The Corvallis gazette., July 16, 1880, Image 1

Corvallis jgazette.
PUBLISHED
EVERY FRIDAY MORNING
BY
W. XI. CARTER,
Editor and Proprietor. .
TERMS:
(coin.)
Per Hear,
Iz Moutba,
Tnree Houtbs,
SO
1 s
tot
INVARIABLY IN ADVANCE.
CITY ADVERTISEMENTS.
M. S. WOODCOCK,
Attorney and Counselor at Law,
i;iVA),l.lt : UKKOOSr.
FFICE ON FIRST STREET, OPP. WOOD
COCK Jfc BALDWIN'S Hardware store.
o
Seial attention given to Collections, Fore
closure of Mortgages, Real Estate cases, Probate
a. nl lload matters.
Will also i uy ami sell City Property and Fan
Lands, n reasonable terms.
1.1 arch 20, 1879. 16-I2yl
J. K. WEBBER,
Main St., Corvallis, Oregon,
DEALER IN
Stoves, Ranges,
FORCE AND LIFT PUMPS.
HOUSE FURNISHING HARDWARE,
Constantly on band, tbe
NEW RICHMOND RAr.CE,
Best in Market. The
BONANZA COOK STOVt,
Something New. And tbe New
VECTA PARLOR STOVE.
Jan. 1,1880. 17:1 tr
J. R. BRYSON,
ATTORNEY AT LAW.
All business will receive prompt
attention.
COLLECTIONS A SPECIALTY.
Corvallis, July 14, 1879. 16:29tf
J. W RAYBURN,
ATTORNEY AT LAW,
tORVtlJM, :
OKt.GOX.
OFFICE On Monroe street, between Second and
third.
SI-S mcial attention given to tbe Collection
of Notes and Account. 16-ltf
J&MES A. YANTIS,
Attorney and Counselor at Law,
(IHVALi IN. .
- OKI.UO.X,
tyiLL PRACTICE IN ALL THE COURTS
of the ijtate. Spe ial attention given to
Diallers in Probate. Collections will receive
t ompt and careful attention. Office in the Court
i musc. 18:ltf.
DR F. A. ViNCENT,
EWTIST.
COUVAL.LIH
OREGON.
QFFICE IN FISHER'S BRICK OVER
Max. Friendley's New Store. All tbe latest
improvements. Everything new and complete.
All work warranted. Plea-c give me a call.
15:3tf
C. R. FARRA, M. D.
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON,
()FFICE OVER GRAHAM A HAMILTON'S
v Drugstore, Corvallis, Oregon. H-26tf
W.'C. CRAWFORD,
DEALER IN
WATC4E8,
CLOCKS,
JEWELRY, SPECTACLES, SILVER WARE,
etc A! mi, v
SI iiMi-:ii instruments feo
aB-Repairin done at the most reasonable
rales, and all work warranted.
Corvallis, Dec 13, 1S77. 14:50tf
GRAHA 1, IUSULTGX & CO.,
COHVAI.I.M ... ORECIOX.
HEALERS IN
I rug's, Paints,
M EDI C IIMES,
CHEMICALS. DYE STUFFS,
OILS,
CLASS
AND
PUTTY.
PURE WINES AND L QUORS
FOR MEDICINAL USE.
And also the the very best assortment of
Lamps and Wall Paper
ever brought 'to this place.
AGENTS FOB THE
AV-RIU CHOMCM PAINT,
SUPERIOR TO ANY OTHER
VPItjmtelsM' P.e.crlptioo. tar
JMty l &u pounded.
WW
VOL. XVII.
CORVALLIS. OREGON, FRIDAY. JULY 16, 1880.
NO. 29.
CITY ADVERTISEMENTS.
Corvallla iodg-e Ao 14, r. A A. M.
Holds stated Communications on Wednesday on
or precedingach full moon. Brethren in good
standing cordially invited to attend. By order
W.M.
Barnnm Lodge No. 7, I. o. O.
