anaheim-gazette 1881-06-04

WEEKLY GAZETTE. SATURDAY...JUNE 4, 1881 A New York telegram of May 31st says that the immigration during the month exceeded the figures for the same month last year by 21,000, and the number is larger than for any one month in the history of Castle Garden. A sure cure for curl-leaf in peaches, says the "Express," is said to be found in splitting the bark of the body and even the limbs of the tree longitudinally. A gentleman whose trees were affected last year served them in this way, plying the knife from the stock just below the ground to the branches as large as a finger, and in five weeks every sign of disease had disappeared. A few weeks ago the Gazette had an item to the effect that a Mr. Mygatt of Napa had discovered that the insertion of a small quantity of quicksilver into a hole bored into the trunk of a tree would soon rid the tree of any insects which infested it, and that he had applied for a patent for his discovery. It appears that the remedy is not a new one, it being in use in Europe. It is not a specific, however, it having been tried often without good results. PLATT, the colleague of Conkling, thought no doubt that he was doing a very heroic thing when he resigned IN HONOR OF THE DEAD. DECORATION DAY IN ANAHEIM. The Utility of the Custom—The Decorated Graves—Interesting and Impressive Ceremonies—The Oration, Eta. Memorial Day, or Decoration Day, as the 30th of May is variously called, was observed in Anaheim this year for the first time, but now that a beginning has been made, there is no doubt that each succeeding year will witness a more general interest in the day and the attendant ceremonies. The motives which prompt the custom appeal strongly to the sympathetic nature of all true men and women; and when it is thoroughly understood that a high and noble desire to do honor to the memory of men who imperiled their lives in defense of their principles, and that there are no underlying political motives in these annual gatherings, there will be a general response to the custom, and the day will be as generally observed throughout the Union as are other holidays. We hold that not only is a duty to the dead fulfilled by the observance of Decoration Day, but that the custom is of actual benefit to the country, in that it helps to weld in closer ties of brotherhood those who fought against each other in the great conflict. In proof of this, we ask our readers to look at the way Decoration Day is observed on the battlefields of the South. The Blue and the Gray again commingle, but bearing instead of the deadly bayonet, the wreath of immortelles, the violet and the myrtle. On the grave of the dead Confederate, the Northern soldier lays his floral offering; the grave of the Federal dead is strewn with flowers by those who wore the Gray. How can men who thus fraternize amid the flower-covered graves of the dead harbor in their breast the animosity which they naturally felt towards each other dar- PLATT, the colleague of Conkling, thought no doubt that he was doing a very heroic thing when he resigned the seat in the Senate which he had hardly had time to warm. There is no denying the fact that he has made himself famous, but it is not the kind of fame of which he ought to be very proud. His abject submission to his master has brought upon him an avalanche of ridicule and contempt. One New York paper having alluded in sarcastic admiration to his touching fidelity, a correspondent subsequently wrote: "Your tribute to Platt's fidelity is deserved. There is no parallel case in politics, and I know of but one anywhere. That was the touching story told in the "Sun" a few months ago of the little dog that stayed out in the cold and died on his master's grave." "The following 'revised version' of an old hymn is also coming into popularity: "Lord Roscoe had a little lamb, its name was Tommy Platt, and when Lord Roscoe rose to go the lamb no longer sat. It followed him from school one day, it was Lord Roscoe's rule, and why it did it all can see, it was a little fool. "What makes the lamb love Roscoe so?" the togas all would cry; "because Lord Roscoe lams the lamb," the knowing did reply. And poor little Tommy Platt doth run about and bleat; for, having loved Lord Roscoe so, it's lost the public teat. The New York Legislature has been balloting for Senators for several days, but with no result. It is thought that the present session will expire without an election, and the matter will then go over to a new Legislature. This will bring the issue squarely before the people, where it properly belongs. The Supreme Court has decided that certificates of stock are not taxable. Justice Ross, who delivered the opinion, held that the Constitu- In proof of this, we ask our readers to look at the way Decoration Day is observed on the battlefields of the South. The Blue and the Gray again commingle, but bearing instead of the deadly bayonet, the wreath of immortelles, the violet and the myrtle. On the grave of the dead Confederate, the Northern soldier lays his floral offering; the grave of the Federal dead