Custer, with scarcely a dozen men, all who were left, made his last {348}rally. In a few moments all was over. Of the twelve troops of the Seventh Cavalry, but one thing escaped alive--Myles Keogh's sorrel horse, Comanche, who came back into the lines a few days later, a most pitiable object. Thus perished General Custer, as brave and noble a soldier as ever lived!

The Utes gave a great amount of trouble in 1879, in Colorado, pouncing upon a wagon train and slaying Major Thornburgh and eleven of his men. They next murdered Agent Meeker, and carried many women into captivity.

The Apache Indians fell upon the settlers of Silver City, New Mexico, October 19, 1879, killing twenty-one men and women, and seventeen children. The men were shot and scalped, and the women tortured. Troops were sent to protect the remainder, but it was some time before they could be reached.

The year 1890 witnessed one of the most serious outbreaks of the red men of the Dakota reservations. The Ghost Dance was indulged in, and the feeling of dread and fear spread all over the Western country. This dance was instigated by Sitting Bull, who had returned to the reservation eleven years previous. It has always been a superstition among all the Indians that the Messiah would come to them some day, bring all their dead to life, and drive the whites out of the land. Sitting Bull encouraged the Sioux in Dakota to believe this.

At once the War Department was given full control of the Indians by the Interior Department. At the different agencies it was found that the Indians were stealing cattle and horses and running them off into the Bad Lands, where they designed starting a camp. It was well known that if Sitting Bull reached that stronghold he would be safe, so the Indian police at the Pine Ridge Agency were told to arrest him, which they did, and started back to the Agency, knowing a body of cavalry and infantry were following in their wake to assist them. But Sitting Bull's friends rushed to his assistance and a fierce hand-to-hand encounter took place. They all fought like fiends, and lost several of their numbers. But the police held the old chief captive, {349}and two of them shot him--Bullhead and Red Tomahawk. A son of the chief, Crow Foot, was slain also.

BATTLE OF WOUNDED KNEE CREEK,

|In the annals of American history there cannot be found a battle so fierce, bloody and decisive as the fight at Wounded Knee Creek between the Seventh Cavalry and Big Foots band of Sioux. It was a stand-up fight of the most desperate kind, in which nearly the entire band was annihilated, and although the soldiers outnumbered their opponents nearly three to one, the victory was won by two troops, about one hundred strong.

The night before the Indians had agreed to submit, and the troops were up bright and early in readiness to move by eight o'clock. At that hour the cavalry and dismounted troops were gathered about the Indian village, the Hotchkiss guns overlooking the camp not fifty yards away. The Indians were ordered to come forward, away from their tents, and when the band, under the leadership of Big Foot, walked out of their lodges and formed a semicircle in front of the soldiers' tents, there was nothing to indicate that they would not submit. Colonel Forsyth, an Indian fighter of tried worth, never gave a thought to the chance of a fight. When it was made plain to the band that their arms must be {350}given up, the murmur of discontent was unanimous.

When the soldiers proceeded to disarm them and search their tents the medicine man jumped up, uttered a loud incantation and fired at a trooper standing guard over the captured guns. That was the signal for fight, and in a second every buck in the party rose to his feet, cast aside the blanket which covered his winchester, and, taking aim, fired directly at the troop in front. It was a terrible onslaught, and so sudden that all were stunned but, quickly recovering, they opened fire on the enemy. The position of troops B and K would not allow their fellow-cavalry-men to fire, lest they shoot through the Indians and kill their own men. This the terrible duel raged for thirty minutes. Someone ordered “Spare the women,” but the squaws fought like demons and could not be distinguished from the men. The entire band was practically slaughtered, and those who escaped to the ravine were followed by the cavalry and shot down wherever found. The chief medicine man, whose incantations had caused the band to act with such murderous treachery, fell with a dozen bullets in his body. It is claimed that of the Indians there were but two survivors, one of which was a baby girl about three months old, who has since been adopted by a wealthy lady in Washington.

After {351}the defeat of the Indians at Wounded Knee Creek, they were ready to close the conflict and make the best terms possible with General Miles. On the 22d of January there was a grand military review in honor of the victory over the redskins. Ten thousand Sioux had a good opportunity to see the strength and discipline of the United States Army, the end of the ghost-dance rebellion being marked by a review of all the soldiers who had taken part in crushing the Indians. Thus passed into history probably not only the most remarkable of our Indian wars, but the last one there will ever be.

CHRISTOPHER CARSON.

|The subject of our sketch was one of the most noted mountaineers, trappers and hunters that ever lived.

He was no less renowned as a guide and a soldier. He was a native of Madison County, Kentucky, where he was born December 24, 1809. When he was a babe his father removed his family to Howard County, Missouri. Here he spent {352}many happy days in hunting wild game, and making himself familiar with nature. The schoolroom had not very many charms for him, and at fifteen he was apprenticed to a saddler, with whom he remained two years. But this employment was irksome to him, and he soon freed himself, and we next hear of him as a trapper, which was more congenial to his taste, as he remained one for eight years. He next engaged as hunter to Bent's Fort, and eight more years glided by. Few men understood the nature of the Indians more thoroughly than did he. He dealt with them in a truthful, straightforward way, which won their regard, and the government appointed him Indian agent in New Mexico, where he was singularly successful in making treaties with the red men, which were religiously kept.

His services during the Civil War were inestimable in New Mexico, Colorado and the Indian Territory, for which he was promoted to colonel, and was brevetted brigadier-general.

He died from a rupture of an artery in the neck, at Fort Lynn, Colorado, on the 23d of May, 1868.

THE WORLD'S COLUMBIAN EXPOSITION.

|The next great fair which our country saw, was planned on a huge scale. It was also an invitation to the peoples of all lands, who liberally responded. This was the World's Fair, and it was rightly named, for it proved a gathering of all nations. It was opened in May, 1893, and closed October 30. The features of the Fair were varied, and its inception and fulfillment were on a gigantic scale. Nearly every country on earth sent some representation to the Fair, and during its existence millions of strangers visited the city.

{353}

There was a long and earnest contest as to what city should have the honor of being selected to hold the great World's Fair, St. Louis, Cincinnati, New York, Washington and Chicago, each presenting powerful reasons why the choice should fall upon it. But Congress settled the question by giving to Chicago the coveted honor, and without delay commissioners were chosen, and {354}officials and citizens went busily to work, hand in hand, to make the fair the grandest ever projected.

The grounds selected were at Jackson Park, Chicago, and comprised 640 acres. Magnificent buildings were erected, costing from $10,000 to $300,000 each, and every State engaged with the others in a friendly rivalry. There were forty-seven State and Territorial buildings, each one noted for a style of architecture dissimilar to any of the rest, and yet all remarkably beautiful.

It was well represented by foreign peoples, fifty-one nations and thirty-nine colonies participating. The edifices erected by the directors, such as Transportation, Machinery Hall, Electrical Building, etc., were numerous and costly. The beauties of the Art Gallery were a revelation to the busy, pushing American, and the man or woman who spent but a few days among the wonders of the great World's Fair of 1893 found food for reflection and pleasant memories to last a lifetime. Nature was not overlooked and the horticultural show was a marvel of beauty. The Fisheries Building was deemed among the handsomest on the grounds, costing $225,000, but where all were so fine and-so well adapted to their intended use, it is impossible to particularize.

The fair, it was expected, would be opened by President Cleveland in person, but State reasons forbidding his presence, it was arranged that he should touch an electric button in Washington which should start the machinery here, which was done. The fair was dedicated on the 20th of October, 1892, with imposing and lengthy ceremonies, and opened to the world in May, 1893.

Figures do not appeal to the youthful mind, but still they are necessary for comparison, and when I tell my young readers that the Vienna exposition in 1873 expended $7,850,000, while Chicago's outlay was $17,000,000, it will easily be seen that the Worlds Fair of 1893, held at Chicago, was carried out with a magnificence never before equaled.

PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN OF 1896.

HEN {355}in the campaign of 1896 for President of our great republic, excitement ran high, as the “silverites” had put a candidate in the field in opposition to the Republican nominee, the latter party having adopted a platform which upheld the gold standard, and which pledged itself to make every effort to obtain recognition for silver as money by gold-standard countries, at a ratio to be agreed upon later; it also declared in favor of a protective tariff.

The year of 1893 had brought a terrible panic, which caused more suffering in its train, than any that had preceded it. Business was not to be had, labor was not sought, and failures were of everyday occurrence. People began to ask why this state of affairs existed. The advocates of silver answered that it was because that metal was legislated against, while the protective tariff people asserted that the troubles were due to the fact that the tariff was faulty--it neither provided money for governmental uses, nor work for the toilers.

At once a fierce contest of words and arguments began. The silver men formed clubs, papers presenting their arguments were scattered all over the land, able speakers were employed, and nothing was heard but the all-absorbing currency question.

The Democrats held a convention at Chicago in July with the silver men in the majority. William J. Bryan of Nebraska proved so convincing a speaker in the debates, that he held the attention of vast and enthusiastic audiences.

In return for his efforts {356}he was nominated for President, and Arthur Sewall of Maine for Vice, as William McKinley of Ohio, had been named in the Republican body that met at St. Louis, in June, with Garrett A. Hobart of New Jersey as Vice-President.