Meets on Tuesday evening of each week, in
their hall, in Fisher's brick, second story. Mem
bers of the order in good standing invited to at
tend. By order of N. G.
F. A. CIIliXOWETH.
F. M. JOHNSON.
CHENOWETH & JOHNSON,
ATTORNEYS AT LAW
COKS'ilXIN .... OKISOH
September 4, 1879. 16:36tf
AliLKl & WOODWARD,
Druggists
and
Apothecari os,
P. O. BUILDING. CORVALLIS, OREGON'.
Have a complete stock of
DRIGS, MEDICINES, PAINT?, 01,
GLASS, 1 ITO.
School I'ooks - at oneny, itc.
CITY ADVERTISEMENTS.
We buv for Cash, and have enoin of Mi.
FRESHEST and PUREST Drues and Medic nn
the icarket affords.
Prescriptions accurately prepared at iialf
the usual rates. 2Maylfi:l stf
AUGUST KNIGHT,
Cabinet Maker,
UNDERTAKER,
tr
Cor. Second and Monroe Sts.,
CORTALLI8, OI1WI,
Keeps constantly on hand all kinds of
FUBNITUBE
COFFINS ANO CASKETS.
Work done to order on short notice, and
at ria.-inalle riUt.
Corvaliin Ja .1 1x77. It lif
Woodcock & Baldwin
(Successors to J. It Bayley A Co.)
XT EEP CONSTANTLY ON HAND AT THK
old stand a large and mplete stock of
Heavy and Midf Hat Aware;
IRON, STEEL,
TOOLS, STOVES,
RANG S, ETC
Manufactured and Home Made
Tin and Coppor W !,
Pumps Pipe, Kt-.
A good Tinner constantly on hand, and all
Job Woik neatly and quickly clone.
Also agents for Knapp, Burrell & Co.,
for the sale of tbe best and latest im
proved
FAKM MACHINERY.
of all kinds, together with a full assort
ment of Agricultural Implements.
Sole Agents for I he celebrated
ST. LOUIS CHAfiTtRGfKS OVES
the BEST IN THE WORLD. Also the
Norman Range, and many other patterns,
in all sizes and tlyles.
WS Particular attention paid to Farmers'
wants, and the supplying extras for Farm
Machinery, and all mfoimatiou as to such
articles, tarnished cheerfully, on applica
tion. No pains will be spared to -furnish our
customers with the best (roods in market,
in our line, and at the lowest prices.
Our motto shall be, prompt and fair
dealing with all. Call and examine our
stock, before going elsewhere. Satisfac
tion guaranteed.
WOOKCOCK & BALDWIN.
Corvallis, May. 12, 1S79. 14:4tf
Bees Hamlin.
Emmeit F. Wbknn.
DRAYAGE !
PR AY ACE I
Hamlin & Wrenn Propr's.
HAVING JUST RETURNED FROM
Salem with a new tiuk, and having
leased the bam formerly occupied by James Eg
lin, we are now prepa:ed to do all kinds of
CRAYINC AND HAULING,
either in the city or country, at the lowest living
rates. Can be found at the old truck stand. A
.hare of the public patronage respectfully solic
ited. Corvallis, Dec. 27. 1878. I5:S2tf
FRANKLIN CAUTHORN, M. D.,
PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON,
(orvslllM, Oregon. jjft.
Special attention given to surgery and diseases
of the Eye. Can be found at his, oftice, i
Gra!
day or night.
Jane 3, 1879.
amilton & CoJe DriijJjfcey
of
its.
LANDS 1 FARMS! HOMES!
1HAVE FARMS, (Improved and unim
proved,) STORES and MILL PROPERTY.
Tery desirable,
FOR SALE.
These lands are cheap.
Also claims in unsurveyed tracts for sale.
Soldiers of the late rebellion who have, under
he Soldiers' Homestead Act, located and made
final proof on less than 1G0 ajres, can dispose of
the balance to me.
Write (with stamps to prepay postage).
R. A. BENSELL,
Newport, Benton county, Oregon.