is strewn with flowers by those who wore the Gray. How can men who thus fraternize amid the flower-covered graves of the dead harbor in their breast the animosity which they naturally felt towards each other during and immediately after the close of the war? Most despicable indeed must be the man who would join in such a ceremony and leave the City of the Dead without having a kindlier and more brotherly feeling towards his former foes. There are only four ex-soldiers interred in the Ananeim cemetery. J. W. Stackpole died on April 30th, 1880. He was a member of the 46th Massachusetts Volunteer Infantry, and held the rank of Sergeant when he was discharged at the expiration of his term of enlistment. His grave has been marked with a handsome marble stone, suitably inscribed, and a neat iron railing surrounds it. The other graves are those of George Williams, aged 35 years, born in Delaware, who died on April 20th, 1877; Morris Goodheim (an alias), aged 30 years, born in New York, who died on January 1st, 1877, and Alston E. Parmenter, aged 28 years, born in Massachusetts, died on May 21st, 1879. These three ex-soldiers were strangers here, and beyond the fact that they served in the army during the war, nothing is known concerning them. Sedgewick Post No. 17, G. A. R., came over from Santa Ana at 2 o'clock on Monday afternoon and half an hour later formed in line in front of the Planters' Hotel. They are a fine, soldierly appearing body of men, and the precision of their movements showed that they had not forgotten their military training. A few ex-soldiers living in Ananeim joined their ranks, and the column was further swelled by a delegation of the Ananeim Fire Company. Preceded by the Ananeim Brass Band (which, by the way, seemed to play even better than usual), the column marched down Center to Lemon street, along Lemon to First North street, along said street to Los Angeles street, thence to Center street again and continuing to the cemetery, minute guns being fired during the march. Having broken ranks, the soldiers' graves were strewn with flowers and wreaths. The floral offerings were not only in lavish abundance, but in beauty and arrangement were beyond description. Nearly all the graves in the cemetery had fresh flowers placed upon them by the relatives of the deceased persons, who entered into the spirit of the occasion. Upon the conclusion of this ceremony the throng, to the number of several hundred, gathered together to listen to the literary exercises. The following song—"Decoration Day"—was sung by the choir to the tune of "Coronation:" Which they did offerings on their fading wreaths of all who fell cause. But for living or death stretching from ocean to carved by their divided." And the granite and dust this most legend undiminten. Time is w eighteen years bastion and th but the low, o heals the wounds her own brew wounds in hurry nearly everythi but from this rescue our deat get all the bit see the wound none of the teach us wis Nation cannot It has been sa as long as an from its side heroes. It w Lucretia brow Rome. Rom by raising triv Consuls than glorious histo preserved th granite or ma grateful songs mains an honel While enjoy tutions, we are they come. our recollection Nation—those independence Already the g at at the close o for whom it w as the cause o fictes us. Th for alarm. V called for, it nation ceases to breed them '62, sprang to try's call and who in children from the revival There will n Nation will mous temple of fought and di anew by th And to-day, y and cherish t to emulate th that flame of party strife a and undivid The Supreme Court has decided that certificates of stock are not taxable. Justice Ross, who delivered the opinion, held that the Constitution of the State does not require or authorize double taxation. On the contrary, its language clearly forbids it. Stock of any corporation consists of its franchise and such other property as the corporation may own. When, therefore, all of the property of a corporation is assessed, its franchise and all of its other property of every character, then all of the stock of the corporation is assessed and the mandate of the Constitution is complied with. This property is held by the corporation in trust for the stockholders, who are beneficial owners in certain proportions called shares, and which are usually evidenced by certificates of stock. The share of each stockholder is undoubtedly property, but it is an interest very properly held by the corporation; nothing more. When the property of a corporation is assessed to it and the tax thereon paid, who but the stockholders pay it? It is true that it is paid from the treasury of the corporation before the money therein is divided, but it is substantially the same thing as if paid from the pockets of the individual stockholders. Justices Sharpstein, McKee, Thornton and McKinsey concur in the decision. Chief Justice Morrison concurs so far as the opinion relates to savings bank deposits, expressing no opinion on the question of taxation of certificates of stock. Justice Myrick concurs, except