The platform sanctioned by the party was the free coinage of silver at the ratio of “sixteen to one,” and that the tariff was to remain unchanged. The watch 7 word of the party became “sixteen to one.”

When the Populists held their convention they chose Mr. Bryan for the Presidential chair, and Thomas Watson of Georgia for the position of Vice-President. The Silver party indorsed the choice of Bryan, and the whole country became engaged in the conflict. The excitement was intense, and party spirit ran high. The States seemed equally divided, the Eastern and Central coming out for gold, while the Western and Southern espoused the claims of the white metal.

Still another party arose, called the Gold Democrats, who convened at Indianapolis in September, and selected John M. Palmer of Illinois for their Presidential leader, and Simon B. Buckner of Kentucky for Vice. This party came out squarely for the gold standard only.

Mr. Bryan took the stump and addressed the people of the country at large. Mr. McKinley remained quietly in his own home at Canton, and received delegations. It seemed as though every man, woman and child took sides in the great question at stake, and each was equally sure of success. Debates noticeable {357}for their bitter intensity were heard, meetings were held day and night, and each party felt certain that in an acceptance of its particular views alone rested the safety and perpetuity of our country.

The battle culminated on November 5, 1896, when William McKinley was elected by a large majority. The rancor and bitterness died out, all parties accepted the people's choice, and he was inaugurated President March 4, 1897, amid a scene of splendor.

Of his patriotism, his clear-sightedness, his wisdom, his administration is daily giving proof, and his conduct of our late war with Spain is the best vindication of the calm, unbiased, just and grand character of our chief executive.

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“HOME, SWEET HOME.”

FRANCES E. WILLARD.

In {359}the spring of 1863 two great armies were encamped on either side of the Rappahannock River, one dressed in blue and the other dressed in gray. As twilight fell, the bands of music on the Union side began to play the martial music, “The Star Spangled Banner,” and “Rally Round the Flag;” and that challenge of music was taken up by those upon the other side, and they responded with “The Bonnie Blue Flag,” and “Away Down South in Dixie.” It was borne in upon the soul of a single soldier in one of those bands of music to begin a sweeter and a more tender air, and slowly as he played it they joined in a sort of chorus of all the instruments upon the Union side, until finally a great and mighty chorus swelled up and down our army--“Home, Sweet Home.” When they had finished there was no challenge yonder, for every band upon that farther shore had taken up the lovely air so attuned to all that is holiest and dearest, and one great chorus of the two great hosts went up to God; and when they had finished the sweet and holy melody, from the boys in gray there came a challenge, “Three cheers for home!” and as they went reverberating through the skies from both sides of the river, “something upon the soldiers' cheeks washed off the stains of powder.”

THE REV. O. H. TIFFANY, D. D.

|HOW solemn a thing is death!--and yet, how wonderful a thing {360}is life! God appoints it, man develops it, death seals its destiny, eternity unfolds its ultimate issues. Each human soul in which this power of life is has “its secrets and histories and marvels of destiny, heaven's splendors are over its dead, hell's terrors are under its feet, tragedies and poetries are in it, and a history for eternity.” Every social organism, every grand national aggregation of lives but generalizes the history of the individual, and thus the history of all life and of all living, whether in individuals, families, societies or nations, is one history, and that history the record of its conflicts, its defeats, its victories. The dawn of this life is a struggle for being, its growth a constant warfare with antagonisms, its maintenance is by continued defenses. And each and all of these create crises of destiny which may retard or advance, destroy or establish the whole.

Our national birth was a contest with physical difficulties, our establishment a victory over political antagonisms; the last desperate struggle was a conflict of ideas, a contest of moral principles; and we may hope that its issue shall be one of prosperity and peace.

Mountains are rock-ribbed and enduring because the earthquake has settled them on their foundations; the pines that crest them like a coronet withstand the rudest blasts, because they have been rooted by the storms which toss their giant branches. So universal freedom has been made sure by the passing turbulence of rebellion, and our national prosperity established by the rude blast of war.

It was a war such as the world never before witnessed; it was fought by such armies as never before were marshaled on the field. But the end has come. These great armies have returned covered with honor and laureled with renown. They are merged again in the business and activities of life; they have disappeared from view like the snow in springtime, or the dew of the morning in the {361}summer's sun; now and then the halting step upon the sidewalk, here and there an empty sleeve, remind us in our daily walks of the stern realities of war.

After war, peace!

Peace to the dead. Peace through their labors to the living. These “have fought their last fight,” the salvos of artillery which soon shall sound from the guns they loved so well shall not awake them. The grass shall grow green in springtime, the birds of summer shall sing their sweetest notes, the bright glories of autumn shall tint the foliage above them, and the white snow of winter shall lie unbroken on their graves, but these shall sleep on in peace.

Peace, white-robed and olive-crowned, has come to us who linger. Peace, with its cares and toils, peace, with its plenty and prosperity, peace, with its duties for to-day and its destinies for to-morrow. Let us welcome it and become worthy of it. Let there be in all our lives, thoughts, hopes, endeavors, such devotion to duty as called and sent these brave men to the battlefield and sustained them there; and then we may safely leave our future to the care of those who, coming after us, shall pause, amid the ruins time may make, to trace upon the marble in our cemeteries the names of the heroic dead.

God gives us peace! Not such as lulls to sleep,

But sword on thigh and brows with purpose knit.

And let our Ship of State to harbor sweep,

Her ports all up! Her battle lanterns lit!

And her leashed thunders gathered for their leap.

THE UNION SOLDIER.

ROBERT G. INGERSOLL.

|THE past rises before me like a dream. Again we are in the great struggle for national life. We hear the sounds of preparation, the music of the boisterous drum, the silver voices of heroic bugles. We see thousands of assemblages, and hear the appeals of orators; we see the pale cheeks of women and the {362}flushed faces of men; and in those assemblages we see all the dead whose dust we have covered with flowers. We lose sight of them no more. We are with them when they enlist in the great army of freedom. We see them part with those they love. Some are walking for the last time in quiet, woody places with the maidens they adore. We hear the whisperings and the sweet vows of eternal love as they lingeringly part forever. Others are bending over cradles, kissing babies that are asleep; some are receiving the blessings of old men; some are parting with mothers who hold them and press them to their hearts again and again, and say nothing, and some are talking with wives, and endeavoring with brave words spoken in the old tones to drive from their hearts the awful fear. We see them part. We see the wife standing in the door, with the babe in her arms--standing in the sunlight sobbing--at the turn of the road a hand waves--she answers by holding high in her loving hands the child. He is gone, and forever. We see them all as they march proudly away under the flaunting flags, keeping time to the wild, grand music of war, marching down the streets of the great cities, through the towns and across the prairies, down to the fields of glory, to do and to die for the eternal right. We go with them, one and all. We are by their side on all the gory fields, in the hospitals, on all the weary marches. We stand guard with them in the wild storm, and under the quiet stars. We are with them in ravines running with blood, in the furrows of old fields; we are with them between contesting hosts unable to move, wild with thirst, the life ebbing slowly away among the withered leaves. We see them pierced by balls and torn with shells in the trenches by forts, and in the whirlwind of the charge, where men become iron, with nerves of steel.

We are with them in the prisons of hatred and famine; but human speech can never tell what they endured. We are at home when the news comes that they are dead. We see the maiden in the shadow of her first sorrow. We see the silvered head of the old man bowed with the first grief.

The past rises before us, and we see four millions of human beings governed by the lash; we see them bound hand and foot; we hear the strokes of cruel whips; we see the hounds tracking women {363}through the tangled swamps; we see babes sold from the breasts of mothers. Cruelty unspeakable! Outrage infinite! Four million bodies in chains--four million souls in fetters. All the sacred relations of wife, mother, father and child trampled beneath the brutal feet of might. All this was done under our own beautiful banner of the free. The past rises before us; we hear the roar and shriek of the bursting shell; the broken fetters fall; these heroes died. We look--instead of slaves we see men, women and children. The wand of progress touches the auction block, the slave pen, the whipping post, and we see homes and firesides, and schoolhouses and books, and where all was want and crime and cruelty and fetters, we see the faces of the free. These heroes are dead; they died for liberty; they died for us; they are at rest; they sleep in the land they made free under the flag they rendered stainless, under the solemn pines, the sad hemlocks, the tearful willows and the embracing vines; they sleep beneath the shadows of the clouds, careless alike of sunshine or storm, each in the windowless palace of rest. Earth may run red with other wars, they are at peace. In the midst of battle they found the severity of death. I have one sentiment for the soldiers, living and dead--cheers for the living, and tears for the dead.

Our Noble, Heroic and Self-Sacrificing Women.

EMORY A. STORRS.

|BRIGHT and shying on our resplendent annals shall appear the names of those thousands of noble, heroic and self-sacrificing women, who organized and carried forward to triumphant success a colossal sanitary and charitable scheme, the like of which, in nobility of conception and perfectness of execution, the world had never before witnessed, and which carried all around the globe the fame and the name of the women of America.