I6:2tf
II 13. HARRIS,
One door South of (Vaham A Hamilton's,
l OU V A 1,1 IS, OBBe)BT.
GROCERIES
PRO VISIONS,
AND
Dry Goods.
Corvallis, Jan. 3, 1878.
l:lvl
DRAKE & GRANT,
MERCHANT TAILORS,
C-'kVAi l. a, -
- RKUS.
TE HAVE JUST RBCEIVED A LA HGE
and wi-ll selouU-d su k ! Cloth, via:
Wi-n i of KiMfl llioad
lotlis, returll .'iMIni -I'i'N,
4'Otfjl'l 'I M'OIMlH, SI 11(1
nici'ieun - uitin-
Which wo will make up to order iu the moat
approval and tash ouaM.: styles. No paitta will
be ; ared n jiioiltii-iiii; giml !Utin garments.
rarti-s wishing to p-irch.se rtotliis and have
them int out, will wII to cull and fxamiuc
our stock. DRAKE A- GRANT.
Corvallis, April 17 IH70. iiirlrttf
Boarding and Lodging:.
T KSPECTFVLLY INFORMS THETRAV
rtjug public iliat li- is dow prepared and iu
readiness lo keep suolj boarder ;as may choose to
give him a cal!, either by tin:
S'WC E M.'.At PAY. OR WEEK.
Ia ulso pri'paml to Iu n sh bnnte feed. Liberal
thsar ot ubtC patroiiar solicited. Give Vsi a
call, ii:OUGE KltitiR.
Philomath, A pjrjl SS, TJ. Itl:I8tf
CORVALLIS
Livery, Feed
.AND..
SALE STABLE,
Main St., Coi-val is. Oregon.
SOL. KING, - Porpr.
16-23t
"fcWNING BOTH BARNS I AM PREPARED
to offer superior accommodations in the Liv
ery line. Always ready for a drive,
GOOD TEAMS
At LOW It H TOM.
My stables are first-class in every n-spect, and
competent and obliging hostlers always
ready to serve the public.
REASONABLE CHAIttiKt FOR HIKE.
Particular attention PmI.i M HoardiUf
urn.
ELEGANT HE A USE, CARRIAGES AND
11 A KS FOrt FUNERALS
Corvallis, Jan. 3, 1879.
lo:lyl
J C. MO ELAND,
(CITY ATTOltXEY.)
attor aair at law,
rOUTLASIl, OKliliOJI.
OFFICE Monastes' Brick, First street,
between Morrison and Yamhill. 14:38tf
THE STAR BAKERY,
Mat. Street, orvalll.
HENRY WAHR11R, PROPRIETOR.
Famllj' Supply Store !
Groceries,
Bread.
Cakes,
Pics,
Candica,
Toya,
Etc.,
Always on Hand.
Corvallis. Jan. 1. 1877. !4:2lf
$300
A MONTH guaranteed. Twelve
dollars a day made at home by
the industrious. Capital not re
quited; we will start you. Men,
women, boys and girls make money faster at
work for us than at anything else. The work is
light and pleasant, and such as anyone can go
right at. Those who are wise who see this notice
will send us their addresses at once and see for
themselves. Costly outfit and terms free. Now
js the time, Those already at work are laying
up large stfttte of money. Address TRUE k CO.,
Augusta, Maitfesf -'
DR. MOLTON'S MOTHER.
The clock on the mantel had just
chimed one short, musical stroke.
Through the half closed blinds shone
the silvery light of the fast-waning moon;
the candle had burned low in its socket :
tne log of wood bad converted itself to
ashes; but of all this Dr. Bernard Mol
ten saw or heard nothing, as he sat in his
office chair, lost in thought. If the moon
had bidden the world good-night, if the
candle's feeble existence had entirely
ceased, and even the red glow in the
grate had died away, he would still have
seen only the picture of the woman's face
whom he loved.
It was with him now as it had been
with him for hours part, since the mo
ment he had placed his fate in Yiola
Fane's keeping, and she had accepted it.
