Wl!llS.,?f«>NCRESS 
 
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1699 
 
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 Class. 
 Book 
 
 11$ 
 
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 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 
 
JOHN G. GITTINGS, 
 
 Late Adjutant 3lst Virginia Infantry, and Major Confederate 
 Cavalry. 
 
Ferso&al hMm 
 
 OT^ 
 
 Sto&evall Mm, 
 
 « — ^XjSO— » 
 
 SKETCHES ANDSTORIKS. 
 
 BY 
 JOHN G. GITTINGS. 
 
 oinoinnati. 
 
 The Editor Publishing Company, 
 
 1899. 
 
Copyright 
 The Editor Publishing Company 
 
 1899. 
 
 ^WOCOPIfcb KtCtlV£0. 
 
 ■A 
 
 
^fCONTENTS.'Ji^ 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Personal Recollections of Stonewall Jackson 1 
 
 Sonnet ------ 67 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Sketches of Travel and Biography - - 69 
 
 Across The Ocean - - - - - 71 
 
 Tower of London . _ . _ 79 
 
 Westminster Abbey - - - - 86 
 
 The Battlefield of Waterloo - - - 96 
 
 Switzerland _ _ . _ . i(X) 
 
 Venice ------ 107 
 
 Rome - - _ - - 111 
 
 Pompeii ------ ng 
 
 The Midway Plaisance - - - - 123 
 
 Audubon and the Birds _ . . 129 
 
 The Twenty-second Day of February - - 135 
 
 An Historical Sketch - - - - 140 
 
 Evangeline ------ 153 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Fiction ------ 165 
 
 Rose Trevillian - - _ _ _ 1^7 
 
 The Light That Failed - - - 205 
 
 On The Trail 227 
 
 Trelawney - - . _ _ 260 
 
PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 "STONEWALL JACKSON." 
 
 PART I. 
 
< 
 
 
 1^ 
 
 M 
 
 
 
 
 \ 
 
 my^-; 
 
 
 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
PERSONAL RECOLLECTIONS OF 
 "STONEWALL" JACKSON. 
 
 BY JOHN G. GITTINGS. 
 
 (Late Adjutant 31st. Virginia Infantry and Major 
 (Confederate Cavalry). 
 
 PART I. 
 
 Major Thomas Jonathan Jackson was a pro- 
 fessor at the Virginia Military Institute, at 
 Lexington, Virginia, when the writer, a cadet, 
 first met him in the year 1852. 
 
 A relative of Jackson and coming from his 
 native town, he bore a letter of introdution to him, 
 which letter, however, was not presented; for 
 this young recruit had met with such a warm re- 
 ception from the older cadets on his arrival, and 
 was withal, so depressed by the rigid discipline of 
 the school, that he feared to face this professor, 
 whom he looked upon even then as a hero, one 
 who had received the "baptism of fire" in Mex- 
 ico, and was "the only officer promoted twice 
 in one day" — as he had been informed by the 
 village chronicler, who thus dilated on the 
 1 
 
2 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 achievements of- Jackson in the war against the 
 Mexicans. - ' 
 
 I found on my arrival at the school that Jack- 
 son was then absent and would not return for 
 some weeks; in fact, I had been a cadet for a 
 month before I finally met him. 
 
 One evening shortly after his return, he sent 
 the sergeant of the guard with the order that I 
 should report at his quarters without delay. On 
 receiving this order my first thought was that I 
 had violated some one of the innumerable mili- 
 tary rules and was about to be called to an 
 account therefor ; so it was with some trepida- 
 tion that I went to the Major's quarters. 
 
 However, he met me at the door of his room 
 with a pleasant smile ; he took my cap and 
 placed it carefully on the table, gave me the 
 best chair, then seating himself, began to look 
 on me critically, as if taking an inventory of 
 my person. He spoke kindly of our mutual 
 friends, in quick, sharp and rather inarticulate 
 tones, and appeared to be making an effort at 
 politeness; but boy as I was, I thought his man- 
 ner strained and awkward, yet I regarded him 
 with deference, and perhaps awe. 
 
 This was my first meeting with "Stonewall" 
 Jackson. He v/as then about twenty-eight 
 years of age, six feet tall, with gray-blue eyes, 
 a well chiseled aquiline nose, and a very fair and 
 ruddy countenance. He wore side whiskers, 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 3 
 
 and one noting his complexion, ruddy counte- 
 nance, and reserved manner, might have mistaken 
 him for an Englishman ; but here the resemblance 
 ceased, for in thought and expression, this quiet, 
 unaffected man was all American. 
 
 As I sat in his presence that day, and ob- 
 served his diffidence, this thought passed through 
 my mind : Can this modest man be the one who 
 fought so bravely in Mexico; and who 
 stood by his cannon after all his men had been 
 
 killed or driven away? 
 
 ***** 
 
 Thomas Jonathan Jackson, the subject of this 
 sketch, was born in the town of Clarksburg, now 
 West Virginia, on the 21st of January, 1824. 
 His birthplace was i little story-and-a-half brick 
 house which stood on Main Street nearly oppo- 
 site the court house. This building was torn 
 down only a few years since. His father, who 
 was a lawyer of good ability, died when "Tom" 
 was only three years old, leaving his widowed 
 mother with his sister Julia, an infant in arms, 
 together with his brother, Warren, perhaps two 
 years older than himself. The father's grave is 
 still to be seen, marked by a simple head- stone, 
 in the old "Jackson graveyard" at the eastern 
 end of town. The young widow and her chil- 
 dren were left almost destitute, but they had a 
 large family connection of Jacksons in this 
 vicinity, and among them the children and their 
 
4 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 mother lived for several years, until the time 
 when the mother remarried and the elder 
 brother, Warren, had died. "Tom" was then 
 left to the care of his uncle, Cummins Jackson, 
 and grew up at "Jackson's mills," sixteen miles 
 south of Clarksburg. Here he received the 
 little schooling the country could aiford, and, 
 at least could read and write. He did chores 
 about the mill and also acted as a deputy sheriff 
 of Lewis County, until about the age of eighteen, 
 when he learned of the vacancy at West Point, 
 from this congressional district. 
 
 Cummins Jackson, a rugged, stern man, was 
 very kind to his young relative, and let him 
 have his own way pretty much. He was a man 
 of ample means, and lived with a free hand; 
 he kept race horses, and was fond of sport gen- 
 erally. Little Tom w^as noted as being almost a 
 sure winner whenever he rode his uncle's racers, 
 which he did on important occasions. 
 
 The writer has been told by men who knew 
 him that Cummins Jackson was a fine speciman 
 of physical manhood. They said he was a 
 giant in stature and built in proportion. 
 
 The fact is that "Stonewall" Jackson was de- 
 scended from a long line of distinguished 
 ancestry, men prominent in the affairs of this 
 section, both in state and nation, from before 
 the Revolution down to the present day. 
 
 The family had its rise from the union of 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 5 
 
 John Jackson and Elizabeth Cummins, emigrants 
 from England, who came over in the same ship 
 in the year 1748. Soon after their arrival in 
 this country they were married in Maryland. 
 They then removed to the vicinity of Moor- 
 field, Hardy County. In the year 1765 they 
 crossed the Alleghany mountains and settled in 
 the wilderness on the Buckhannon River, near a 
 place afterwards known as .Jackson's Fort, but 
 which is now the town of Buckhannon. 
 
 John Jackson was of Scotch Irish descent; he 
 was about twenty- three years of age when he 
 crossed the ocean to make his home in the wes- 
 tern wilderness. He has been described as "a 
 man of medium stature, of great goodness, in- 
 dustry, and tranquil courage." 
 
 Elizabeth Cummins, the young English girl 
 who united her fortune with his, and from 
 whom the Jacksons are said to have derived 
 their vigor of body and intellect, had a roman- 
 tic history. She was the daughter of a landlord 
 in London ; her father was the proprietor of a 
 public house called "The Bold Dragoon." 
 As the name would indicate, the place was the 
 resort of the military officers of the garrisons near 
 by. Elizabeth is described to have been a stately 
 blonde, nearly six feet in stature, and almost 
 perfect in form and feature. She was well 
 educated and possessed a resolute, active 
 mind. It happened on a day when she 
 
6 STONEWALL JACKSOX. 
 
 was about sixteen years of age, that a sol- 
 dier, presumably an officer, offered her some 
 impertinence, or what she considered as such, 
 and which excited the ire of the stately beauty, 
 till in her anger she hurled a heavy tankard at 
 his head with such force that it laid him bleed- 
 ing and senseless on the floor. 
 
 In her fright at what she had done, she has- 
 tily left the house and repaired to the docks, 
 w^here she took refuge on a vessel that was just 
 weighing anchor, bound for America. She was 
 acquainted with the captain of the ship, and 
 also made friends with a family who was glad to 
 have her accompany them to the colony of Lord 
 Baltimore in Maryland. Thus she met her future 
 husband, and left England never to return. 
 
 They lived in the western wilderness, in the 
 turmoil of the Indian warfare, until the breaking 
 out of the Revolutionary struggle. Meanwhile, 
 they had acquired some of the most valuable 
 real estate in this section of the country, and 
 had each of them played their part in the hand 
 to hand conflicts with the savages. 
 
 It is the tradition, that on an occasion when 
 an Indian had killed a white man near the'[set- 
 tlement, while the rest of the men were at work 
 at a distance, Elizabeth Jackson took down her 
 husband's rifle, and calling the dogs, chased^the 
 savage out of the neighborhood before the men 
 could be collected. 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 7 
 
 On the breaking out of the Revolutionary war 
 John Jackson and his elder sons, George and 
 Edward, the latter the grandfather of "Stone- 
 wall," bore their part as soldiers, staunch and 
 true, and at the close returned to their homes in 
 the wilds of Virginia. 
 
 Col. George Jackson, who lived at Clarks- 
 burg, became a member of the First Congress 
 under the Constitution, and Edward Jackson 
 also became a member of a later Congress. 
 
 One of the most distinguished members of the 
 family w^as John G. Jackson of Clarksburg, 
 where many of his descendents still reside. He 
 was the eldest son of George Jackson, and served 
 in Congress for about twenty years, and finally 
 became the Federal Judge of the Western Dis- 
 trict of Virginia, which office he held until his 
 death in 1825. It was in this year that the 
 mother of the family, Elizabeth Cummins Jack- 
 son, died, at the great age of one hundred and 
 five years ! Her husband had died twenty-four 
 years before, at the age of eighty-six. 
 
 Judge John G. Jackson, before there was any 
 outlet from this region save by pack-horses over 
 the mountains, built iron forges and furnaces, 
 woollen-mills, foundries, and salt-wells ; he pro- 
 posed to make the West Fork river navigable 
 for steam-boats, by building slack water dams; 
 and also, by a short tunnel, he would turn the 
 head waters of the Buckhannon river into the 
 
8 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 West Fork and thus increase its volume of wa- 
 ter. And as before the clearing of the forest 
 along the head streams, the volume of water 
 was much more constant than at present, and 
 with the supply, by tunnel, from the Buckhan- 
 non river, men now say his plan was feasible, 
 and all this he would probably have accom- 
 plished seventy years ago, had not death strick- 
 en him down, at the early age of forty-seven 
 years! 
 
 Lately, surveys of the West Fork of the Mo- 
 nongahela river have been ordered by the 
 National Congress, and a liberal appropriation 
 for that purpose has been made, in order to 
 make this river navigable, and to carry out the 
 designs that Judge Jackson had put in active 
 operation nearly three quarters of a century 
 ago. But now that the river banks have been 
 denuded, to a great extent, of their forests ; and 
 that the hydrographic conditions have entirely 
 changed, it is believed that it is now impracti- 
 cable to make this channel navigable for any ex- 
 cept small boats. 
 
 In coiinection with this family history, it may 
 be stated that the first wife of Judge John G. 
 Jackson was a sister of Dolly Madison, the wife 
 of the President. They were married in the 
 White House during its occupancy by President 
 Madison, and it is said that this was the 
 first marriage that was ever celebrated in that 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 9 
 
 historic building. Judge Jackson's second wife 
 was Mary Meigs the daughter of Return Jon- 
 athan Meigs, Governor of Ohio. Governor Meigs 
 was a son of that Colonel Return Jonathan 
 Meigs of the Revolutionary army, who 
 marched through the wilderness of Maine, as a 
 colonel of Connecticut militia, with Benedict 
 Arnold to the siege of Quebec. He was by the 
 side of Montgomery, when that gallant officer 
 fell in the assault on the Citadel. Meigs served 
 with great distinction, to the close of the eight 
 years' struggle for liberty. He received a vote 
 from the Continental Congress thanking him 
 for having captured a British fleet at Sackett's 
 Harbor; that body also presented him with a 
 handsome sword in acknowledgment of his ser- 
 vices to his country. 
 
 "Stonewall" Jackson always took a lively in- 
 terest in his family history; and from Mrs. 
 Jackson's Memoirs of her husband, and to 
 which work we are indebted, we learn that prior 
 to the war he wrote to his cousin William L. 
 Jackson, then Lieutenant Governor of Virginia, 
 in behalf of some relative w^ho was running for 
 a political office. W. L. Jackson afterwards 
 served on the staff of "Stonewall" in the war; 
 he subsequently became a general, in com- 
 mand of a cavalry brigade ; he survived the war, 
 and after serving as a judge for many years, in 
 Kentucky, lately died at Louisville. 
 
10 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 In the letter above alluded to, "Stonewall" 
 wrote to his cousin : "I am most anxious to see 
 our family enjoying that high standard and 
 influence which it possessed in days of yore." 
 
 He said his Jackson relations were -'very 
 clannish" and he was warm in his family attach- 
 ments, himself. But he would give none of 
 them military office, unless they first proved 
 themselves worthy of it, by actual service on 
 the battle-field. From this section, he appointed 
 his relative Col. Alfred H. Jackson on his staff. 
 This gallant officer fell on the battle-field of Ce- 
 dar Mountain and died soon thereafter. He was 
 buried in the cemetery at Lexington near 
 "Stone-wall's" grave. 
 
 "Stonewall's" mother was Julia Neale, the 
 daughter of Thomas Neale, of Parkersburg ; her 
 father was descended on the maternal side from 
 the Lewises, a distinguished family, the rela- 
 tives of Washington, and prominent in the In- 
 dian wars and Revolutionary history. 
 
 "Stonewall" Jackson felt all the pride of de- 
 scent from a long line of worthy ancestors; he 
 also felt his lack of education and how much it 
 would cripple him in his efforts to rise from the 
 humble position in which he had been cast by 
 cruel fate. 
 
 Hence, while he was riding over the hills of 
 Lewis County, in the performance of his duties 
 as deputy sheriff, when the news was brought to 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 11 
 
 him that there was a vacancy at West Point from 
 his congressional district, he immediately set 
 about to obtain the appointment. His friends, 
 knowing his manly, brave spirit, and knowing 
 also, that it was of such metal that soldiers were 
 made, were especially anxious that he should 
 obtain the appointment. 
 
 Tom now began to study his books at night, 
 after his hard labor of the day. He was doubt- 
 ful about his ability to enter West Point, but 
 was determined that he would fail through no 
 lack of effort on his part, either to obtain the 
 appointment, or to sustain himself after he had 
 done so. But his impetuous temper could not 
 brook delay; so it came about that he started 
 alone, and with poor outfit, on the long journey 
 to Washington City before he had received any 
 notice that he could get the appointment! 
 ***** 
 
 The writer lives in the town where Jackson 
 was born, and has often conversed with old cit- 
 izens who were men grown at that time ; they 
 have told him that Jackson made the journey on 
 foot to Washington, a distance of nearly three 
 hundred miles — carrying his clothing in his sad- 
 dle-bags — in order to solicit the appointment to 
 West Point from Mr. Hays, the representative 
 from this district. 
 
 It is said Mr. Hays was much startled at the ap- 
 parition of a country boy,dressed in homespun and 
 
12 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 all travel stained, marching into his presence, with 
 saddle-pockets on his shoulder and abruptly de- 
 manding the appointment as a cadet to West 
 Point ! 
 
 The congressman thought that, considering 
 his limited opportunities, surely Jackson was 
 not qualified to pass the examination which was 
 required to enter that institution. But when he 
 had learned that he had made the long journey on 
 foot, over two mountain ranges and through the 
 forest, for three hundred miles, merely to ask for 
 the appointment, and that "he must have it," 
 then he replied: "You shall have it!" 
 
 It is related that after Mr. Hays had consented 
 to give him the appointment, he asked Jackson 
 if he w^ould not like to w^alk over the city and see 
 the sights, but he declined, saying, "he would 
 like to climb up in the dome of the Capitol and 
 take a view from there, and then he would be 
 ready to go on to West Point and begin his work, 
 and he w^as anxious to do so as soon as possible." 
 
 His life at West Point was a long struggle ;he 
 w^as barely able to sustain himself in his class 
 for a year or two, but he gradually forged ahead, 
 and it was thought that if the course of study 
 had been several years longer, he would have 
 climbed to the top. The cadets, at first, were 
 disposed to treat him with especial rigor, as he 
 appeared unsophistocated, but in time they came 
 to respect him and to believe that wdth his sin- 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 13 
 
 cerity of purpose, and unwearied application, he 
 would be able to acquit himself with credit, which 
 he did. 
 
 '^ ^ ^v % :^ 
 
 Let us return now, to the scenes at the Virginia 
 Military Institute, and to my intercourse with 
 Jackson as a professor before I knew him in the 
 sterner duties of war. 
 
 It was not until my second year at the Mili- 
 tary Academy that I came to recite in the classes 
 taught by Major Jackson, but in the meanwhile 
 I was under his instruction at artillery practice, 
 which consisted principally, as far as the 
 "plebes" were concerned, in drawing the pieces 
 and caissons. 
 
 Jackson always wore his uniform and his mili- 
 tary cap, the visor of which almost touched his 
 nose ; he was lank and long-limbed and walked 
 with a long, measured stride, swaying his arms 
 leisurely, while his gray-blue eyes seemed to 
 search the ground in front. His brow w^as ex- 
 pressive and bore, without doubt, the impress of 
 genius. "Calm dignity; unalfected modesty; 
 sincerity; and the intense honesty of his nature 
 were imprinted on his countenance," and shown 
 forth in every trait of his manners. 
 
 I will admit that the cadets generally, did not 
 regard him in this light, but differently ; yet 
 such was my opinion at the time, and in looking 
 back through the vista of years, I believe it to be 
 a correct one. 
 
14 STONEWALL JACXSON. 
 
 At the artillery practice we soon learned that 
 Major Jackson was a very strict and exacting 
 officer. He expected every cannoneer to do his 
 duty, and every "plebe", who served in 
 place of a horse, too! 
 
 One day on the parade ground afeIlow"plebe" 
 managed, in some way, to draw out a linchpin 
 from the wheel of a "limber" at which I was 
 pulling, and as a consequence, in trotting down 
 hill at a fast pace, the wheel flew off with con- 
 siderable force. As the fates would have it, it 
 rolled directly towards "Old Jack," who was 
 looking in an opposite direction. He turned his 
 head in time to see its approach, and although 
 it passed within a few inches of his person, he 
 did not budge from his tracks. 
 
 A cadet remarked : '"He would not have moved 
 if it had been a cannon ball going right 
 through him !" But we soon observed that his 
 gaze was fixed intently on our battery in a way 
 that made us feel very uncomfortable, and in a 
 brief space we were placed under arrest-officers, 
 cannoneers, horses, all; and as a result this breach 
 of discipline was settled in a way that did not 
 invite any repetition of the offense. 
 
 Professor Jackson was an able instructor at 
 artillery tactics, but in the regular collegiate 
 course he did not appear to have any special 
 genius for teaching; yet he was always a con- 
 scientious, laborious instructor. He was said to 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 15 
 
 be dyspeptic, and perhaps was something of a 
 hypochondriac, as his health had been very 
 much impaired by his service in Mexico; he had 
 been at a water-cure establishment in the north, 
 and the prescription had been given him to live on 
 stale bread and buttermilk. He followed this pre- 
 scription for some time while boarding in the hotel 
 in Lexington, and these peculiarities attracted 
 the attention of the public and he was much 
 laughed at by the rude and coarse. He bore all 
 their jests with patience. In a like manner he 
 carried out another order from the water-cure — 
 to go to bed at nine o'clock. If that hour found 
 him at a party, a lecture, or a religious exercise, 
 he would invariably take his leave. His dys- 
 pepsia caused drowsiness and he often went to 
 sleep while sitting in his chair; he was a devout 
 member of the Presbyterian church, over which 
 the Rev. Dr. AYhite presided, but he would sleep 
 during the service. And it is stated that Jack- 
 son was thrown into confusion, on a public oc- 
 casion, when a mesmerist failed to put him to 
 sleep — some one in the audience called out — "No 
 one can put Major Jackson to sleep but Rev. Dr. 
 White!" 
 
 It was the custom at the Military School to 
 fire salutes of artillery on the Fourth of July 
 and Washington's birthday. In honor of such 
 occasions Major Jackson would always don his 
 best uniform and wear his finest sword, a very 
 
16 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 handsome one, which the cadets said had been 
 presented to him by the ladies of New Orleans 
 at the close of the Mexican War. 
 
 In the gray dawn of the morning he would 
 come marching on the parade ground, with his 
 fine sabre tucked well up under his left arm. He 
 had the long stride, as has been noticed, like 
 that of a dismounted cavalryman, and on such 
 occasions his manners would be brisk, if not 
 cheery, for he took special pride in these cele- 
 brations and was very punctilious in all their 
 observances. 
 
