ere
noticeable by all.

Daniel Lyon is at present 85 years old, and lives with one of his
granddaughters--Jennie Lyon--now married to a man by the name of James
Wilson, in Oakland, Ind., a small town conspicuous only for its rare
educational facilities.

[Illustration: Uncle Daniel telling his Story 017]

On the evening of the 22d of February, 1884, a number of the neighbors,
among whom was Col. Daniel Bush, a gallant and fearless officer of
the Union side during the late war, and Dr. Adams, President of ------
College, dropped in to see Uncle Daniel, as he is now familiarly called.
During the evening, Col. Bush, turning to the old veteran, said:

"'Uncle Daniel,' give us a story from some of your experiences during
the war."

The old man arose from his easy-chair and stood erect, his hair, as
white as snow, falling in profusion over his shoulders. His eyes, though
dimmed by age, blazed forth in youthful brightness; his frame shook with
excitement, his lips quivered, and tears rolled down the furrows of his
sunken cheeks. All were silent. He waved his hand to the friends to be
seated; then, drawing his big chair to the centre of the group, he sat
down. After a few moments' pause he spoke, in a voice tremulous with
emotion:

"My experience was vast. I was through the whole of the war. I saw much.
My story is a true one, but very sad. As you see, my home is a desolate
waste. My family consists now of only two grand-children; wife and sons
are all gone. I am all that is now left of my once happy family. My God!
My God! Why should I have been required to bear this great burden? But
pardon this weakness in an old man. I will now begin my story.

"In the month of ------, 1861, my nephew, 'Tom' Anderson,--I called the
boy Tom, as I learned to do so many years before, while visiting at his
father's; he was the son of my eldest sister,--his wife, Mary, and their
only child, a beautiful little girl of two years (called Mary, for her
mother), were visiting at my house. Their home was in Jackson, Miss. One
evening my good wife, Tom, his wife, my son Peter, and I were sitting on
our front porch discussing the situation, when we heard a great noise a
couple of blocks south of us. The young men stepped out to see what the
trouble was and in a very short time they returned greatly excited. A
company of men were marching down the street bearing the American flag,
when a number of rebel sympathizers had assaulted them with ston