CHAPTER XXIV.

The war of the rebellion to our young school boys and girls seems as vague and far away as the war of the revolution did to me when I was a school girl. I have seen many old people in my childhood, and can remember them well, who had lived all through that war. My own grandmother lived near and heard the firing at the battle of Guilford Courthouse in North Carolina. My people were Quakers and didn't do much fighting, though they did a good deal of nursing among the sick and wounded soldiers. My great grandfather and my great great grandfather lived near that battle ground, and their houses were made hospitals for the wounded American soldiers. William Coffin, my great great grandfather, married Priscilla Paddock, daughter of a Nantucket whale fisher. The Coffins, her descendants, were proud of the Paddock blood. Many daughters among them have borne the name of Priscilla in honor of that excellent lady. I wonder if Priscilla Coffin Prine has ever been told that she is a lineal descendant of the much esteemed Priscilla Paddock Coffin. Those old survivors of the revolution were rich in folk lore, and used to relate to us children stories of pirates and tories and witches until we were afraid to go to bed in the dark.

When another generation appears on the scene the survivors of the civil war will be as few and far between' as the old revolutionary people were in my youth. That terrible war among our own people is fresh in the minds of many of us yet, though some of our brilliant young men and women were born long since that awful conflict ended. Even that brilliant young senator, Beveridge, began life since that war. I read the charming speech which he delivered in the United States Senate the other day, and now I am prouder than ever of my native state.

I am not quite done with Harrison Township arid the things which happened there between 1856 and 1869. The war and many things attending it loom up before my mental vision. That war wonderfully transformed things. Our nerves were strung up to the greatest tension week in and week out. Sluggish people became energetic; stingy people became liberal. Nearly all of our neighbors were loyal-a copperhead stood no show around there. I took it upon myself to propose forming a Soldiers' Aid Society among the women and girls of the neighborhood. Nearly all seemed anxious to go into it, and willing to do what they could. A meeting was appointed at the residence of Mr. Wm. Bean for the purpose of organizing said society. We met, were organized, your humble servant was chosen president, Mrs. Mary A. Ratliff vice president, Miss Eliza Stuart secretary, and Mrs. Z. Loper treasurer. It is no wonder that Col. John Loper is a brave soldier and a man amongst men; his mother was "a host within herself." Our society met at one or another of the houses in the neighborhood one afternoon in each week. I look back to that time and wonder at the unselfishness practiced by all of us. Times had been hard, we had practiced economy, our wardrobes and household linen had run low, but loyalty and anxiety about the sick and wounded soldiers was so great any of us would have given the last sheet or table cloth if by so doing any suffering soldier would have been made more comfortable. We worked faithfully, made bandages, lint, pillows and hospital garments. We packed those articles in great boxes, in the center of which we placed many things which we hoped would tempt the appetite of our poor, sick soldiers. In one of those boxes I placed a can containing twelve dozen nice, fresh eggs, packed in bran. Those eggs were donated by Mrs. Andrew Baughman, and many a sick soldier who hadn't had an egg for months was made glad.

When we were ready to make up a box to send away some of us would canvass the country all around for donations and nearly everybody would gladly give what they could. I made a circuit like that and was surprised at the liberality of people who had little of this world's goods. When I got home with my buggy loaded down with dainty and useful things, I told my folks I had only met one man who wanted to argue. He braced himself and began by saying: "The government provides for the crippled soldiers and all the good truck you send down thar is grabbed up by the officers, whereupon I interrupt him. rude as it was, by remarking that I had no time to discuss that question, and drove on. All through that war we worked and prayed, we prayed and worked. That was a time when the souls of men and women too were tried. How we loved and reverenced the boys in blue. No matter what we had thought of them before, when we saw them with Uncle Sam's uniform on they were all right, nothing was too good for them. The railroad and telegraph line had only reached Eddyville then and our soldier boys when starting to the war, had to go there to take the train. One day my husband was coming out of Eddyville on horseback. About a half a mile this side he met a soldier walking as fast as he could and almost out of breath. Mr. Phillips took in the situation at once, dismounted, handed the soldier the bridle saying: "Jump on this horse and put him through. Perhaps you can make the train. Hitch him around there somewhere, I'll walk back and get him." The soldier looked grateful, said "Thank you," then flew as fast as that horse could go. Mr. Phillips walked back to the station. The train had gone, the soldier had "made it." The horse was "hitched around there somewhere." Mr. Phillips never knew who that soldier was. It was enough to know he was a soldier.