as to assessment of savings bank deposits, on which subject he expresses no opinion. Having broken ranks, the soldiers' graves were strewn with flowers and wreaths. The floral offerings were not only in lavish abundance, but in beauty and arrangement were beyond description. Nearly all the graves in the cemetery had fresh flowers placed upon them by the relatives of the deceased persons, who entered into the spirit of the occasion. Upon the conclusion of this ceremony the throng, to the number of several hundred, gathered together to listen to the literary exercises. The following song—"Decoration Day"—was sung by the choir to the tune of "Coronation:" Let cannons voice reverberate, From hill to hill along, Its echoes once again relate The strife among the strong; Recall the glorious heroes' fate, Who fell combating wrong. Bring forth the nation's proud emblem, Unfurl it to the wind: Each star shall glow a living gem, In beauty's fold entwined: Wave, wave the banner loved by them, Above their dust enshrined. Again the nation brings its wreaths Of chocolat vernal bloom, That to the sir a fragrance breathes Affection's sweet perfume; A disdain the heart bequeaths To crown the Patriot's tomb. Strew man's sweet For-get-me-not, O'er each dead Soldier's mound. Let rose and laurel festoon wrought Both monument surround: It is a local tribute brought To grace the sacred ground. Rev. J. A. Emery then offered up the following PRAYER: O Lord our God, Who art in every place, from Whose knowledge no space or distance ever removes us, may we, and all who to-day have engaged in the sacred duty of honoring the fallen brave, be present to Thee. Defend us, O Lord, in all our dangers, both of soul and body, and grant that we, while standing by the last resting places of those who fought and suffered for the right, may seriously take to heart and earnest endeavor to learn the lesson of loyal devotion to principle, so that we in the future may be ready to emulate the example that they see us in the past, of bearing all things, suffering all things, enduring all things in a just and holy cause. Hasten, we pray Thee, the time when all sectional strife and bitterness shall cease, and when all dwelling within the borders of this land shall be kept together in bands of closest brotherhood, struggling only for the best interests of all, devoted to one flag, claiming no name save that of an American citizen; and may we be led through the freedom which we enjoy and the love we hear our country, to love and honor Thee. Lord of all power and might, Who art the Author and Giver of all good things, graft DEAD. UN ANAThe Deceing and Impression, Day, as the was observed first time, been made, seeding year interest in the monies. The custom appeal feature of all it is thorand noble deof men who of their prinderlying pogatherings, to the cuugenerally obsessions are other only is a duty observance of custom is of that it helps perhood those in the great look our readon Day is obSouth. The mingle, but payonet, the vet and the Dead Confederation's floral offeral dead is no wore the fraternize of the dead mosity which is other dur- in our hearts the love of Thy Name; increase in us true religion; nourish us with all goodness, and of Thy great mercy keep us in the name, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. The Band played a dirge, after which Rev. C. W. Tarr was introduced as "Comrade Tarr." The reverend gentleman has a slow and impressive delivery; he enunciates his words with great distinctness, and his emphasis is effectively placed. Close and approving attention was given to him while he delivered the following ORATION: COMRADER AND FELLOW-CITIZENS: The return of this day, sacredly dedicated to the memory of our brothers who gave their lives for the preservation of our National Government and the perpetuation of human liberty, calls us together. We meet to lay our floral tributes upon the graves of those who, with us, shared the dangers and endured the hardships of the camp, the march and the battle. Throughout the whole land where rest the remains of Union soldiers, where their services are kept in grateful remembrance, the like ceremonies are held. In fair cemetery monuments rise, on which are inscribed the names and deeds of the fallen heroes. But unnumbered thousands are sleeping their last sleep in swamp and river, thicket and ocean, with no stone to perpetuate their names, their personal services untold. For them all we meet to-day, to recount the story of their achievements and hold up the standard of loyalty for which they died; and in laying these floral offerings on these graves, we lay the unfading wreaths of gratitude on the memory of all who fell in defense of our country's cause. But for every loyal soldier, whether living or dead, there stands a monument, stretching from the Lakes to the Gulf, and from ocean to ocean, with the inscription carved by their own hands, "Free and undivided." And our prayer is that long after the granite and marble have crumbled to dust this monument may stand with its legend undimmed and the writers