 Major Jackson married a daughter of Doctor 
 Junkin, president of Washington College, in the 
 second year of my stay at Lexington. He then 
 took up his residence in the town. Before his 
 removal from the barracks, however, an incident 
 occurred which will go to show the estimate in 
 which he was held, even by the most intractable 
 characters. A number of cadets who were about 
 to be dismissed through incompetency in their 
 studies or for excess of demerit marks, while on 
 a Christmas frolic made a raid on the professors* 
 rooms in the barracks, and despoiled them. 
 Major Jackson's room alone was left intact. It 
 is difficult to determine why these young vandals 
 should have respected his quarters when they 
 seemed to respect nothing else. Some suggested 
 that as cadets, they respected his military fame 
 won in Mexico. It is a notable fact that even at 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 17 
 
 that time the cadets had an abiding faith in 
 Jackson as a military man, and perhaps very 
 few of them were ever afterwards much surprised 
 at his great achievements in war. 
 
 But I have learned that after my time at the 
 institute, Jackson became unpopular as a pro- 
 fessor through his rigid notions of discipline, 
 and his uncompromising enforcement of the 
 rules. He was intolerant of neglect of duty, 
 inattention to studies, and carelessness at drill 
 and thereby became uncongenial, and through 
 his eccentricities became an object of the tricks 
 and witticisms of idle cadets. 
 
 He was one of the most scrupulously truthful 
 men that ever lived, and even carried his exact- 
 itude of expression and performance to extremes 
 in small matters. 
 
 On one occasion he borrowed the key of the 
 library of one of the literary societies, and 
 promised the secretary to return it within an 
 hour. However, becoming absorbed in his book, 
 he put the key in his pocket and did not think 
 of it again until he had reached his boarding 
 place, in the town, nearly a mile away. Then, 
 although a hard storm had sprung up in the 
 meantime, he turned about and marched all the 
 way back through the rain to deliver the key as 
 he had promised, though he knew the library 
 
18 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 would not be used and the key would not be 
 needed on that day. 
 
 In conversation if he ever happened to make 
 an ironical remark, even if it were so plainly 
 ironical that none could misapprehend it, yet 
 would he invariably qualify his expression by 
 saying: "Not meaning exactly what I say." 
 This peculiarity of speech became almost a by- 
 word with the cadets and subjected him to much 
 embarrassment, but such was his regard for 
 truth that he would not depart from it, even in 
 e st, without immediately correcting his state- 
 ment. 
 
 He belonged to a literajy society in Lexington 
 which embraced in its membership men of learn- 
 ing and ability. It was a custom of the society 
 to hold a series of public lectures during the 
 winter season. This was one of the few enter- 
 tainments the cad&ts were permitted to attend, 
 and when Major Jackson's turn came to lecture 
 there was considerable interest evinced by them, 
 in anticipating the subject of his lecture, and 
 the manner in which he would acquit himself. 
 
 When he appeared on the lecture platform, he 
 was embarrassed, it is true, and his lecture lacked 
 in oratorical effect; yet it was said at the time 
 to have been one of the best of the whole course, 
 and was very entertaining. The subject of his 
 discourse was "Acoustics," and he discussed 
 very effectively all that was then known about 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 19 
 
 the properties of sound. He said that it was "an 
 undeveloped science," and that no doubt in the 
 near future progress would be made in it, and 
 discoveries, especially in the "transmission of 
 sound." This prediction has since been verified 
 in the perfecting of the telephone. * * * It 
 must be admitted that Major Jackson was re- 
 garded by the cadets and others as an eccentric 
 man ; either from his impaired health by his ser- 
 vice in Mexico, or from some other cause, it 
 remains a fact, that he always seemed to be 
 more or less sensitive and ill at ease in his inter- 
 course with strangers. 
 
 Speaking from a social standpoint, no man 
 ever had a more delicate regard for the feelings 
 of others than he, and nothing would embarrass 
 him more than any contretemps that might occur 
 in his presence, to cause pain or distress of mind 
 to others. Hence he was truly a polite man, and 
 while his manner was often constrained and even 
 awkward, yet he would usually make a favorable 
 impression through his evident desire to please. 
 However, before he became famous in war, he 
 was generally underrated by his casual acquaint- 
 ances, for in such society he was a taciturn 
 man, and would listen in silence, while others 
 discoursed at length upon subjects in which he 
 was himself well versed. He would thus create 
 a false impression of his own acquirements, which 
 were very consider ible outside of collegiate 
 
20 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 learning, and embraced a wide knowledge of men 
 and things. 
 
 About the second year of my stay at the Vir- 
 ginia Military Institute, Major Jackson was 
 suffering from weak eyes and he would not read 
 by artificial light. So, when near one of the 
 examinations our class had prevailed on him to 
 give us a review of a difficult study, he was com- 
 pelled to hear us after dark, the only time he 
 had to spare for the purpose. We used to meet 
 in the "section room" in the dark. Professor 
 Jackson sat in front of us on his platform, and 
 with closed eyes questioned us over many pages 
 of a complicated study. This work required a 
 strong effort of memory and concentration of 
 thought, and no doubt it was just such exercise 
 that fitted him for his duties in the field — in 
 holding in his mental grasp the countless details 
 that perplex the mind of a commander of armies. 
 ^ ^ ^ % ^ 
 
 It was one of the marked characteristics of 
 Major Jackson that he always inspired confi- 
 dence in those who knew him intimately. The 
 cadets believed in him as a religious man, 
 although, as has been stated, he would sit plac- 
 idly and sleep through a greater part of the 
 long, tedious sermons of the Presbyterian divine 
 in whose church he was an elder. They knew 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 21 
 
 that he slept because of physical weakness, and 
 that insincerity was not a part of his nature. 
 
 Governor Letcher, of Virginia, who had been 
 familiar with him for a number of years, ap- 
 pointed him to a colonelcy at the beginning of 
 the war, and he never had a doubt of Jackson's 
 capacity to fill any rank in the army, however 
 great. 
 
 Major Jackson was married twice; he lost 
 his first wife while the writer was still at 
 the Military Institute. The Rev. Dr. White, 
 the aged minister of the Presbyterian Church, 
 oflaciated at the funeral, to which the cadets 
 marched as a guard of honor. After the ser- 
 vices were over at the grave and the attendants 
 had all left the ground except the cadets who 
 were forming their ranks at a distance, it 
 was noticed that Jackson was standing alone 
 with uncovered head by the open grave, as one 
 distraught. The venerable clergyman, who was 
 a lame man, was compelled to hobble all the way 
 back from the gate and lead him away, as he 
 would heed none other. 
 
 In the year 1857, after having returned from 
 a tour of Europe, Major Jackson was united in 
 marriage to Miss Anna Morrison, the daughter 
 of a Presbyterian minister of Lincoln County, 
 North Carolina. His widow still survives him; 
 by this marriage there was one child, a daugh- 
 ter, Julia, who lived to womanhood and married 
 
22 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 a Mr. Christian. This daughter died, leaving 
 two children, a son and daughter, as the only 
 lineal descendants of "Stonewall" Jackson. 
 
 Mrs. Jackson, the widow of the General, has 
 written an interesting life of her husband,which 
 dwells especially upon his charming home life 
 and religious character. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Soon after the outbreak of war, the writer 
 was ordered to Harper's Ferry to see General 
 Jackson on military business, and arrived at his 
 office about daybreak, on a morning in May. 
 This was his regular office hour when he received 
 the reports of his subordinate officers ; and after 
 hearing the reports of the officer of the day, the 
 officer of the guard, scouts, and others, hew^ould 
 dispatch business in a very prompt and ener- 
 getic way. He knew exactly what ought to be 
 done and how it should be done. There was no 
 wavering in opinion, no doubts and misgivings; 
 his orders w^ere clear and decisive. It occurred 
 to us at the time that Jackson was much more 
 in his element here, as an army officer, than when 
 in the professor's chair at Lexington. It seemed 
 that the sights and sounds of war had aroused 
 his energies ; his manner had become brusque 
 and imperative ; his face was bronzed from ex- 
 posure, his beard was now of no formal style, 
 but was worn unshorn. 
 
 What sort of a man is this? They were surely 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 23 
 
 but shallow judges of men who mistook Jackson 
 for a fool; yet there were such, who set him 
 down as an ill-balanced professor out of his 
 groove, and they thought it unsafe to put thous- 
 ands of men under his command. This was re- 
 peated when he was made a colonel ; it was reit- 
 erated when he was made a brigadier,and a ma- 
 jor-general, and a lieutenant-general. The fact 
 of the matter is, that there were men, even at 
 the beginning of the war,who felt assured that 
 Jackson was capable of any command ; and his 
 career illustrates the justice of this judgment, 
 for great as were his commands and mighty as 
 were the thunderbolts of war which he hurled 
 against opposing columns, he never had a com- 
 mand that overtaxed his abilities. It is impos- 
 sible to judge of the limitations of a personality 
 so unique, or of a force so tremendous as was 
 concentrated in the military genius of this offi- 
 cer — had he only a force at his command equal 
 to the full measure of his capacity. Napoleon 
 has said that it was difficult for him to find 
 among all his generals one who could command 
 a division of ten thousand men and handle them 
 as they ought to be maneuvered in a campaign. 
 It is the opinion of the writer, who served un- 
 der Jackson throughout his career, that he 
 would have been more successful as commander- 
 in-chief than he was as lieutenant-general ; his 
 military character w^as different from that of 
 
24 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 any other general. If he ever devised any com- 
 plicated theory of a campaign, he kept it in his 
 own head. The fact is he never divulged his 
 plans ; he was always on the ground to direct 
 for himself; he knew the topography of the 
 country in which he carried on his campaigns 
 as well as the people w4io lived there. The old 
 inhabitants of a section were often surprised 
 when Jackson informed them of roads and paths 
 through their country which were forgotten, 
 or unknown to them. 
 
 He had his engineer officers plot in their 
 charts every natural feature of the region 
 about his army, and he absorbed it all from their 
 drawings or from actual inspection. He knew 
 every ravine, water-course, bridle-path, and 
 blind-road of the country in w^hich he carried 
 on his operations. The plans of most generals 
 consist of many complicated parts, and although 
 concocted with consummate ability,some of them 
 are sure to fail in the day of battle ; for it is im- 
 possible to strike as with one blow,and at the same 
 instant, from many different points. The strat- 
 egy of Jackson's plans never failed; all his won- 
 derful feats were accomplished by rapid march- 
 ing; so that the rest of the army used to call our 
 command "Jackson's foot-cavalry." He would 
 concentrate his forces by rapid movements, day 
 and night, and strike at an unexpected point, 
 like a thunderbolt. It is singular to consider 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 26 
 
 that while the Union generals knew that Jack- 
 son was as swift as the wind, and were always 
 making plans that they might guard against 
 this, yet he continued to the end of his career 
 to take them by surprise, by swinging his forces 
 around their flanks,and doubling up the wings of 
 their columns and lines of battle, when .they 
 had thought he was still serving with his com- 
 mand in a distant field. * * * 
 
 And now, thirty-five years after the death of 
 Jackson, we can write of his campaigns dispas- 
 sionately, since the northern and the southern 
 soldier have mingled their blood on battle fields, 
 in bearing to victory the "Stars and Strips," 
 on a foreign soil. 
 
 And Confederate veterans indorse the senti- 
 ments of their heroic commander, General John B. 
 Gordon, when three years ago from the rostrum 
 in Baltimore, he held forth his hand and said: 
 
 "I extend this old right hand of mine and 
 pledge its eternal defense of the glorious flag 
 of the Union, the flag of Washington and Jeffer- 
 son and Franklin, that now waves over this 
 united country." And how true has come his 
 prophecy — "And wherever that flag shall wave, 
 there will it find the loyal sons of the South ral- 
 lying to its support, willing to shed their blood 
 and to lay down their lives to make it the sym- 
 bol of freedom and equality and brotherhood." 
 
 The memorable deeds of arms, on both sides 
 
26 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 of the line, in the Civil war, must remain for- 
 ever, as a glorious record of the courage and 
 manhood of the American soldier. 
 
 Swayed by such sentiment, the victorious le- 
 gions of General Grant's army, at Appomattox, 
 drew up in line and presented arms to the starv- 
 ing, ragged remnant of the Confederate forces, 
 as they marched by to lay down the guns they 
 had w^ielded with intrepidity for four yeais. 
 
 "The bravest are the tenderest," and the 
 manly feeling in the breasts of Grant's veterans 
 paid this voluntary tribute of courtesy and 
 honor, to the broken ranks of a valorous army, 
 overwhelmed and borne down by numbers. 
 
 It was a tradition in the army, that while 
 Jackson was stationed at Harper's Ferry, a stran- 
 ger, a man of middle age, was observed walking 
 through the camp. He fell in conversation with 
 the soldiers and asked the name of the command- 
 ing officer. When told that Colonel Jackson of 
 the Military School at Lexington was in com- 
 mand, he said: "O yes, I know him: and I tell 
 you men, if this war lasts any time, Jackson will 
 be heard from!" and he continued, "I wouldn't 
 be surprised to hear that Jackson is the com- 
 mander-in-chief before the war is over!" 
 
 The recruits were greatly surprised and also 
 pleased at this high praise of their commanding 
 officer, from a stranger who seemed to have such 
 unbounded confidence in him. But it was 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 27 
 
 thought afterwards that this stranger had served 
 with Jackson in Mexico. 
 
 When the writer visited Jackson's camp at 
 Harper's Ferry in May 1861, he was at that time 
 busily engaged in organizing and drilling his 
 troops. He said he was unable to send any of 
 his regiments as requested to the relief of Colonel 
 Porterfield in Northwestern Virginia; that it 
 must be represented to that officer that he him- 
 self was in a situation of great danger, as there 
 was a force of the enemy within a day's march 
 of him, that greatly exceeded his own command. 
 He expressed a deep interest in the Northwest, 
 as it was his native section, and he always after- 
 wards evinced the same interest in that part of 
 the state. Indeed, it was his desire that he might 
 be sent there in command; but as a soldier, he 
 served where ordered without complaint. 
 
 General Joseph E. Johnson now assumed com- 
 mand in the Valley Department,and in the early 
 encounters along the Potomac, which were skir- 
 mishes. Jackson attracted his favorable notice, 
 and was appointed a brigadier-general on the 
 third of July. But he first attracted public at- 
 tention, and even became famous, by the part he 
 bore in the battle of First Manassas ; or as it is 
 commonly called "Bull Run." 
 
 * * * * ^ 
 
 We shall now recount briefly, the military 
 campaigns of General Jackson, touching alone 
 
28 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 the main features of his brilliant achieve- 
 ments. 
 
 Bull Eun is a small stream, twenty miles long, 
 forming the boundary line between the counties 
 of Fairfax and Prince William, in Virginia. The 
 stream runs in a south-easterly direction and falls 
 into the Occoquan, a tributary of the Potomac, 
 about twenty-five miles from Washington City. 
 The turnpike from Centerville, running west- 
 ward, crosses the only bridge over Bull Run 
 within ten miles of the battlefield. But other 
 available crossing places for troops are the fords 
 which are to be found at intervals of two or 
 three miles, up and down the stream. 
 
 Upon the banks of this stream was fought the 
 first important battle of the Civil War, June 21, 
 1861. General McDowell, commanding the Union 
 forces in front of Washington, leaving General 
 Runyon with five thousand men to guard his com- 
 munications with the rear, advanced with thir- 
 ty-five thousand troops of all arms, to attack 
 General Beauregard, who had twenty thousand 
 Confederates posted for eight miles along the 
 west side of Bull Run. Gen. Joseph E. Johnston 
 with about eighteen thousand men was stationed 
 at Winchester, fifty miles northwest, where he 
 was watched by General Patterson with about 
 an equal number. 
 
 General Johnston, learning of the advance, 
 hastened with eleven thousand men to reinforce 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 29 
 
 Beauregard, while the rest of his army remained 
 to confront Patterson. The day before the battle 
 Johnston reached Manassas with six thousand 
 men, the remainder to come up the next day, 
 when part did arrive about two o'clock in the 
 afternoon. 
 
 Before daybreak on the twenty-first of July 
 McDowell sent Burnside's division to cross the 
 stream above, to move down on the west side, 
 turn the Confederate left, and clear the bridge 
 v^hich was defended by an abatis, in order to 
 cross the remainder of his troops. 
 
 This movement was successful ; Burnside 
 was checked only for a short time, on the high 
 ground at Young's branch, a brook which falls 
 into Bull Run. But here, reinforced by Sykes' 
 regulars and the brigades of Sherman and Por- 
 ter, he drove the Confederates in confusion al- 
 most to the edge of the plateau. 
 
 It was now noon ; the bridge was taken, and 
 McDowell could cross all the troops he needed. 
 The battle was practically lost to the Confeder- 
 ates; seven-thousand of them were falling back 
 in confusion before the advancing eighteen-thou- 
 sand directed by McDowell. At this juncture, 
 Jackson with five regiments was advancing in 
 the center, while the whole Confederate left-wing 
 was hurled back upon him. Among the latter 
 troops was the South Carolina Brigade, com- 
 manded by General Bee. That officer rode up 
 
30 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 to Jackson's Brigade and shouted: "General, 
 they're beating us back!" Jackson replied, 
 sternly: "Then we will give them the bayo- 
 net!" This inspired General Bee : he rode back 
 to his troops, and with his drawn sword pointed, 
 exclaimed: "Rally men, on the Virginians! 
 There stands Jackson like a stone wall!" 
 
 They did rally on the Virginians, but their 
 heroic commander fell among the slain ; yet, 
 with his dying breath, he had christened Jack- 
 son and his Brigade with the fame and name of 
 "Stonewall," which lives in history. 
 
 This check given to McDowell's victorious 
 advance by Jackson, enabled Johnston and Beau- 
 regard to hasten up all their available reinforce- 
 meats, which after a desperate engagement of 
 several hours, turned the tide of battle, and 
 resulted in the rout of Bull Run. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Jackson said, the sobriquet, "Stonewall," was 
 won in battle by his brigade, and that it did not 
 belong to him, but should be applied to the 
 "Stonewall Brigade," which consisted of the 
 Second, Fourth, Fifth, Twenty-seventh, and 
 Thirtj^-third regiments of Virginia Volunteer 
 Infantry. 
 
 From the prominent part he had taken in the 
 battle of Manassas, Jackson was promoted to the 
 rank of major-general on the 7th of October; 
 and several Wcieks thereafter, he was ordered to 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 81 
 
 proceed to Winchester to take command in the 
 Valley of Virginia. 
 
 And now he must part with "his brave old 
 Brigade." They were drawn up in line, and in 
 a brief speech he feelingly reviewed the bril- 
 liant achievements of these regiments, and bade 
 them an affectionate farewell. But they were 
 not to be long separated, for a few weeks later 
 they were again assigned to his command and 
 served under him until he fell at Chancellors- 
 ville. 
 
 ***** 
 
 On the first day of January 1862, Jackson 
 having been joined at Winchester by General 
 Loring's brigade, and having then under his 
 command about eight thousand five hundred 
 men, projected an expedition against Romney, 
 and other posts in the South Branch Valley. 
 
 The weather was mild when his troops 
 marched out of Winchester, but the following 
 day it suddenly changed to be very severe, and 
 with the sleet and snow, the roads became al- 
 most impassable. His supply trains were unable 
 to keep up with the moving column, and for 
 several nights his men were compelled to biv- 
 ouac in the open air, and endured great suffer- 
 ing. 
 
 There was a conflict of authority between 
 Jackson and Loring, and although Jackson suc- 
 ceeded in gaining possession temporarily of 
 
32 STONEWALL JACKSON, 
 
 Romney and the Valley, without great loss in the 
 skirmishes that followed, nevertheless, the en- 
 terprise was generally considered a failure. 
 
 General Jackson with his own immediate com- 
 mand fell back to Winchester, but left General 
 Loring with the greater part of the force, in win- 
 ter quarters near Romney. General Loring pro- 
 tested to the War Department that his 
 situation was hazardous and unnecessary and 
 demanded that he be returned to Winchester. 
 Jackson received an order from the Secre- 
 tary of War directing him to withdraw Lor- 
 ing's brigade to Winchester. This order he 
 promptly complied with ; but he immediately 
 sent his own resignation to the Secretary, say- 
 ing : 
 
 "With such interference with my command, I 
 cannot expect to be of much service in the 
 field!" 
 
 But there was such a howl of protest from 
 the public, at the thought of losing the services 
 of Jackson, that the Secretary was alarmed ; and 
 through the intercession of General Johnston 
 and Govenor Letcher of Virginia, Jackson was 
 induced to withdraw his resignation. After this, 
 his military operations in the field were never 
 directed from the War office in Richmond ! 
 ^ * * ^ * 
 
 At Kerntown on the 23rd of March 1862, Gen- 
 eral Jackson attacked a superior force under 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 33 
 
 General Shields. The action commenced about 
 3 p. m. and lasted until dark. His men fought 
 desperately, but were compelled to fall back, 
 under the attack of the heavy columns that were 
 hurled against him. This is said to have been 
 the only instance in which "Stonewall" Jack- 
 son was ever repulsed. But long afterwards, 
 when the war was over, the writer remembers 
 to have heard General Shields, in a speech at In- 
 dependence, Missouri, make this remark : "It 
 has been said, that I am the only officer who 
 ever whipped Stonewall Jackson ! Now I 
 have only this to say, if I am the only officer 
 who ever whipped old Stonewall — he was never 
 whipped at all!" 
 