When I think of that mighty conflict, I think of it as a four years of praying and weeping and working. The tears come to my eyes now as I think of our splendid men and boys as we used to see them go a way so full of nerve and pluck and patriotism, to endure all manner of hardships and die, if need be, for their country and their country's flag. The day the 33d Iowa left, my husband and boys came to Oskaloosa to see them off. I was at home all day alone. I was thinking all the time of those brave and splendid men and boys, their wives, mothers, sisters and sweethearts. After a while I heard the band away over on the Eddyville road. I knew what it meant. All the rest of that day I could do nothing but walk about the house and yard and weep and think, "They will never all come back; they will never all come back."

Mr. Gilchrist, Dawson's father, was in that regiment, a great, broad-shouldered, honest-faced man, just in the prime of life and as sound as a dollar. He committed his wife and children to the care of the Father above, then went down into the jaws of death, a sacrifice on the altar of his country like many another whom I could mention. Yet I sometimes hear it said that this or that veteran of that awful war is drawing a pension undeservedly. How anyone can think a man could leave his comfortable home and the dear ones therein, face shot and shell, sleep in the mud, wake and find himself frozen to the ground, endure hunger, thirst and loathsome Prisons, and many other things terrible to contemplate, and not be willing that this rich government should pay them a good sized pension, is something I cannot understand. Who endured that without the effects being left in his body? I want every man and boy who enlisted in Uncle Sam's army, and is living today; to receive a pension. If they escaped the enemy's bullets it was not because they did not stand up to be shot at.

Nearly all the boys in our neighborhood who were old enough enlisted in the army. There were the Ellis boys, the Ball boys, the Zorns boys, John Phillips, B. Noe, Cary Buntin, Jesse Barber, Man and Sam Yeric, Hamline Doll and others, all in the Rhinehart neighborhood. Jesse Barber and Cary Buntin died serving their country. They both were excellent young men. I remember well when Jesse Barber was converted. He was always a good boy, had an honest face, but that night at the old log school-house his face fairly shone. He had asked the prayers of the church and knelt at the altar. After a while he stood up, and looking straight up, exclaimed: "Glory be to God! I see the heavens opening!" I don't think a person in that audience doubted Jesse's sincerity. Word came to us that Jesse Barber died believing and rejoicing in Christ. I used to hear it said by the pessimistic sort, before the war had begun, but was threatening, that war was so demoralizing that a man who was once a soldier was never fit for anything else. l often think of the talk I used to hear of that kind when I look about and see many of our best citizens and successful business men who were soldiers in that war, some of them from first to last.

I don't think that Wm. Shaw would be considered very badly demoralized, nor James Loughridge, nor Stephen DeCook, nor Captain Evans, nor Major McMullin, nor John F. Lacey, nor Judge Ryan, nor the McNeill brothers, nor Capt. John H. Warren, nor Wm. R. Cowan, nor Albert Swalm, nor Captain Woodruff, nor Major S. H. M. Byers. 0, they loom up before my mind so thick and fast, I will have to stop or my list will be as long as the list of those who voted the other day in favor of expelling the bigamist Roberts from the House of Representatives. I am grateful to each and every one who was brave and loyal enough to face the unutterable hardships, which, often meant death itself, in defending our country and our country's honor.