unforgotten. the brave" to let freedom parish from their hands. Our army was the wonder of the world. Four years of amidnone preparation for the rebellion had stripped our armens and forts, and placed our arms in the hands of our enemies. Our Navy was scattered to the ends of the earth; our Treasury was reduced to bankruptcy; the loyal people stood agast as they saw these preparations, and yet it seemed impossible for them to believe that any considerable portion of American citizens would lay the ruthless hand of treason upon this Temple of Liberty to tear it down. When the war began, the London Times predicted that the rebellion could not be subdued without extreme conscription, and that none could be forced into the service who did not vote for the existing administration. But the people showed that our government belongs to no party in time of danger. The old world was astounded at the intensity of American patriotism; they saw that each man here was a Sovereign, and that each felt the responsibility of American citizenship. It was the intelligence and virtue of the Nation that marched to the battle. Each man was striking a blow for himself and felt the greatness and responsibility of the occasion. Two million such patriots entered the ranks, and as our streets echoed to their trump, every one felt that a Nation was moving in the grandeur of true patriotism for her preservation, and the "God bless you" that was breathed after them, in tones tremulous with hope and faith, showed that there were two million more ready to follow them if need be. Such patriotism developed sublime military genius too. The names of Sherman and Hooker, and Sheridan and Farragut, Grant and a host of others will shine on the pages of history as long as time shall last. In fancy, let us lift the curtain and look upon a scene in the tent of the Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the Potomac. It is past midnight. Sad hearts are entering there, for it is a gloomy hour in the great poem so admirably that we feel constrained to publish it: By the edge of the Atlantic, where the waves break, Freedom runs, And the bremses of the coast shunt a requiem to the shore. On the Nation's eastern hill-tops, where its cornea stone is held, On the mountains of New England, where our father bollied and prayed, Mid old Key-stone's rugged richness, where the miners hand awaken, Milid the never-ceasing commerce of the busy Empire State, With the country's love and honor on each brave, dotted head, Is a band of noble heroes—is our Army of the Dead. On the lake-andcrewed homestead of the thriving Wolverine, On the beauteous Western prairie, with their carpentry of green, By the sweeping Mississippi, long our country's pride and boast, On the rugged Rocky Mountains, and the weird cliff coast, In the listless, sunny Southland, with its blossoms and its vines, On the bracing Northern hill-tops, and amid thunder-murmuring plumes, Over all our happy country—over all our Nation spread, Is a band of noble heroes—is our Army of the Dead. Not with musket, and with sabre, and with gladi heart beating fast; Not with cannon that had thundered till the blood war was past; Not with voices that are shouting with the vim victory's note; Not with armor gayly glistening and with flags that proudly float; Not with air of martial vigor, nor with steady, solid trump; Come they grandly marching to us—for the boys all in camp. With forgetfulness upon it—each within his earth bed, Waiting for his marching orders—is our Army of the Dead. Fast sleep the boys are lying, in their low and narrow tents, And no battle-cry can wake them, and no orders owe them hence; And the yearnings of the mother, and the anguish she wife, Can not with their magic presence call the soldier back to life; And the brother's manly sorrow, and the father mournful pride, Can not give back to his country him who for country did d. They who for the trembling Nation in its hour trial bleed, Lie, in these its years of triumph, with our Army of the Dead. When the years of Earth are over, and the cares Earth are done, When the reign of Time is ended, and Eternity begins, When the thunders of Omniscience on our waker senses roll, And the sky above shall wither, and be gathered by a scroll; When among the lefty mountains, and across mighty sea, The sublime celestial bugler shall ring out the reveler then shall march with brightest laurels, and which they died; and in laying these floral offerings on these graves, we lay the unfading wreaths of gratitude on the memory of all who fell in defense of our country's cause. But for every loyal soldier, whether living or dead, there stands a monument, stretching from the Lakes to the Gulf, and from ocean to ocean, with the inscription carved by their own hands, "Free and undivided." And our prayer is that long after the granite and marble have crumbled to dust this monument may stand with its legend undimmed and the writers unforgotten. Time is working its changes. Where eighteen years ago were the trenches, the beating and the booming cannon, to-day are but the