From camp to camp, from battlefield to battlefield, through the long and toilsome march, by day and by night, these sacred charities followed, and the prayers of the devoted and the true were ceaselessly with you through all dangers.

Leagues {364}and leagues separated you from home, but the blessings there invoked upon you hovered over and around you, and sweetened your sleep like angels' visits.

While the boy soldier slept by his camp fire at night and dreaming of home, and what his valor would achieve for his country, uttered even in his dreams prayers for the loved ones who had made that home so dear to him, the mother dreaming of her son breathed at the same time prayers for his safety, and for the triumph of his cause. The prayers and blessings of mother and son, borne heavenward, met in the bosom of their common God and Father.

ANTIETAM.

|I'VE wandered to Antietam, John,

And stood where foe met foe

Upon the fields of Maryland

So many years ago.

The circling hills rise just the same

As they did on that day,

When you were fighting blue, old

boy,

And I was fighting gray.

The winding stream runs 'neath the

bridge

Where Burnside won his fame;

The locust trees upon the ridge

Beyond are there the same.

The birds were singing 'mid the

trees--

'Twas bullets on that day,

When you were fighting blue, old

boy,

And I was fighting gray.

I saw again the Dunker Church

That stood beside the wood,

Where Hooker made the famous

charge

That Hill so well withstood.

'Tis scarred and marred by war and

time,

As we are, John, to-day;

For you were fighting blue, old boy,

As I was fighting gray.

I stood beneath the signal tree

Where I that day was laid,

And 'twas your arms, old boy, that

brought

Me'to this friendly shade.

Tho' leaves are gone and limbs are

bare,

Its heart is true to-day

As your your's was then, tho' fighting blue,

To me, tho fighting gray.

I marked the spot where Mansfield

fell,

Where Richardson was slain,

With Stark and Douglas 'mid the

corn,

And Brant amid the grain.

The names are sacred to us, John;

They led us in the fray, [blue

When you were fighting Northern

And I the Southern gray.

I {365}thought of Burnside, Hooker, '

Meade,

Of Sedgwick, old and grave;

Of Stonewall Jackson, tried and true,

That tried the day to save.

I bared my head--they rest in peace--

Each one has passed away;

Death musters those who wore the

blue

With those who wore the gray.

The old Pry mansion rears its walls

Beside Antietam's stream,

And far away along the South

I saw the tombstones gleam.

They mark each place where “Little

Mac”

And Robert Lee that day

Made proud the South, tho' wearing

blue,

The North, tho' wearing gray.

Yes; John, it gave me joy to stand

Where we once fiercely fought.

The nation now is one again--

The lesson has been taught.

Sweet peace doth fair Antietam crown,

And we can say to-day [blue

We're friends, tho' one was fighting

And one was fighting gray.

THE SWORDS OF GRANT AND LEE.

“_Fame Hath Crowned with Laurel the Swords of Grant and Lee._”

ETHINKS to-night I catch a gleam of steel among the pines,

And yonder by the lilied stream repose the foemen's lines;

The ghostly guards who pace the ground a moment stop to see

If all is safe and still around the tents of Grant and Lee.

'Tis but a dream; no armies camp where once their bay'nets

shone;

And Hesper's calm and lovely lamp shines on the dead alone;

A cricket chirps on yonder rise beneath a cedar tree

Where glinted 'neath the summer skies the swords of Grant and Lee.

Forever sheathed those famous blades that led the eager van!

They shine no more among the glades that fringe the Rapidan;

To-day their battle work is done, go draw them forth and see

That not a stain appears upon the swords of Grant and Lee.

The gallant men who saw them flash in comradeship to-day

Recall the wild, impetuous dash of val'rous blue and gray;

And 'neath the flag that proudly waves above a Nation free,

They oft recall the missing braves who fought with Grant and Lee.

They sleep among the tender grass, they slumber 'neath the pines,

They're camping in the mountain pass where crouched the serried lines;

They {366}rest where loud the tempests blow, destructive in their glee--

The men who followed long ago the swords of Grant and Lee.

Their graves are lying side by side where once they met as foes,

And where they in the wildwood died springs up a blood-red rose;

O'er them the bee on golden wing doth flit, and in yon tree

A gentle robin seems to sing to them of Grant and Lee.

To-day no strifes of sections rise, to-day no shadows fall

Upon our land, and 'neath the skies one flag waves over all;

The Blue and Gray as comrades stand, as comrades bend the knee,

And ask God's blessings on the land that gave us Grant and Lee.

So long as southward, wide and clear, Potomac's river runs,

Their deeds will live because they were Columbia's hero sons;

So long as bend the Northern pines, and blooms the orange tree,

The swords will shine that led the lines of valiant Grant and Lee.

Methinks I hear a bugle blow, methinks I hear a drum;

And there, with martial step and slow, two ghostly armies come;

They are the men who met as foes, for 'tis the dead I see,

And side by side in peace repose the swords of Grant and Lee.

Above them let Old Glory wave, and let each deathless star

Forever shine upon the brave who lead the ranks of war;

Their fame resounds from coast to coast, from mountain top to sea

No other land than ours can boast the swords of Grant and Lee!

WAR WITH SPAIN.

NLY {367}those who know the power of peace can realize the dread of war. For four centuries Spain has borne down upon her colonies, with a heavy hand. The brightest of them, Cuba, “the Pearl of the Antilles,” has been the victim of two cruel and merciless wars at her hands, waged with relentless barbarity. We could not, as a Christian nation, help protesting against her inhumanity to a people whose home was so near our shores.

For thirty years the sounds of war had been silent in our domain, but justice demanded that we interfere in behalf of a people who are struggling against oppression, and in the noble cause of humanity. Spain's cruelty and Spain's greed are matters of history.

THE MAINE DISASTER.

|On the 25th of January the Maine, an American battleship, entered the harbor of Havana, Cuba, and anchored in her waters at a spot indicated by the harbor-master. The usual exchange of salutes and formal visits expected between two powers, took place, and there was no apparent unfriendliness shown. Just three weeks from that day, in the evening of the 15th of February, an explosion took place, which tore the boat to atoms, killing 266 of her crew and two officers. At once treachery was suspected, {368}but the American people was asked to suspend its judgment until the long and searching investigation which was conducted by the naval board of inquiry was ended, when every evidence was produced proving that the awful calamity was due wholly to Spanish treachery.

This led to a severing of all diplomatic relations, which was ended by the Spanish minister's request for his passport. Spain declared war upon the United States on April 24, 1898, and it took the House of Representatives one minute and forty-one seconds to pass a declaration of war in reply to Spain, and the Senate acted with equal promptness.

Events of such vast importance have rarely followed each other with such rapidity as have those of our late war with Spain. In less than three months a nation which deemed itself invincible, threw down the gauntlet which was as speedily picked up, and engagements and battles trod almost upon each other's heels, until its boast was proved a vain one, and victory was ours.

Our people were ready to accept the challenge. From North and South came the glad response. Once more the blue and the gray fought side by side, as brothers.

THE FIRST GUN FIRED.

|Our history would be incomplete if I did not tell my young readers who fired the first shot in our war with Spain. The United States cruiser, Nashville, of the North Atlantic squadron at Key West, can lay proud claim to that honor.

It was a clear and beautiful morning in April when the American fleet left Key West, and proceeding southward across the straits of Florida, first saw the city of Havana and the battlements of the famous Morro Castle, on the afternoon of the same day. The fleet presented a gallant sight, and when at three in the morning Admiral Sampson's flagship, the New York, flashed forth her signal lights, the answering signals were given from all the ships of the fleet, black smoke began to pour from the smokestacks, and the crews needed no further hint that they had work before them. {369}

{370}

{371}

These volunteers in company with the Sixteenth and Sixth Regiments were ordered to “charge the Block House'” and up the hill they charged with military precision.

After {372}the Nashville returned to Key West, the rest of the squadron proceeded to the Cuban coast. Coming within fifteen miles of Morro Castle, the fleet scattered so as to form a complete blockade of the port. Every day brought new prizes to our squadron, and the blockade of Havana proved effectual.

It is well to call the attention of the boys to a few of the changes in phraseology between the old sea terms and the new. Once in the English navy (and ours was modeled after it) the term admiral was unknown--the word constable or justice was used. So with the title of captain, which is in reality a military one. In the earlier times this personage was called a master. The term commodore we have borrowed from that very nation with whom we have just measured arms--the Spanish, and comes from their word _comendador_. Cadets were not known by that name, but were called volunteers. Another item which furnishes food for reflection, is the origin of the United States navy. On October 13, 1775, the continental congress voted to fit out two vessels, one to carry ten guns, the other fourteen, for the purpose of taking English supply vessels. The same month it added two more vessels to its extensive equipment. On March 27, 1794, after our troubles with the Algerine pirates, six frigates were ordered, each to carry thirty-two guns. Congress appropriated $700,000 for the purpose of organizing a navy. Compare this feeble beginning with our splendid navy of to-day.

It is proper to explain here what the practice of nations is with regard to prize money. It is a strict rule of war that neutral powers must not interfere nor give help to either party that is engaged in a war. To furnish ships, ammunition, or supplies is a grave offence, and all such goods are termed “contraband of war.” {373}

Any boat at sea suspected of carrying “contraband” articles can be searched, but properly commissioned vessels only can perform this duty. Another thing which will subject a vessel to being seized or confiscated is an attempt at blockade running, or trying to pass the line established by the war vessels stationed in an entrance to a harbor or along the coast. These are {374}rules of war common to all nations, and must be rigidly observed.