 This was the testimony of General James 
 Shields, who after receiving a bullet through the 
 lungs, in fighting for the flag in Mexico, lived 
 to fight for the Union, if it may be, still more 
 gallantly in the Civil War. 
 
 ***** 
 
 In the early part of May, and at the begin- 
 ning of Jackson's Valley campaign which has 
 been called the most brilliant of the whole war, 
 the positions of the Confederate forces were as 
 follows : 
 
 General Edward Johnson with about thirty- 
 five hundred men was at West View, seven miles 
 west of Staunton. This command on the 13th of 
 December 1861, had fought and won a decisive 
 
34 STONEWALL JACKSOISr. 
 
 battle on the top of the Alleghany mountains, but 
 had moved to its present position, to be in touch 
 of reinforcements. G-eneral Jackson to the aston- 
 ishment of all, now suddenly appeared in 
 Staunton with his immediate command of six 
 thousand men. General Ewell, with an equal 
 number was hastening from near Gordonsville, 
 to take Jackson's place at Swift Run Gap, in or- 
 der to threaten the flank and rear of General 
 Bank's main command, which was stationed at 
 Harrisonburg. General Milroy, with the ad- 
 vance of General Fremont's corps, six thousand 
 strong, was hastening to attack Johnson's feeble 
 force and thus capture Staunton :while Fremont 
 with eighteen thousand men was moving up the 
 South Branch to Milroy's aid. 
 
 The rapid and devious movement of Jackson's 
 troops mystified exerj one, both friend and 
 foe; it was impossible to conjecture his plans. 
 Behind the screen of his cavalry, he would move 
 his infantry twenty-five or thirty miles a day, 
 often marching far into the night. Thus, through- 
 out this campaign the position of his army was 
 not determinable; it might be here, it might be 
 there, or it might be a hundred miles away ! 
 
 He gave his troops a rest of one day in Staun- 
 ton, then continuing his march, joined John- 
 son's force, drove in Milroy's pickets and for- 
 aging parties, and camped twenty-five miles 
 west, on the turnpike. The next morning he 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 35 
 
 hastened forward Johnson's brigade which took 
 possession on Sitlingfcon's Hill, a position that 
 commanded the village of McDowell, and the 
 camp of Milroy's forces. Following more de- 
 liberately w4th the main body, Jackson deployed 
 a sufficient force, which by making a detour, 
 would be able to gain the road in the rear of the 
 enemy, by midnight. 
 
 On the afternoon of this day, May 8th, Mil- 
 roy attacked in force, the position occupied by 
 Johnson's brigade. The latter, reinforced by a 
 regiment from Jackson's command, repulsed ev- 
 ery assault made upon ic, though the battle raged 
 fiercely, until after nightfall. The loss was se- 
 vere on both sides. The full moon arose and 
 looked dow^n on the ghastly scene, on the moun- 
 tain top; Johnson, the wounded commander of 
 the Confederates was carried from the field. But 
 the battle ceased not, until the whole front of 
 the ridge occupied by the 12th Georgia and 31st 
 Va. regiments (the part of the field of which we 
 can speak from observation) was strewn with 
 the slain. 
 
 General Milroy, suspecting a flank movement 
 to his rear, sometime after dark withdrew. He 
 left his camp fires burning brightly, which de- 
 ceived the confederates, but in the morning his 
 w^hole force had vanished. He marched all 
 night and reached Franklin in Pendleton County, 
 twenty-four miles distant, where early in the 
 
36 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 day he met the whole of Fremont's command 
 advancing. 
 
 Jackson followed rapidly Milroy's retreat to 
 that place, but after coming up with him and 
 discovering the reinforcement, he did not think 
 it prudent to join battle. 
 
 He turned aside, and rested his troops for a 
 day in a pleasant valley ; here religious ser- 
 vices were held to give thanks for the victory 
 won at McDowell. The soldiers, long after, 
 w^ould recur to this scene ; the valley, through 
 which ran a sparkling stream, was inclosed by 
 lofty hills, and clothed in the verdure of Spring. 
 Services were held in nearly every regiment, and 
 Jackson and his stalT officers joined in the devo- 
 tions. * * * 
 
 * * ^Jackson, uninterrupted by Fremont, con- 
 tinued his march, and in ten days following, 
 covered a distance of one hundeed and ten miles. 
 This brought him to Front Royal, in Warren 
 County, and within eighty-four miles of Wash- 
 ington City. Here on the 23rd of May, he at- 
 tacked the federal forces, capturing a large 
 amount of stores and gaining possession of the 
 bridge near by, over the Shenandoah. He had 
 now turned the flank and was threatening the 
 communications of Banks' large army at Stras- 
 burg. The latter hastily retreated to Winches- 
 ter. 
 
 At Front Royal, Jackson's army rested for a 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 87 
 
 few hours; next day, marching forward it de- 
 bouched into the valley pike at Middletown, in 
 the midst of the stragglers and trains of Banks' 
 retreat. Capturing everything at hand, he 
 pressed forward, and in the afternoon came up 
 with the rear-guard of the main command, 
 which was driven before him all that night. 
 
 The next morning, the 25th of May, Banks' 
 army, hastily drawn up in line of battle at Win- 
 chester, was attacked by Jackson's advance. 
 The resistance at first was determined, but 
 Jackson's regiments, as fast as they arrived on 
 the scene, engaged in the action. Soon, Banks' 
 lines were broken; his brigades and regiments 
 were disorganized, and thrown back in wild con- 
 fusion. Then began the race for the Potomac, 
 the confederates following in not much better 
 order, but flushed and elated with the joy of 
 victory. 
 
 The people of Winchester were zealous in their 
 attachment to the South, and were wrought up 
 with excitment, as the confederate troops raced 
 through their streets, in pursuit of Banks The 
 ladies, in their enthusiasm, ran from the houses, 
 bearing platters and baskets of biscuits, sweet- 
 cakes and flowers; also pitchers of water — a 
 grateful boon to the over-heated, dust-choked 
 infantry. It was a scene never to be forgotten. 
 
 Banks' army was reformed on the north side 
 of the Potomac. Jackson, after the pursuit of 
 
38 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 a few miles, rested his exhausted troops at Win- 
 chester. In the brief sp-dee of two days, he had 
 driven Banks' army a distance of fifty miles or 
 more, from Front Eoyal and Strasburg to the 
 Potomac. The results of the victory were great, 
 and should have been greater, but the cavalry 
 in pursuit were unable to resist the temptations 
 of the spoils of war, that appealed so invitingly 
 to the overworked horsemen, all along the way; 
 thus it happened they were not on hand at the 
 critical moment, when Banks' lines were broken. 
 
 Jackson captured here, three-thousand pris- 
 oners ; also immense wagon-trains laden with 
 quartermaster, commissary, ordnance and medical 
 stores. 
 
 The afternoon of the day following was given 
 to religious services in the camp, in returning 
 thanks for the victory. The third day Jackson 
 marched down to Harper's Ferry and bombarded 
 Bank's forces across the Potomac. The alarm 
 had been sounded in Washington and this move- 
 ment increased the panic. 
 
 Although Jackson had now only about fifteen 
 thousand men for duty, the federal forces were 
 hurried from all sides, to intercept his march to 
 the capital. 
 
 McClellan was ordered to stop for the present 
 his operations in front of Richmond, and dispatch 
 twenty-thousand men for the Shenandoah. Fre- 
 mont, Shields and Banks were all gathering their 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 39 
 
 forces and hurrying forward with the same pur- 
 pose. 
 
 After the victory at Winchester, Jackson did 
 in fact appeal to tlie authorities at Richmond, 
 that his command might be increased to forty- 
 thousand men, w^ith wliich he proposed to move 
 on Washington. But the request was not granted. 
 
 The writer was near the spot, where Jackson 
 was personally directing the operations of a 
 battery which was firing on Banks across the 
 Potomac. A courier rode up in hot haste, bear- 
 ing a dispatch from Ashby, the tenor of which 
 we could only judge from what occurred after- 
 wards. Jackson very deliberately ordered the 
 battery to "cease firing and limber up." The 
 brigade of infantry which w^as resting on the 
 road side, was directed to begin its return march 
 up the valley. 
 
 This retrograde movement was begun with 
 the usual expedition of 'Jackson's foot cavalry'; 
 when our brigade came to the Capon Springs 
 road, and had turned aside, and marched along 
 it for a mile or so, w^e met the advance of Fre- 
 monts army. We became hotly engaged, and so 
 continued to harass their march, and to hold in 
 check their column, until Jackson's main com- 
 mand had passed up the valley pike. 
 
 Sending forward his prisoners and captured 
 trains, laden with all the munitions of war, Jack- 
 son marched sixty miles in three days, when he 
 
40 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 arrived at Strasburg, the key to the situation. 
 Here, he passed out from between the converging 
 lines of three armies that were bearing down 
 upon him. His cavalry had burned the bridges 
 on the lower Shenandoah and Shields was thus 
 compelled to continue his march up the east 
 bank. 
 
 Jackson reached Harrisonburg on the 5th of 
 June ; here he changed his course and marched 
 towards Port Republic. Fremont was follow- 
 ing close after, apparently anxious to give 
 battle. The skirmishing between his advance 
 and Ashby's cavalry was continuous; and that 
 lamented officer fell on the 6th of June, while 
 leading a charge near Cross Keys. Jackson, in 
 his official report, in writing of Ashby, said :"As 
 a partisan officer, I never knew his superior." 
 Leaving Ewell's divison, only eight thousand 
 strong, on the ridge at Cross Keys to resist the 
 advance of Fremont's eighteen thousand, Jackson 
 hastened to Port Republic with the remainder 
 of his small force, and planted his cannon on the 
 heights commanding the bridge, the only ap- 
 proach available for Shields. 
 
 On the 8th of June, Fremont attacked Ewell's 
 division at Cross Keys in force ; but despite the 
 disparity of numbers, the latter held his ground 
 all that day, and at night withdrew, and by 
 daylight had united his command with that of 
 Jackson at the bridge of Port Republic. Cross- 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 41 
 
 ing with his united force, Jackson attacked, at 
 nine o'clock, Shield's army, three-thousand 
 strong, advancing on that side. It was defeated 
 and driven back with heavy loss. At this junc- 
 ture, Fremont with his whole force appeared 
 on the opposite bank, but the bridge was then 
 in flames and he made no attempt to cross. 
 
 Jackson rested his troops in camp the next 
 day, but Fremont and Shields retiring from the 
 conflict, retreated down the valley. 
 
 The Confederates then moved out into the 
 beautiful valley near Weyer's Cave where they 
 encamped and services were held,returning thanks 
 for victories won. Thus ended the Valley Cam- 
 paign of 1862. With a force never exceeding 
 sixteen thousand, Jackson had for months foiled 
 and held in check the corps commanded by Mc 
 Dowell, Fremont, Banks and Shields. 
 
 Great as were the achievements of Jackson 
 in his subsequent, brief career , his after deeds 
 could scarcely augment the renown he had won 
 in the Valley Campaign. His surprisingly ag- 
 gressive movements, the daring of his strategy, 
 marked by the prevision and forecast of events 
 that enabled him often to circumvent the enemy, 
 were his characteristics. Military experts now 
 began to rate him as an executive officer almost 
 without a peer among his contemporaries. 
 * * * ^ * 
 
 At the close of Jackson's valley campaign, 
 
42 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 General McClellan was drawing his lines about 
 Richmond. General Lee who was now in com- 
 mand, resolved to concentrate his forces and to 
 take the initiative in an attack, as Richmond, 
 on account of the lack of supplies, was not in a 
 condition to withstand a siege. In order to 
 mask the movement of Jackson from the valley, 
 several thousand troops were sent, with consider- 
 able display, to reinforce him. 
 
 Jackson left his camp near Mt. Meridian on the 
 17th of June ; but his destination was unknown 
 even to the men of his command, until he ap- 
 peared at Ashland, on the evening of the 25th 
 inst. The next day he passed around the right 
 flank of McClellan's army at Mechanicsville, and 
 on the 27th at Gaines' Mills drove his right 
 wing back upon the center, capturing camps, 
 military stores, and many prisoners. Here a 
 federal captain who was captured with his com- 
 pany, and not knowing that Jackson's men were 
 his captors, said to us : 
 
 "Well boys you've got the best of us to-day, 
 but you haven't heard the news from Jackson 
 in the valley ; his whole command has been 
 broken up ! I was reading about it in the New 
 York paper, just as you fellows charged into 
 our camp ! ' ' 
 
 When the captain had learned the facts in the 
 case, he was dumb with astonishment. 
 
 In the bloody "seven days battle" around 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 43 
 
 Richmond, Jackson's Corps bore a conspiciioiis 
 part; however, he was not now in independent 
 command, but was subject to the orders of his 
 chief, and was only one of many. 
 
 After the battles were over, Jackson's com- 
 mand camped for a few dajs near Richmond ; on 
 the next Sunday he attended services at one of 
 the Presbyterian churches in the city ; but he was 
 not known to the citizens by sight, and attracted 
 no special attention. 
 
 However, they were annoyed, when they had 
 learned from a soldier, that the officer on a rear 
 seat was the famous "Stonewall" who had 
 come and gone unnoticed of them. 
 
 * ->V -vV ^c % 
 
 The return march now began towards the Val- 
 ley and on the 19th of July Jackson's Corps to 
 reached Gordonsville. His soldiers were glad to 
 breathe again the mountain air : but hundreds 
 of their comrades had fallen in the "seven days 
 battles," in the swamps of the Chickahominy. 
 
 A few days later the camp was moved into 
 the county of Louisa, near by, where the troops 
 were recuperated somewhat by a quiet rest. 
 But this was not to last, for General Pope, now 
 in command of the federal forces in this depart- 
 ment, was assembling at Culpepper Courthouse 
 and uniting in one body the commands that had 
 fought against Jackson in the Valley. He had 
 in all more than fifty thousand men, and de- 
 
44 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 clared by proclamation that "his head-quarters 
 would be in his saddle." 
 
 Jackson was reinforced by the division of A. 
 P. Hill and did not await the onset from Pope, 
 but moved against him, and the 9th of August 
 they joined battle at Cedar Mountain. It was 
 late in the afternoon of that day, before the en- 
 gagement became general. Pope was repulsed, 
 but at the beginning of the battle Jackson con- 
 tended against great odds and his left wing was 
 swung back ; this, however, he quickly re-estab- 
 lished by reinforcements coming ap. A charge 
 of federal cavalry also bore down in gallant 
 style upon this wing, but they were dispersed 
 with great loss, by the steady fire of artillery 
 and infantry. Darkness closed the bloody 
 drama. Pope, according to his reports, had about 
 thirty-two thousand men engaged in this battle, 
 while Jackson's forces were at least ten thous- 
 and less ; but the latter had seized the mountain 
 heights where he had planted his cannon and 
 occupied an almost impregnable position. The 
 confederates captured four hundred prisoners , 
 including one general, and fifteen hundred 
 small-arms and other ordnance stores. 
 
 On the thirteenth of August, Lee began the 
 movement of his army, from in front of Rich- 
 mond, to the vicinity of Gordonsville ; McClel- 
 lan was evacuating the peninsula, and removing 
 his troops to the Potomac. 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 45 
 
 Pope withdrew his command to the north side 
 of the Rappahannock; Jackson, in the advance 
 of Lee, skirmished for several days with his 
 lines, along the upper waters of that river. 
 Then, when the main body was well up to the 
 front, Jackson made a detour with his corps 
 and Stuart's cavalry in order to gain the rear of 
 the enemy. He marched fifty miles in two days 
 and struck Pope's lines at Bristow and Manassas 
 Junction, capturing or destroying the main sup- 
 plies of his army, and immense stores of the quar- 
 termaster and commissary departments fell into 
 his hands. There was sharp fighting at both 
 places, and Jackson captured several hundred 
 prisoners. His presence in the rear of the en- 
 emy was now known, and his army occupied a 
 position of extreme peril ; his safety lay in fall- 
 ing back upon Thoroughfare Gap, and awaiting 
 reinforcements from Longstreet. He moved 
 first towards Centerville, and then turning west 
 marched a mile beyond the old battlefield of 
 Manassas where he found, in the abandoned 
 railroad cuts, excellent fortifications made to 
 hand. Posting his men behind these, he was 
 attacked by Pope in force, but was soon rein- 
 forced by Longstreet, and here began the bloody 
 battle of Second Manassas, which was waged 
 for two days and resulted in the defeat of Pope's 
 army. 
 
 On the night of September 2nd,Jacrkson made 
 
46 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 a reconnoisance in force, as far as Ox Hill near 
 Chantilly where an encounter took place, in 
 which the Union generals, Stevens and Kear- 
 ney, were killed. This was within twenty miles 
 of Washington City, and the authorities were so 
 apprehensive of an attack upon the capital, that 
 the whole army was withdrawn behind the fort- 
 ifications of the city. ***** 
 
 General Lee now proposed to invade Mary- 
 land. Jackson's corps,on September 5th forded 
 the Potomac at White's Ferry and after destroy- 
 ing the navigation of the canal by breaking the 
 lock-gates, continued its march to Frederick City. 
 Lee, with the whole command, joined it here, 
 four days later. 
 
 The graphic incident which gave rise to the 
 poem of "Barbara Frietchie" was said to have oc- 
 curred on Jackson's entrance into the city. But 
 now it is known there was no occurrence of the 
 kind, for "Barbara Frietchie", the principal 
 actor in the scene, was then ninety-six years old, 
 bed-ridden, and unable to wave a flag; and be- 
 sides, Jackson's march did not lead him past her 
 resi dence. Nevertheless, the poem is a beautiful 
 one, and will live. 
 
 The large Union forces still left in the vicinity 
 of Harper's Ferry threatened Lee's communica- 
 tions, and Jackson's corps was directed against 
 that place. He left Frederick, September 10th, and 
 by rapid marches by the way of Martinsburg, 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 47 
 
 reached there, and invested that fortification, 
 within four days. 
 
 With great effort, Jackson succeeded in plant- 
 ing artillery on the surrounding heights ; and on 
 the 15th inst, after a furious bombardment, the 
 garrison was compelled to surrender. Jackson 
 captured, besides the garrison stores and arma- 
 ment, eleven thousand prisoners of war. 
 
 Lee, in the meantime, had withdrawn his 
 army from Frederick, on the approach of the 
 whole Union army,under McClellan,who had been 
 reinstated in chief command. He fell back to 
 Sharpsburg, behind the Antietam Creek, ten 
 miles north of Harper's Ferry, where in a strong 
 position, he awaited the attack of McClellan. 
 
 This was necessary as his army was greatly 
 reduced; thousands of his men were left along 
 the way, worn out through privation of rest and 
 food. Many were without shoes, and could not 
 keep up in the long marches over the stony 
 roads. General Lee estimated that his army had 
 been reduced to forty thousand men. 
 
 Jackson leaving a small guard at Harper's 
 Ferry, with orders to parole the prisoners he had 
 captured there, hastened to rejoin Lee, He ar- 
 rived on the field about noon of the 16th inst., 
 in time ■ to take part in resisting the assault 
 made against the left wing. 
 
 The next day, September 17,- 1862, has been 
 called "the bloodiest day in American history;" 
 
48 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 for then was fought the great battle of Antie- 
 tam. 
 
 At daybreak, Hooker's corps opened the bat- 
 tle by a furious assault directed against Lee's 
 left wing. Jackson's veterans were here, borne 
 back for nearly half a mile before this fearful 
 onset; but receiving reinforcements, he again 
 advanced, sweeping before him Hooker's and 
 Mansfield's corps, regaining the ground he had 
 lost. The gallant veteran, Mansfield, here fell. 
 
 Thus with wavering fortunes, the battle raged 
 throughout the day. Night ended the conflict 
 with both armies concentrated and confronting 
 each other on the west side of the Antietam. 
 
 On the 18th the armies maintained a truce to 
 bury the dead. McClellan during the day re- 
 ceived large reinforcements, and it was said he 
 purposed to renew^ the engagement the next 
 day. By that time, Lee had withdrawn across 
 the Potomac. * * * 
 
 * * ^Jackson's corps rested near Bunker Hill, 
 twelve miles below Winchester, for several weeks. 
 A needed respite for his war-worn veterans, who 
 were really destitute of most of the appoint- 
 ments of a well-equipped army; even clothing 
 and shoes were scarce. 
 
 While in this camp near Winchester, Jack- 
 son received his last promotion, on the 11th 
 of November. In about eighteen months he had 
 arisen from the rank of colonel, to that of lieu- 
 tenant-general. 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 49 
 
 Burnside was now placed in command of the 
 Union Army and immediately began the advance 
 on Fredericksburg, on the Rappahannock. Lee 
 hastened to confront him, and took position on 
 the river hills. Jackson's command marched 
 from Winchester to rejoin Lee, and reached his 
 position near the center of his lines not far from 
 Hamilton's crossing, within eight days. He was 
 compelled to halt and rest his men for two days, 
 as some of them were without shoes. 
 
 Jackson's corps was encamped here for about 
 two weeks before the battle. 
 
 Burnside's plan as developed, was to cross by 
 three pontoon-bridges near Fredericksburg and 
 three more at a point about three miles below. 
 The construction of these bridges was interfered 
 with somewhat, by the sharp-shooters; but it 
 was no part of Lee's plan to prevent the cross- 
 ing. 
 
 The night preceding the battle was consumed 
 by Jackson's troops in moving up from their 
 camp, several miles below ; we, however, had an 
 hour of rest before forming our line of battle. 
 Our position was midway between Fredericks- 
 burg and the right of the lines, with a wide ex- 
 tent of plain in front. 
 