low, overgrown mounds. As nature heals the wounds and covers the scars on her own breast, so time is healing the wounds in human hearts. It is the fate of nearly everything human to be forgotten, but from this grave of oblivion we would rescue our dead comrades. We would forget all the bitterness of the strife; we would see the wounds healed; we would keep alive none of the memories save such as may teach us wisdom for the future. But a Nation cannot afford to forget her defenders. It has been said that the tomb of Leonidas, as long as an annual oration was delivered from its side, produced a yearly crop of heroes. It was thus that the dead body of Lucretia brought forth the liberators of Rome. Romans begat Romans, not more by raising triumphal arches to her victorious Consuls than by the constant recital of their glorious history. All civilized nations have preserved the names of their heroes on granite or marble, embalmed their deeds in grateful songs and story, or given their remains an honored sepulture. While enjoying the benefits of free institutions, we are too apt to forget from whom they come. The reverence which, within our recollection, was paid the Fathers of our Nation—those who fought for our National independence, seems to be passing away. Already the gratitude which the Nation felt at the close of the war is fading, and those for whom it was manifest are looked upon as the cause of every political evil that afflicts us. The growth of this spirit is cause for alarm. When patriotism is no longer called for, it no longer exists. "When a nation ceases to honor her heroes she ceases to breed them." The men who, in '61 and '62, sprang to arms in answer to their country's call and saved our Nation, were those who in childhood imbibed a love of country from the revolutionary sires who made it. There will never come a time when the Nation will not need patriots. This glorious temple of liberty, for which our fathers fought and died, was saved and cemented anew by the blood of their patriot sons. And to-day, while we recount their deeds, and cherish their memories, let us not forget to emulate their virtues. Let us keep alive that flame of patriotism that rises above all party strife and claims our Nation as one and undivided. We grieve with those tremulous with hope and faith, showed that there were two million more ready to follow them if need be. Such patriotism developed sublime military genius too. The names of Sherman and Hooker, and Sheridan and Farragut, Grant and a host of others will shine on the pages of history as long as time shall last. In fancy, let us lift the curtain and look upon a scene in the tent of the Commander-in-Chief of the Army of the Potomac. It is past midnight. Sad hearts are entering there, for it is a gloomy hour in the great campaign of the Wilderness—a night following a day of disaster. The army had been fearfully worsted, and it seemed almost inevitable that the morrow would find our broken and bleeding ranks retreating towards Washington. On that battlefield lay fifteen thousand brave soldiers, wounded, dying, dead. One by one the Division Commanders reach the door, give a silent salute, and pass in and as silently take their seats. Meade, Sedgewick, Hancock, Warren and others are there. For thirty minutes not a word is spoken. It is an awful silence, which is at length broken by the Chief. The question passes from one to another, "General, can you tell what is to be done?" A sad and tremulous "No" was the response. The Chieftain seized a pen, hastily passed it over a fragment of paper, and passing it to Meade said, "Break the seal at 4 o'clock and march." He did the same for each of them and each retired ignorant of what was ordered, but anticipating a retreat. Anything else seemed madness in the extreme. Had they known the order was to advance, a possible mutiny had followed. The next morning before 5 o'clock the whole army was in motion, and in an hour Lee's scouts stood before him reporting what was going on. He read the dispatch and, tearing it into fragments, stamped upon the ground, exclaiming, "Sir, our enemy have a leader at last, and our cause is lost, sir; lost!" He thought we were hewn in pieces, and had ordered that his men be allowed a long rest that morning, but he awoke to see the army he thought to be hopelessly defeated flanking him and cutting off his base. Who but the man of iron nerve could have met the responsibilities of that midnight hour? No wonder the soldiers delight to honor their leaders. The story is told of a French soldier of many battles who was offered promotion, but he persisted in remaining in the ranks. His grateful Sovereign sent him a sword inscribed, "First among the Grenadiers of France." When he fell on the field of glory, the Emperor ordered his heart embalmed, placed in a silver case, and committed to the keeping of his company, with the command that his name be called at each roll-call, and the oldest grenadier respond, "Dead upon the field of honor." Oh, how many names are left to us, at the mention of which the response should ever be; "Dead