Addison Sleeth.

Addison Sleeth was born April 29th, 1842, in Shelby County, Indiana, and spent his youth on a farm, attending the country schools during the fall and winter months till he was eighteen years old, when he entered Asbury (now DePauw) University at Greencastle, Ind. He was here but a year when the Southern Rebellion broke out and he enlisted in Co. G, 52nd Indiana Inft. Vol., October 28th, 1861.

He served in this regiment three years, then re-enlisted in the same company, and served till the war closed. During his forty-three months of active service he traveled over ten thousand miles.

On September 10th, 1865, at Montgomery, Ala., his regiment was mustered out. The war over, he returned to Indiana and engaged in farming and teaching.

In 1874, he moved to Humboldt, Kans., where he has since resided. For over thirty years he has suffered from rheumatism. He was very ill since June 10th, suffering much but patiently from other ailments until he passed away at 7:30 the evening of September 18th, 1912, aged 70 years, 4 months and 19 days. He leaves a wife, son and daughter, two brothers, and four sisters to mourn his loss.

The funeral services were conducted last Friday afternoon at the Methodist church by the Rev. L. A. McKeever, the Grand Army of the Republic and the Lawton circle attending in a body. The floral offerings were profuse, showing the esteem in which the deceased was held. Interment was in Mt. Hope cemetery.

“Uncle Ad,” as he was familiarly known, was a grand good man, always optimistic in his views, a source of comfort and pleasure to those about him and lived such a noble life that when it came his time to go he was prepared.

The following lines written by him on the death of a comrade seem appropriate here:

THE CAMP ACROSS THE STREAM.

The angel death still hovers o’er,

That gallant band who wore the blue;

The line of march still nears the shore,

The boat more often comes in view,

To take a comrade o’er the stream,

To join the ranks that form anew.

If this is all a soldier’s dream,

O may the soldier’s dream come true.

O grant to all the dear old boys,

Who stand together through the storm,

To camp at last amid the joys,

Where e’er their ranks deserve to form;

Now picket guard the line between,

Let Blue and Gray be free from strife,

And give to each a new canteen

Of water, from the Stream of Life.