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Ft. Gibson Post

Vol III No 48

Thursday October 13, 1898 (Part 1)

Abstracted / Transcribed by Linda Haas Davenport

When the print is so faded that it cannot be read <.....> will be used . All transcription will be as found in the paper, misspellings and all

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Dividing Line

 Page 1, columns 1-4

[front page article is an extremely detailed reporting of the "Rules for Taking Allotments."]

Page 1, columns 4

SPILLING LIQUOR
           Town Marshal Perry and Assistant
           Hot After the Peddlers
     Town Marshal George Petty and his assistant, Chas. Alston, are keeping hot after the whisky peddlers of Fort Gibson. They started in to break up the unlawful traffic and are determined to do it. Several gallons of the stuff have been captured and destroyed during the past month. Last Friday Assistant Chas Alston made another capture at Joe Justice's place, destroying about two or three gallons of alcohol and whiskey. Joe was arrested by Deputy Marshal O Dobson who appeared on the scene, but on account of Joe's low health he was not removed.
     Sunday afternoon Marshal Perry ran into another gallon of alcohol in the rear part of the Welty building and spilt it. It did not appear who this belonged to, but it was of too poor a quality and too large a quantity to be used for medical purposes. Marshall Perry is to be highly commended for vigilance and success so far in suppressing the festive bootlegger and peddler.

THE TRILBY CHOP HOUSE.
     When you get hungry drop in at the Trilby Chop House, second door north of the Place Drug Store, and satisfy the desires of your appetite. M W Baxter, an old restaurant man, is proprietor of this popular eating house and is ready to serve you with good hot meals and lunches at all hours. Don't forget the place and the good things to eat. Mr Baxter gives especial attention to the trancient and country customers.

CALLERS AT THIS OFFICE
     George Baldridge, Sheriff of Sequoyah district, and H H and G W Bethel, of Muldrow, called on the way home from court at Muskogee where they were in attendance as witnesses i the case of Jack Ellis vs M J Watts. The Bethel boys gave an interesting description of potato culture in the Muldrow section, and intimated that the farmers hereabouts are not up-to-date in Irish potatoes or they would be growing and selling two crops of the tubers each season. Both pronounced the soil excellent for the purpose and said that we had good shipping facilities here. The second crop is the paying one. Potato raising in their section is assuming large proportions and bring the farmers much coin.

FROM ARKANSAS.
     Col D R Joslyn, ex-mayor of this city, left Wednesday morning for Fort Gibson, I.T., where he goes on a prospecting tour, and with a view to locating. Col. Joslyn has resided here for a number of years, and has done his share toward upbuilding our town, and it would be with regret should we loose him as a citizen. - Gurdon (Ark) Times.
     Mr. Joslyn looked over town, liked it and will return. Though a life-long Republican Mr Joslyn was elected mayor of a Democratic city by a unanimous vote. He comes of a good and intellectual family.

A DISTINGUISHED VISITOR.
     Dr William Phillips, of Kildare, O.T., was in town Tuesday, and was a guest at the home of Mrs Mary Ross. Mr Phillips is an eminent physician, and a son of the later Congressman Phillips of Kansas, who was an intimate friend of the late William P Ross, formerly chief of the Cherokee nation. Dr Phillips has two brothers with Admiral Dewey at Manila, one a surgeon and the other a pay master.

GEORGE KIRK, JR.
     Of Muskogee has bought the old Fort Gibson and Muskogee hack line, which has been in operation for the past 10 years. He sends out two hacks daily from Fort Gibson and Muskogee, morning and evening. He runs the Kirk hotel, a good dollar a day house, on Cherokee street, Muskogee.

Page 1, columns 5

BIVOUC OF THE DEAD
     A Brief Review of Fort Gibson
     National Cemetery.
           Some Thoughts With Reference to
           the Last Resting Place of the
           Gallant Soldier.
     One day last week in company with Col D R Joslyn, of Gurdon, Ark., the senior editor of The Post paid a visit to the beautiful and silent "city of the dead" known as the national cemetery, about a mile north of town, where is interred the remains of the Federal dead of the Indian Territory and vicinity who fell in the war for the Union, various Indian wars, border service and garrison duty at this place since 1829. Here are buried, perhaps, the largest number of Indians in any national cemetery in the United States, among the number being the celebrated Seminole chief "Billy Bowlegs," and other names of nation repute, among whom is John P Decatur, a brother to Commodore Decatur, who died Nov 12, 1832.