All neutral governments are notified that such blockade exists, and exactly how far it extends. But “paper blockades,” or the mere declaration that a blockade is in force, are of no account. At the treaty of Paris, in 1856, the powers declared that “blockades, in order to be binding, must be effective,” or in plainer words, a force must actually be stationed on the blockaded ground strong enough to make it dangerous to attempt to pass it.

“Prize money” sounds very tempting, and its meaning will be given. When a war is in progress properly commissioned ships are empowered to capture not only the armed vessels of the enemy, but its merchantmen as well. These vessels are taken to the country of their captors, the courts pass judgment upon their value, and if it is proven to be a lawful prize, it is sold, and the proceeds is called “prize money,” and is awarded to the captors, the officers and crew, in proportion to their rank.

The prize money adjudged to them is thus given out in the following manner:

“1. The commander of a fleet or squadron, one-twentieth part prize money awarded to any vessel or vessels under his immediate command.

“2. To the commander of a division of a fleet or squadron, a sum equal to one-fiftieth of any prize money awarded to a vessel of the division under his command, to be paid from the moiety due the United States, if there be such moiety; if not, from the amount awarded the captors.

“3. To the fleet captain, one-hundredth part of all prize money awarded to any vessel of the fleet in which he is serving, in which case he shall share in proportion to his pay, with the other officers and men on board such vessel.

“4. To the commander of a single vessel, one-tenth of all the prize money awarded to the vessel. {375}

“5. After the foregoing deductions, the residue is distributed among the others doing duty on board, and borne upon the {376}books of the ship, in proportion to their respective rates of pay.

“All vessels of the navy within signal distance of the vessel making the capture, and in such condition as to be able to render, effective aid if required, will share, in the prize. Any person temporarily absent from his vessel may share in the captures made during his absence. The prize court determines what vessel shall share in a prize, and also whether a prize was superior or inferior to the vessel or vessels making the capture.

“The share of prize money awarded to the United States is set apart forever as a fund for the payment of pensions to naval officers, seamen and marines entitled to pensions.”

On April 27 our forces bombarded the important city of Matanzas, a rich and flourishing point, the outlet of the agricultural districts. April 29 the city of Cienfuegos yielded to our shells, and on the 30th of April the frowning batteries of Cabanas were attacked.

DEWEY'S VICTORY AT MANILA.

|The first great naval battle of the war took place on the 1st of May. Those whose opinion was considered valuable, declared that on this battle depended the result of the war--some even prophesying that a victory here would practically end it.

Another matter which engrossed the attention of the governments abroad, was the fact that this encounter would serve as a test of the merits of the modern fighting machine. Should it prove all that was claimed for it, then in truth, a new departure in naval warfare had come.

The eyes of the world were upon the fleet, which, under the command of Commodore George Dewey, was hastening toward Manila, the capital of the Philippines. Just after daylight, Sunday morning of May 1, Manila time, 6 p.m. Saturday, Chicago time, the Olympia opened fire, when two miles away from the enemy. As she drew nearer, she trained every battery upon the Spanish fleet, with deadly effect. When the battle was almost decided, the Reina Christina came out to engage our flagship. {377}

She {378}advanced with great bravery, but to no purpose. The big guns on the Olympia struck her fore and aft, totally wrecking her and setting fire to her magazine. The Spanish Admiral, Montejo, was standing on the bridge of his boat, when it was shot from under him. The Spanish sailors escaped into their boats, fleeing from the burning ship. Montejo carried his pennant to the Castilla, but five minutes after that ship was set on fire by the shells.

After two hours' hard fighting, a rest was taken, when the attack was renewed, and at the expiration of a half hour the long-dreaded and much-boasted of Spanish fleet was a name only--nothing was left to tell the tale of her greatness save the transport Manila.

This battle was fought off Cavite, ten miles to the southwest of Manila. The Spanish fleet, of which so much was predicted by Spain, and which met with such a crushing defeat, consisted of the following vessels: Reina Mercedes, cruiser; Reina Christina, cruiser; Isla de Cuba, cruiser; Isla de Luzon, cruiser; Castilla, cruiser; Don Antonio De Ulloa, cruiser; Don Juan de Austria, cruiser; Velasco, cruiser; Elcano, gunboat; General Lezo, gunboat; Marquis del Duero, gunboat; Quiros, gunboat; Villalobos, torpedo gunboat; General Alava, transport; Cebu, transport; Manila, transport; Isla de Mindanao, converted cruiser.

The United States fleet was composed of the Olympia, (flagship), first-class cruiser, Captain C. N. Gridley; Baltimore, protected cruiser, Captain N. M. Dyer; Boston, protected cruiser, Captain Frank Wildes; Raleigh, protected cruiser, Captain J. B. Coghlan; Concord, gunboat, Commander Asa Walker; Petrel, gunboat, Commander E. P. Wood; McCulloch, dispatch boat; Nanshan, collier; Zafiro, collier. The magnificent victory of the American Admiral has made his name famous. His achievement is unparalleled in naval annals, and entitles him to the proud rank of being the greatest of fleet commanders, a worthy pupil of his invincible teacher, David G. Farragut. {379}

The gratitude and admiration of the nation are his. President {380}McKinley, as a fitting acknowledgment of his splendid deed, at once appointed him Rear Admiral in the United States Navy, with access of pay.

When the Stars and Stripes were hoisted over the Philippine capital, the rejoicings at home were unbounded. But when the news reached Spain, it produced a contrary effect; the indignation of that power was profound. An uprising of the people was feared, and the governors of all provinces were ordered to place them under martial law at the first serious outbreak. The cable at Manila was cut by orders of Admiral Dewey, and thus the court at Madrid was kept in uncertainty as to what was actually transpiring.

The victory so bravely won was but the predecessor of others which gave every true American a thrill of pride. Admiral Sampson, commander of the North Atlantic squadron, arrived at San Juan de Puerto Rico on the 12th of May, making an early call, as he commenced operations before sunrise, bombarding the fortifications. The first shot was fired from the Iowa, captained by Bob Evans (“Fighting Bob”), and it was followed by the Indiana.

From the halyards of the flagship New York the signal flashed forth--“Remember the Maine!” The big guns pealed forth seven shots, and the works felt their force. Fort Morro was left full of gaps, where the shells had struck it, and torn away the masonry. The frightened populace fled to the interior, beyond the range of the guns. Word had been sent ahead by the commander of the American squadron that the works were to be attacked, thus giving the non-combatants a chance to seek safety. {381}

The first blood on our side was shed at Cardenas, May 12. After a short encounter of thirty-five minutes between the torpedo boat Winslow, the tug Hudson and the gunboat Wilmington on the American side, and the batteries at Cardenas and four Spanish gunboats, our arms were again victorious. Five Americans fell in this engagement. Ensign Worth Bagley of the Winslow, a brave North Carolinian, was the first officer to yield up {382}his life. It is stated that even after the Winslow's starboard engine and steering gear were useless, the crew kept hurling shot at the Spaniards on shore, until she was totally disabled.

On the next day, May 13, the Flying Squadron left Hampton Roads, and made Key West on the 18th. Santiago was the intended point of attack, and on the 18th also Admiral Sampson thought it time to turn his attention to that place. The second squadron sent out by Spain, under Cervera, lay at that time in the harbor of Santiago, in fancied security.

ROOSEVELT'S ROUGH RIDERS.

|On Friday, June 24, a desperate engagement took place between four troops of the First Cavalry, four of the Tenth and eight of Roosevelt's “Rough Riders,” who attacked a force of 2,000 Spanish soldiers, twice their number, and sixteen men were killed, among whom were Captain Allyn M. Capron and Hamilton Fish, Jr., belonging to the Rough Riders.

The Rough Riders followed the trail over steep hills that towered many hundred feet high. The weather was intensely warm, and each man carried 200 rounds of ammunition and his heavy camp equipment. On they toiled up the narrow path, often so narrow that they could only go in single file, while the sharp thorns of the prickly cactus tore and scratched them as they passed through the thick underbrush.

As the day grew hotter they threw away blankets and tent rolls, and even emptied their canteens. Soon they heard a call like a cuckoo. Every man was on the alert. They knew now that Spaniards were near, for that was their cry. A charge was ordered, and they dashed into the thicket. The rush was so sudden and bold that a panic ensued among the Spanish soldiers, and after fighting about an hour, they fled, firing as they ran, leaving fifty dead upon the field. {383}

The crack of the Mauser rifles was heard, and the leaves flew from the trees and chips from the fence post were showered over the heads of the Rough Riders. The fire was a heavy one. Sergeant Fish was the first man to fall on our side--shot through the {384}heart. Although the enemy was but 200 yards away, yet they were so securely hidden in the brush that only a glimpse of them now and then could be seen. Colonel Wood showed remarkable coolness, walking along the lines as he gave orders. Lieutenant Roosevelt rushed into the thicket cheering his men on, who were as anxious as he to reach the hidden foe. Captain Capron held his revolver in hand, and sent several of the Spaniards to the ground. Suddenly his weapon dropped from his hands and he fell, shot through the body. With his dying breath he cried--“Don't mind me, boys, go on and fight.” After fifteen minutes more, of hot fighting Lieutenant Roosevelt ordered his men back, and just missed a bullet which buried itself in a tree alongside his head. The Spaniards fell back, and ran down one hill and up another to the blockhouse, it was supposed with the intention of making a stand there. Instantly the Americans followed them closely, and poured a storm of bullets into the blockhouse; the Spaniards fled in haste, and the battle was over. This was the first battle which the Rough Riders had taken part in, and they proved their valor and bravery in a brilliant manner.