No wonder that it all seemed new and
strange to him that he was heedless of
time and space. She was such a delicate,
high-born lady, and he ah, another vis
sion came before him now. Not the
cheerful office, with its luxurious ap
pointments he might at least offer Vio
let a home worthy of her but the mem
ory of the days when he had run, a little,
barefooted lad, about his mother's cot
tage, and she toiling for her only child
by which she had earned one by one the
dollars which had sent him first to the
village school, and then to the great city
to learn the profession for which he
longed.
He had succeeded well and bravely,
beyond his most ambitions hopes ; but
the mother who had toiled for him,
where was she? Why was it that to
night her old. wrinkled face drove even
Violet Fane's beauty from him?
True, he had no longer allowed her to
work; true, she sat at ease in her little
cottage, thinking of and praying for her
boy, who was bo good and generous to
her; but was it his fault that his patients
were so many and his hours so precious
that he could find no time to gladden
her old heart by a glimpse of him now
and then.
And now now that he thought of Vio
let as his wife Violet, with her high
bred ways Violet, whose every associa
tion was in such a widely different
sphere could it be that he was ashamed
of his mother?
The candle died out entirely; the
wood was white ashes now; the moon
had sunk to rest; tue clock chimed, two;
but a red-hot flush burned on Lr. Mel
ton's cheek as he rose to find- his way
up to his room and bed, and perhaps for-
getfulness in sleep.
For three long hours he sought the
boon in vain, and when at last it came to
him, and his tired eyes closed, how
could he but dream of those other eyes
just awakening in the far-off home, which
somehow to-night had so persistently
haunted his thoughts?
In the little cottage all was bustle, for
Mrs. Molton had determined to give her
boy a surprise, and the train for London
started very early.
London! it lay ten long hours away.
It would be almost nightfall when she ar
rived. How glad Bernard would now be
to see her! He had never proposed her
coming, because he had thought she
would not find the courage; as though
for his sake she would not do or dare
anything.
She was sorry now she had not had the
village dressmaker make up the black
silk he had sent her, but it looked so
grand in its lustrous folds that it seemed
a pity to touch it with the scissors, , and
she would seem more natural-like to Ber
nard in her stiff dress.
How often she had pictured him in his
lonely home. She hoped he might be
oui wnen sue arriveu, wiai sue uiigiik
take off her bonnet, and, slipping on her
white cap, let him find her, with her
knitting in hand, quietly seated by the
fireside waiting his return.
All the way in the train, when at last
she had got started on her journey, she
could hardly keep her happy thoughts to
herself ; and more than one glanced into
the smiling old face, with a something
tugging at her heart-strings which al
most brought moisure into their eyes.
It was quite nightfall when the city
was reached. There had been some slight
delay on the road, and the old lady felt
a sinking at the brave heart which had
prompted her mission. However, she
succceeded in finding a cabman willing
to take her to the address she held in her
band.
"It must be a mistake, or he has
brought me to the wrong place. Oh,
dear! what shall I do?" she sighed, as
he drew rein before a large, handsome
house, presenting a well-lighted front, in
one of the most aristocratic portions of
Mayfair.
But cabby reassured her, and she soon
found herself, surrounded by boxes and
bundles, facing the formidable "gentle
men" who opened the door.
Save for a suspicions shortness of a
certain portion of his attire, which
reached only to his knees, where they
were met with stiff leather leggings, the
worthy woman would have dropped him
a courtesy.
"Past the doctor's office hours, ma'am,"
he said, in response to her feeble appeal.
" It's as much as my place is worth to
take in your eard."
"But I have no card. Hell see me.
I'm I'm "
But she did not finish the sentence
only stepped inside the door and stood
under the full glare of the light of the
hall lamp.
The man looked askance at the singu
lar apparition. Her hat was crushed and
bent, her dress bore evidence of the dust
of travel, and in her hand was a huge
band-box, containing the hat which was
to astonish the Londoners.
"Indeed, ma'am " the man began,
but the old lady walked steadily on to
the door, beneath whose threshold she
descried a stream of light.