Our men were gentlemen when they went into the army, and they were gentlemen when they came out. Many were wrecks physically, but I can't think of one who became a wreck morally or intellectually. Many of our wealthy farmers and business men were soldiers, and some have made themselves famous as writers of books. There is Robert Kissick, a soldier all through the rebellion, who has written a book which by critics is called a valuable work. Mr. and Mrs. Kissick are both gifted with more than ordinary ability. Their sons are bright boys, and two of them were in the 51st Iowa Regiment, One, their precious Edwyn, laid down his young life for his country in the Philippine Islands. All that was mortal of Edwyn Kissick was brought over that vast expanse of ocean and land and laid to rest in our peaceful city of the dead, where sleeps his brother Ralph. Mr. and Mrs. Kissick have one daughter, Irene, who is one of the nicest and brightest little ladies that I know.

There is Major S. H. M. Byers, who went to the war from Oskaloosa, a mere boy in years, and while enduring the horrors of loathsome rebel prisons managed by stealth to send to the world outside, soul-stirring songs, the product of his brain, which were sung from one end of the land to the other. And still his genius shines brighter and brighter. The products of Major Byers brain and pen are honored with a place in periodicals of the highest order of literature in our land; We were proud to have Major and Mrs. Byers for neighbors and citizens of our town. They are hospitable, cultured, gifted, and have the most charming manners. We were loth to lose the Byerses, but congratulate Des Moines society on having gained so valuable an addition. It is not surprising that Major Byers is a gentleman with talents of a superior order. The blood of the Virginia Marshalls flows in his veins, and "blood will tell." They have one son, Lawrence, of whom it is said, "he is a promising young attorney." Major Byers while abroad procured many valuable works of art, a number of which, through his liberality, adorn the halls of Penn College.

Another of our solid and much-esteemed families have taken up their abode in the city of Des Moines, the Frankels, Mrs. Frankel, her four manly sons and her lovely and accomplished daughter, Rose. Somewhere near forty years ago Mr. Isaiah Frankel came to Oskaloosa and opened up a store of ready made clothing. His means were not great, his store was small at first, but he, like the most of his people, was a man of great business ability, and was a born merchant. He prospered in whatever he undertook. He dealt in wool, he engaged in banking, but all the time his clothing store was going on and gradually growing larger and finer. He bought houses and lands; he built substantial and handsome business houses; he purchased one of the (at that time) nicest homes in the town of Oskaloosa. He remodeled and added to until that home was one of the most comfortable and commodious homes in the town. Their lawn was a thing of beauty.

Not long after Mr. Frankel became established in business, he was married to Miss Babetta Sheuerman, who through all the years she has lived among us has been a blessing and an ornament to Oskaloosa's society. No nobler character ever graced our town nor was more appreciated and admired by our people. Her benevolence and kindness was far reaching. Her words of wisdom charmed the intellectual and cultured. The sick and the poor found in her a genuine, sympathizing friend. She made her home the abode of hospitality. She beautified everything about her. Mrs. Frankel is not only a noble character, but is a stately and dignified lady.

Mr. Frankel was shrewd and brainy, but was honorable in his dealings, was a valuable citizen and did much to build up our town. By proper management and strict attention to business, he became one of the wealthiest men in Oskaloosa. He died a few years ago, respected and lamented by the whole community and especially by his neighbors. Henrietta, Mr. and Mrs. Frankel's oldest daughter, is the wife of Mr. Pfeifer, a prominent merchant of Oskaloosa. Mrs. Pfeifer is a cultured and refined lady. The Frankels were my neighbors for more than thirty years. I have known all of their six children from babyhood to young manhood and young womanhood. There are Anselm, Manassa, Nathan and Henry; everyone fine looking and manly young men bearing the evidences of good breeding whenever and wherever one chances, to meet them. They seem to be endowed with the business sense which made their father a success. We were sorry to lose the Frankels as neighbors and citizens, but pleased to hear of their success as business men in their magnificent store in Des Moines. Persons employed by the Frankel Brothers speak of the manly way they dealt with their employees. They put on no
supercilious airs, but act in a respectful and manly way toward all. I think what I have said about the Frankel family would be endorsed by everyone of their old neighbors. We feel the removal of that excellent family from our neighborhood a personal loss to each and everyone of us.

