PETER GLABB

A Horrible Find.

A horrible fate was that of poor old Peter Glabb, who wandered away last October and died under a shock of corn. For two months his body lay under the stalks, unnoticed and daily the mice were running over it, growing fat from the flesh from the once brave soldier of the Union. His fingers were gnawed to the bone and his eyeballs and ears made a feast. His tongue was eat out by the ravenous rodents, then further into his throat they made their way. The whole of his head, when he was discovered, was but a hollow nest for mice. One ran squeaking out of the gaping orifice, which had once been his mouth, when the remains were discovered. But a few straggling locks of gray hair and the blue Grand Army trousers which he wore remained to identify him as the insane old man who became lost from the Home two months ago.

It had been the intention of the authorities at the Home to have an investigation of his mental condition, but before this could be accomplished, on Oct. 30, he disappeared, and no trace of him could be found. It was useless to speculate upon his fate but it was hoped that he had been taken in care by friends and had been sent on to his old home in Canton.

But sad, indeed, was his fate. Coatless and hatless he wandered down from the grounds about the Home and made his way over to Broadway. It was growing dark, and the irresponsible old man knew it was time to seek repose somewhere. He was growing cold, too, without his coat. He looked about him for some place to go. But the houses seemed to frown him away, and there was no thicket into which he might crawl. He wandered on until he reached the corner of 36th and Broadway. There he saw, in a plot of unoccupied ground, a large shock of corn, and to his wearied body and tired brain, it promised sweet repose. So he crawled into the shock of corn, far under the brown blades, and fell asleep. Never again did he waken.

The dawn came and the day passed and no one came near his resting place. The cold came and the still body became frozen in the icy blasts. Days passed, but no one came save the mice.

Sunday James H. Reagan, who has a blacksmith shop at the corner of the lot, went to the shock and got an armful of fodder. He called to his son to come and get another armful. The boy did so, but as he reached into the pile to grasp the stocks his hand came in contact with something cold and clammy. With a yell he sprang away and called to his father. They investigated, and the terrifying remains were found.

All that was mortal of Peter Glabb rested in Murphy’s undertaking parlors until after the inquest was held. A tragic end to one of the defenders of the country during the time of its greatest peril.

Peter Glabb came to the home on Nov. 28, 1898, from Canton, Fulton county. He served with valor in Co. I, 10th Illinois infantry during the Civil war. After several years in the Home his actions became such that he was sent to the asylum for the insane in Jacksonville, but was returned sometime later, still in a mentally unsound condition.

Published in the Argus-Search Light on 12/29/1910