The hot flush had by this time burned
out of Dr. Molton's cheek. The morn
ing's dawn had dissipated the foolish
fancies of the night. His duties for the
day were over, and he was free to seek
Violet, whose wonderful eyes would
light up as he entered, and whose lips
would perhaps brush his cheeks with
their velvety caresses.
He sprung to his feet to seek her, when
the door softly opened, and turning he
saw could it be a dream conjured up by
his restless fancies of the night before
his mother? Close behind her was the
wholly wondering, half-apologetic face
of his butler. It took him a full minute
to realize it was no dream, and then,
honor to his mahood, a sudden, over
whelming tenderness swept away all else,
and with a glad cry of "Mother!" he
clasped her to his heart.
When she had grown calmer and more
at rest, beginning to look around and
wonder and admire, a little feeling of ir
ritation began to grow at his heart.
Why had she come? Had he not made
all comfortable for her at home? Here
she would be constrained, unnatural.
And Violet. He could picture the as
tonished look which wonld creep into
her eyes when he said to her, " This is
my mother;" nay, more, the haughty
curve which would gather about her
mouth, so rich and ripe, and sweet. So
the question at his heart found words,
and he scarcely himself knew the innate
irritation they betrayed.
"Mother, why did you not let me know
you were coming ?"
"I meant to surprise you, my boy,"
she answered fondly. "Can it be that I
have done wrong ?
"No, no," he hastily replied. "Come,
you must eat and go to bed. You need
a rest."
But, long after he had bidden her good
night, he sat and thought.
His mother had come to make her
home with him. This was clear. If he
told her he willed it otherwise, she
would obey him.
For a time he planned it out how he
would tell her the city life was not
adapted to her needs; and then Violet
need never know of the plain, humble
little woman who had not shamed to
toil with her own hands that his might
be the hands of a gentleman.
Oh, shame on him ! Could he ever
wash them clean, even of the thought?
No, Violet should know the truth ! He
could bear the scorn now in her eyes and
in her voice, as she would question him
how dared he look up to her, but his
mother should share his home and heart
to the end.
It was too late now to visit Violet to
night, but he went up-stairs, and, softly
turning the knob of the door of the
room where his mother slept, he noise
lessly approached the bed, and, bending
down, touched his lips to the old with
ered forehead reverently.
She started up, with a glad sob of joy.
"My boy! my boy! who I thought was
not glad to see his mother."
He quieted her at last, wondering why
his own heart felt so light, and she fell
asleep with his hand tightly clasped in
hers.
"You did not come last night," said
his betrothed, when, next morning, ho
stood in her presence.
"No, Violet," he answered, "but I
come to-day to tell you how unworthy I
am of your love. Last night my mother
came to me. Nay, do not start. It was
no visitant from the spirit land, but an
actual reality. I have never told you of
my mother. Think of it a man so
blessed, and yet dumb! All her life she
toiled with poverty for whose sake
think you ? Her son's that she might
make him a gentleman. God prospered
him, and enabled him to take all the
burden from her old shoulders, and so
he thought he had done his duty. He
fed the body but let her heart starve.
Last night, in the desperation of her
hunger, she sought me out. For a mo
ment oh, bitter humiliation! my heart
rebelled! Think of it, Violet the cruel,
unnatural pride which would bring into
a man's cheek a blush for the woman
who bore him ! I thought of you, with
your pretty, dainty ways, side by side
with her plain and homley ones. I knew
the two never could be reconciled, and
so, Violet, I have come to ask you to for
get me. My heart, my home, are my
mother's, henceforth and forever.
Had the man some lingering hope
that the girl before him would refuse to
sacrifice? Certainly an added look of
suffering grew into his eyes as she an
swered nothing, only laid her hand in
his a moment, as if in farewell.
His visits seemed very long, very
weary, all that day, but, as he crossed
the home threshold at nightfall, he
smoothed the frown from his brow as he
remarked :
"She must suspect nothing."