We were met at the entrance by the keeper of the cemetery, Capt H C Magoon, a courteous and very obliging gentleman of military deportment, who showed us over the place, which is well and neatly kept. A few words in relation to this gentleman, who is very quite and unassuming, may be of interest to the general reader:

Captain H C Magoon is a veteran Union solider and former Indian scout, doing service with Buffalo Bill, to whom he bears a striking physical resemblance both in features and size, being six feet four inches in height, and weighs 240 pounds - of magnificent proportions - hard to excell in any country - being a typical Western scout, such as mentioned in novels and border warfare stories. His border experience as scout would fill a good sized book, and he had about four years service in the war of the rebellion, being a member of the 1st Minesota Infantry which made the famous charge at Gettsburg under Gen Hancock. This regiment charged the entire rebel army which was moving to occupy Roundtop mountain, and came out with only 47 men not killed or wounded, the colonel having been hit by seven bullets, but Roundtop mountain was saved. Capt Magoon has a published record.

This cemetery is magnificently shaded by nice trees, and well kept, the luxuriant grass being cut even by a horse mower. It is a quiet, and yet awe-inspiring spot in which to spend a thoughtful hour in presence of the Great Unknown. Here words seem insignificant, and even thought is inadequate to express the feelings of the heart and longing of the soul. The dead alone are eloquent - are truly blest. Here is eternal rest; here is eternal happiness. The desire of immortailty is founded on Love. Out upon the boundless ocean of Eternity the Sphynx of Death gazes forever, but never Speaks; Fate is silent, Destiny is dumb, and the secret of the Future has Never Yet Been Told !

The remains of 2,455 people who once walked this earth and longed for happiness, lie within this enclosure in calm repose. Truly this is an interesting spot, wet with the rain of many sorrows, moistened with the dew of many tears. Many hopes and loves are buried here, and joys resplendant that have bloomed but to die. Here are buried many earthly treasures hoped to be recovered again, many joys to be revived in resplendant glory in delightful and of perpetual bloom, beyond the confines of the tomb, where rainbows never fade and roses never wither.

It is sad to reflect that most of the stones here mark unknown graves. There are many interesting and curious inscriptions, which may be noted some other time. No nation in the world pays such high honor to its soldier dead as the United States. [continued on 4th page]

Page 2 & 3 - preprinted

Page 4, column 1

FORT GIBSON, OCT. 13, 1898

A late dispatch from Washington says that $73,847 will soon be paid to the Cherokees for the benefit of public schools, which money is badly needed and will be hailed with much pleasure here.

The Indians are "catching on." A press dispatch says that hereafter before a white man can marry a Chickasaw maiden he must take out a $600 license. It appears that love is not as free as salvation in the Chickasaw nation. The Indians are learning.

Press dispatches say that Rockfeller has a lease on a million Choctaw and Cherokee coal and oil lands. Having gobbled up all he could find in the States he now desires to take the Indian country, and thinks, perhaps, that "LO" can't help himself"

Hon Robert Ross, of Tahlequah, one of the brainest Cherokees, was in Fort Gibson on Tuesday. Speaking of the later orders from the Secretary of the Interior, he said it showed a ray of justice towards the Indians of the five civilized tribes, and thinks that Congress may yet modify the Curtis law in their favor.

The Indian uprising in Minesota discloses the same old story of wrong and injustice of money grabbling white men; and then because the red man does not continue submissive, call out troops and kill him. If a lot of those white rascals who have been robbing the Indians were killed it would be nearer justice.

While the late orders from the Secretary of the Interior may temporarily check the townsite movement in this Territory, yet in the end is likely to be beneficial to all parties concerned by formulating more perfect plans and regulations by which to be governed. It may be confidently expected that early next spring, if not before, Congress will fix the townsite question in a manner that business may proceed with a rush.

Along with the wonderful resources of Fort Gibson otherwise, its inexaustable fund of events it its has furnished to the history of the territory. No other town in the southwest has had such a varied experience as this old army post. - McAlester Capital
     Just so, and no other town in this Territory has such great natural advantages, which will soon commence to be developed - 40,000 horse power on Grand river, and other resources. Then Fort Gibson will commence to grow and prosper.

