Fighting The Grim Destroyer

(Jen. McClernand, of Xlliiiois, is a flghter. Although Ín tlie seventies he is still as full of pluck as he wus during the stormiest days of the rebellion. A few weeks ago one of the general's oid army chums died at his home at Kpringfield. A meeting to draft suitable resohitions of respect tohis memory was attended by a number of his fiiends, among them Gen. McClernand. One of the speakers, in eul gizing the deceased, said : "And so when death cin to claim him for its victim he met it as peacefully and calmly as the warrior who wraps thedrapery of his couch about hiin and i íes down tí) pleasant dreams." A f ter the meeting adjourned the subject of their conversation was the immutable fate of all men and thecalmness with which tbeir deceased friend had met the grim destróyer. "That's the weak point in his character. That's something I never liked in him," said Gen. McClernand, angrily. The general's eompanions with some surprise asked, "Why not, general?" "Because," said the veteran of a hundred battles, "I doii't like this business of meeting death calmly. I hare no respect for any man wbo does that. When death comes to me Hl flght him, sir - I'Il flghfc him to the last I don't want any ly ing do wn to pleasant dreams in mine. Death ean't conquer me without a struegle." The look and tone that accompanied the words satisfied the general's hearers that he would act as he had