HOBSON MADE FAMOUS.

|One of the most brilliant exhibitions of pure, unselfish courage ever exhibited was the act of Lieutenant Richmond P. Hobson. That officer, who was assistant naval constructor, had succeeded in convincing Admiral Sampson that there was but one way to prevent Admiral Cervera's escape. His daring scheme gave the fleet of the Spanish admiral its death blow. Under the direction of Admiral Sampson he volunteered to take the collier Merrimac into the channel leading into the harbor, and sink it, so as to prevent his escape with his ships; In other words, he literally “bottled” the unlucky Admiral up. {385}

He needed but six men to help him accomplish his purpose. Admiral Sampson explained to the brave sailors that it was a desperate mission, that death was almost certain, and yet when only six volunteers were asked for, over 1,000 responded, anxious, glad {386}to be of service to the cause. Tears filled their eyes as they begged for the honor of going with the brave commander who had been chosen for the perilous undertaking, and dying, if need be. It was a gallant deed, and as the Merrimac steamed into the channel, a furious cannonading from the Spanish forts greeted their coming, but on they went into the “very jaws of death,” and amid shot and shell Lieutenant Hobson went to the point indicated by Admiral Sampson, anchored, and swung across the channel. Then a hole was blown in the ship's bottom, and a dash was made for a boat. They were loudly cheered by the Spaniards, who were lost in admiration of their heroism, and Cervera himself, although he took them prisoners, sent a flag of truce to Admiral Sampson, by his chief of staff, Captain Oviedo, in honor of their bravery, offering to exchange them without delay for Spanish prisoners in the hands of the United States.

The names of the gallant men who offered their lives so freely were--Daniel Montague, George Charette, J. E. Murphy, Oscar Deignan, John P. Phillips, and John Kelly.

After being kept prisoners from June 2 until July 6, Lieutenant Hobson and the six men who were made prisoners with him, were surrendered by the Spanish military authorities in exchange for prisoners which we held. Captain Chadwick, of the New York, escorted them through our lines. The soldiers were wild with joy, and paid no attention to discipline or order, so anxious were they to see the heroes of the Merrimac, whom they wildly cheered. Lieutenant Hobson talked very little about his experiences, but said the Spanish authorities had treated them well, and their health was excellent.

The bombardment of Santiago's forts was vigorously kept up. On the 22d and 23d General Shafter landed at Baiquiri, and moved toward Santiago. He attacked the Spanish outposts July 1, and a fierce fight raged all day. He demanded the surrender of the latter place. General Lawton carried the heights of San Juan, after a determined charge.

DESTRUCTION OF CERVERA'S FLEET.

|Another {387}notable victory, and one of the greatest naval battles ever recorded, was the total destruction of Cervera's proud fleet, which was accomplished by Commodore Schley, on the 3d of July. The American fleet's commander, Sampson, was absent conferring with General Shafter regarding future movements. Meantime the government at Madrid realized that the city must fall sooner or later, and it had ordered Cervera to make one bold dash out of the harbor. This he attempted to do, but was received so warmly by Schley that in two hours the “invincible” fleet of the Spanish admiral was a series of wrecks, strewn along the beach for fifty miles, with a loss of 600 killed, and 1,100 prisoners taken by our forces, among whom was Cervera himself. The attempted escape was made with great courage on the part of the Spaniards, who fought to the last, and when hope was gone, threw themselves upon the mercy of their captors, who accorded them protection from the Cuban insurgents who had watched the battle in all its terrible earnestness.

SURRENDER OF SANTIAGO.

|Santiago had not yet yielded, however, and on the 10th of July bombardment of that town was resumed.

The 14th of July saw the long-expected surrender of Santiago to General Shafter, and at 12 o'clock noon, the glorious Stars and Stripes were hoisted over the Governor's palace, and we held the situation. The American general rode into the city escorted by the Second Cavalry. The people were very quiet, many of them even showing satisfaction at the event. Courtesies were exchanged between the Spanish and American officers, and General Shafter returned to General Toral his sword. The Spanish flag was displaced by the American--the eternal symbol of liberty.

On the 26th of July the Spanish government made overtures for peace, through the French ambassador, M. Cambon, who called on our President and by proper authority stated that Spain {388}was willing to treat with the United States, and would like to consider terms. After discussing the proposal with the Cabinet, President McKinley notified the French ambassador of his ultimatum. The terms of the protocol were these:

“1. That Spain will relinquish all claims of sovereignty over or title to Cuba.

“2. That Puerto Rico and other Spanish islands in the West Indies, and an island in the Ladrones, to be selected by the United States, shall be ceded to the latter.

“3. That the United States will occupy and hold the city, bay, and harbor of Manila pending the conclusion of a treaty of peace which shall determine the control, disposition and government of the Philippines.

“4. That Cuba, Puerto Rico, and other Spanish islands in the West Indies shall be immediately evacuated, and that commissioners to be appointed within ten days shall, within thirty days from the signing of the protocol, meet at Havana and San Juan, respectively, to arrange and execute the details of the evacuation.

“5. That the United States and Spain will each appoint not more than five commissioners to negotiate and conclude a treaty of peace. The commissioners are to meet at Paris not later than the 1st of October.

“6. On the signing of the protocol hostilities will be suspended, and notice to that effect will be given as soon as possible by each government to the commanders of its military and naval forces.”

The government of Spain sought to evade the payment of the Cuban debt, but President McKinley was firm, and declined to discuss the matter until Spain had accepted his ultimatum. Days passed before our government received notification through M. Cambon that the Spanish ministry had approved of his management of the negotiations, and he had been authorized to sign the protocol. At 4:33 of the same day the agreement was signed by Secretary of State Day on behalf of the United States, and M. Cambon, of France, on behalf of Spain. {389}

Our {390}President at once issued a proclamation stating that the United States and Spain had formally agreed upon terms for negotiations through which peace between the two countries should be established, and official orders were sent to the various commanders of the forces of the United States, that all military operations be suspended.

SURRENDER OF MANILA.

|But the latter order did not reach Admiral Dewey in time to prevent his adding more luster to his name by uniting his naval forces with the land forces of General Merritt.

July 31 a battle was waged at Malate, a small town half way between Cavite and Manila. Here General Greene was posted with 4,000 men. Our troops were strengthening their position, when the Spaniards attempted to give the Americans a surprise. The rain was pouring down in sheets, the typhoon was raging furiously, and it seemed a most auspicious time for the attack. Three thousand Spaniards were massed in the vicinity. They forced the American pickets in, and assaulted the soldiers in the trenches. But they did not know the men they attacked. The Tenth Pennsylvania stood their ground, and were reinforced by the First California and two companies of the Third Artillery. The mud was up to the axles, the rain and wind raged wildly, and the enemy was on top of the trenches, while they sent a withering fire into the ranks of the Americans, who never wavered, but returned it with earnestness.

The Spaniards retreated in confusion, but were not pursued, as our infantry had exhausted its ammunition. The scene was a thrilling one. Darkness covered the earth, save when a flash of lightning lit up the faces of the dead and wounded, who lay side by side, in the trenches half filled with water which was red with their blood. Not a cry was heard from the lips of the wounded, but they spoke words of cheer to those who were still able to fight.

The fighting began again August 1, but the enemy kept at long range. The next night they made another attack, but were repulsed, {391}with severe loss, 350 killed, 900 wounded, while we lost fourteen, and forty-four wounded.

August 8, Admiral Dewey and General Merritt notified the authorities in Manila that unless they surrendered the city to them in forty-eight hours a combined attack by the land and naval forces might be expected. When that time had expired the Spanish officials asked one day more so that they might remove the women and children, which request was granted.

When the foreign warships were appraised of the intended attack, they prudently got out of range. The English and Japanese warships joined our fleet at Cavite, while the French and German ships went to the north of the city, where they were safe. At 9:35 on Saturday, the 13th, a shell was fired from the Olympia and hissed dangerously near the fort at Malate. The other boats began a rapid fire upon the intrenchments. A few feeble replies came from the Spaniards.

The battle was short. In half an hour General Greene ordered an advance, and six companies of a colored regiment sprang over the breastworks and sought the shelter of some hedges about 300 yards from the Spanish lines. Then the remaining six companies moved along the shore, partly hid by a ridge of sand and at 11 o'clock were in the stronghold.