FORT GIBSON'S FUTURE
     Col D R Joslyn, of Gurdon, Ark., was in town this week, prospecting, and is much taken up with Ft. Gibson and surrounding country. Mr Joslyn examined the water power on Grand river, and says it is sufficient to run machinery to employ several thousand people. Mr Joslyn was formerly from Michigan and an old acqaintance whom we had not met before in over 35 years. He predicts a great future for Fort Gibson when outsiders will be allowed to come here with capital to develop her resources.

J W Brandon, of Barnesville, Ga., was in town this week prospecting. He is a fruit grower, and says that this vicinity is the best he has yet seen for all kinds of fruit, and sees no reason why people cannot get rich at the business here if they will only engage in it, especially peaches, pruns and grapes. Mr Brandon is struck on Fort Gibson.

Page 4, column 2

The Indian Chieftain has issued a daily edition, a neat 5 column folio, ably edited and up to date in appearance, which shows that Vinita is among the leading towns i this Territory.

BIVOUC OF THE DEAD ... continued from First Page

The great American flag ever floats above the gallant dead. Once each year all the graves are decorated and many cherished memories center around the hallowed spot. Here, as in ever national cemetery in the Union, on iron tablets in raised painted letter may be read the grandest military poem in the English language, written by that intellectual and gifted Irish-American, Col Theabold O'Hara, of Danville, Kentucky, entitled -

THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD

The muffled drum's sad roll has beat
   The soldier's last tattoo;
No more on Life's parade shall meet
   The brave and gallant few;
On Fame's eternal camping ground
   Their silent tents are spread,
And Glory guards with solemn round
   The Bivouac of the dead.

No rumor of the foes advance
   Now swells upon the wind,
No troubled thoughts at midnight haunts
   Of loved ones left behind;
No vision of the morrow's strife
   The warrior's dream alarms;
No braying horn or screaming life
   At dawn shall call to arms.

Their shriveled swords are red with rust -
   Their plumed heads are bowed;
Their haughty banner, trailed in dust
   Is now their martial shroud,
And plenteous funeral tears have washed
   The real stains from each brow,
And the proud forms by battle gashed
   Are free from anguish now.

The neighing troop, the flashing blade
   The bugle's stirring blast -
The charge, the dreadful cannonade,
   The din and shout, are past;
No war's wild note nor glory's peal
   Shall thrill with fierce delight -
Those breasts that never more may feel
   The rapture of the fight.

Like some fierce northen hurricane
   That swept the great plateau,
Flushed with the triumph yet to gain,
   Came downt he serried foe,
Who head the thunder of the fray
   Break o'er the field beneath,
Knew ell the watchword of that day
   Was "Victory or death."

Long has the doubtful conflict raged
   O'er all that stricken plain,
For never fiercer fight was waged
   The vengeful blood of Spain;
And still the storm of battle blew,
   Still swept the gory tide;
Not long, our stout old chieftain knew
   Such odds, his strength could bide.

'Twas in the hour his stern command
   Called to a martyr's grave
The flower of his beloved land,
   The Nation's flag to save.
By rivers of his father's gore
   His first-born laurels grew,
And well he deemed the sons would pour
   Their lives for glory too.

Full many a northern's breath had swept
   O'er Angostura's plain,
And long the pitying sky has wept
   Above the mouldering slain.
The raven's scream, or eagle's flight,
   Or shepard's pensive lay,
Alone awakes each sullen height
   That frowned o'er that dread fray.

Sons of the dark and bloody ground,
   You must not slumber there,
Where strangers steps and tongues resound
   Along the heedless air;
Your own proud land's heroic soil
   Shall be your fitter grave;
She claims from war his richest spoil,
   The ashes of her brave.

So 'neath their parent turf they rest,
   Far from the gory field,
Borne to a Spartain mother's breast,
   On many a bloody shield;
The sunshine of their native sky
   Smiles sadly on them here,
And kindred eyes and hearts watch by
   The hero's sepulcher.

Rest on, embalmed and sainted dead,
   Dear as the blood ye gave;
No impious footsteps here shall tread
   The herbage of your grave;
Nor shall your glory be forgot
   While Fame her record keeps,
Or honor points the hallowed spot
   Where Valor proudly sleeps.

Your marble minstrel's voiceless stone
   In deathless song shall tell
Where many a vanquished age hath flown,
   The story how ye fell;
Nor wreck, nor charge, nor winter's blight,
   Nor Time's remorseless doom,
Shall dim one ray of glory's light
   That guilds your deathless tomb.
        --- Theabold O'Hara

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