upon the field of honor." When in reverential love, as this anniversary returns, and floral offerings shall fall from comrade's hands upon the graves of our heroes, shall not angels who keen the camp-fires along GARDEN GROVE ITEMS. Which I wish to remark— And my language is plain— That for ways that are dark And for tricks that are vain, A bachelor's cat is peculiar; The same I would rise to explain: He was a member of the Bachelors' Club and like many others of the fraternity, kept a cat. And thereby hangs a tale. Evening, coming home after a day spent hauling hay, he went to the cupboard,and felt hungry. He was further attracted by a large hole in the screen door; but with a sight met his eyes as he opened the door. He had left a pie and half of a large candle there, and now only some crumbs and a piece of the pie crust were left. His eyes opened to an unusual extent. "Where is the creanut—the cat?" he roared. He looked into all the corners of the cupboard. "Silly," he thought. "she couldn't have got after eating all that!" Me-ow, came in piles tones from somewhere. He jumped out looked under the stove, on the table. Me-ow again. He rushed out of doors and looked under the house, but no cat. When he entered the house the same me-ow greeted... every place, once or distance all who to-day city of honoring to Thee. Degerers, both of what we, while faces of those the right, may carnally enlargely devotion future may be that they set things, sufferings in a just time when all shall open, and hardens of this bends of clamly for the best of flag, claimAmerican citigh the frelove we hear Thee, Who act the things, graft try's call and saved our Nation, were those who in childhood imbibed a love of country from the revolutionary sires who made it. There will never come a time when the Nation will not need patriots. This glorious temple of liberty, for which our fathers fought and died, was saved and cemented anew by the blood of their patriot sons. And to-day, while we recount their deeds, and cherish their memories, let us not forget to emulate their virtues. Let us keep alive that flame of patriotism that rises above all party strife and claims our Nation as one and undivided. We grieve with those whose hearts are still sore from the loss of loved friends; we cherish the memories of those who sacrificed their lives in the cause of liberty; but more than all, we rejoice that the sacrifice was not made in vain. The return of this Memorial Day, with ever increasing interest, attests that our comrades did not die for an ungrateful people, and that the Nation they saved will be preserved and descend, inviolate, to their children's children, and will endure to bless the world as long as time shall last. As we stand amidst these green mounds today and look back over the past, how many images are brought before our gaze! We hear the low mutterings of treason, the preparations for war, the boom of the cannon that first aimed at the flag of liberty, then the Nation's call for defenders, the bugle blast, marshaling the loyal hosts. Our fancy pictures the sad parting scene that took place in the countless lifes of the land. Husbands embracing for the last time their loving wives; mothers weeping on the neck of noble sons; fathers loosening the clasp of tender children, who would cling to them for protection. Aged sires backling the sword to the side of noble boys and offering them to their imperiled country; lovers gazing for the last time into the eyes of their adored ones; and as these thousands, who had all their lives pursued the arts of peace, sprang to arms at the call of the Nation's Chief, we hear them shouting. "We are coming, Father Almham, our Nation is rupture. We are coming, Father Almham, three hundred thousand more." Partisanship gave way to patriotism, in our adopted sons, as well as those born on American soil. Irishmen rode with Sheridan, Germann "fought mit Sigul." Immortal honors be upon the heads of our foreign-born citizens. They have proven that they came not to this "land of the true and home of but he persisted in remaining in the ranks. His grateful Sovereign sent him a sword inscribed, "First among the Grenadiers of France." When he fell on the field of glory, the Emperor ordered his heart embalmed, placed in a silver case, and committed to the keeping of his company, with the command that his name be called at each roll-call, and the oldest grenadier respond, "Dead upon the field of honor." Oh, how many names are left to us, at the mention of which the response should ever be; "Dead upon the field of honor." When in reverential love, as this anniversary returns, and floral offerings shall fall from comrade's hands upon the graves of our heroes, shall not angels, who keep the camp-fires along celestial heights, hear a million throbbing hearts beating gratefully the answer to the roll-call of our heroes. Baker—"Dead upon the field of honor." Lyon—"Dead upon the field of honor." Reno—"Dead upon the field of honor." Mitchell, Kearney, Mansfield, Wadsworth, Sedgewick, McPherson — all "Dead upon the field of honor." These