At this critical moment 2,000 Spanish soldiers came on the scene, but they did not engage the Americans. As soon as the white flag was seen, General Merritt, who had made the steamer Zafiro his headquarters, sent General Whittier, with flag lieutenant Brumby to meet the captain general and discuss a plan of capitulation. The terms were agreed to by Jaudenes, and were as follows:

“An agreement for the capitulation of the Philippines:

“A provision for disarming the men who remain organized under the command of their officers, no parole being exacted.

“Necessary supplies to be furnished from the captured treasury funds, any possible deficiency being made good by the Americans.

“The {392}safety of life and property of the Spanish soldiers and citizens to be guaranteed as far as possible.

“The question of transporting the troops to Spain to be referred to decision of the Washington government, and that of returning their arms to the soldiers to be left to the discretion of General Merritt.

“Banks and similar institutions to continue operations under existing regulations, unless these are changed by the United States authorities.”

At once Lieutenant Brumby hastened away to take down the Spanish flag. Two signal men accompanied him. At Fort Santiago, in the north part of the city, they, were vigorously hissed when the flag of Spain was hauled down, and the flag of the free rose grandly in its place.

This day's battle resulted in a loss on the American side of eight killed and thirty-four wounded, while the Spanish had 150 killed and 300 wounded.

The Americans captured 11,000 prisoners, 7,000 of them being regulars; 20,000 Mauser rifles, 3,000 Remingtons, eighteen modern cannon, and many of the old pattern.

Thus ended a war which has covered us with glory--a war we did not invite, but which was forced upon us in the interests of humanity; a war which has taught European nations to respect us as a great power. May it be the last which our nation is drawn into. May the dawn of peace herald the day when wars shall be no more; when wise counsels and generous arbitration shall decide questions of moment between nations.

War has a terrible meaning; it means desolated homes, and bitter tears shed for those who come not; it means angry passions and cruel expressions of them; it means want and suffering and the humiliation of defeat for one side or the other. May the days of rancor end forever! {393}

ANNEXATION OF HAWAII.

|In connection with the war so recently concluded, we should mention the annexation of the Hawaiian Islands, a measure which {394}has been agitated for many years, and the conflict only increased the sentiment in favor of making them part and parcel of our Republic.

The islands comprise a group of eight, and were discovered by Captain Cook in 1788. They are important to us from their commercial value, and also from their strategic uses, and the necessity for a closer relation has been recognized by nearly every President and Secretary of State through all the successive administrations.

After many long and arduous debates, the vote for and against annexation was taken by Congress, and an overwhelming majority declared in favor of annexation, and Hayti with her vast commerce, her rich agricultural productions became a member of our great body politic, and on Friday, August 12, the American flag waved over Honolulu, the capital of the new “Territory of Hawaii.”

PUERTO RICO.

|The city of Santiago had not yet fallen. Bombarding had, however, long since ceased, and negotiations for the peaceful surrender of the city had been going on for several days, when General Miles arrived and assumed personal command of the army that was massed there. General Shafter of our forces and General Toral, of the Spanish, could not easily agree as to terms, but on the 16th the conditions of surrender were decided upon. By this agreement, about 5,000 square miles, the capital of the province and the entire army of Toral, fell to our share.

Santiago was ours. The ceremony sealing the surrender was impressive, though simple. Early as 9 o'clock the division and brigade commanders reported to General Shafter, and all took up the line of march toward the city. About halfway, under a lofty tree, General Toral with some of his officers awaited their coming. As General Shafter approached this tree the Spanish general raised his hat with dignified politeness, and the American general returned the bow. Quickly the soldiers of the Spanish side came through the hedge, preceded by the king's guard, 200 {395}strong, {396}while two trumpeters and a color bearer led the column. Marching and countermarching they halted in front of our men, and only ten yards away.

Thus they stood, curiosity and excitement plainly visible in their faces, although they were motionless as statues. The trumpets then rang out, a Spanish officer gave a word of command; their colors were lowered to salute ours, they presented arms and their officers removed their hats. Captain Brett gave the word, “Present sabers,” and downward flashed our sabers. General Shafter removed his hat, as did his staff. The stillness of the morning air was broken by the command of the officer in charge of the king's guard, they filed past our soldiers, who presented arms until the last man of the guard had gone by. Then the Spaniards marched toward Santiago, stacked their rifles which were of the Mauser pattern, and then, with neither arms nor flags, went back to their camp. Thus ended hostilities around Santiago.

Early in July the yellow fever began to attack the men of Shafter's army, but it was of a mild type, but it would have done incalculable injury had not the officers of the Fifth Army Corps addressed a protest to General Shafter who sent it to the War Department at Washington. The officials there hastened to transport the troops as fast as they could back to the United States and sent “immunes” to Santiago to do garrison duty.

An expedition commanded by Major General Nelson A. Miles left the bay of Guantanamo July 21, and sailed for Puerto Rico, reaching the port of Guanica July 25. This move was intended as a surprise, and a complete one it was to the Spaniards, who did not dream of an army of invasion attacking them. The naval part of the expedition comprised the Columbia, Gloucester, Dixie and Yale, and was in charge of Captain F. J. Higginson. General Miles was on board the Yale. The troops were carried by the transports, of which there were eight. The Gloucester, with the expectation that the harbor was full of mines, went pluckily in, and found five fathoms of water very near shore. The first hint of an invading army at their door, was {397}the boom of a gun, demanding that the Spanish flag come down, from a blockhouse east of the village.

They took aim with the next two shots at the hills on either side of the bay, so as not to injure the women and children. The Gloucester then laid to, and sent a launch on shore, without being molested.

Quartermaster Beck sent Yeoman Lacy to haul down the obnoxious flag, and up went our glorious Stars and Stripes, the first that ever floated over the soil of Puerto Rico.

But the Spaniards, though apparently making no resistance, suddenly opened fire with thirty Mauser rifles. Lieutenant Huse and his men, who had gone ashore in the launch, returned the fire with telling effect, their Colt gun being equal to the occasion.

Without waiting, the Gloucester opened fire with all her armament and shelled the town. Lieutenant Huse put up a small fort, calling it Fort Wainwright, and laid down barbed wire so as to repel the cavalry attack, which he expected. A few of the cavalrymen joined those who were fighting, but reinforcements had come for the Americans, and after some more vigorous fighting, at 9:45, with the exception of a few scattering shots, the town was won, and silence succeeded the din of battle.

The plans of General Miles had been faithfully carried out, and he went ashore at noon. He next turned his eyes toward Ponce, determined to shell that town if necessary. While he had given the inhabitants of Puerto Rico a surprise, he received one in return at the hands of the people of Ponce, for when the Wasp steamed up to the shore, instead of a force of soldiers arrayed against them, they found everybody in town had turned out, and was waiting to receive them with open arms. Ensign Curtin stepped nimbly on the beach, as though he did not doubt their sincerity, and was surrounded by people forcing presents upon him and his men, and saluting them with shouts of welcome.

A message was sent to the Spanish commander demanding that the town surrender, and Colonel San Martin acceded at once upon General Miles' assurance that the garrison should be allowed {398}to leave, that the civil government be permitted to continue its functions, that the police and fire brigade patrolled without weapons, and that the captain of the post should not be held a prisoner.

These conditions were reasonable enough, and were acceded to, and the rejoicings of the populace were enthusiastic. It was a genuine ovation, and more like a grand festive occasion than the surrender of a town to a foe.

When General Wilson landed, the local band played “The Star Spangled Banner.” The celebration went on, even after the United States troops landed. The people dressed in their finest garments as though it were a holiday, and kept open house.

General Miles issued a proclamation to the effect that our army came not to devastate the land or to interfere with existing laws or customs, and all that he required was obedience and order. He told them that the military forces were brought there to overthrow the arms of Spain and to give them the fullest amount of liberty consistent with the military. occupation of their island.

An invitation from the city officials at the city hall was given him, and when he entered the park which surrounded it, the local band played “See, the Conquering Hero Comes,” to which he responded by taking off his hat, and saluting the vast crowd. The band then played several of our national airs.

The news that peace was near was a disappointment to General Miles, as he had planned a masterly movement with great care, and had it been carried out it would have taught the Spaniards an invaluable lesson. Puerto Rico was occupied with a very small loss--two killed and thirty-seven wounded. {399}

GENERAL FITZHUGH LEE.

|When a successor to the Cuban consul-generalship was needed, President Cleveland selected Fitzhugh Lee for this important post. The health of Ramon Williams, former consul-general, had failed so visibly that he could no longer attend to its arduous {400}demands, and so in the spring of 1896 the choice of the president fell upon Mr. Lee, as the most suitable man for the place.

Fitzhugh Lee was born in Stafford County, Virginia, in 1835, and came of an illustrious family. His grandfather had served in the Revolutionary war, being the famous “Lighthorse Harry,” and he himself was the nephew of General Robert E. Lee--both of which facts insure the existence of courage and tact in the subject of our present sketch. His wise and patriotic administration of the duties of his office as consul won for him in a very brief time the confidence and admiration of the entire country, and the judgment of Mr. Cleveland was long since indorsed by it.