 It was perhaps, as late as nine o'clock on the 
 13th before the fog rolled back and revealed 
 Burnside's forces in position on the south side. 
 His lines extended along the first and second 
 
50 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 benches of the river bottom, while in front were 
 planted his numberless field batteries. 
 
 This stern array — a hundred thousand strong, 
 deployed in three lines of battle, of two ranks 
 each — now marched forward in stately pomp, 
 with banners waving and bands playing. Then 
 the heavy siege guns thundered from the Staf- 
 ford heights, sending shot and shell, plow- 
 ing our ranks ; while the great columns of 
 the reserves crowded the passageways to the 
 bridges. ^ * ^ 
 
 * * * Never before had we looked on a 
 panorama of battle so wide and unobstructed by 
 forests as this view on the field of Fredericks- 
 burg; and as we gazed on the mighty host 
 marching into action, we felt the scene awe-in- 
 spiring in its terrible grandeur. 
 
 In this engagement Jackson's command was 
 advanced beyond its position in the line of bat- 
 tle to a point where our lines had been pene- 
 trated by Mead's Corps. Here the fighting was 
 stubborn and long continued, but Jackson's men 
 sustaining their great reputation, finally suc- 
 ceeded in regaining the lost ground, and in re-es- 
 tablishing the line, but at the cost of many lives. 
 
 Burnside's forces were repulsed at all points; 
 he made the most determined assaults against 
 Marye's Heights, which was Lee's strongest 
 position ; here, whole brigades were destroyed in 
 the reckless charges. 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 51 
 
 The battle was fought on Saturday, and on 
 Sunday the armies lay quiet, each awaiting the 
 attack of the other. On Monday there was a 
 truce to care for the wounded and bury the 
 dead. That night, under the cover of darkness 
 and storm, Burnside withdrew across the river 
 and removed his pontoons. 
 
 Thus ended the Virginia campaign of 
 1862. * * * 
 
 * "^ * Jackson's command went into winter 
 quarters along the Rappahannock and did 
 picket duty as far down as Port Royal ; his 
 headquarters were at Moss Neck, about eleven 
 miles below Fredericksburg. Here he occupied 
 a small office in which he was engaged nearly 
 all winter in making out official reports of his 
 battles, and in directing the various duties in 
 regard to supplies, discipline, and the recruit- 
 ing of his corps. He was busy, but was some- 
 times interrupted in his work by visits of 
 personal friends whom he always received kindly 
 and with scrupulous politeness. Occasionally a 
 foreign officer called to pay his respects, and was 
 impressed by Stonewall's simplicity of manners 
 and genuine courtesy. His family spent a few 
 days with him this winter; then he first saw his 
 infant daughter. 
 
 This was but the lull amid the storm of war, 
 and as the season approached for the opening of 
 the campaign, Jackson prepared to leave his 
 
52 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 pleasant winter quarters. He moved about the 
 middle of March to Hamilton's crossing where 
 he occupied a tent. 
 
 Hooker had now replaced Burnside in com- 
 mand of the Army of the Potomac, and bj the 
 end of April he was ready for the campaign with 
 a force 132,000 strong. His army lay in camp 
 on the left bank of the Rappahannock opposite 
 Fredericksburg; the Confederates were in- 
 trenched on the heights across the river. This 
 position Hooker thought was unassailable from 
 the front, and he undertook to turn the left 
 flank and so fall upon our rear. In the mean- 
 while he sent about 12,000 cavalry on an expedi- 
 tion to cut our communications with Richmond. 
 On the 27th he sent the greater part of three 
 army corps on a long detour, 27 miles above to 
 Kelly's ford, there to cross, move down and un- 
 cover the fords below. When this was done the 
 several commands were to move by different 
 routes on Chancellorsville which was the place 
 of rendezvous. This he accomplished with great 
 skill and energy, and by the SOth he had an 
 army of 48,000 men witli 18,000 more a few 
 hours behind, fortified at Chancellorsville in an 
 impregnable position in the very heart of the 
 wilderness. Hence, General Hooker from 
 military considerations was justified in his pre- 
 diction when he said: "The enemy must in- 
 gloriously fly or come out from behind his in- 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 53 
 
 trenchments and give us battle on our own 
 ground, where certain destruction awaits him." 
 
 But in his plans, perhaps, he had not made a 
 just allowance for the genius of Stonewall 
 Jackson. 
 
 It is a tradition that one of his officers re- 
 marked on this occasion: "We seem to have 
 the rebs this time, and a sure victory — only I 
 don't know where old Stonewall is — he might 
 break in behind us here and spoil all this !" 
 
 Lee was aware that his left flank had been 
 turned and that Hooker was in his rear with a 
 force fully equal to his own. He ordered Early 
 with 10,000 men to hold the heights at 
 Fredericksburg ; and with the remaining forces 
 hastened to confront Hooker at Chanceilorsville. 
 Jackson's main force w^as 20 miles distant; he 
 began to move at midnight and by 11 o'clock 
 next day, May 1, he w^as drawn up in line of bat- 
 tle in front of the Wilderness. 
 
 Hooker, who had begun to move out into the 
 open ground where he could handle his troops, 
 now fell back behind his fortification of logs at 
 Chanceilorsville. He said the ways were nar- 
 row and he could not debouch from the woods 
 rapidly enough to confront Lee, but would run 
 the risk of being whipped in detail while filing 
 from the narrow wood-roads. 
 
 That night Lee and Jackson camped together 
 in the woods ; they laid themselves down to rest 
 
54 STOXEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 upon the leaves with the pine-trees for covering. 
 Their consultation was long, and anxiously did 
 they discuss the critical situation of the armies. 
 They both agreed that it was necessary to at- 
 tack Hooker at once or all would be lost. They 
 also agreed that an attack made in front on his 
 stronghold would be very destructive to their 
 troops, and would probably fail. A cavalry re- 
 connoisance had disclosed the exposed situation 
 of the Union right, and now they resolved to at- 
 tack there. 
 
 To do this the Confederate force must be 
 divided. Jackson with 30,000 men was to move 
 by a forest road, known to him, entirely around 
 the Union position and attack in the rear. 
 
 Lee, while Jackson was making his flank 
 movement, was to keep up a show in front with 
 only 20,000 men; it was a hazardous venture, 
 warranted only by the desperate nature of the 
 situation. 
 
 Jackson moved at daybreak — on this, the last 
 day, he was to lead troops in battle — he made a 
 circuit of 15 miles, sheltered from view by the 
 thick undergrowth, except at one point where 
 the road bore southward, and where his move- 
 ment, if noticed, would be taken as a retreat. 
 
 By three o'clock in the afternoon he was six 
 miles west of Chancellorsville, and on the op- 
 posite side of Hooker from the position held by 
 Lee. He halted here in an open space to form 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 55 
 
 his lines; while his scouts pushing forward 
 through the thickets discovered the Union in- 
 trenchments unguarded; the arms were stacked, 
 the men preparing their evening meal. 
 
 Jackson formed his force in three parallel 
 lines with their centers resting on the narrow 
 wood-road, down which two batteries were to 
 move. About five o'clock the advance was be- 
 gun ; the line in front breaking its way through 
 the thicket, the others following with a little 
 less difficulty. 
 
 An hour later they burst upon the Union 
 ranks like an avalanche— all was wild confusion! 
 The first regiments on whom the shock fell scat- 
 tered without firing a shot, while the whole 
 corps soon broke in disorder, leaving everything 
 behind them, swarming down the road to within 
 a half mile of Chancellorsville. The Confeder- 
 ates were stayed for a brief space by the horse- 
 artillery of Pleasanton's cavalry reinforced by 
 other guns, but this battery in turn was hurled 
 back ; and the onset was only delayed by the 
 darkness and confusion— awaiting a reconnois- 
 
 sance. 
 
 At this critical moment Jackson rode to the 
 front to learn the situation of affairs, and on re- 
 turning to his lines he was fired on by his own 
 men who mistook his escort for enemies. He 
 received three wounds which proved fatal a 
 week later. Several of his escorts were killed or 
 
56 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 wounded by the same volley. As he was being car- 
 ried from the field one of the litter bearers fell, and 
 Jackson was thrown to the ground, falling upon 
 his wounded shoulder; this aggravated his inju- 
 ries and together with the loss of blood he had 
 sustained, he was now almost in a dying condi- 
 tion. 
 
 General Hooker was also wounded on this day, 
 but retained his command. 
 
 Jackson was succeeded by General J. E. B. 
 Stuart, of the cavalry, and he had orders from 
 Lee to press the advantages gained ; this was 
 done on all sides with this result; — at the end of 
 three days more. Hooker's whole command of 
 superior numbers had retired to the north side 
 of the Rappahannock, and the battle of Chan- 
 cellorsville had ended. 
 
 As soon as possible, the wounded Jackson was 
 conveyed in an ambulance to Guinea's Station; 
 this was a painful journey for a suffering man. 
 The surgeons did everything to relieve him, but 
 in vain. His wife, with infant daughter, was 
 summoned to his bedside. He remained cheer- 
 ful and was informed of the final success of his 
 flank movement at Chancellorsville. He died as 
 he had lived, a Christian without fear of death. 
 His last words were: "Let us cross over the 
 river, and rest under the shade of the trees." 
 
 Above we have given a concise presentation 
 of the principal movements of Jackson in the 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 57 
 
 course of his brilliant career ; we shall now 
 
 conclude these personal recollections, with a few 
 
 anecdotes to illustrate further his characteristics. 
 
 ■5t * ^v % * 
 
 As the war progressed and his fame grew 
 apace, whenever he would appear riding along 
 the lines of infantry, on his chestnut-sorrel horse, 
 clad m his old, faded uniform, the loud cheers 
 of his soldiers would follow him for miles along 
 the dusty roads. 
 
 He was a good rider, but not a very graceful 
 one except on the occasions mentioned, when the 
 soldiers were cheering ; then he would straighten 
 himself in his saddle and ride erect with uncov- 
 ered head and at a rapid pace, as if to escape 
 this ovation of his troops. 
 
 On one occasion in the "Valley campaign," as 
 our troops debouched from a narrow cross-road 
 into the turnpike, we saw a carriage drawn up 
 by the wayside, in which were seated an elderly 
 gentleman and three young ladies. As we rode 
 by the old gentleman halted us and inquired 
 anxiously for General Jackson. It at first oc- 
 curred to us that he had news of importance to 
 communicate to the general, but the young 
 ladies soon made it apparent that their only 
 object in being in that dangerous place was to 
 look upon this now famous officer whom they 
 had never seen. They paid but little heed to 
 any otherofficer or soldier of the passing column. 
 
58 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 The old man "only wanted to see Jackson 
 once before he died," and the young ladies were 
 "just crazy to see him!" 
 
 Soon thereafter a post quartermaster rode by; 
 his bright uniform presented a striking contrast 
 to the dust begrimed regimentals of the officers 
 of the column, and the young ladies "were sure 
 this fine-looking officer must be the great 'Stone- 
 wall,' " the hero of their imaginations. 
 
 Finally, when General Jackson did appear on 
 the scene, it was difficult to make these ladies 
 believe that the travel stained horseman, with 
 his faded cap drawn low over his sunburned, 
 bearded face, was the famous "Stonewall" whose 
 name had wrought so great a spell in that valley. 
 
 And the prestige of his fame must linger there 
 forever ; for however much one may insist that 
 he committed a great political error in yielding 
 paramount allegiance to his State, yet none at 
 this day will doubt that he did so conscientiously 
 and religiously believing that he was absolutely 
 right. Therefore, as a great soldier performing 
 deeds of valor with consummate skill in the line 
 of his duty as he saw it, he will remain to mili- 
 tary men the world over, and in American his- 
 tory, a figure of perennial interest. * * 
 * * * From that day when at the battle of 
 Bull Run General Bee pointed his sword and 
 said: "See, there is Jackson standing like a 
 stone- wall," and from which saying he won his 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 59 
 
 sobriquet, Jackson was ever wont to give the 
 glory of victory to the Lord, and to deprecate 
 any applauding of victorious generals. Mrs. 
 Jackson in her "Life" says: "General D. H. 
 Hill relates that in the last conversation he ever 
 held with him, Jackson said : *The manner in 
 which the press, the army, and the people seem 
 to lean on certain persons is positively frightful. 
 They are forgetting God in the instruments He 
 has chosen. It fills me with alarm.' " 
 
 Jackson was a consistent Christian man, he 
 was a constant attendant on preaching and as a 
 matter of duty he taught a class of negro chil- 
 dren in the Sunday School at Lexington. 
 
 He systematically gave to the extent of his 
 limited means, to every benevolent object. In 
 illustration of this trait of his character, it is 
 related that when the news reached Lexington 
 of the victory of Manassas, it was reported that 
 the Rev. Dr. White had received a letter from 
 Jackson, and the people gathered around to hear 
 the particulars of the battle. 
 
 The venerable preacher mounted on a store- 
 box, arranged his spectacles, broke the seal of 
 his letter and read as follows : 
 
 " My Dear Pastor: 
 
 "In my tent last night, after a fatigu- 
 ing day's service, I remembered that I failed to 
 send you my contribution for our colored Sunciny 
 School, Enclosed you will find my check for that 
 object, which please acknowledge at your earliest 
 convenience and oblige yours faithfully, 
 
 ''T. J. Jackson." 
 
60 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 And that was all ! The people were much 
 amused, and the old minister disconcerted by 
 this special communication from the battle-field. 
 
 Tt ^ tV tV -* 
 
 It was claimed by some that Jackson was seen 
 in battle, and elsewhere, very frequently in the 
 act of prayer with his hand upraised. But this 
 is a mistake for he made no display of his relig- 
 ion. He was wounded in his hand at the first 
 battle of Manassas, and which, by the way, he 
 would not have dressed until some private sol- 
 diers more in need had been attended to, first. 
 This wound in his hand at times gave him pain 
 which was relieved somewhat b}^ holding it up- 
 right, and thus was started the rumor, that "he 
 was often seen holding up his hand in prayer." 
 * * * On the day of Malvern Hill I saw 
 "Stonewall" Jackson in the thick of the fight and 
 under circumstances that stirred the depths of 
 his nature. The sun was sinking towards the 
 western sky when our wearied troops emerged 
 from the pine woods, which were being torn and 
 riven by shot and shell. 
 
 We stood there then, obscured from our for- 
 midable adversary only by the black cloud of 
 sulphurous smoke that overhung the bloody field 
 like a pall shrouding the windrows of the slain. 
 McClellan's grand army, 90,000 strong, con- 
 fronted us on those heights, which bristled with 
 300 field pieces and great siege guns re-inforced 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 61 
 
 by the monster cannon of the river boats. All 
 the guns banked in tiers, extending the distance 
 of a mile, now belched forth in streams of flame 
 and iron hail, that mowed down ranks and regi- 
 ments and forest trees far in their rear. The 
 incessant din and concussion of the bursting 
 bombs seemed to rend the firmament and shake 
 the solid earth. 
 
 As we moved forward into action, we passed 
 within a few paces of "Stonewall" who, at that 
 time, was giving orders to a battery which was 
 being actually destroyed by the concentrated fire 
 of McClellan's artillery. He sat erect on his 
 horse in this hurricane of "cannister" and 
 "grape;" his face was aflame with passion, his 
 eyes flashed, his under jaw protruded, and his 
 voice rang out sharp and clear. 
 
 Before he was entirely obscured from our 
 
 view, the soldiers of the column would turn, at 
 
 brief intervals, to look back on him as if for the 
 
 last time; and, indeed, it was the last time for 
 
 many of us. 
 
 ^ * * * * 
 
 As regards Jackson's relations to General Lee 
 and other generals of high rank, and speaking 
 from the standpoint of a subordinate, it appeared 
 to us as if they were all more like brothers than 
 like rival generals. 
 
 Jackson said: "I will follow General Lee 
 blindfolded;" and Lee said of Jackson, after his 
 
62 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 death: "I have lost my right arm!" — and well 
 he might say that. * * * 
 
 Toward the close of his career whenever 
 "Stonewall" Jackson appeared to citizens who 
 had known him only by reputation, he w^as always 
 regarded by them with great interest. Many 
 had clothed him in imagination with almost 
 supernatural powers ; others believed him to be 
 a chosen leader, especially favored of heaven on 
 account of his religious character and pure life. 
 
 But his soldiers knew that his success lay in 
 his eternal vigilance, his untiring energy, his 
 personal supervision and perfect knowledge of 
 the topography of the field of his operations, and 
 in the exercise of those qualities that bring 
 success to other generals. Yet he possessed 
 qualities that were peculiar to him as natural 
 gifts; he had a resolute mind and never halted 
 between two opinions; and he had the intuitions 
 and instincts of the born soldier, quick to dis- 
 cover, and to take advantage of any mistakes 
 his adversary might make Above all, he had a 
 realizing sense of the inestimable value of time 
 in connection with the operations of war. He 
 was always on time. It was a tradition with 
 his soldiers that when at Richmond Lee heard 
 the sound of Jackson's guns, away off on 
 McClellan's right, he took out his watch and 
 calmly remarked: "Jackson is on time." 
 
 General Lee knew all that this remark implied 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 68 
 
 — the arduous toil and sleepless energy — yet he 
 expressed no surprise ; he expected nothing less 
 of Jackson. ***** 
 
 It is related that Jackson on his tour of 
 Europe visited the battle-field of Waterloo. He 
 was familiar with the details of that battle, as 
 he was of others, for although a devout, humble 
 Christian, he was essentially a military man and 
 took delight in military affairs, and was a stu- 
 dent of the campaigns of history. He pointed 
 out at Waterloo, how Napoleon had tarried too 
 long at Hougoumont, and how the delay to begin 
 the battle early in the morning — rain or no rain 
 — proved fatal; and other sagacious remarks 
 that showed him to be conversant with the situ- 
 ation. But he believed that the brilliant Napo- 
 leon, through failing health, was not himself 
 on that field, and that he did not there display 
 the military acumen and the towering genius 
 that had glorified other fields. 
 
 And it may be said that in some characteris- 
 tics, these two great military geniuses were not 
 unlike ; Jackson's confidence in himself, under 
 Supreme guidance, in all his military maneuvres 
 was not unlike Napoleon's faith in his star of 
 destiny; yet it may be remarked that neither of 
 them, despite all this, ever failed in any pre- 
 caution that might tend to his success in 
 battle. 
 
 They each believed in officers who could 
 
64 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 accomplish things; that achievement was worth 
 all, and unfulfilled promises, nothing. 
 
 Napoleon thought a blunder in military affairs 
 worse than a deliberate crime; Jackson would 
 make no allowance for an officer who failed in 
 an enterprise through any neglect of duty, how- 
 ever arduous the duty might be, if it could be 
 accomplished at all, through strenuous and per- 
 severing exertion. 
 
 He never spared himself any trouble or exer- 
 tion, and was often thoroughly worn out by in- 
 cessant labors, and by hunger and loss of sleep ; 
 as the following anecdote will go to show: 
 
 Shortly after sunrise, on the morning after 
 the battle of Fredericksburg, as I was walking 
 along the ridge above Hamilton's Crossing, and 
 about thirty yards from one of our batteries, I 
 passed within a few feet of General Jackson who 
 had taken up his position on this vantage ground 
 for the purpose of reconnoitering ; but he was 
 not doing very much of it just at that time, for 
 he was seated on the ground, leaning against a 
 hickory sapling, and fast asleep ! He held his 
 bridle-rein in one hand and his field-glass in the 
 other, and did not awaken as I walked along the 
 path in touching distance of him, but seemed to 
 be sleeping as calmly as I had seen him sleep 
 years before in the church at Lexington. 
 
 However, his slumbers were destined to be of 
 short duration, for a battery of heavy guns on 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON. 65 
 
 the Stafford heights soon opened with a volley 
 directed against the battery near the spot where 
 Jackson was quietly sleeping. The fire of these 
 guns continued only for a short time, but while 
 it lasted the din was terrific, not to speak of 
 the destruction wrought by the hurtling missiles. 
 The very first gun that opened this morning 
 salute sent a shell right into the muzzle of the 
 cannon nearest the general, broke it from its 
 trunnions, and hurled the piece back into the 
 barbette, killing two horses, and barely missing 
 the cannoneers who were trenching at the time, 
 an operation they could not perform the day 
 before while the battle was raging. 
 
 Several days after this I met General Jackson 
 riding across the battle field about two miles 
 below Fredericksburg. He was riding alone and 
 very slowly, with his head hanging down as if 
 in profound thought. He halted a few min- 
 utes and spoke in a friendly, kindly way, 
 but made no allusion to the battle, the sad, 
 melancholy evidences of which were all around 
 us. * * * * * 
 
 A few weeks before his death I visited his 
 head- quarters for the last time. He at that 
 time occupied for his office, an out building at 
 Moss Neck on the Rappahannock, which had 
 been used in happier days as a sporting lodge. 
 On the walls of this room still hung pictures of 
 race horses, game cocks and the trophies of the 
 chase. 
 
66 STONEWALL JACKSON. 
 
 One was impressed on entering here with the 
 ludicrous incongruity of these pictures to the 
 grim surroundings of war, and to the taste of 
 the grave, religious soldier who occupied these 
 quarters. After a pleasant conversation of half 
 an hour I took my leave of General Jackson, 
 who had now won a world wide fame, and was 
 still the same modest diffident man I had met 
 for the first time at Lexington, eleven years 
 before. * * * * * 
 
 When Jackson died many of his friends 
 believed that his death portended the downfall 
 of his cause, and never had much hope of its 
 success from that fatal day ; but his soldiers 
 grieved his loss as no others could grieve for him. 
 His death smote the whole south-land "with a 
 pang of unspeakable anguish." 
 