and thousands of others equally honorable sleep peacefully, and their names belong to American history. It is well that their comrades in arms, joined by the true and loyal of this good land, should move in garlanded procession among the shrines of our Nation and pay this tribute to their memories. May their deeds never be forgotten and may the name America ever be a synonym for freedom, and may she never lack for patriotic defenders. At the conclusion of the oration the choir and audience sang the following hymn to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne:" From hill, and dale, and glen, bring flowers, To strew each soldier's bier. In every spring time's golden hours, In every common year. Bring laurel, emblem of their fame, And myrtle, of our love; Let violets remember name, And amaranth life above. Then strew bright flowers on every grave, Wherein a hero lies. And let the dear old banner wave, North Precedent's sunlit skies. The first clear notes the bugle blew Wave special calls for them; And with their country's wool in view, They went forth strong-armed men; Left infantry, motheren sisters, wives, And children, young and pure; And held so naught their precious limbs as That homes might still endure. To them be honor, carness truth, And may we never forget! They died for me, they died for you, Where battles smiles met. Coussay lay upon each gun bed, A guard rich and rare. Whenever sheep our earlier dead, Let them this tribute share. "Our Army of the Dead," a poem by Will Coulston, was read by Mr. J. N. Howen. The gentleman is a trained locustianist, in possession of a great voice, and required the OUR SPRING & SUMMER STOCK HAS ARRIVED! And we are warranted in saying that it excels any other import ever received in Anaheim. It is impossible to enumerate The many articles received; and we therefore ask the public to call at the DRY GOODS PALACE And take a look at our well-filled shelves. They will find as complete an assortment of DRY GOODS, DRESS GOODS, FANCY GOODS, GENTS' & BOYS' CLOTHING, ETC., As can be found in a more pretentious city store. "Cheap for Cash!" Is the motto we now act upon. Goodman & Rimpau. The Latest Arrival! I have received and am now ready to sell BUNTING (all shades), The Latest Arrival! I have received and am now ready to sell BUNTING (all shades), WHITE PIQUE of the latest styles, GINGHAM PRINTS, DRESS LINEN, HANDKERCHIEFS, GLOVES. Buttons, Fancy Striped Hose, CELLULOID BRACELETS & SHAWL PINS. Mens', Boys' and Children's Suits! STRAW HATS AND PARASOLS, And one thousand and one articles too long to enumerate. FIRST-CLASS GROCERIES ALWAYS ON HAND. Hippolyte Cahen, Center St., Anaheim. There are many ways of conducting a grocery store; but to be successful in these days of close competition and with an exacting and discriminating public, certain essential points are required which few possess. The great success of my AMERICAN CASH STORE, 48 & 50 Spring St., Los Angeles, Cal. Is due to the fact that it commands in an eminent degree every advantage necessary to make it the leading grocery store on the southern coast. The heavy business I am doing enables me to keep my stock always fresh and clean. I buy my goods only for CASH, from FIRST HANDS. And in a WHOLESALE WAY. I am enabled to do so by having my house in San Francisco to do my buying and to there dispose of any surplus stock over and above the requirements of the Los Angeles store. To further facilitate and insure the safe handling of wholesale quantities of merchandise, I have just opened ANOTHER STORE IN STOCKTON, And am now in position to buy largely enough to insure the lowest cost on every article bought. Those dealing with me will share these advantages, in being And in a WHOLESALE WAY. I am enabled to do so by having my house in San Francisco to do my buying and to there dispose of any surplus stock over and above the requirements of the Los Angeles store. To further facilitate and insure the safe handling of wholesale quantities of merchandise, I have just opened ANOTHER STORE in STOCKTON, And am now in position to buy largely enough to insure the lowest cost on every article bought. Those dealing with me will share these advantages, in being SERVED PROMPTLY —WITH— FIRST-CLASS GOODS, AND AT— LOWER PRICES! Than they can buy for elsewhere. It is of course quite in the range of possibilities that some one of our neighbors on whose toes I may happen to truss, will "get up his back" and try to sell at my prices; but as he can do so only at a loss to himself, whilst I am making a small profit, such "spurts" are of a short duration, and in fact at no time do they cover the whole ground, since such reductions are always confined to a few staples, merely to catch the eye. Since the prices of the AMERICAN CASH STORE have justly become THE STANDARD By which those of other concerns are measured, it is evident that it must be to the interest of the consumer to at once GO TO HEADQUARTERS, And not unlessly risk having to pay more for his goods than they are worth. Respectfully, C.W.GIBSON. GET YOUR JOB PRINTING At the GAZETTE Office