His father was an officer in the navy, but the young boy had no taste for a sea-life--his leaning was toward the army. So to West Point he went, from which he graduated in 1856 with a high record, and became a lieutenant of cavalry on the frontier, for five years, repelling the attacks of the Comanche Indians. He received an arrow in his lungs, in one of these engagements, but youth and a good constitution prevailed, and he recovered. He became an instructor in cavalry tactics at West Point, when only twenty-six years of age. But when the civil war broke out, he resigned his commission, and joined the fortunes of the confederacy, where his record as a brave and dashing soldier is well known. It is said of him that he always showed great coolness and composure, in times of battle, never seeming to have any anxiety as to the result. His resolute and daring demeanor was contagious, and he was much beloved by the men whom he commanded.

He is a magnificent horseman. During the war of 1861 he owned a fine mare, Nellie, a graceful creature, to whom he was much attached. She was struck by a shell at the battle of Winchester, and a fragment of the same shell tore her master's leg badly. {401}

All through the war he was a fearless, honest adversary, and when peace came he retired to his native county, where he led {402}the quiet, unpretending life of a farmer and miller. He was married in 1871, and was peculiarly happy in his home, devoted to his wife and children.

In 1875 he was persuaded to engage in political matters, and was sent to the national convention of 1876 as a delegate. Ten years later he was elected governor of Virginia and served to the complete satisfaction of his people. His political record is as worthy of the man as was his military, and no finer example of both can be found. When Mr. Cleveland entered upon his second term he made Fitzhugh Lee collector of internal revenue, at Lynchburg, Virginia. His official position at Havana remained unchanged, when Mr. McKinley entered the executive chair, the latter being well aware that no better example of what a brave, cultivated and level-headed American gentleman should be, was afforded than by General Lee. He was respected by the Spanish officials for his firmness in looking after the interests of his countrymen, and his unvarying courtesy to every one with whom he came in contact.

He was, however, treated with great rudeness on his farewell visit to the Spanish Captain-General Blanco, that person refusing to see him, on the pretext of being too busy. And when he entered the boat which was to bear him to the steamer, the Spanish rabble at the docks showered insulting epithets upon him, but with that dignity which is native to him, he paid no attention to them, but made the remark that he would be back with troops before long, to uphold him.

All honor to General Lee. He has proven himself capable of self-control, and the man who can govern himself, can govern others successfully. And we trust that at some future day this gallant and chivalrous soldier may receive some gift at the hands of the nation worthy of his ability.

ADMIRAL GEORGE DEWEY.

|To speak of this brave sailor as a hero, is to utter but faint praise. He was born in Montpelier, Vermont, sixty-one years ago, and was the youngest of three boys. Not one of his elders could have {403}foreseen, when he was a boy, how proud they would become at a future day, of their young townsman. As a boy he was full of mischief, loving adventure and ever ready for anything that came along. In fact this great man was just like all other boys--he felt the world was his, and all that was in it, to enjoy! At school he proved himself an apt student, quick to comprehend his lessons, and a ringleader in all kinds of sport, but hating anything small or mean in his associates. He was also a great favorite with older people.

He came of a prominent family, his father being a doctor, and two of his name, both nephews, are said to inherit much of the Dewey talent. When he was a lad, the town of Montpelier was very small, but it had great pretensions, as it was the capital of the State, and naturally attracted the best elements of society, men and women of education and character, the former of whom had been chosen to represent the people of the State in her legislative halls. In such an atmosphere of culture young Dewey grew into manhood, and to his early advantages (his parents holding high social standing) he owes that polish of manner which he is said to possess in a remarkable degree.

He was much of a reader when he was a youth, and the books he read were upon naval matters. Sea stories and tales of travel were his delight. It is told of him about this time, to show how little he waited for events to shape themselves, that he planned to go on a fishing excursion with two schoolmates. The hour was to be four in the morning, but he was not to be found, and so they started for the river without him. When they reached the fishing grounds he had been there two hours, and had an enormous string of trout which he had caught. At the time the boys called it unfair, but in telling it now, the narrator calls it a good evidence of his habit of doing for himself, and not waiting for anyone's prompting. As he expressed it,--“You see he didn't wait till next morning before going into Manila harbor.”

His fondness for the water led him to spend his play hours on rafts and on an old ferry which was not used by the town.

Once {404}he thought he'd cross the ferry in an old leaky buggy of his father's. Not being able to get the horse into the water, he took the box off the running gear and tried to run it across as a boat. He came very near drowning, and would have perished but for timely assistance.

His birthplace has sent forth many notable people, lawyers, doctors, statesmen, but of all the renowned names she claims, her greatest boast is that Commodore Dewey was born within her limits.

He was sent to the military school at Norwich, Vermont, at the age of fifteen. Here he stayed two years, at the end of which he concluded that he would rather enter the navy than be a land soldier. His father was a man of influence, and easily got him appointed at Annapolis.

In the year 1858 he graduated, and passed three years of service aboard ship before the war of 1861 broke out. He received his commission as lieutenant on the 19th of April, 1861, a few days before Fort Sumter was fired upon. He was sent at once to the steam sloop Mississippi, which joined the West Gulf squadron, and he was with Admiral Farragut when that gallant sailor forced an entrance to the Mississippi River.

The boat had a hot fight in March, 1863, when it tried to pass the Confederate batteries at Port Hudson. A heavy fog prevailed, so dense not an object could be seen; they lost their bearings, and ran into shore right under the guns of one of their heaviest batteries. They were the recipients of 250 shots, which tore the boat from one end to the other, but the gloom of the fog proved a blessing, after all, as it enabled the crew to take to their boats and escape, after setting their sloop on fire.

In 1870 he was given his command, when he did good work on the Narragansett. Until 1876 he surveyed the Pacific coast, when he became inspector of lighthouses. {405}

He commanded the Juniata in 1882-83, and was made a captain in September, 1884, when he took charge of the Dolphin. This boat was one of the four vessels comprising the original “White Squadron.” Honors still flowed in upon him, for the next {406}year he took command of the Pensacola, belonging to the European squadron, on which he stayed till 1888, when he was made chief of the bureau of equipment and recruiting, as Commodore. This position he filled until 1893, when he became a member of the lighthouse board.

It was not until February 28, 1896, that he received the commission of Commodore, and in January, 1898, he was placed in command of the Asiatic squadron.

But it remained for him to eclipse all records in his daring fight at Manila, which is probably the greatest naval battle ever fought, and ranks its commander among those names that will never be forgotten. The action was so brilliant, so decisive, that President McKinley named him for a rear admiral in the United States Navy, and the Senate without a dissenting voice confirmed the nomination. He deserved it richly, and great as is the honor, still greater is the esteem, the love, the gratitude of the American nation for this grandest of naval commanders--George Dewey, the generous and manly conqueror on the sea.

ACTING REAR ADMIRAL SAMPSON.

|This distinguished and gallant officer is a native of New York, he having been born at Palmyra, that State, fifty-eight years ago.

He was a boy of very industrious habits. Loving the sea with ardor, his sole ambition was to obtain a nautical education. But he was not rich in this world's goods, and he could not go to Annapolis unless he could earn the money in some way to pay for his training there. So he worked as farmer's boy, raking hay and splitting rails, or doing any labor that would bring him the coveted reward.

But though he was not rich, he had friends who admired his manly spirit, and among them was Congressman E. B. Morgan, of New York, who used his influence to get him appointed to the naval school toward which his eyes so longingly turned. Here he proved worthy of the privilege, and when he graduated {407}in 1860, when just twenty years of age, he held the rank of Lieutenant, and was put on the frigate Potomac, where he became master, then executive officer of the Patapsco. This boat met a hard fate, being blown up in the harbor of Charleston in 1865.

His promotions came rapidly, first being made Lieutenant-Commander in the navy, then Captain, and finally Acting Rear Admiral.

But it is not alone as a sea commander that he has won renown. He has served as a member of the Board of Fortifications and Defences, Superintendent of the Naval Academy at Annapolis, Chief of the Bureau of Naval Ordinance, and he was also President of the Maine Board of Inquiry.

He does not enjoy the sweets of domestic life to any great extent, his time on shore being so limited; but he is very happily married, and passes all of his leisure with his wife, and sons and daughters, in his beautiful home in Glenridge, New Jersey.

COMMODORE W. S. SCHLEY.

|Among the “boys” of 1861 may be mentioned Admiral Schley, whose deeds have given him a world-wide fame. He was of the class of 1860. Winfield Scott Schley was a midshipman in the early days of the civil war, and many are the comical stories told of his youthful days--among others, was that this now redoubtable commander was dubbed “Peggy,” owing to the “trousers” he wore in those days, which were excessively peg-topped, or balloon-shaped. Another story is that he had a very small foot, No. 5 fitting it easily. Of this fact he was boyishly vain. He did duty on the Niagara at that period, and his pranks were numerous, for he had a great love of fun, and yet was a very orderly, well-disciplined sailor.

He graduated near the foot of his class, so he could not have been very studious, however, his after career has been one series of brilliant successes.

Commodore Schley was born near Frederick, Maryland, in 1839, and {408}even as a baby came under military influence, for his father, who had served in the navy in the war of 1812, was very friendly with General Scott, and named the child after that warrior. His early ancestors were stanch Huguenots, coming to this country after the revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and one of them was afterward a Governor of Georgia.