Away back in 1855 there was an unusual exodus from Ohio to Iowa. I can think of a number of families that came that year. Some of them I have already mentioned, but there are some who have been prominent and valuable citizens through all these years whom I have not yet spoken of. There was John Lofland, his handsome young wife and baby George. What a handsome couple they were. They soon drew many of Oskaloosa's best people about them and made many friends. They were people of fine taste and charming manners. In course of time two more sons were added to their family. Then there were George, Frank and Charlie. When the civil war broke out, Mr. Lofland was one who bade adieu to his beloved and charming wife and his three bright little boys, donned a soldier's uniform and went off down to the swamps and canebrakes of the South to be shot at. He escaped Rebel bullets, though in many places of great peril. John Lofland was a brave man, he acquitted himself with honor and came home a Colonel. For many years Col. John Lofland served his country as internal revenue collector. He had many thrilling adventures with "moonshiners" while in that office. George died on his twentieth birthday in Denver, where he had gone to seek relief from lung trouble. George died suddenly. Just a day or two before the dispatch came telling of his death, his father came to our house with joy beaming all over his face. He had just received a letter from George saying he was getting on nicely, was almost well, thought he would go to work in a day or two. Then came that terrible message:

"GEORGE IS DEAD. HORACE FISHER WILL GO TO OSKALOOSA WITH THE REMAINS."

The night they were expecting the train which would bring their precious dead boy, several of their friends, my husband and myself among the rest, waited and watched with the stricken family. The night was cold, a deep snow lay on the ground. I remember how discordant the sleigh bells sounded as they went jingling along the street. Away in the night some one came to the door, and in a gentle and saddened voice, said: "They are here." When the casket was brought in and opened, there lay George, looking peaceful as a sleeping child. On his breast, placed there by some tender hand, was a hyacinth, as fresh as if just plucked from the stem.

More than a quarter of a century has passed since that sad night, but that scene of grief-stricken parents and brothers is fresh in my memory yet. George Lofland was laid to rest in Forest Cemetery. A few years ago his father, the once stalwart, manly-looking Colonel Lofland, was laid to rest by his side. Mrs. Lofland, sad and bereft, like many of us, is living in a comfortable and pretty home. She has many friends and her sons are models of kindness. Frank and Charlie are fine looking, and very superior business men-moral and sober in their habits, gentlemanly and kind in their manners. Frank Lofland married Miss Bena Siebel, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. John Siebel. The Siebels have been citizens of Oskaloosa for nearly forty years; have always been among her substantial and highly respected families. Mr. Siebel is the owner of Oskaloosa's largest flouring mill, which was built and run for several years by Benjamin Roop.

More than fifty years ago I stood in my cabin door and watched the first volume of smoke that ever poured from its great chimney stack. I felt so proud of Oskaloosa when I saw that great mill sending forth smoke and steam. It seemed immense to us who had witnessed Oskaloosa's growth from the wild prairie to the dignity of having a great steam mill.

Frank Lofland, when a boy, was a clear-headed, trustworthy business boy. He is a clear-headed business man, and is said to be going on to fortune. Frank looks like his father but Charlie looks like his mother. Charlie Lofland married Miss Minnie Little, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. H. I. Little, and sister to the Little Bros., who everybody here knows are hustlers, bright and pleasant men to deal with. Mrs. Minnie Little Lofland is a niece of the McNeills. She and Charlie have three children who are said to be interesting, charming and very bright. They could not help being bright with the blood of all the Loflands, Littles and McNeills in their veins. Charlie Lofland has for many years been a capable and trusted officer in the Oskaloosa National Bank. He and his charming family own and occupy one of the handsomest and most commodious homes on East High Avenue, one of the streets noted for fine homes. Their lawn is simply superb. Mrs. Charlie Lofland is a charming woman. Her manners are gracious, her voice is a delight. Singing runs in the Little and McNeill blood. Mrs. Col. Lofland has reason to be very proud of her sons, her daughters-in-law and her grandchildren.

Mrs. Lofland, like so many Ohio ladies that I know, is an exquisite housekeeper. She makes everything about her pretty and attractive. Her plants, her flowers; her lawn, everything inside and outside of her house, is arranged in the very prettiest fashion.