 He died at Guinea's Station, near Fredericks- 
 burg, May 10, 1863. * * * * 
 
 The Duke of Wellington once expressed the 
 opinion that the presence of Napoleon on a 
 field of battle was worth all of 20,000 men. It 
 would be difficult to compute how many men the 
 presence of Jackson on a battlefield was worth. 
 There was but one "Stonewall" Jackson. His 
 presence in any battle where the victory wavered 
 in the balance, his soldiers thought, was worth 
 all the difference between victory and defeat. 
 
 "Brave men lived before Agamemnon," and 
 there were brave and able officers living after 
 
STONEWALL JACKSON, 67 
 
 Jackson, but his constant success had wrought 
 such faith in his old soldiers, and they were so 
 dazzled by the popular applause and enthusiasm 
 which his presence everywhere inspired that 
 they truly believed there was none to come after 
 him that could fill his place. 
 
 NOTE. A portion of this narrative (illustrated,) is published in 
 the war-book entitled, "Under Both Flags." 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 "stonewall" JACKSON. 
 
 Jackson stands there, ''like a stone wall," he said, 
 As he pointed his sword across the battlefield; 
 Thus the name— none prouder on spotless shield 
 Than ''Stonewall," the sobriquet to valor paid. 
 Twas ever thus where heroes have drawn the blade ; 
 The gentle were the daring when dangers appealed, 
 And Jackson, the devout, the lion-heart revealed, 
 As he stood at Manassas with his old brigade I 
 He wrote with the sword in rude columns of war. 
 And the trace he made may grow dim on the scroll 
 Of time, as the generations rise and fall; 
 Yet the memories of heroic deeds reach afar. 
 And with the noble and the true on honor's roll, 
 * 'Stonewall" will abide till the last call. 
 
SKETCHES 
 
 OF 
 
 TRAVEL AND BIOGRAPHY. 
 
 PART II. 
 
P ART II. 
 
 ACROSS THE OCEAN. 
 
 We took passage at New York on a Cunarder, 
 and as the pilot stood at the helm and steered 
 the ship through the countless craft that 
 thronged the bay, many friends upon the dock 
 waved adieu to friends on board, and my com- 
 panion must need wave too, although we had no 
 friend there to bid us good-bye. We steamed 
 down the bay past the busy wharfs, in sight of 
 the Brooklyn bridge, past the Statue of Liberty, 
 Staten Island and through the Narrows with its 
 forts and bristling guns, and so on through the 
 lower bay. When we had crossed the bar and 
 were well off Sandy Hook, and just as our harbor 
 pilot had left us, to our surprise our ship hove 
 to and cast anchor. We were informed that we 
 were to await in the offing the through mail 
 from Australia via. California, which was 
 several hours late. 
 
 Thus the first night on the ship we slept upon 
 the bosom of comparatively smooth waters, but 
 when we awoke the mail had been taken aboard, 
 71 
 
72 ACROSS THE OCEAN. 
 
 and our vessel was ploughing the waves under a 
 full head of steam. Although the sailors said it 
 was smooth sailing, the waters seemed rough to 
 us, and before the day was over many pas- 
 sengers were very sea-sick; and some thought 
 in their extremity if their feet were firm set on 
 the land, they would not again venture upon the 
 treacherous waves. 
 
 After a day or two the majority of the pas- 
 sengers came around again all right, and to those 
 who were not effected by mal-de-mer, the sea-air 
 was very stimulating and seemed to whet the ap- 
 petite to an unusual degree. 
 
 There were a large number of passengers re- 
 presenting many nationalities, yet there was no 
 jar or discord among them for it seemed to be 
 the rule for each one to do what he could to 
 contribute to the enjoyment of all, and many 
 hours were whiled away in reading, singing, 
 pitching rings, shuffle-board, and at playing the 
 American game of draw poker in the smoking 
 room where many sovereigns changed hands. 
 
 An incident of some interest occurred when 
 w^e were about one hundred miles out from New 
 York harbor — a carrier pigeon was turned loose 
 at that point. It was the intention of the owner 
 that it should bear a message to a town in the 
 interior of New Jersey. The bird arose high in 
 the air, and then after circling around for a 
 time it seemed to take its bearings and bore 
 
ACROSS THE OCEAN. 73 
 
 away backward on the course whence we came. 
 Long afterwards we learned from the owner that 
 the bird did actually make the Jersey coast, but 
 there unfortunately it was discovered by a boy 
 hunter as it rested after its long stormy flight 
 and w^as shot. The hunter, however, he said, 
 had the grace to send the message it carried 
 (wrapped around its legs) to his family in the 
 interior. 
 
 Our captain, a bluff English mariner about 
 forty-five years of age, read the Episcopal service 
 on Sunday in the diuing saloon. He read it 
 with gravity and impressively, yet it smacked 
 somewhat of the flavor of the sea. An elderly 
 English clergyman preached the sermon ; the day 
 was stormy and the rolling ship pitched the 
 Bible from the improvised altar. The aged 
 minister dropped his "h's" badly in speech, yet 
 he proved to be a man of classical culture, and 
 before the close he spoke with impassioned 
 eloquence. 
 
 In passing the Grand Banks the f )g was 
 thick and the ship's bell was sounded every few 
 minutes. We saw here a number of fishing 
 smacks and one small boat containing two men 
 floated very near our ship. 
 
 The bronzed fishermen saluted the passing ves- 
 sel by dofling their hats, and one of them held 
 up to view a very large fish. This incident 
 called to mind the fact, that upon a late voyage 
 
74 ACROSS THE OCEAN. 
 
 one of the vessels of this line picked up two 
 fishermen who had drifted for three days lost 
 in the fog, and were nearly famished. They were 
 treated kindly, as is the custon on the sea ; the 
 passengers raised a handsome collection for 
 them, and they and their boat were taken to 
 Liverpool and placed in the great "Exposition 
 of Navigation," which at that time was being 
 held there. They were certainly genuine speci- 
 mens of Newfoundland fishermen and fishing 
 boat. 
 
 Although we crossed the ocean afterwards, 
 yet first impressions are the best, at least the 
 most vivid ; and never again did we see so much 
 life on the sea as on this first voyage. Our ves- 
 sel had sailed a more northern route than usual 
 to avoid the icebergs that were known to be in 
 the track usually taken. In this northern route, 
 porpoises played around our ship daily, also 
 stormy petrel and sea gulls skimmed the waves 
 near by, and sharks, large "man-eaters," would 
 occasionally dart past the ship with incredible 
 velocity. But the greatest sight of all was re- 
 served for a certain beautiful afternoon when we 
 were all seated on the promenade deck ; a large 
 whale rose in full view not fifty yards away ; it 
 rested quite still for a short time, and as the pas- 
 sengers rushed to the guards it fell astern, spout- 
 ing vigorously. We all had a fine view of it. 
 
 It was nearly nightfall when we sighted the 
 
ACROSS THE OCEAN. 75 
 
 heights of Cape Clear Island, the outermost point 
 of Ireland — ''Green Erin," whose many woes 
 since the days of Cromwell have excited the 
 sympathies of the world. Her cause has never 
 lacked champions, martyrs and silver-tongued 
 orators, such as Emmet, Burke, Curran and 
 Sheridan, and in our time Parnell and Gladstone. 
 
 The darkness had about shrouded the scene as 
 we came under "Fastnet Light," which is on a 
 rock twelve miles off the coast and sixty miles 
 from Queenstown. The lighthouse stands high 
 above the water on a rock barely large enough 
 to hold it, and is in appearance lonely and pic- 
 turesque. 
 
 The mails are put off at Queenstown, which is 
 a strongly fortified, landlocked harbor, 253 miles 
 from Liverpool. They are carried thence by 
 train to Kingston, across the Irish Sea to Holy 
 Head, thence to London by train, arriving there 
 twenty-four hours before the passengers who go 
 up the channel. 
 
 All day Sunday we steamed up St. George's 
 Channel and the Irish Sea, arriving at the Liver- 
 pool docks about five p. m. This is in some re- 
 spects the greatest sea-port of the world ; the 
 cut stone docks extend a distance of twelve 
 miles, and more craft resort to this harbor than 
 to any other. 
 
 We arrived in London about ten a. m. the 
 next day. This city is a world within itself, con- 
 
76 ACROSS THE OCEAN. 
 
 taining now 5,657,000 people; twenty-eight miles 
 of street are built each year, on an average, and 
 it is said that its beer shops if placed side by 
 side would extend a distance of seventy-five 
 miles. For antiquities and historical associa- 
 tions, this city surpasses in interest any other 
 English speaking city of the earth. 
 
 In walking these streets we passed Whitehall, 
 in front of which Charles I was executed, and 
 here also a few years later, the head of Crom- 
 well was displayed on a pike in the old White- 
 hall Chamber. We can scarcely realize at this 
 day that such things could be. We noticed the 
 sign of "Dombey & Son," and thought of Mr. 
 Dickens; we walked by "Old Curiosity Shop," 
 and thought of "Little Nell;" this latter build- 
 ing is low, dingy, and insignificant in appear- 
 ance. 
 
 In the early morning we walked across West- 
 minster Bridge which Wordsworth has commem- 
 orated in the lines of a beautiful poem ; also, we 
 crossed the ancient London Bridge, and entered 
 the celebrated Billingsgate fish-market, but it 
 was rather late, and business of the day was well 
 over. Next we ascended the ancient "London 
 Monument," near the Tower, which marks the 
 spot where the great fire, that destroyed so 
 large a portion of the city in 1666, was stopped. 
 
 The London streets indeed abound in tradi- 
 tions and vestiges of antiquity. We were 
 
ACROSS THE OCEAN. 77 
 
 standing on the steps of St. Paul's after having 
 viewed the graves of Nelson and Wellington, 
 the battle-scarred flags of the Crimean War, 
 and other relics of that ancient church, when 
 there passed us a little group of countrymen led 
 by a guide. We turned and followed into the 
 church ; they passed everything without notice, 
 until, on turning aside into the transcept, the 
 guide halted in front of the tomb of the Duke 
 of Wellington. 
 
 He said: "Here is the man who whipped 
 Bonaparte !" The majority of these vistors were 
 evidently unable to read, but they crowded with 
 great interest about the tomb of Wellington. 
 They talked boastfully of the man "who had 
 whipped old Bony;" then, after spending all 
 of a half hour around this grave, they left the 
 church without looking at anything else. 
 
 We took this opportunity to copy into our 
 note-book the epitaph on the monument recently 
 erected here, to "Chinese" Gordon. There is, 
 perhaps, nowhere to be found a more truthful, 
 or a nobler epitaph than this to General Gor- 
 don. It is as follows : 
 
 GENERAL CHARLES GEORGE GORDON, 
 
 of Soudan fame, by his brother. 
 
 He gave his strength to the weak; his service 
 to the poor; his sympathy to the suffering; his 
 heart to God. At last obedient to the commands of 
 his sovereign, he died to save women and children 
 from imminent death and suffering. 
 
TOWER OF LONDON. 
 
 The Tower of London is the most ancient 
 palace and fortress in England; its origin is 
 ascribed to Julius Caesar. Other writers claim 
 that the White Tower ii the oldest part, and 
 that it was built by William the Conqueror in 
 1078. 
 
 Macaulay in his History of England, says of 
 the burials in the ancient chapel: "Thither have 
 been carried through successive ages by the rude 
 hands of gaolers, without one mourner following, 
 the bleeding relics of men who have been the 
 captains of armies, the leaders of parties, the 
 oracles of senates and the ornaments of courts ;" 
 and again he says: "In truth there is no sadder 
 spot on earth than this little cemetery." 
 
 In the midst of the "Tower green" is planted 
 a brass tablet on which we read this inscription : 
 
 "site of ancient scaffold 
 
 on this spot 
 
 queen anne boleyn 
 
 was beheaded on the 
 
 19th of may 1536" 
 
 This is the style and form of the inscription, 
 without one punctuation mark. It tells a sad 
 
TOWER OF LONDON. 79 
 
 truth, but not the whole truth, for Queen Kath- 
 arine, Lady Jane Grey and others were also ex- 
 ecuted on this spot. 
 
 The dark and winding passageways of the 
 Tower are now lighted by electricity. In our 
 rambles here we took note of many relics of 
 a barbarous age, the horrid implements of tor- 
 ture used in the olden time; the "scavenger's 
 daughter," a rough iron implement for securing 
 the neck, arms and feet of the victim ; the "bil- 
 boes" used for fastening prisoners together; 
 the "thumb screws, ' ' and the "collar of torment." 
 
 The crown jewels or the regalia are kept here 
 in the Wakefield Tower. The crown, scepter 
 and various regalia worn at coronations are here 
 to be seen; but most of the magnificent objects 
 date from the time of the restoration. For it is 
 recorded that, "on the return of Charles 
 II there existed only some loose stones and 
 some fragments of the ancient crowns previously 
 preserved in the Tower." 
 
 One of the most prominent objects is the 
 crown of Queen Victoria which she used at her 
 coronation in 1838. Many of the jewels it con- 
 tains are of great antiquity. Many brilliants 
 surround the ancient and famous ruby that once 
 belonged to the "Black Prince," and was also 
 worn in the helmet of Henry V at the battle of 
 Agincourt. 
 
 Victoria's crown is said to contain precious 
 
80 TOWER OF LONDON. 
 
 stones as follows : diamonds 2783 ; pearls 277 ; 
 rubies 5; sapphires 17; emeralds 11. It presents 
 an appearance, though tasteful, gorgeous in the 
 extreme. 
 
 It would take long to merely glance at the 
 numerous crowns, scepters, communion service, 
 swords, bracelets, spurs of gold, &c., &c., that 
 are preserved in the iron cage of this great 
 stronghold, surrounded by guards. We shall 
 note only one or two more. 
 
 The "Annointing Spoon" is said to be one of 
 the few objects remaining of the old regalia of 
 remote times. It is of solid gold, the bowl is 
 beautifully chased, and the handle enameled and 
 set with jewels. 
 
 The salt-cellar of gold, richly jewelled, was 
 modelled after the White Tower. It was used at 
 state banquets and served to mark the seats of 
 honor, "above the salt." 
 
 In the armory in the White Tower among the 
 innumerable knights and figures in armor, there 
 is an effigy of Queen Elizabeth mounted upon 
 her palfrey, as she appeared in going to West- 
 minster Abbey to return thanks for the repulse 
 of the Spanish Armada in 1588. 
 
 It is surprising how small the suits of armor 
 are ; scarcely any of them are large enough to 
 fit a man of medium stature of this age. We 
 noticed also that the soldiers on guard at the 
 outer tower would have to stoop their shoulders 
 
TOWER OF LONDON. 81 
 
 as they entered beneath the archway of the an- 
 cient guard-room. The modern man is evidently 
 of greater stature than the men for whom this 
 guard-room was built many centuries ago. 
 
 However, we noticed critically a splendid suit 
 of armor of Henry VIH presented to him by 
 Maximilian on his marriage to Katharine of 
 Arragon. If this armor was made for him, he 
 must have been a man of goodly size, at least 
 six feet in height. 
 
 An Arabic coat of arms bore this curious in- 
 scription engraved on a plate attached to the 
 chain mail : 
 
 ''Honor is obedience (to God) 
 and wealth is contentment- 
 health and welfare." 
 
 Here is the beheading-block, the ax and the 
 mask worn by the executioner at the last execu- 
 tion of this chara-cter in Great Britain. On this 
 block were beheaded the Scotch lords, Kilmar- 
 nock and Balmerino, adherents of Prince Charles 
 Edward, after the battle of CuUoden in the year 
 1746. The following year the old Scotch lord, 
 Lovat, was beheaded on the same block. We 
 counted six deep indentations on the block 
 which were made by the headsman's ax; hence 
 the average was two strokes each. 
 
 Walpole relates several eccentric traits of these 
 Scotch lords on their trial and execution. It 
 seems that it was the custom to carry the heads- 
 
82 TOWER OF LONDON. 
 
 man's ax into the court room with the prison- 
 ers on each day of their trial ; for he says : 
 "When they were brought from the Tower in 
 separate coaches, there was some dispute in 
 which the ax must go — old Balmerino cried, 
 'Come, come, put it v/ith me.' At the bar he 
 played with his fingers on the ax while he talked 
 to the jailer. One day somebod}^ coming up to 
 listen, he took the blade and held it like a fan 
 between their faces. At t he trial in Westminster, 
 one day a little boy stood near him, but was not 
 tall enough to see; he made room for the child 
 and placed him near himself. He said that one 
 of his reasons for his pleading 'not guilty' was, 
 that 'so many ladies might not be disappointed 
 of their show.' " 
 
 Balmerino kept up his spirits to the same 
 pitch of gayety. In the cell at Westminster, 
 while waiting on the court for sentence after 
 their conviction, he showed Lord Kilmarnock how 
 he must lay his head ; bid him not to wince lest 
 the stroke should cut his skull or his shoulders, 
 and advised him to bite his lips. After sentence, 
 as they were about to return to the Tower, he 
 begged they might have another bottle together, 
 as they should never meet anymore till — then 
 pointed to his neck. On arriving at the Tower, 
 he said to the jailer as he got out of the coach, 
 "Take care, or you'll break my shins with this 
 d — d ax." When they brought in his death-war- 
 
TOWER OF LONDON. 83 
 
 rant to read to him, he was seated at dinner. 
 His wife fainted. He jumped up to her assist- 
 ance, and said : "Lieutenant, with your d — d war- 
 rant you have spoilt my lady's stomach." 
 
 On the day of their execution, as he took leave 
 of Lord Kilmarnock for the last time, he said : 
 "My Lord, I wish I could suffer for both!'' He 
 died with the intrepidity of a hero. 
 
 Lord Lovat was executed on Tower Hill on 
 the same block, and with the same ax here to be 
 seen, in April of the next year, 1747. This was 
 the last use of the beheading-block in England; 
 and while standing here in the Tower, viewing 
 the ax and the block, we were forcibly reminded 
 of the incidents here narrated. 
 
 In the state prison room the name "lANE," in 
 ancient characters, is cut in the wall; it attracts 
 much attention from visitors, for it is supposed 
 that this name was cut here by Lord Guildford 
 Dudley, when he was confined in a separate 
 prison from his unhappy wife. This is the only 
 memorial preserved of Lady Jane Grey in the 
 Tower. 
 
 Queen Anne Boleyn was kept a prisoner in the 
 royal apartments of the Tower before and after 
 she was condemned to death ; she was beheaded, 
 as stated, "on the Green by the White Tower," 
 less than four years after her marriage to Henry 
 VIII. 
 
 Ancient accounts describe Queen Anne as very 
 
84 TOWER OF LONDON. 
 
 beautiful ; one writer speaks of her as "rivalling 
 Venus." But a lady of the time writes, in ref- 
 erence to Mistress Anne's flirtations with King 
 Henry VIII, in her diary: "Mistress Ann is not 
 his spouse yet, nor ever will be, I hope." 
 
 But Mistress Anne drew the king deeper by 
 her wiles, until he was forced to such declara- 
 tions as follows: "My heart and I surrender 
 themselves into your hands, and we supplicate 
 to be commended to your good graces, and that 
 by absence your affection may not be diminished 
 to us, for that would be to augment our pain, 
 which would be a great pity, since absence gives 
 enough, and more than I ever thought could be 
 felt, &c." 
 
 An ancient account says in regard to her 
 execution, that proper preparations had not been 
 made and that "her body was thrown into an elm 
 chest to put arrows in, and was buried in the 
 Chapel of the Tower before twelve o'clock." 
 
 Of all the distinguished men that were con- 
 fined in the Tower, perhaps Sir Walter Raleigh 
 is the most interesting character. He was im- 
 prisoned for twelve years in the Bloody Tower. 
 It was here he was visited by Prince Henry, who 
 one day said to an attendant as he left the pres- 
 ence of Sir Walter : "No king, save my father, 
 would keep such a bird in such a cage." Sir Walter 
 devoted much of his time to chemistry, and the 
 Lieutenant of the Tower wrote of him: "He has 
 
TOWER OF LONDON. 86 
 
 converted a little hen-house in the garden into a 
 still-house, and here he doth spend his time all 
 the day in distillations. * * * * he doth show 
 himself upon the wall in his garden to the view 
 of the people." Here he wrote political dis- 
 courses and commenced his "History." 
 
 On the morning of his execution, it is related 
 that his keeper brought him a cup of sack, and 
 inquired how he liked it; he said, "it was a good 
 drink, if a man might tarry by it." As he trod 
 the scaffold, he touched the ax and said: "This 
 is sharp medicine, but it will cure all diseases." 
 
 The Bishop of Salisbury who attended at his 
 execution, declared: "His was the most fearless 
 of deaths that ever was known and the most res- 
 olute and confident, yet with reverence and con- 
 science !" 
 
 Many visitors read in the Beauchamp Tower, 
 the pathetic inscriptions that were carved on 
 these walls by prisoners who were never more to 
 breathe the free air. The descendants of the 
 men who persecuted them, pay a small sum to 
 come here now and read these tangible eviden- 
 ces of their despair. 
 
 The one thought that impresses the student 
 of humanity, while walking through the gloomy 
 passages of these ancient prisons and palaces is, 
 that the world is certainly better now than it 
 used to be; at least, it is more refined in its cruel- 
 ties. 
 
WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 To an American traveler who is concerned in 
 the past history of his race, there is no more in- 
 teresting spot on earth than Westminster Abbey ; 
 for he will perceive here-exemplified by tangible 
 objects the continuity of England's history dur- 
 ing a period of a thousand years. 
 
 Throughout these centuries the chief actors in 
 great historic events — their careers ended — have 
 been brought here for interment. Not only the 
 mortal remains of kings and queens but of sol- 
 diers, scholars and poets ; men of action and 
 men of thought ; the greatest of their time, rest 
 here. 
 
 Here then, the intelligent American traveler 
 will be stirred by the memories of the past as 
 nowhere else on his journey; and to this spot 
 he will turn with the deepest interest. 
 
 This venerable and splendid edifice was origi- 
 nally founded by Segbert, King of the East Sax- 
 ons. It was rebuilt by Edward the Confessor; 
 after his time it was destroyed by fire,and again 
 rebuilt during the reign of the three Edwards. 
 In the reign of Henry VII, that monarch added 
 the chapel known by his name, and it finally 
 86 
 
WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 87 
 
 came under the care of the great architect, Sir 
 Christopher Wren. 
 
 The architectural order is Gothic, and its 
 walls are built of cream-colored sandstone called 
 "Caen Stone." 
 
 The best view of the Abbey externally is from 
 the open space in front of the western entrance. 
 Entering here, the body of the church presents a 
 grand and impressive appearance ;the whole de- 
 sign being at once opened to the view ; its lofty 
 roof, beautifully colored lights, and long arcades 
 of columns. 
 
 The present church is not the work of one 
 generation, but of five centuries. In the year 
 1478 Edward IV wrote to the Pope at Rome, in 
 which letter he speaks of the Abbey as "placed 
 before the eyes of the whole world of English- 
 men," and to which any favor shown would be 
 "welcome to all of English blood." 
 
 Thus we see, the interest now so widely felt in 
 this venerable church has existed throughout 
 generations. During these years the great vic- 
 tories won by English armies have been celebra- 
 ted by processions and Te Deums beneath its 
 roof. 
 
 The Chapter House of the Abbey where Par- 
 liament frequently assembled for three centuries, 
 may well be called "the cradle of Parliamentary 
 government" of England and her Colonies. Also 
 through many centuries this stately edifice has 
 
88 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 been the scene of coronations, royal marriages, 
 and funerals. 
 
 The principal points of interest are The Nave, 
 Henry VII Chapel, Confessor's Chapel, Poet's 
 Corner and Jerusalem Chamber. 
 
 Henry VII erected this Chapel as a place of 
 burial for himself and sovereigns of England. 
 It is even yet — though frayed and dimmed by 
 time — one of the most exquisite specimens of 
 florid Gothic architecture. Its walls are covered 
 with a lace-like pattern, and every part is en- 
 riched with a minute tracery and hundreds of 
 roses, portcullises, fleur-de-lis and grey-hounds; 
 emblems of the royal families represented. 
 
 The windows are filled with painted glass, and 
 the light which streams through them is tinged 
 with a glow of warm colors that heighten the 
 effect of the scene. 
 
 Henry VII was buried here on the 10th of 
 May, )509, in a gorgeous shrine inlaid with gold 
 and silver. But the rude soldiery of the Civil 
 War stripped off the gold and silver wherever 
 they could find it, and they marred and obliter- 
 ated much of the beauty of this tomb, as well 
 as of others which have been fashioned by hands 
 of unequalled skill. 
 
 Cromwell's Roundheads showed but scanty re- 
 spect for monuments and memorials. 
 
 As side by side they recline upon their tomb, 
 the effigies of King Henry VII and his queen, 
 
WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 89 
 
 even to this day excite the deepest admiration. 
 It is said that muscular modelling and anatomy 
 were sculptured here for the first time, true to 
 nature. Bacon speaks of this tomb as "one of 
 the stateliest and daintiest monuments of 
 Europe." 
 
 Henry VII entered into a formal written agree- 
 ment with the Monastery of Westminster, as to 
 the religious observances to be held in this 
 chapel "whilst the world shall endure," not- 
 withstanding this, in less than fifty years after 
 his death, "the last flicker of the tapers had died 
 out at his shrine." 
 
 Near by in the white marble tomb erected by 
 James I rest the bodies of Queen Elizabeth and 
 her half-sister, Queen Mary, in the same grave. 
 On this tomb reclines the magnificent effigy of 
 the haughty Queen Elizabeth, carved in Parian 
 marble. 
 
 This tomb bears the following Latin inscrip- 
 tion : '■''Begno Gonso7'tes et urna^ hie ahdorimus 
 mizabetha et Maria sorores, in spe reserrec- 
 tionis.''^ 
 
 Dean Stanley remarked on this pathetic epi- 
 taph: "The long war of the English Reformation 
 isc losed in these words. The sisters are at one, 
 the daughter of Katharine of Arragon and the 
 daughter of AnneBoleyn rest in peace, at last." 
 
 It is a singular fact that the last royal tombs 
 erected in the Abbey, are the one of Elizabeth and 
 
90 WESTMINSTEE ABBEY. 
 
 Mary, and the one adjoining which contains the 
 remains of Mary Queen of Scotts. On this tomb 
 which was also erected by James I in honor of 
 his mother, rests the exquisite marble effigy of 
 that beautiful, unfortunate queen. 
 
 Fourteen sovereigns have sat on the throne 
 since Elizabeth, yet no monument has been 
 erected here to any one of them, not so much as 
 even a line of inscription .carved ! 
 
 At coronations that have taken place since the 
 time of Edward I in Westminster, the monarch 
 has alwaj^s been seated in a large oaken chair, 
 called "King Edward's chair." 
 
 This chair is very quaintly carved and is now 
 dark with age. It was made for Edward I as 
 a coronation chair and contains an under seat 
 on which rests the "Scone stone," which is in 
 appearance a limestone. Its history is briefly 
 as follows: When Edward I overran Scotland 
 in the year 1297, he seized this precious stone 
 on which the Scotch monarchs had been crowned 
 for many generations, and took it to England 
 where it was placed in Westminster Abbe}'. 
 
 The funeral of Henry Y was the most im- 
 posing, perhaps, ever held in Westminster up to 
 that time. His three chargers were led up to 
 the altar behind his effigy, which was dressed in 
 royal robes and lay on the splendid car; "accom- 
 pained by white robed priests innumerable." 
 
 Five hundred men-at-arms dressed in black, 
 
WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 91 
 
 with lances reversed, and three hundred more 
 with torches, made an impressive scene. The 
 funeral helmet, saddle and shield of this warrior 
 king were hung on a cross-beam, where al- 
 though frayed and falling to pieces from age, 
 they are still to be seen in their places. Dean 
 Stanley refers to this helmet as, "the very 
 casque that did affright the air at Agincourt !" 
 
 Literary associations are connected in our 
 minds with Westminster Abbey almost as closely 
 as the historical memorials which crowd its 
 walls. The American visitor here for the first 
 time anticipates joyously the prospect of look- 
 ing on the famous "Poets' Corner." 
 
 And the very first tomb he will come to is that 
 of Geoifrey Chaucer, the father of English po- 
 etry. He died in 1400 and his was the first 
 tomb in Poets' Corner. Two hundred years 
 later, Edmund Spenser, the next great poet after 
 Chaucer, was buried here near his tomb. An 
 ancient poet wrote in Latin verse: "He was the 
 nearest to Chaucer in genius and it is meet that 
 his grave should be next to his." Drayton said 
 of him: "Master Edmund Spenser has done 
 enough for the immortality of his name had he 
 only given us his Shepherd's Calendar." 
 
 It is a tradition that Drayton, together with 
 his companions, Ben Jonson and Shakespeare, 
 attended the funeral of Spenser. For an ancient 
 account nays : "Poets attended upon his hearse. 
 
92 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 and mournful elegies with the pens that wrote 
 them, were thrown into his tomb!" 
 
 If it were so that records are as imperishable 
 in the dust of Westminster as in the sands of 
 Egypt — then this tomb of the poet Spenser 
 should be unclosed to recover the "mournful el- 
 egy" written by the hand of Shakespeare! 
 
 Clustered near by the tombs of Chaucer and 
 Spenser are the monuments or cenotaphs of 
 Shakespeare, Milton, Ben Jonson, Campbell, 
 etc., down to our own time: such as Tennyson, 
 Macaulay, Beaconsfield, Dickens, Browaing and 
 our own Longfellow and Lowell. Very few of 
 them are buried here. 
 
 Ben Jonson, the friend of Shakespeare, was 
 buried here in the "Nave," Poets' Corner, in an 
 upright position and a modern paving stone now 
 marks the place. The ancient stone that covered 
 his remains was placed in its present position 
 against the wall in 1821 to preserve its incrip- 
 tion : "O rare Ben Jonson !" 
 
 His singular burial in a standing position is 
 explained as follows : One day being rallied by 
 the Dean of Westminster about being buried 
 in "Poets' Corner," the poet is said to have re- 
 plied : "I am too poor for that and no one w^ill 
 layout funeral charges upon me. No sir, six feet 
 long by two feet wide is too much for me ; two 
 feet by two will do for all I want." 
 
 "You shall have it," said the Dean, and thus 
 the conversation ended. 
 
WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 9S 
 
 The world famous inscription: "O rare Ben 
 Jonson," lias been attributed to Sir William 
 Davenant, who succeeded Jonson as poet laur- 
 eate and on whose tomb is found the same ex- 
 pression, "O rare Sir William Davenant!" 
 
 Shakespeare's monument, erected more than 
 a hundred years after his death, was called by 
 Horace Walpole, "a preposterous monument," 
 — this phrase may be applicable to it. However, 
 there is a compensation in the circumstance that 
 on the scroll held by his life-size efRgy, there 
 are engraved his own immortal lines — peculiarly 
 applicable to these surroundings where earthly 
 grandeur is fading away. 
 
 "The cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself. 
 Yea; all which it inherit shall dissolve, 
 And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
 Leave not a rack behind." 
 
 The tomb of Edward I, the greatest of the 
 Plantagenets, is the plainest of all the royal 
 tombs, — a simple box-like coffin of stone ; but it 
 bears the following epitaph, which is said to be 
 the most stirring of those which belong to the 
 Reformation period: ^^Edvardus Primus, malleus 
 Scotorum, hie est Pactum serva.^'' 
 
 The lines on the monument of Oliver Gold- 
 smith, written by his friend Dr. Johnson, have 
 been thought very fine ; in fact, many have 
 searched for them in vain among the classics, as 
 
94 WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 
 
 others have done for Sterne's "shorn lamb," in 
 the Bible. They are as follows : 
 
 "Qwi 7iullum fere scribendi genus non tetigit, 
 nullum tetigit quod non ornavit.''^ That is to say : 
 "Who left scarcely any style of writing untouch 
 ed, and touched nothing that he did not adorn." 
 
 Another quaint epitaph, expressed so nobly by 
 an unknown author of the seventeenth century, 
 is inscribed on the tomb of the Duchess of New- 
 castle, as follows: "She was a wise and learned 
 lady, as her many books do testify, and was the 
 youngest sister of a noble family; all the broth- 
 ers were valiant and all the sisters virtuous." 
 
 The bust of the American poet, Longfellow, 
 was placed here two years after his death, "by 
 his English admirers." 
 
 One has been recently erected to the American 
 writer Low^ell, w^ho became popular as minister 
 to England, also in literature. These comprise 
 the only monuments to Am-ericans, but there are 
 a number here to individuals who have been con- 
 nected with our history. 
 
 In the North Transept stands a lofty monu- 
 ment to the Earl of Chatham, the "Great Com- 
 moner," and the friend of the American colonies. 
 His last speech was in the House of Lords in 
 1778, when, in a dying condition, he insisted on 
 coming to oppose Lord North's government. 
 After delivering his great historic appeal in 
 defense of the American colonies, he fell down 
 
WESTMINSTER ABBEY. 95 
 
 in his seat from exhaustion, and died a few weeks 
 afterwards. 
 
 Here is a monument to Major Andre, Adjutant 
 General of the British forces in North America. 
 As is well known, he was captured while on a 
 secret mission to Arnold at West Point. After 
 a trial by court martial, he was condemned and 
 hung as a spy. His monument was erected at 
 the expense of George III, and forty years after- 
 ward his remains were brought here and in- 
 terred near its base. On this shaft, there is a 
 bas-relief likeness of Washington receiving the 
 petition in which Andre implored for a soldier's 
 rather than a felon's death. There is on the 
 opposite side a bas-relief representing Andre on 
 the way to execution. 
 
 On the monument of Handel, the composer, 
 there is engraved on the stone scroll before him, 
 the text with notes : "I know that my Redeemer 
 liveth," which he so grandly illustrated by the 
 music of his "Messiah." 
 
 The marble tiles of this historic edifice have 
 been worn by the foot-steps of those who them- 
 selves, "after life's fitful fever," have found 
 graves or cenotaphs beneath its roof. The 
 learned Elizabeth, Shakespeare, Milton, Ben 
 Jonson, Dryden, Scott, Macaulay, Thackeray, 
 Tennyson, and Dickens have all walked here 
 while reading the inscriptions on these ancient 
 tombs. 
 
THE BATTLEFIELD OF 
 WATERLOO. 
 
 We could not leave Brussels without visiting- 
 the battle field of Waterloo. Here, where in. 
 June, 1815, the united nations drew the sword 
 against Napoleon, and 72,000 French faced the 
 English and allies numbering 70,000 men, now 
 grow broad fields of golden grain. 
 
 On that 18th day of June, thousands of horse- 
 men had gathered here, and here was "the gal- 
 lop, the charge, and the might of the fight." 
 
 We drove out to the battlefield with a small 
 party of tourists; the distance from the city is 
 fifteen miles, and the road wiads through parks 
 and the famous woods of Soignies. All agreed 
 that it was a most picturesque and enjoj^able 
 ride, and a few men of the party who were 
 interested in this world famous battle, were more 
 or less excited by anticipation of the scene they 
 were to look upon, after passing the village of 
 Waterloo. 
 
 We stopped at this village, and inspected the 
 
 house in which Wellington slept the night after 
 
 the battle. He reached this place about midnight 
 
 of that memorable day, and dated his despatches 
 
 96 
 
THE BATTLEFIELD OF WATERLOO. 97 
 
 from "Waterloo," announcing his victory, which 
 circumstance gave the name to the battle. 
 
 The village has not changed much perhaps, 
 since his day, and is quaint and old-fashioned in 
 every respect. The bed upon which he slept 
 after his great victory is still here — an ancient 
 common bedstead, very plain, like every thing 
 else in this humble house — common, and of 
 rough and ancient workmanship. 
 
 As we passed on from here the broad fields 
 opened before us, now covered with golden 
 grain almost ready for the harvest. Wheat, 
 barley, oats and red clover waved to the wind 
 where the charging squadron had trampled the 
 blood-stained earth, on the 18th of June, 1815. 
 
 We went all over the battlefield, and tarried 
 long at Hougoumont, where the French had tar- 
 ried too long on that fateful day. We walked 
 across the plain where Ney, "The Bravest of the 
 Brave," had led the desperate charges, and 
 where the "Old Guard" had "died." 
 
 We stood at the spot where Wellington had 
 given the command to the Scotch Grenadiers, in 
 the patois of the guide : "Oop guarrd and at 'em, 
 and de guarrds joost joomp oop, and shoot 
 boom, boom!" 
 
 The famous "Sunken road" does not appear 
 to us a very formidable obstacle, as our cavalry 
 in the late war did at times charge over rougher 
 places than this ; but the plain has been some- 
 
93 THE BATTLEFIELD OF WATERLOO. 
 
 what lowered to the road, by taking off earth 
 to make the huge Belgian mount, on which rests 
 the great lion. 
 
 The fanciful description of Waterloo by Victor 
 Hugo in his Les Jliserables is commonly ac- 
 cepted as a real description of the battle. 
 From his account of it, one might well conclude 
 that he had not been on this field at all. But 
 we were shown a brief autograph letter of his, 
 in which he states that he was well pleased with 
 the little hotel at the foot of the Belgian mount, 
 where his autograph is preserved in a frame as 
 a precious relic. 
 
 This mound, which was erected by the Bel- 
 gians and on top of wnich rests an immense 
 Belgian lion in bronze, occupies the center of 
 the battle-field. From this summit one can view 
 the whole scene. 
 
 It is a beautiful prospect now, but on that 
 fateful day it was a sight to stir the soldiers' 
 blood ; when twenty thousand cavalry spurred 
 across these fields — the Cuirassiers in their bur- 
 nished armor, the" Chasseurs in blue and gold, 
 and the red Lancers — all the veterans of many 
 battles — and directed by a general before that 
 time invincible — and who swept obstacles from 
 his path as the tornado sweeps the sea ! 
 
 Now, all is peace. Hougoumont is here, and 
 La Belle Alliance, the sunken road, and La 
 Haye Sainte — but the soldiers are gone; and the 
 
THE BATTLEFIELD OF WATERLOO. 99 
 
 blue sky is above, and the golden grain below. 
 
 Our guide on this historic field was the son of 
 a man wh(? had witnessed the battle, and who had 
 acted as a guide to Generals Grant and Sheridan 
 when they visited Waterloo. 
 
 Only a few weeks before our visit here we 
 had stood on the field of Gettysburg. These 
 battle-fields are not dissimilar, only Gettysburg 
 is more broken and less favorable to equality in 
 battle than Waterloo. 
 
 When we are informed that as many men 
 were slain here in one day as fell on the field of 
 Gettysburg in three days' battle, we begin to 
 realize the nature and extent of the terrible 
 struggle that changed the whole map o*f Europe. 
 
 We saw many relics for sale here — of course 
 they are all manufactured for the purpose — still, 
 they "come from Waterloo" and American and 
 English travelers will buy them. 
 
 In the "Grand Place" in Brussels, we saw the 
 building where it is said the Duchess of Richmond 
 held the ball the night before Waterloo, and 
 which is preserved in Byron's magnificent 
 description in Childe Harold. 
 
SWITZERLAND. 
 
 Lucerne, July 28. 
 
 We arrived in Lucerne last night, having 
 come from Heidelburg, where we had spent a 
 day or two pleasantly. We visited the old castle 
 of Heidelburg, the most massive and picturesque 
 ruin in Germany. The whole surroundings of 
 this ancient castle, with its ruined towers, moats, 
 bridges and background of mountains covered 
 with forests, present a picture wild and strange. 
 
 One of the notable relics of the castle is the 
 *'Great Tun," which holds 49,000 gallons of 
 wine. 
 
 The University of Heidelburg is the most an- 
 cient and one of the largest of this empire. 
 We noted here as one of the curious features 
 the "student's prison," the interior walls of 
 which were covered over with pencil sketches, 
 crude paintings and inscriptions in German, 
 Latin, French and a tew in English. 
 
 We could not understand very well why it was 
 necessary to have a prison for University stu- 
 dents ; but later on we came to the conclusion 
 that it was an appropriate and useful institu- 
 tion; at least this was our thought after viewing 
 100 
 
SWITZERLAND. 101 
 
 the beer-drinking and duelling of these wild 
 blades. 
 
 It so happened that we visited the students' 
 quarters beyond the Necker just at a time when 
 they seemed to be having — what they would 
 call — a good time, as they were engaged in the ser- 
 ious business of drinking beer and fighting duels. 
 
 One young man — a fair-haired, manly looking 
 fellow — who had just finished a duel, had his 
 scalp padded with raw cotton, and upon his 
 cheek were several clean cuts of the rapier — 
 while the cloth upon his shoulder was saturated 
 with his young blood. It seemed a strange 
 thing to us who had seen soldiers put forth their 
 strength in battle — this mimicry of war. 
 
 Yet it somewhat tests the native metal of the 
 young combatant, and to his phlegmatic Ger- 
 man temperament brings a glory and an honor, 
 almost equal to that the soldier wins in the 
 press of charging squadrons. 
 
 The eyes of the fencers are protected by gog- 
 gles, and the throat and the upper part of the 
 chest are padded, to secure protection against a 
 mortal wound. 
 
 A duel began shortly after our arrival. One 
 of the combatants was a left-handed young man, 
 and the other larger and apparently braver in 
 the start, but the tables were soon turned. The 
 thrusts of the left-handed fencer are difficult to 
 parry as a usual thing, and it proved so in this 
 
102 SWITZERLAND. 
 
 instance. But really these students did not 
 "thrust" at all, as that would inevitably result 
 in severe or mortal wounds while fencing with 
 sharp-pointed weapons. They simply slashed 
 away at each other over hand, but with such 
 quick and skillful cuts as to prove them mas- 
 ters of fence. 
 
 The left-handed combatant soon slashed his 
 opponent upon the cheek with a vicious stroke 
 of his rapier that laid it open and made the 
 blood spurt. Then the seconds interposed be- 
 tween them their own crossed rapiers and 
 stopped the fight. After the wounded swords- 
 man had been sponged off and examined by the 
 surgeon, the fray was continued in the same 
 manner, with pauses between wounds, to see if 
 they were serious — and thus the fight went on, 
 until the worsted swordsman was bleeding from 
 many wounds — such ugly cuts as would scar his 
 head and face for life. 
 
 We thought the above scene was a pretty 
 lively introduction to Heidelburg, about whose 
 classic shades we had been reading from early 
 youth. 
 
 At night we drove over the Necker again, to 
 view the illumination on the opposite heights. 
 This illumination is given annually by the cit- 
 izens in honor of the students, after they have 
 passed their examinations. 
 