He would find her, he knew, in his
study. As he softly opened the door he
anticipated her cry of, "My boy!" as she
tremblingly rose to greet him; but ah !
he had not anticipated the pioture which
met his gaze.
His mother was sitting, indeed, in the
arm-chair by the fire, but at her feet, her
head resting in her lap, while the old
fingers carelessly stroked the luxuriant
chestnut hair, was another figure, which
rose, instead, to welcome him:
"Bernard," the sweet voice whispered
in his ear, "I lost my mother when I was
a baby. It has been so sweet to find one
again ! You said, 'Henceforth your
home and heart was hers.' Oh ! my
love, may we not share the boon ?"
Just Like a xodngstbb. An event
occurred at the Broadway Church, Nor
wich, before the morning service, one
Sunday, which greatly amused the con
gregation. The people had assembled
and were - awaiting the arrival of their
pastor, when a stray two-and-a-half year
old child, neatly attired, with a man's
hat on his head and a mop in his hand,
walked up the I r jad aisle and took a
seat in the empty pew of a well known
citizen. After sitting a while, it took to
ity feet and pattered down the aisle,
waving the mop, and halted in front of
the pulpit to view the congregation.
Then it passed up the side aisle and was
invited into a pew, where it kept its seat
until the janitor called for and restored
it to its frightened parents. It had
strayed from a Broadway yard. Nor
wich Bulletin.
Business men should pause and think
how great is the power of printers' ink.
THE BIG CHIEF.
Our group of veterans were again gath
ered for a camp-fire talk and smoke,
when the ex-paymaster, having lit his
cigar, remarked "Boys, did you ever
hear of the 'Big Chief,' Sergeant Acker
man?" It happened that none present
remembered to have heard of him.
"That's strange," said the ex-paymaster.
"I thought he was known all through
the army. But, after all, there were so
many men to be talked about those days
that a sergeant, though he was a notable
person, might easily be lost in the crowd.
I wouldn't be much surprised, for a fact,
if half a hundred or so of our generals
were forgotten by the time we get a good,
readable history of the war." "Nor I,"
was the unanimous response. "Well,
let's support the government," said an
other, "and then, major, you tell us
about the Big Chief. " "I will," said the
ex-paymaster, "and I'll take it sour this
time." The licensed sub-collector of in
ternal revenue supplied the party with
the beverages called for, made his collec
tion and retired; when the ex-paymaster
relit his cigar and proceeded with his
story.
It was in the early days of the great
German immigration to this country
perhaps as late as 1850 that a party of
westward bound emigrant was journey
ing over the plains beyond Leavenworth.
In the party was a German family named
Ackermann, the youngest of which was a
small boy just learning to talk freely
with his parents. The train was attacked
by Indians and every one killed except
this boy, Andrew Ackermann. Him the
Indians adopted, and he grew up among
them, trained to their ways and speaking
only their tongue. He was large of his
age and strong, and was enterprising and
bold, so that he was regarded by the In
dians as one of then- most promising
young hunters and warriors, and had
considerable influence in his band.
In the spring of 1858 or '59, a large
body of these Indians were again in the
vicinity of the overland route, and Acker
mann was one of a party sent to ambush
an emigrant train their scouts had re
ported to be on the road. The party ap
proached the emigrants' halting place at
night time, and was waiting for the
most favorable hour to make an attack,
in the morning when Ackermann, who
had approached quite near to the emi
grants, heard some of the early risers in
conversation. They were Germans, and
he, who had not heard a word of
his native language for nine" years,
recognized it as the language of
his father and mother. He was,
except in the color of his skin, a savage
in appearance as well as in training and
habits, but he knew that he came of a
white race, the speech of which was un
like that of the few whites he had seen
during his life with the Indians. He
had not had a desire to seek out the peo
ple from whom he came, or thought till
now of leaving the Indians. But the
tones of these Germans' voices, and the
few words he recognized with faint re
membrance of their meaning, gave him
a shock which disturbed the savage
training and aroused the original nature
of the lad.