He entered the Naval Academy in 1856, remaining there till 1861. He was given duty then, being assigned to the frigate Potomac, and a year later received command of the Winona, which belonged to the blockading squadron of the West Gulf. He knew real war, for he was in many skirmishes on the Mississippi, and in July, 1862, became Lieutenant, serving with distinction from 1864 to 1866 as executive officer of the Wateree, a steam gunboat, at the Pacific station.

He received a gold medal from Congress, and the position of Chief of Bureau of Equipment from President Arthur, afterward being made Captain, for his bravery in rescuing Lieutenant Greeley and six others at Cape Sabine, and carrying them safely home.

He wedded a lovely young woman, Miss Nannie Franklin, at that time the belle of Annapolis. He has two sons, one Frank, an officer in the army, the other, Winfield Scott Schley, Jr., is a physician of great repute in New York City. His daughter, Virginia, is the wife of an Englishman of position.

ENSIGN WORTH BAGLEY.

|Life is sweet to all--especially so to the young. And yet it is sweeter to die for one's country; to know that the last throb of the heart beat for the cause of liberty and humanity. Such a fate was that of young Ensign Worth Bagley, the first officer to fall in our late war with Spain. The life of this young man was brief, to have achieved so much; he was only twenty-four years old, having been born in Raleigh, North Carolina, on the 6th of April, 1874. Yet he had known in that short time all of life's experiences--pleasure, pain and honors--all compressed into the {409}few years of his existence. His father was an editor and a lawyer, and enlisted in the first company raised on the Confederate side in the county in which he lived. He fought bravely, and never abandoned the fortunes of the Confederacy until 1864, when he went home on parole, and was elected to the Senate of his State.

His son, young Worth, a fitting name for the boy, had cause to be proud of his ancestry, on both sides, his father's family being well versed in law, politics and business, and his mother's family being originally Quakers. She was the daughter of one of the governors of Virginia.

But Worth Bagley's boyhood engages the attention of the young, most. He grew up under good influences, and as a boy was a model of courtesy and gentlemanly bearing; a favorite in the schoolroom or playground, he loved his home, and was equally beloved within its walls. Possessed of a noble and unselfish nature, how could it be otherwise than that he met appreciation? He was a very apt scholar, learning rapidly, and retaining it as firmly.

His father died when he was twelve, and it is a beautiful record that he became his mother's comfort. He was the oldest son, and seemed to feel that she needed his counsel and protection.

When only ten he entered a classical school, with the intention of preparing for college. He loved the sea, and was appointed a cadet at the naval academy at Annapolis, when he was a little over fifteen, the youngest member of his class. How happy he was when he received the appointment. He was of a sunny temper, full of jests and laughter, writing the most loving letters to his “dearest little mother,” as he called her. He despised anything that took on the character of tattling. “Hazing” was strictly forbidden at the Academy, but he was subjected to it, and when called before the commandant and asked the names of the classmen who had participated in it, he answered firmly that he meant no disrespect, but he considered it dishonorable to tell on his classmates. He was threatened with punishment, unless he would tell, but he still refused, {410}and was sent to a ship which was used as a place of severe discipline for cadets who disobeyed any of the rules. Here he was kept eighteen days in confinement, and possibly he would have remained a good many days longer, had not the cadets who had done the hazing confessed their share in it, and begged for his release.

When the time came for his examination he fell below the mark, and he wrote at once to his mother, giving her the reasons for his failure, and saying that he hoped the Hon. B. H. Bunn, Member of Congress whose influence had secured him the appointment, would use it in his behalf once more. Mrs. Bagley took the letter to that gentleman, and he promptly made out the papers for the grateful boy. All went smoothly after this, and he graduated in the class of 1895, when he was put on the receiving ship Vermont, and one month after he went to the cruiser Montgomery. Again he was transferred to the Texas in October. On the 20th of January, 1896, he was sent to the ill-fated Maine, where he remained six months, then being sent back to the Texas, which boat he remained with till he returned to Annapolis to take his final examination, which was successful, for he was made an ensign on the 1st of July, 1897.

He was quite a musician, and sang in the Naval Academy choir. His letters home were gems of wit, breathing the most sincere devotion to his friends.

His first service as ensign was on the Indiana, but three months of 1897, from August 17 to November 19, were passed on the Maine, as executive clerk to Captain Sigsbee. He was then ordered to Baltimore as inspector of the Columbian Iron Works, which firm was fitting out the torpedo boat Winslow.

When Lieutenant Bernadou was given command of this boat he sought for the best junior officers, and among the names presented Worth Bagley's stood high, but he was reluctant to leave Captain Sigsbee, to whom he was much attached, and to whom his services were almost invaluable. But he was persuaded to accept the post offered, and on the 28th of December he entered on his duties.

He {411}was a hero. He went out in a lifeboat, with two sailors, and rescued two men who were adrift on a scow some fifty miles from New York, with a frightful storm raging, and brought them aboard. The Secretary of the Navy wrote a letter of approval to Lieutenant Bernadou, Ensign Bagley and the crew, commending the heroism of all on the Winslow.

Of the fatal engagement in Cardenas Bay, May 11, 1898, the whole world knows. He gave his life for his country on that day, without fear or flinching, his last words being as cheerful as though it was a holiday. There was some delay in heaving the towline and he called out cheerily--“Heave her. Let her come--it's getting pretty warm here.” They were the last orders this brave and grand young officer ever gave. The next moment the bursting of one of the enemy's shells sent Ensign Bagley to his last home.

May his life be an incentive to the young, to do their duty in all situations and in all places as nobly and faithfully as did this brave boy.

OUR NAVY.

|Nearly every one understands the terms used in the military branch of service, but since the war has had such extensive use for the naval forces, and so many engagements have taken place on the sea, it has been the source of much perplexity as to the various titles in use by the navy department.

When older and wiser heads are puzzled by the many terms, it is necessary that our young readers receive a little instruction as to their meaning. We therefore give them in full, knowing that the boys (and the girls also) will be pleased to learn that officers are divided into two classes--the line or navigating, and fighting officers, and the staff, or specialists, such as engineer, medical, pay, construction corps, the civil engineers and chaplains. The grades of the line officers are rear admiral, commodore, captain, commander, lieutenant-commander, lieutenant, lieutenant junior grade, ensign, naval cadet.

Of the staff officers the engineers have three grades--chief engineer, {412}passed assistant engineer and assistant engineer. The medical corps is divided into medical director, medical inspector, surgeon, passed assistant surgeon, assistant surgeon. The pay corps includes in order pay directors, pay inspectors, paymasters, passed assistant paymasters, assistant paymasters. The construction corps comprises naval constructor and assistant naval constructor. Then there are the chaplain, civil engineer and professor of mathematics. Before one comes to the enlisted men are the boatswain, gunner, sailmaker and carpenter; the enlisted men or crew are divided into three classes--seamen, artificers and _special_ class.

The pay of the officers varies from $500 a year, which the naval cadets get, to $6,000 paid rear admirals. Each officer at sea is allowed thirty cents a day for rations. This thirty cents he may turn into cash and pocket, for officers pay for their food and uniforms out of their own salary. If he desires the officer may actually draw the rations instead, but most of them prefer their private larder.

The enlisted men in the navy are paid from $9 a month--apprentices of the third class--to $65 or $70 a month--chief machinists. The insignia of their rank worn by the multitude of officers great and small is quite bewildering and unintelligible to the uninstructed dweller on land, so many and different are the stars, crosses, bands, colors and chevrons.

CONCLUSION.

|The authors labors are finished; but it is with almost a feeling of sadness that he parts company with those for whose pleasure he has told his experiences. In the pages of this volume the man has lived again his days of boyhood when his heart was aglow with the fire of youth and patriotism, as his country called him to the battlefield. Of the many painful scenes, of the tedious marches, privations and dangers, that war ever brings, he has told the boys and girls who have followed his transcript of those days. Another war has been forced upon us, and the man {413}feels the same ardor burn within his breast, the same longing to join the ranks as he did in the far-away days of '61.

True, this war that has just ended was not so terrible in its aspect as was that one which roused his youthful energy, for that was a contest between brothers, the late one was between our forces and those of another clime, but none the less sad and gloomy were its accompaniments. But one glad ray of brightness cheered the gloom. The nation has joined hands and those who were once divided have together fought valiantly for one common cause--the honor of their country. From the far-off North and the sunny South, the boys in blue and gray have taken up arms and stood side by side, equally heroic, equally ready to defend the right. Is not this a cause for thankfulness?

Shall we not have still greater cause for joy when strife shall cease forever--the strife that brings bloodshed in its train? Will not the whole earth be purer and better were it to accept the grand invitation of the Czar of all the Russias, to consider a plan by which friendly relations shall be established all through the world? He proposes laying aside the weapons of war, and disbanding great armies--thus bringing about a time of universal peace, when questions of possession and precedence may be decided by arbitration. This noble plan is a step toward that brotherhood of nations which alone can make them truly great. No exigency could arise which could not be settled by an appeal to the calm judgment and love of fair play which would prevail.

This beautiful thought is possible, and we welcome the coming of that glad day when “wars and rumors of wars shall cease.”