 From our observation of these same students 
 
SWITZERLAND. 103 
 
 we began to rate them as pretty lively chaps, and 
 concluded there ought to be nothing tame in an 
 illumination given in their honor — and there 
 was not. 
 
 At the signal, the firing of a cannon from an 
 ancient port of the Castle, its massive walls sud- 
 denly burst into a blaze of light, "from turret to 
 foundation stone." This was taken up by the 
 other castles along the heights and by the 
 bridges and the boats in the river, until one was 
 dazzled by the flash of rockets, and the general 
 rejoicing and confusion. 
 
 We had been fortunate in passing up the Rhine 
 valley in the midst of the harvest season ; we 
 thus had an opportunity to observe the peasant 
 class at work. 
 
 A number of harvest laborers came into a sta- 
 tion where we were resting ; they laid down their 
 harvest implements while they took their glass 
 of beer. These we examined closely, and were 
 surprised to see how primitive and crude they 
 were as compared with ours in America. 
 
 Their hay forks were simply a forked stick 
 cut from the woods ; their cradles had a short 
 blade, such as we call a "brier scythe," and 
 also very short fingers; their flails, which they 
 also carried, had a handle as long as a fork 
 handle, and the flail end was about three inches 
 thick with square corners. Such are the har- 
 vest implements that can be seen in this age in 
 enlightened Germany. 
 
104 SWITZERLAND. 
 
 While passing through Baden, we noticed that 
 the peasants very often work their cows for 
 oxen, but use no yokes. The cattle pull alto- 
 gether by their heads by straps fastened under 
 their horns. In this way they pull in a line 
 with their spinal column, and seem to draw 
 light loads with more ease than do ours with 
 the yoke and bow, which latter often twists and 
 chokes the steer. In Italy, on the Campagna 
 one sees them plowing with their buffalo oxen, 
 four abreast, one yoke extending over all. 
 
 In Europe one sees no fences on the farm lands ; 
 wood is scarce, and even iron cross-ties are com- 
 ing in use on the railroads. In our country the 
 fences are said to cost more than all the dwell- 
 ings and other buildings of every description. 
 
 To-day in Lucerne we have spent the greater 
 part of the time in walking on the banks of the 
 beautiful lake, and gazing on the snow-capped 
 mountains almost with awe, the prospect is so 
 enchanting. 
 
 Of course we visited the "Lion of Thorwald- 
 sen" — hewn in the face of the solid rock, lies 
 stretched in the agonies of death a dying lion, 
 a broken spear piercing his side. This great work 
 of the sculptor commemorates the Swiss soldiers, 
 who laid down their lives to defend Louis XVI 
 of France, 1792. They are commonly known as 
 the "Swiss Guard," and eight hundred perished 
 in their endeavor to defend the Tuileries and 
 
SWITZERLAND. 105 
 
 that ill-starred monarch. Above the sculpture is 
 carved in the rock the Latin legend: '^Helveti- 
 orum Jidei virtiUi^'''' (The faith and valor of 
 Switzerland!) 
 
 This reminds us that we passed yesterday 
 through Sempach, in the battle at which place 
 Arnold von Winkelried broke through the Aus- 
 trian phalanx, and "thus made way for liberty." 
 
 At Stanz, seven miles from Lucerne, the na- 
 tive place of this hero, on each anniversary of the 
 battle, there is a grand festival and a gathering 
 of the mountaineers from all the surrounding 
 country — "For what avail the plow or sail, or 
 land or life if freedom fail?" Stanz is also the 
 place where Pestalozzi, the great Swiss teacher 
 and educational reformer, first established his 
 school. 
 
 From Lucerne we went to the top of the 
 "Rhigi Kulm,"one of the noted, isolated peaks 
 of the Alps. Here is a fine hotel, where we 
 passed the night, but were aroused at half-past 
 three in the morning to view the sunrise from 
 this great height. The Alpine horn echoed loud 
 and long, before the sleepy travellers could be 
 awakened from their slumbers; but it was well 
 worth their while, for the day broke fair, and 
 the sunrise scene of the gilded mountain peaks, 
 and the glaciers were grand and beautiful beyond 
 expression. The prospect from this mountain 
 embraces a circuit of three hundred miles. 
 
106 SWITZERLAND. 
 
 The peasant girls here sold the rare eidelweiss 
 flower to the travelers ; they are not found on 
 this mountain, but are brought by the guides 
 from near the snow line of the tallest peaks. 
 
 We descended the mountain by the railroad 
 which is built on what is called "the rack and 
 pinion system" — that is there are three rails 
 with a cog-wheel that works under the locomo- 
 tive and on the center rail. The locomotive is 
 always placed below the passenger car, and only 
 one car is taken at a time, as the gradient is one 
 foot in four at the steepest point. 
 
 We took the steamboat at Vitznaw, bound for 
 Fluelen at the foot of the lake. From Fluelen to 
 Milan, through the heart of the Alps, we passed 
 through fifty-six tunnels and traveled twenty-five 
 and a half miles under ground. The St. Gotthard 
 tunnel proper, is nine and a half miles long — a 
 mile or tw^o longer than the Mont Cenis tunnel. 
 Here, on the St. Gotthard, the head springs of 
 the Rhine, the Ehone and the Inn are within a 
 stone's throw^ of each other. 
 
 Lucerne is called the "Lake of the Four Forest 
 Cantons" and the magnificence of its scenery, 
 perhaps, is not surpassed in any country. Many 
 places upon its beautiful banks are associated 
 with noted events and traditions of Switzerland 
 in her long struggle to maintain freedom. 
 
VENICE. 
 
 Venice, August 2. 
 
 We arrived in ancient Venice two days ago, 
 and in the picturesque gondolas have floated up 
 and down the Grand Canal and through many a 
 winding way, looking upon the architectural dis- 
 play of buildings whose glory has departed; but 
 beauty still is here where "the sprinkled isles, 
 lily on lily, o'erlace the sea." 
 
 Magnificent palaces, adorned exteriorly by 
 sculptures of most eminent artists, line these 
 canals; they are now time- stained and falling to 
 decay. Venice, we are told, is on eighty islands, 
 and has one hundred and forty seven canals ;the 
 Grand Canal being two miles long, winding in 
 serpentine fashion through the city. This is the 
 objective point of visitors and people of all races 
 and countries are here to be seen. 
 
 At the time of our arrival a great gondola 
 race had just closed and we had an opportunity 
 to see gondoliers in their gala-day costumes, blue, 
 white, green, with orange and golden sashes, 
 and their oriental caps, swarthy features, and 
 dark, curly locks, lithe and graceful figures — 
 they presented an appearance graceful in the 
 107 
 
108 VENICE. 
 
 extreme as they stood erect upon their beautiful 
 boats and with long sweeps of the oar sent them 
 rapidly through the water. 
 
 The Grand Canal has been called by some one 
 the greatest street in the world ; it must certainly 
 be the strangest thoroughfare of all the earth ! 
 
 In going to our hotel, "The Beau Rivage," 
 we passed under the Rialto bridge, and also the 
 Ponte dei Sos2)iri, or "Bridge of Sighs," which 
 latter, Howells, theAmerican writer, calls ''a pa- 
 thetic swindle." This bridge led from the 
 criminal courts in the palace to the dungeons 
 on the opposite side of the canal ; it was here 
 that Byron stood at midnight with "a palace 
 and a prison on either hand." 
 
 We went down into the prisons which are dis- 
 mal and awful in every detail ; here we entered 
 "the cell of the condemned," where prisoners 
 are kept for a few hours before execution. This 
 cell contained a loose stone that might be used 
 for a pillow, and that was all ; on this stone the 
 condemned man might lay his head and sleep 
 upon the granite floor, if sleep then could come 
 to him. 
 
 In the narrow passage leading to this room 
 was a scant, barred window, after passing which 
 the prisoner was never again permitted to see 
 the light of the earth. The guide informed us 
 that now there were about three hundred crimi- 
 nals in these prisons but none in the condemned 
 cell. 
 
VENICE. 109 
 
 For nearly eleven hundred years Venice was 
 governed by the Doges, and she was the ruler 
 not only of the Adriatic, but her fleets controlled 
 all the Mediterranean waters. 
 
 Ruskin called Venice, as viewed by moonlight, 
 "a golden city paved with emerald." Its long 
 and wonderful history is written in the sculp- 
 tures and paintings that adorn its walls, wrought 
 by the master hands of Titian, Tintoretto, Paul 
 Veronese and Canova. 
 
 This is still one of the most religious cities of It- 
 aly, and in these gorgeous churches prayer never 
 ceases, night or day. 
 
 In the square of St. Mark, surrounded by the 
 church of St. Mark, the Doges' palace, the Kings' 
 palace and the Campanile, the beauty and fash- 
 ion of the city congregate at night to see and be 
 seen. 
 
 Here on the night of our arrival we walked 
 along among the varied throng and listened 
 to the soft and pleasant sound of the Venetian 
 dialect. The scene was strange and attractive to 
 us,being surrounded by more architectural beauty 
 than we have seen in any other city. The sailors 
 with their large ear-rings, the dark-eyed, lithe- 
 some girls with their queenly step, the strange 
 music, and the courteous and joyous bearing of 
 all the vast throng, made a charming picture. 
 
 We visited St. Marks Church in the morning, 
 and wandered through the great rooms of the 
 
110 VENICE. 
 
 Doges' palace, and gazed upon the glorious mas- 
 ters, until our eyes when closed at night could 
 still see pictures. 
 
 There is one feature about these paintings and 
 frescoes that seems astonishing. They are as 
 fresh and bright to-day as if the artist had 
 painted them yesterday. This is accounted for 
 by the fact that this is the only city in the 
 world where there are no horses and streets and 
 no dust ; and here the paintings of the old mas- 
 ters are fresher and brighter than in other cities. 
 
 We visited the "Church of the Frari" which 
 may be called the Pantheon of Venice, as many 
 of her gifted sons are here buried, while some 
 of their best works adorn the church. Titian 
 and Canova are buried here under monuments 
 of such exquisite workmanship as to be worthy 
 of their genius. 
 
 We saw in the Library of the "Doges' palace" 
 the "Golden Book" in which are recorded the 
 coats of arms, and the pedigrees of the Doges, 
 and viewed an autograph letter of Gallileo, and 
 the writing of Dante. Then we were compelled 
 to take our departure from this strange, unique 
 city of the sea. 
 
ROME. 
 
 "The hand that rounded Peter's dome, 
 
 And groined the aisles of Christian Rome, 
 
 Wrought in sad sincerity. 
 
 Himself from God he could not free; 
 
 He builded better than he knew: 
 
 The conscious stone to beauty grew." 
 
 Rome, Augusts, 1892. 
 
 Yesterday, we visited St. Peter's, traversed 
 its immense nave and aisles, and gazed with 
 wonder upon its stupendous dimensions and 
 with admiration upon the works of Bramante 
 and Michael Angelo. 
 
 It seems as if heaven had endowed Angelo 
 with gifts supernatural; at once architect, 
 painter, poet, sculptor, and in each excelling 
 the best of the best. 
 
 We are told, three hundred and fifty years 
 passed away and forty-three Popes reigned dur- 
 ing the time from the commencement of St. 
 Peters to its completion. It is now the largest 
 church in the world. The ceiling of the Sistine 
 Chapel is regarded as the culminating effort of 
 modern art, and none but the master hand of 
 Michael Angelo, a painter in architectural ef- 
 fects without peer, could have produced the life- 
 Ill 
 
112 ROME. 
 
 like figures that stand forth on these walls, the 
 admiration of pilgrims from every country. 
 
 "The best prophet of the future is the past;'^ 
 then what lessons are to be read here in Rome 
 — in marble, in bronze, in painting, and in her 
 vast ruins. Those who can read — may read in 
 the bas-reliefs on the columns of Trajan and 
 Antoninus the history of their times and deeds 
 as plainly as the day on which they were writ- 
 ten. 
 
 Last night we drove to the Colosseum and 
 walked alone through its gigantic arches. The 
 moon was shining, making golden bands across 
 the dark shadows and all was silent, as we were 
 the only ones within the vast ruins where in the 
 olden times 87,000 spectators had applauded 
 the contests of gladiators and wild beasts. If 
 these mighty walls could repeat the sounds they 
 have echoed, the darkest page in history could 
 be written. 
 
 In the days of Augustus, the "Imperial" city 
 must have numbered two millions of people ; 
 some historians claim that it then contained 
 seven million. 
 
 We saw to-day the marble font in which 
 Constantine the Great, the first Christian em- 
 peror of Rome, was baptized; also, the marble 
 slab on which Charlemagne stood when he was 
 crowned emperor. 
 
 And here lived Virgil, "that landscape lover^ 
 
ROME. 113 
 
 lord of language;" and Cicero, the orator and 
 great master of composition ; and Livy with his 
 wonderful powers of description ; and Tasso, the 
 epic poet; and Tacitus, the historian, with his 
 profound insight into the dark recesses of hu- 
 man conduct; all were here and have passed 
 away. 
 
 Rome since the consolidation of the kingdom 
 has made rapid strides in modern improvements 
 and may still be considered one of the beautiful 
 cities of the world. Its streets, public squares, 
 churches, palaces, and multitudes of public build- 
 ings, built in a style of elegance and solidity ;its 
 obelisks and columns, its fountains decorated 
 with artistic taste, dispensing pure water to 
 every part of the city ; and its master pieces of 
 scientific painting and architecture, ancient and 
 modern, together with its delightful climate — 
 present a picture so vast and varied that it may 
 still be regarded as one of the most interesting 
 cities of the world. And of "Rome the lone 
 mother of dead empires, ' ' the lines of Propertius, 
 the elegiac poet, may still be appropriate : 
 
 ''^Omnia Romanae cedant, miracidae terrae^ 
 Natura hie potuit^ quidquid uhiquefecit.^'' 
 
 In our brief intercourse with them we have 
 been pleased with the citizens ; they are very 
 courteous and of a grave, thoughtful demeanor. 
 They seem to be fond of music and street par- 
 
114 ROME. 
 
 acles, and of spectacles; and all this we know, 
 descends to them as natural heirs, when we re- 
 call the pageants of ancient times, when Rome 
 collected here the spoils of conquered nations ; 
 and when her conquerors, such as Pompey the 
 Great, marched three hundred captive princes 
 before his triumphal car. 
 
 We visited to-day the Convent of the Cap- 
 uchin Friars and saw a number of rooms 
 adorned — if that word may be properly used in 
 such a connection — with the bones of their dead 
 monks ! 
 
 Jaw bones were arranged together ; tibulas, 
 fibulas, pelvis bones, skulls, heads of femurs, 
 ribs, scapulas and various bones of the body 
 were thus classified, and arranged in bunches of 
 flowers ; center pieces, border pieces, and nu- 
 merous forms, very like ornamental shell work ! 
 It was a gruesome sight and the ladies would 
 fain have avoided it. This afternoon we drove 
 four miles outside the city, along the famous 
 Appian Way. A mile from the walls of the city 
 we came to the church caWed,^^ Domine Quo Va- 
 dis^^^ because as tradition has it, when Peter 
 the Apostle was driven from the city through 
 persecution — when he had arrived at this spot 
 he here met the Saviour bearing the Cross — and 
 said to him — "0 Domine Quo VaclisT'' In proof 
 of this tradition, the foot-print of the naked 
 foot of the Savior is still to be seen in the mar- 
 
ROME. 115 
 
 ble of the old pathway of the Appian "Way ! 
 Here it was that the church referred to was built. 
 
 We pursued our journey along this road, view- 
 ing the tombs of those who had been great and 
 powerful in their day; for it was such as these 
 alone, who were honored with a tomb along the 
 Appia. We passed the tomb of Seneca, and 
 approached the site of the villa where Cicero 
 had lived, and then returned to the Church of 
 St. Sebastian. At this point we entered the 
 famous Catacombs of Rom<^, but we were some- 
 what disappointed in them. 
 
 On Sunday morning we visited the museum 
 and the Capitoline Hill, one of the famous hills 
 on which the "Imperial" city sat, and "from 
 her throne of beauty ruled the world." We 
 looked with much interest on the portrait bust 
 of Julius Caesar, and also upon that of Brutus, 
 and upon the rare beauty of "Venus of Capi- 
 tola," and upon many other things, at which 
 we could only glance. 
 
 We saw the plac3 at which the infamous 
 Caligula was assassinated, and also that where 
 Rienzi, "the last of the tribunes," fell; and 
 where the envious Casca and Brutus too, stabbed 
 Csesar, "the noblest Roman of them all." 
 
 Ilex trees and gardens now grow on the top 
 of the debris that covers a portion of the Palace 
 of the Caesars. 
 
 Excavations at Rome, of late years, have re- 
 
116 ROME. 
 
 vealed much of its ancient history. One of the 
 guard rooms of Caesar's Palace was laid bare, 
 and showed markings on the walls made by the 
 heathen soldiers who were on duty here, so many 
 centuries ago. Now, it is evident from the 
 writings on these walls that there were Chris- 
 tians among the soldiers of Tiberius ; it is also 
 made apparent that they were persecuted and 
 derided by their heathen comrades-in-arms. On 
 the wall of the guard room of Tiberius was 
 found the first representation of the Crucifixion 
 that was, perhaps, ever made. 
 
 It was made by one of these barbarian soldiers 
 with his spear or some other sharp implement — 
 traced in the plaster, there to remain, and to be 
 uncovered from the debris nearly two thousand 
 years later. This drawing consists of the figure 
 of a man's body with an ass' head suspended 
 upon a cross. Underneath is written in ancient 
 Greek, the inscription: "This is the God of 
 Alexamenos!" Later there was unearthed, in 
 the adjoining room, the reply of Alexamenus to 
 his persecutor. There was found a cross, most 
 carefully drawn, and a figure kneeling before it 
 in a devout attitude. Underneath was written 
 the legend in Latin: ^^Alexamenes lidelis^'''' 
 Alexamenus the faithful ! 
 
 It is a curious circumstance that the first pic- 
 ture of the Crucifixion is this crude drawing, 
 made by a heathen in sacrilegious derision ! 
 
KOME. 117 
 
 On the day of our departure we left Rome at 
 one o'clock for Naples, and arrived there a little 
 before seven p. m. Until about three o'clock 
 the heat was intense, and the country we passed 
 through was barren and desolate in the extreme ; 
 but as we approached Naples, where the land 
 had been irrigated, there were fair crops of corn, 
 and also of bamboo and hemp. We saw Vesu- 
 vius smoking in the distance, but there was no 
 fire issuing from its crater. 
 
POMPEII. 
 
 On our way to Pompeii we crossed the bay to 
 Capri, which island is distant fourteen miles 
 from Naples. The morning w^as fair and the 
 sky blue, and the Bay of Naples seemed worthy 
 of all the praise that has ever been lavished upon 
 it. Before leaving the anchorage some swarthy 
 divers came around the vessel, and gave us an 
 exhibition of their skill in diving to great depths 
 to recover the coins the passengers tossed into 
 the water. 
 
 Our sail across the bay to Capri was one of 
 perfect enjoyment, and to those unfamiliar with 
 the scene, it was as if they sailed on enchanted 
 waters. The rocky sides of Capri are terraced, 
 and it is planted with olive trees and grape 
 vines. Here we went in the small boats and 
 entered a strange, weird cavern called, "The 
 Blue Grotto." The entrance is low and narrow 
 and can only be entered when the sea is calm. 
 Visitors from afar come to view the strange 
 beauties of this cavern, which are, perhaps, 
 produced by the deep blue cast of the water, 
 which in turn is produced by the deep blue of 
 the sky ; another peculiar effect is produced by 
 118 
 
POMPEII. 119 
 
 the phosphorescent quality of the water — for the 
 divers swimming here seem as molten images — 
 every limb in motion — as if made of living fire. 
 The effect is startling. 
 
 Tiberius, that imperious emperor, lived on 
 this island in the latter years of his life, and a 
 small cliff is pointed out which is called "Tibe- 
 rius' Leap;" for from this point he caused slaves 
 to be thrown over to their destruction, merely 
 that he might witness their anguish and terror, 
 in the face of death ! 
 
 We sailed from Capri to Sorrento where we 
 left the vessel ; this town is built upon a tall 
 cliff, from which, it is said, one has the finest 
 view that can be obtained of the Bay of Naples. 
 This is the birth-place of Tasso, and a fine monu- 
 ments tands here to his memory. The streets are 
 mean and narrow, but several fine hotels crown 
 the heights overlooking the bay ; these are re- 
 sorted to by many summer visitors. At the 
 time of our visit this place was the residence of 
 F. Marion Crawford, the novelist. 
 
 We drove from Capri, fifteen miles around the 
 ba/, to Pompeii ; the day was intensely hot at 
 the time, and we suffered very much from the heat. 
 
 At Pompeii we viewed the things that have 
 been so often described, and also some new 
 objects of interest that had just been unearthed. 
 We found a email number of workmen, men and 
 boys, digging in a room lately discovered ; they 
 
120 POMPEII. 
 
 used light picks and shovels and baskets to re- 
 move the ashes that had belched forth from the 
 volcano of Vesuvius in the year '79 and envel- 
 oped and buried the place. 
 
 All the houses are one story, some of them 
 beautifully adorned with frescoed walls, columns 
 and tile flooring. This was a fashionable resort 
 of the wealthy Roman people, and here they had 
 their summer residences. 
 