Here the exrpaymaster relit his cigar,
and. after a few vigorous puff's of smoke,
proceeded to emphatically declare that
every word ha had to say was true.
Ackermann withdrew ironi tne vicini
ty of the emigrants' camp, and persua
ded the Indians, who had waited in the
rear to hear his report, not to make the
attack contemplated. The train went on
in safety, and it was long after belore
the emigrants learned of the danger
they passed and how they were saved
from it. Ackermann soon left the In
dians and made his way to Fort Leaven
worth. He spoke the Indian tongue as
if he had been born to it, but knew no
English and only a few words of Ger
man. There were those at the Fort,
though, who understood his Indian
tongue, and through them he made ins
story known ; and when he undertook to
pronounce the words of his childhood,
which he remembered ne was recognized
as a German. His hair had faded to
nearly white in the exposure of his In
dian life, while his skin was finely
browned by wind and sun; but when he
was washed clean, had his hair cut and
was dressed in white men's clothes, the
Indian manners soon dropped away from
him. Of course,' there was nothing for
him to do but to enlist. He went into
Company E of the Second Artillery and
came under care of Sergeant John
Frerow.
"Frerow," said the ex-paymaster, med
itatively, striking another match and
again lighting his cigar, "Frerow was
killed at South Mountain." - He took a
fancy to Ackermann and helped him to
learn to speak German and English and
to read and write. Company E was or
dered from Leavenworth to Augusta,
Ga., and when the war was about to
break out, in 1861, Capt. Elslow
brought the company, with guns
and colors, to Washington. Then
he resigned, went South, accepted
a confederate commission, and was
killed in action. Company E had no
officers when the ex-paymaster came to
Washington with the "California Hun
dred," and he was commissioned one of
its lieutenants and so became acquainted
with Ackermann, who was then a splen
did looking giant soldier, six feet four
inches in height and weighing nearly
two hundred and fifty pounds. He was
steady, obedient and well drilled, and
the new officers made him a sergeant.
Once afterwards he was reduced to the
ranks for having picked up a pair of dis
orderly soldiers and disabled them for a
few days by knocking their heads to
gether, but he was soon restored. He
was too good a disciplinarian to be left a
private. It was Lieut. Col. Benjamin,
now of the adjutant general's department
then captain of Ackermann's company,
who restored him.
By this time Ackermann's story had
gone the rounds of the camp fires and he
was widely known as Andrew, the Big
Chief. He was one of the best gunners
in the army and could shoot our twenty
pound Parrots with almost the accuracy
of rifles. He was a regular student and
Corvallis Gazette.
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studied hard to make himself proficient
in military matters. He spoke and wrote
English like an educated American.
When Company E was in Burnside s
Starvation Camp." in East Tennessee
(that was in 1863) the Big Chief was
recommended for a commission in the
regular army. General Burnside and
seventy general officers who knew him
personally united in recommending him
and he was ordered to Annapolis for ex
amination by a board of officers.
At this point the ex paymaster bad
another struggle with his cigar, in which
he- expended two or three matches,
through forgetting that he had lit them,
in the intensity of his feelings regarding
military examining boards. The Big
Chief was undoubtedly better posted in
all the practial details of army work than
were his examiners, and, in a pinch, his
good judgement might have made up for
their scientific requirements. The ex
aminers found him perfect in the pre
liminary examinations. He was familiar
with all the ordinary duties of a line
officer and had a general comprehension
of military science, that is, he was in
telligent and had observed as well as
studied. His English was good, he had
made a fair Ftart in mathematics.
and he wrote a neat business hand.
But when they began their high school
examination he failed One of
the first questions was, "What
is the name of the highest mountain in
Europe ?" "Gentlemen, I don't know,"
was all the Big Chief could say, and he
had to make a like answer when he was
asked to name the longest river in Asia.
