The Republican 4-12-1889

Connecting with History

The Bugle Notes from the Fort column was written by soldiers living at Fort Niobrara along what is now the Niobrara National Scenic River in the 1880's and 1890's in "The Republican" newspaper published in Valentine, Nebraska. Fort Niobrara became a National Wildlife Refuge in 1912 when troops were moved elsewhere in the United States. Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge protects and conserves the wildlife, plants, and habitats of the Nebraska Sandhills and Niobrara River Valley. Visitors can explore the land that the soldiers trod many years ago now protected as the Niobrara National Scenic River and the Fort Niobrara National Wildlife Refuge.

Microfilm 1 of 2 of The Republican 4-12-1889, Bugle Notes from the Fort Column.

City of Valentine, Public Library.

The Republican 4-12-1889
Valentine, NE

Bugle Notes from the Fort
Editor The Republican

Colonel E. Hatch, 9^th Calvary, died at Ft. Robinson yesterday morning (Thursday) at 8 o’clock, from the effects of an injury that he received some time ago. He was out driving, when the horses became unmanageable and he was thrown from the buggy, receiving a shock from which he did not recover.

A Mr. T. C. Davis gave a magic lantern entertainment and a descriptive lecture on Tuesday night at the post hall. It was not half advertised and many knew nothing about it till the next day. So the audience was slim, but the views were interesting and the lecture good.

The hunting party returned on Monday with more cumbrous luggage than wild ducks. In regard to enjoyment the trip was a success and the hunters brought back with them the experience that Cody fowls can outfly bullets any day. Their Niobrara nimrods, however, are contented with the little game that fortune sent within rifle shot.

Our engineer has been very busy assisting the tinsmiths and plumbers who have been over head and ears in work for the last two weeks, transforming kerosene oil cans into water pails and waterspouts and a great many things that we know little about. Mr. Dwellie the foreman met with an accident that deprived him of the use of one of his propelling propensities, but he has almost recovered now.

Microfilm 2 of 2 of The Republican 4-12-1889, Bugle Notes from the Fort Column.

City of Valentine, Public Library.

The editor of the Sword and Shield makes a few good suggestions in the last issue of that paper. He advocates a reformation of the post-traders traffic and among other things he thinks that the government should stop part of the pay of soldiers who abuse themselves with drink. A similar plan works well in the Marine corps and we believe the soldiers would approve of it for their own benefit.

One of Spring’s artists visited the post on Sunday; her fair locks dripping with the drizzly shower, and gave the parade ground its first faint coat of green. She loves the lonely soldier and has promised to paint his drill ground soon with brightest emerald. But she is indignant with the huge hay teams that pass so often strewing their falling hay among the grass to be scattered by the wind, and causing police to spoil her work with their merciless rakes. She stopped her work and kicked the paint pot in her anger, when she thought of it.

James Wren or Martin, a colored man, shot himself in Valentine last Friday. He was discharged from Calvary Troop G, two days before, and had been disturbing the citizens with his drunken fanfaronading, and rather a dangerous weapon, till his folly was brought to a speedy end with a shot from his pistol, which put a bullet in his leg at the back of and above the knee. The accident was unfortunate for him, but many are of the opinion that he shot himself in the wrong place. Colored men have a great hobby for carrying about revolvers and jack-knives and flourishing them on the least provocation imaginary, or, otherwise, when a schoolboy’s pea-gun would suit them better, in their childish squabbles. A few accidents like the above might go along towards curing them of their “self-protection” craze.

One of G Troop’s finest horses died very suddenly last week and too late for publication in your last issue. It lived but one short week after taking sick. A few soldiers followed the rude swhere the meadow lark will come and chirrup on its grave.

THE EPITAPH:
Your day is o’er. Death’s sounded “taps”
Sleep on, most faithful brute.—perhaps
No more a brute than many human folks;
May be we’d search your troop a while,
To find amongst the rank and file;
A man with half your sense.—If horses spoke.

Tom O’Shanter.

Textual Note:

"Bugle Notes from the Fort" articles were transcribed to reflect the original text in grammar, spelling, and formatting. Errors are true to the original text and reflect the historic context of their authorship.