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Show A NEW VIEW OF I BUNKER HILL By MAX ADELER A month or two nr?o Colonel Hanks ciigagod a young fellow named Scud-dcr Scud-dcr n3 subeditor of the Morning Argus. Ar-gus. On the day before tho ttnnlver-stry ttnnlver-stry of Hunker Mill, Hangs nsked Scudder If ho was fnmlllar with tho history of that battlo, and Scudder Bald ho was. So Hangs told Scudder ho would llko him to write up a little sketch of It for tho anniversary day and Scudder said ho would try. The next morning tho sketch appeared in tho Argus, and attracted a good deal of attention. When Hangs w It be called Scudder In and said. "Mr. Scudder, didn't you tell mo you thought you were fnmlllar with the battlo or Hunker Hill?" 'Yes, sir." "Well, If tnat Is tho case I will bo obliged to you If you will mention to mo whnt you mean when you say: " 'By four o'clock the Confederate troops were ready to make the attack. General Washington had tho catapults put In lino to await their coming, nnd, when Napoleon saw them, he drow his Bword, nnd exclaimed: Soldiers! Twenty centuries look down upon you.' "Now, Mr. Scudder, If you had possessed pos-sessed the most ordinary acquaintance with thnt conflict, you would hnvo been nwaro that Napoleon was not present, and that tho Idea of Qeorgo Washington fighting tho Confederate army with oatnpults Is calculated to excite the derision of cducnted persons. per-sons. And I wish to direct your attention, at-tention, Mr. Scudder, to nnother historical his-torical Inaccuracy. At tho bottom of the second column thoro you sny: "No sooner were the battering rams leveled against tho walls of tho castlo than tho Duko of Wellington sent word to his mother by Oeneral Hutlcr that ho would cither win or bo brought homo upon his shield. Then ordering order-ing his men to flro nt tho whites of tho enemy's eyes, ho nwalted tho onset on-set with thnt majestic calmness which ever distinguished the hero of Buena Vista.' "Now, 1 don't want to hurt your feelings, Mr. Scuddor, but really, for a Journalist, this kind of thing won't do. You certainly must realize that the battlo or Bunker Hill was not fought In u cnstlo with battering ranis; and, at any rate, when you allude to tho Duko of Wellington communing with Gcncrnl Hutler, nnd connect him with Hucna Vista, thoro is actually no hopo or your- molding public opinion on those topics. Tho public mind Is mado up. And then n llttlo farther on, In tho next column, you Bay: "This was tho very crisis' of tho battle. Joan of Arc, spying General Jackson behind tho cotton bales, dashed nt him upon her snow whlto charger swinging her ponderous bnta-tlo-ax above her head; hor fair hair streamed behind hor In tho wind. As her steed pressed forward, her hair caught In the bough of a tree, nnd as sho hung there, Sergeant Hates shot her through tho heart with a bolt from an nrquebuss. Her last words wore, "Don't glvo up tho ship,"' "Now, you see, Mr. Scuddor, this kind of thing sets pcoplo to talking. It hurts tho paper. You've got Absalom Absa-lom mixed up somehow In your mind with Joan of Arc, who died about 10,000 years before General Jackson, who wasn't at Bunker Hill, nnd who never know Sergeant Hates any more than Sergeant Hates knows how to flro an nrquebuss. Arquobuss! Gra clous Heaven! No doubt you meant well, but you've about dono tho business busi-ness for us, especially here, whero you sny: "Tho duko could stand It no longor. The Mamelukes hnd slain all of his vanguard; General Sickles had lost his log and retired on a pension; and the oncmy's skirmishers, lodged In tho top of tho monument, woro pouring pour-ing boiling oil on thoso who attempt-ed attempt-ed to scnlo it. Leaping upon his horso, ho shouted, "Up guards, nnd nt thorn!" and tho noxt moment, with tho glorious flag of truce In ono hnnd, nnd his sword In tho othor.tho hurled his legions upon the Lava-bods, nnd crushed (ho snvago foe to tho earth, killing, nmong othors, tho woll-known (cnoral Harrison, afterward President Presi-dent of the United States.' "The duke! Mamelukes! Flag of truce! Lava-beds! Awful, sir, awful! aw-ful! Tho Argus Ib n-gonor! Gono up, Mr. Scudder! Slain! But how could you havo scared up thnt Idea about a man fighting with n flag of truco In his hand? And how, oh, how could you hnvo killed a man who you admit wqb afterward President of tho United Stutes? No comic pnpor ever stir-passed stir-passed this, it Is terrible! I think wo shall have to part, Mr, Scuddor. It scorns to mo that your career ns a Journalist ought to come to nn end right hero. I will uccopt your resignation. resig-nation. "Aud It any one asks you why you left tho Argus, point to this Inst paragraph par-agraph and sny that It was becnuse tho proprietor was afraid he'd murder mur-der you when ho read your statement that 'At tho battle of Bunker Hill tho Confederates lost 80,000 nnd tho Car thagenlans only 000,' and that 'there Is no spot In Virginia that tho people hold more sacrod than that bloody hill where tho bones of Cromwoll He with those of Ilogor Williams, as II In life they had never fought against ouch other In the cause of tho constl tutlon and cheap transportation.' Point to that language, Mr. Scudder, and your friendB will Understand the situation. sit-uation. Good morning." Then Mr. Scudder withdrew, nnd he is now looking for another newspaper newspa-per to ruin, |