The Big Chief come back to his com
pany, disappointed, and the officers who
had recommended him were both disap
pointed and mad. More than one of
them called the examiners a pack of
blank fool pedagogues; and Burnside,
to help the Big Chief over his disap
pointment, made him a chief wagon
master, and Company E knew him no
more. In the changes following the war
the artillery officer was turned into a
paymaster, and after several years' ser
vice as such went back to civil life. Two
or three years ago the ex-paymaster was
in Cincinnati, Ohio, and there he again
mot the Big Chief, now Lieut. Andrew
Ackermann of the city police force and
regarded as a' model officer in that city.
He is married and comfortably situated,
and there is nothing in his appearance or
manners to indicate that he was in his
younger days a savage among savages.
When the ex-paymaster had finished
his story and again reached for a match
to light his remnant of a cigar, he was
mildly surprised to find the match box
empty, and affected to be more surprised
when informed by one of his most atten
tive listeners that he had used just
twenty-three matches with that one
cigar. "I'd sell you the matches if I
kept the place," said one, "and give you
the cigar." "But is that really a true
story you have told us?" asked one.
"Yes, every word of it," was the answer.
"After all," said one of the veterans,
as he deliberately poured out his "night
cap," "your Big Chief wasn't a chief
among the Indians, and the shoulder
strapped pedagogues wouldn't have him
for a chief in the army. But if he had
stayed with the Indians they would have
promoted him. They do make chiefs of
their head soldiers." "Perhaps that ac
counts for its costing a dozen of our sol
diers to kill one of theirs," suggested
another. "I don't think the Big Chief
would want to go back either to the
Indians or to the army, on any terms,"
said the ex-paymaster. "He has his wife
and home, a good position, and the re
spect of his neighbors, and that's better
than life in the Indian country, either in
an Indian camp or an army post."
Strange Food.
Some score or so of contributors to a
French sporting journal dined one day
upon the ham and heart of a lion, killed
by Constant Cheret. in Algeria. The flesh
of the lion was found to be particularly
firm and close-grained, like that of a
horse, but although pronounced palatable,
it only achieved what is termed a success
d'estine, while the heart, skillfully pre
pared with truffles, was unanimously
voted tough and indigestible. In fact,
the French journalists were not much
better pleased with their fare than was
Bruce, the traveler, when the guest of the
Arab tribe of Welled Sidi Boojanim, "the
sons ot the fathers of the flocks," bound
by vow to eat lion's flesh once every day;
for the traveler found male lion meat lean,
tough and musky in flavor ; lioness meat
a trifle fatter and more palatable, and
whelp flesh tbe nastiest of the thiee.
Mindful that an unlooked-for pleasure
is thrice welcome, frank Bucklarid did
not advise his guests on a certain occa
sion that they were about to enlarge their
gastronomic experiences, but when the
soup had been disposed of asked a fa
mous gormand sitting near him how he
liked it. "Very well, indeed," was the
answer. "Turtle, is it not ? I only asked
because I did not find any green fat."
Bucklaod shook his head. "I fancied it
had a somewhat musky taste peculiar but
not at all unpleasant." remarked his
neighbor. "All alligators have," replied
the host, "thp caymen especially the fel
low I dissected this morning, and which
you have just been discussing." Haifa
dozen of the suddenly enlightened di
ners suddenly started to their feet, and
two or three slunk from the room, and
the rest of the meal was enjoyed by only
a portion of the original company. "See
what imagination Is," said Buckland.
"Had I told them it was turtle, or terra
pin, or bird's nest soup, or the gluten of a
fish from the maw of a sea-bird, they
would have pronounced it excellent, and
their digestion would have been none
the worse. I. tell them that it is alliga
tor soup, and their gorges rise at as good
a di:th as ever a man need have!" Fore
warned, and, therefore, forearmed, were
the gentlemen who lunched on the octo
pus at the Brighton aquarium, trying itiu
turn boiled, broiled, and cold. They
found it excellent eating, resembling
skate, but not so tender as might be. The
verdict would probably have been still
more favorable had the octopus been drst
boiled and then roasted, as is the way in
Corsica, where tbe monster is cs'eetned a
great delicacy. Cluimbcr't Journal.