 We removed with our cane the ashes from the 
 side of a column in the house where we found 
 the men and boys at work. We dug down for 
 two or three feet for the ashes were very light 
 and easily moved. We were astonished to find 
 the fresco painting on this column as bright 
 and fresh as if it had just been finished, although 
 it had not seen the light of day for 1800 years ! 
 
 On the wall of the room, from which the 
 workmen had just removed the ashes, we saw 
 the drawing of a ship that had been cut in the 
 plaster with a knife, apparently from its height, 
 done by a boy or some person of low stature ; 
 there it remained, plain and fresh, a very good 
 representation of a craft still seen on these wa- 
 ters — drawn by some boy nearly two thousand 
 years ago ! 
 
 Casts of the bodies that have perished here 
 are obtained in the following manner : the ex- 
 plorer probes about with an iron rod in the de- 
 bris until a hollow place is found ; from 
 
POMPEII. 121 
 
 this he removes the rod and into the hole pours 
 a solution of plaster of paris, and when it is set 
 the ashes are removed. In this way an exact 
 cast is made of the body that has decayed and 
 left its mold in the pumice stone that enveloped 
 the doomed city. 
 
 These are most ghastly and lifelike images, 
 exactly true in their minutest detail ; and it is 
 pitiful — the expressions of pain and horror de- 
 picted upon the countenances of those who per- 
 ished here. 
 
 Our best knowledge of ancient painting before 
 the Christian era is obtained from Pompeii, and 
 the better class of houses are adorned with very 
 beautiful mosaic pavements. 
 
 The buried site of this ancient town, lying 
 beneath the vineyards and mulberry grounds, 
 was accidentally discovered by a peasant in dig- 
 ging a well, in the year 1748. Excavations have 
 been made here in a small way continuously 
 since that time. Now about one third of Pom- 
 peii is uncovered, and on the remaining portion 
 grow Indian corn and other crops. 
 
 By this discovery a flood of light has been 
 thrown upon ancient life, in all its details, so 
 that we may picture to ourselves the habits, 
 manners and customs of those who lived here ; a 
 knowledge more accurate and minute than can 
 be obtained from ancient literature. 
 
 In the "Museo Borbonico," in Naples, we 
 
122 POMPEII. 
 
 viewed the most important relics taken from the 
 buried city ; household utensils, surgical instru- 
 ments, mechanical tools, paintings and statuary, 
 rings and cameos, and jewelry of exquisite 
 workmanship — all tending to show that those 
 who lived here two thousand years ago were 
 scarcely inferior to this age in the comforts and 
 refinements of life. 
 
THE MIDWAY PLAISANCE. 
 
 Some one has made an estimate of the time it 
 would take to see the World's Fair in detail if 
 two minutes were given to each exhibit, and he 
 concludes that it could be done in thirty-two 
 years. This is probably incorrect and an under 
 statement of the facts ; at least no sane person 
 would attempt to gain a comprehensive know- 
 ledge of the Fair in that way. We propose to 
 write merely a few notes, taken daily, in pass- 
 ing through the "Midway Plaisance," but of 
 the Fair proper, only a few sentences of general 
 impressions. 
 
 We saw a stalwart Texan, with all the insou- 
 ciance of his kind, walk into the Midway Plai- 
 sance. He had just come from the bewilderment 
 of the ' 'White City," and his thoughts were 
 doubtless still in that dreamland. But he had not 
 gone far before his listless air vanished and he 
 stood agape at the fantastic scenes presented in 
 this pleasure ground of the barbaric nations. 
 
 The student of human nature is edified even 
 
 in observing children at play, as there is gained 
 
 a knowledge of temperament, natural aptitude, 
 
 and an insight into individual traits. And here 
 
 123 
 
124 THE MIDWAY PLAISANCE. 
 
 are the children of nature, the uncivilized races, 
 and the semi-civilized races, those interesting 
 types of mankind, some of whom not so long ago 
 would have eaten the sightseers with the same 
 relish with which they ate of the blubber of the 
 sea-horse! This is not a pleasant reflection, 
 yet we shall observe these foreign folks with no 
 less interest on that account, even if we do note 
 with feelings of some aversion the strong white 
 teeth of the dusky cannibal race who may have 
 employed them in eating human flesh in the 
 recent past. 
 
 It happened that we stopped at the Lapp Vil- 
 lage among the first places visited. The Lap- 
 landers are short of stature ; the average man is 
 five feet, and the women about four feet. They 
 are of a dingy, pale color, weak-eyed, broad- 
 mouthed, and appear strong and stupid. They 
 have their huts which they brought with them 
 across the water. Here one may study their 
 every-day life, which is interesting as showing 
 the struggle for existence in their inhospitable 
 country. They have their sleds, snow shoes, 
 and one reindeer which is all that is left of thir- 
 teen they brought a few weeks since from Lap- 
 land. The climate of Chicago has proven fatal 
 to the reindeer accustomed to sniff the air of the 
 North Cape. The king of the Lapps, a stolid 
 old man, is here. His name is "King Bull," and 
 it is said that he owns three thousand reindeer, 
 
THE MIDWAY PLAISANCE. 125 
 
 which would make his fortune about fifty thou- 
 sand dollars, but to use a colloquial expression, 
 '*he does not look it." 
 
 From Lapland we went to Switzerland, which 
 is a long distance to travel within the space of a 
 few minutes. Here we saw the panorama of the 
 Swiss Alps, the glaciers, moraines, and snow 
 covered peaks. Far down in the valley was 
 heard the alpine horn, and the chamois were seen 
 scaling the dangerous path; and by looking 
 closely one could detect the meager flora of those 
 heights, and even the rare edelweiss, the queen 
 flower of the Alps. As the gloom of night fell, 
 lights shone from cottage windows whence is- 
 sued the sounds of voices singing the mountain 
 songs, dear to the Switzer's heart. The whole 
 scene was natural and lifelike. 
 
 As electricity is the special study of this age, 
 and the science now being developed, we were 
 induced to visit next in ihe "Midway," "The 
 Electric Scenic Theatre." Here electricity is 
 used to produce landscape effects, shades, shad- 
 ows and perspective with marvelous accuracy. 
 We had studied for some time in the Electric 
 Building of the World's Fair, but of this we can- 
 not at present speak; our task is limited to the 
 "Plaisance," and besides, we must not be drawn 
 by the fascinations of science from the more in- 
 teresting study of man, though it is of man of 
 the lower types ; he has still that vital spark, 
 
126 THE MIDWAY PLAISANCE. 
 
 that torch of humanity, which will glow when 
 the wheels of all machines have stopped, and 
 the hum of industry is silent. 
 
 In the streets of old Cairo one soon forgets 
 such reflections, and enters into the spirit of the 
 place, which sets one back two hundred years 
 from this year of grace. One familiar with 
 that city has said: "This street is more like old 
 Cairo than Cairo itself." The houses, the Arabs, 
 the Fellahs, the donkeys, the camels and the 
 venders are the same ; but the fair American 
 girls who ride on the donkeys and camels in the 
 Cairo streets of the Midway, differ from the 
 dark, veiled women of the Nile, more than the 
 lily differs from the sunflower. This is perhaps 
 the most popular place in the Plaisance, if not 
 the most instructive; yet what does one care for 
 instruction, when all is life, bustle and jollity, 
 and the gay jest and the jocund laugh are 
 heard, as the women and children ride by on 
 camels and donkeys, driven by Arab boys who 
 call out, "like up!" meaning "look out," as 
 they drive the ungainly camel through the 
 crowded streets. The tout ensemble of the scene 
 is oriental and strange to western eyes. 
 
 On leaving the fair grounds proper, just to 
 the right as you enter the -'3Iidway" is the in- 
 ternational beauty show, veiled under the mod- 
 est title, "The International Dress Costume 
 Co." One conjures up visions of statuesque 
 
THE MIDWAY PLAISANCE. 127 
 
 Circassians, and Houri from Mingrelia; and 
 enters expecting these illusions to be dispelled, 
 but not so ! for here are as fair types as one 
 could see in a journey around the world. The 
 young men of the party, who have keen taste 
 in such matters, awarded the mead of beauty to 
 the English girl, and next in order as named : 
 the Scotch, Welch, Polish, Greek, and so on. A 
 dark girl from Syria was an interesting type. 
 
 A reporter was questioning the Scotch "las- 
 sie," as we passed, and she replied in low, sweet 
 tones; "Everything is very grand and fine here 
 in America, but I wad nae live here alway, sir; 
 I am frae Caithness." Her cheeks flushed and 
 she showed emotion, as she spoke of her home, 
 and it was easy to see that her heart was still 
 in the Highlands. 
 
 The costumes of these girls from the different 
 nations were in many instances very pictur- 
 esque ; they represented about thirty nationali- 
 ties. A girl from Paris displayed one of Worth's 
 finest costumes; yet some of the others, in their 
 simple, native dress, adorning modest beauty, 
 were more attractive. 
 
 If time would permit we should write of many 
 more scenes witnessed in this pleasure ground of 
 nations. Here is the place to study character 
 and to gain a knowledge of the strange people 
 of the earth. 
 
 Of the World's Fair proper, books will be 
 
128 THE MIDWAY PLAISANCE. 
 
 written and the influence that will radiate from 
 here will set the world forward at least a gener- 
 ation in arts, science, and learning and all that 
 pertains to the welfare of man. 
 
 It is impossible through mere words for the 
 mind to form any adequate conception of scenes 
 of such magnitude and splendor. But the glo~ 
 rious vision of this incomparable "White City," 
 with its noble facades and clustered spires, up- 
 reared to the sky, once pictured on the retina in 
 youth will live in the memory till the eyes have 
 grown dim to the fading light of the world. 
 
 In the old Bible days, Philip came and an- 
 nounced to Nathaniel the happening of the 
 most hopeful and amazing event that ever af- 
 fected human destiny; but he doubting that 
 such things could be as narrated by Philip, that 
 apostle simply replied: "Come and see." 
 
AUDUBON AND THE BIRDS. 
 
 John James Audubon, an American ornitholo- 
 gist of great eminence, was born in Louisiana 
 in the year 1780. He was the son of a French 
 naval officer who had settled as a planter in 
 that state. When very young he had a passion 
 for observing the habits of birds; he made many 
 sketches of them and disclosed considerable 
 talent as a draughtsman. He was sent to Paris 
 to be educated and studied design in the school 
 of David, the first painter under Napoleon the 
 Great, and especially distinguished for his 
 draughtsmanship. 
 
 Audubon proved himself worthy of such a 
 master, and on his return to his native country 
 two years later he settled on the banks of the 
 Schuylkill, in Pennsylvania, where he owned a 
 farm. Here he passed ten years of his life in 
 researches into the habits of birds, in his draw- 
 ings of them and in painting them by hand in 
 lifelike colors. It was during these years that 
 he laid the foundation of the great work which 
 he afterward produced. 
 
 However, it was fated that he was not to 
 use the material here collected, for a great trial 
 129 
 
130 AUDUBON AND THE BIRDS. 
 
 now befell him when, after having accumulated 
 a large stock of the most carefully executed de- 
 signs, he discovered that the whole of them had 
 been destroyed by mice. This was a greater 
 disaster than the fabled loss of Newton's scien- 
 tific manuscript; for while that was a mere 
 tradition, the loss of Audubon was real and al- 
 most irreparable. Yet he possessed that extra- 
 ordinary strength of mind that enabled him to 
 view his loss with serenity, and to patiently 
 begin again the work of jesivs. 
 
 He moved to Henderson on the Ohio River, 
 where he lived for several years with his wife and 
 children. He now commenced a series of excur- 
 sions through the vast, primeval forest which he 
 explored alone, and in which he passed the 
 greater portion of his time for many years. He 
 produced colored designs of all the birds he 
 could find, being impelled to this pursuit by his 
 love of nature, rather than an ambition to make 
 himself famous. 
 
 In 1826 he went to England, and in London 
 began the publication of his great work, "The 
 Birds of America." He was everywhere received 
 by learned societies and scientific men with the 
 utmost cordiality and enthusiasm. Among his 
 warmest admirers in Great Britain were Sir 
 Walter Scott, Francis Jeffrey and John Wilson ; 
 and in Paris, Cuvier, St. Hiliaire, Humbolt, and 
 other savants. 
 
AUDUBON AND THE BIRDS. 131 
 
 He obtained a hundred subscribers to his 
 magnificent work at one thousand dollars 
 a copy. It was in folio, illustrated with about 
 four hundred and forty-eight plates of one thou- 
 sand and sixty-five species of birds of natural 
 size, beautifully colored. It consists of five 
 volumes of engravings, designed by himself, and 
 five volumes of letter press. 
 
 The French naturalist Cuvier, who was him- 
 self accounted as "the father of comparative 
 anatomy," said of Audubon's "Birds of Amer- 
 ica:" "It is the most magnificent monument 
 that art has ever erected to ornithology." This 
 work cannot be purchased now at any price. 
 
 After Audubon returned to America he ex- 
 plored the coasts, the lakes, the rivers and the 
 mountains, from Labrador and Canada to Flor- 
 ida. He crossed the ocean several times after 
 this and lived to prepare smaller editions to his 
 great work, and also a work on quadrupeds. 
 
 To an excellent skill in designing natural ob- 
 jects, he added an admirable talent for describ- 
 ing them in graphic language. 
 
 His character is thus eulogized by Prof. 
 Wilson of the Edinburg University. 
 
 "The hearts of all warmed toward Audubon 
 who were capable of conceiving the difficulties, 
 dangers and sacrifices that must have been en- 
 countered, endured and overcome, before genius 
 could have embodied these, the glory of its 
 
132 AUDrBON AND THE BIRDS. 
 
 innumerable triumphs. The man himself is just 
 what you would expect from his production, 
 full of fine enthusiasm and intelligence, most 
 interesting in looks and manners, a perfect gen- 
 tleman, and esteemed by all who know him for 
 the simplicity and frankness of his nature. He 
 is the greatest artist in his own walk that has 
 ever lived." 
 
 It is interesting to note that the favorite bird 
 of this great master was the wood-thrush. This 
 small brown bird is but little known except to 
 those familiar with the woods. It is shy and 
 retiring, frequenting thick woods and tangled 
 undergrowth. Its form is stout, the general 
 color is rufous brown above, lighter on the head, 
 pure white below, with numerous blackish spots 
 on breast and sides. It is smaller than either 
 the robin or the brown thrush. The nest is 
 placed in a bush or the fork of a sapling — very 
 often a dogwood — and is constructed without 
 mud; the eggs are from four to six and of a 
 greenish blue color. 
 
 The wood-thrush is the last bird heard at 
 night and the first at the dawn of day. When 
 the first rays of dawn penetrate the gloomy re- 
 cesses of the forest aisles, its powerful, clear and 
 mellow notes break upon the silence, rising and 
 falling in gentle cadence. Its notes are few, 
 yet they are very pleasing. 
 
AUDUBON AND THE BIRDS. 133 
 
 "The song of the wood-thrush thrills sweet through 
 
 the wood. 
 So flute-like and clear, the ecstatic prelude." 
 
 In "Doddridge's Notes," which are regarded 
 as original authority relating to the pioneer his- 
 tory of West Virginia, the author says: "The 
 crow and the blackbird and the great variety of 
 singing birds were not natives of the primeval for- 
 ests, but followed in the path of emigration." 
 
 Now in the fields and groves are found all the 
 species known to this latitude, there being over 
 forty varieties of the warbler family alone. These 
 birds are now "native and to the manner born," 
 and it were better to study them in the woods 
 and the fields than to read about strange birds 
 of distant countries that we may never see, and 
 whose songs may never add to our enjoyment. 
 The same is true of the study of the flowers, the 
 plants and the trees that are before us in the 
 book of nature. 
 
 Observation is the basis of original thought, 
 and the youth who acquires a habit of atten- 
 tively observing objects of nature will grow in 
 this knowledge, unlearned of books, as he grows 
 in stature. He will learn to give heed to the 
 songs of birds and his ear will become attuned 
 to the pounds of the field and the forest. His 
 eye will detect the changing hues of the sky, 
 the tiny flower, the majestic tree and the beauty 
 in iill things will brighten and cheer his pathway. 
 
134 AUDUBON AND THE BIRDS. 
 
 But the world must ever appear as different to 
 individuals as their minds are diverse. To one 
 it will always be a .narrow place, paved with 
 hard dollars, with but little of the blue sky above; 
 to another mind it must remain a wonderful if 
 not a pleasant world; for the whole globe, men 
 and things, and the vicissitudes of life will lie 
 within the power of its comprehension. 
 
 But these are the extremes ; the masses of 
 humanity trudge between the two in devious 
 paths, with unequal knowledge and with unequal 
 powers of enjoying the gifts of the Creator. 
 
THE 22nd day OF FEBRUARY. 
 
 REFLECTIONS UPON WASHINGTON. 
 
 General Washington owned 10,000 acres of 
 land in one body at Mt. Vernon, which he farmed 
 upon a very large scale, especially for that day. 
 Here he employed 250 hands and kept 24 plows 
 going all the year, when the weather would per- 
 mit. In the year 1787 he sowed 600 bushels of 
 oats and 700 acres of wheat, besides other crops. 
 At that time he had 140 horses, 112 cows and 
 other stock in proportion. He rode around his 
 farm every day unless the weather was very 
 stormy, and he was constant!}" making various 
 and extensive experiments for the improvement 
 of agriculture. He said that he loved the re- 
 tirement of his home above all things and that 
 it was with regret that he left it to assume the 
 command of the army or to take the presiden- 
 tial chair. 
 
 All contemporary accounts agree that 
 Washington was a man of dignified and impos- 
 ing presence. He was six feet, two inches in 
 height; the muscular development of his form 
 was perfect, and he never at any period of his 
 life became too stout for easy and graceful move- 
 135 
 
136 THE 22nd DAY OF FEBRUARY. 
 
 ments. Custis says : "His complexion was fair 
 but considerably florid." His hair was brown, 
 his eyes blue. He was scrupulously attentive to 
 the proprieties of dress and personal appearance; 
 his manner was gracious and gentle ; yet he was 
 a diffident man, and always maintained a certain 
 military reserve when in public. He was a fear- 
 less and skillful horseman, and rode to the 
 hounds with the keen zest of a sportsman. 
 
 Washington was forty-three years of age 
 when appointed by the Continental Congress to 
 command the army of the Revolution. It has 
 been somewhat the custom in modern times to 
 decry his military ability ; but this is done 
 chiefly by those "who never set a squadron in 
 the field," nor looked upon the storm of battle. 
 The "elements were so mixed in him," and such 
 was the admirable equipoise of all his faculties 
 that he was perhaps, in practical wisdom, the 
 peer of any man that ever lived. 
 
 In the light of history, in looking back now 
 at the events of the Revolution, we can but 
 believe if any one of our ablest generals, such 
 as Green, Wayne, Morgan or Gates had been in 
 chief command, that the raw, undisciplined 
 forces of the Continentals would have been 
 crushed by the well-drilled regulars of the Brit- 
 ish on the plains of New Jersey, if not before 
 that time. Washington well knew the charac- 
 ter of each army, both of officers and men, and 
 
THE 22nd day OF FEBRUARY. 137 
 
 he knew that it would be necessary to act on the 
 defensive, and to husband all the resources of 
 his little army, otherwise there could be no hope 
 for the cause of liberty. 
 
 Neither public clamor nor gross abuse, nor the 
 calls of ambition, could divert him from his 
 steady purpose, nor cause him to make with his 
 army one rash or ill-considered maneuver. He 
 possessed enterprise and prudence, and in his 
 tact and forbearance in dealing with men, 
 he has had no superior among our modern 
 generals. 
 
 It was barely possible for the Continental 
 army to gain the victory through the patient, 
 long drawn struggle of eight years; but it would 
 have been impossible for it to have been success- 
 ful had it faced the British regulars in open, de- 
 cisive battles, especially in the earlier part of 
 the war. By the latter method the Continental 
 troops would have been decimated and scattered 
 and the liberty of this country would have per- 
 ished with them. 
 
 By pursuing a safe and patient course, Wash- 
 ington, with his ragged Continentals, was enabled 
 for eight years to confront the armies of Great 
 Britain, and through his indomitable courage 
 and wisdom, he prevailed against his powerful 
 adversary and finally succeeded in planting the 
 tree of liberty on this soil, where now its branches 
 overspread the continent. 
 
138 THE 22nd DAY OF FEBRUARY. 
 
 In remembrance of our obligations, it is a sa- 
 cred duty to commemorate the birthday of this 
 illustrious man , and in every country where op- 
 pressed men are struggling for freedom they 
 find inspiration and hope in the glorious example 
 of Washington. 
 
 At the close of his farewell address, which 
 was in times past the Palladium of our elder, if 
 not abler statesmen, he says with pathetic ear- 
 nestness : "In offering you, my countrymen, these 
 counsels of an old and affectionate friend, I dare 
 not hope that they will make the strong and 
 lasting impression I could wish ; that they will 
 control the usual current of the jDassions, or pre- 
 vent our nation from running the course which 
 has hitherto marked the destiny of nations; but 
 if I may even flatter myself that they may be 
 productive of some partial benefit, some occa- 
 sional good, that they may now and then recur 
 to moderate the fury of party spirit, to warn 
 against the importunities of pretended patriot- 
 ism , this hope will be a full recompense for the 
 solicitude for your welfare, by which they have 
 been dictated." 
 
 In speaking of the unconscious errors he may 
 have committed, he continues; "Whatever they 
 may be I fervently beseech the Almighty to avert 
 or mitigate the evils to which they may tend. 
 I shall carry, with me the hope that my country 
 will never cease to view them with indulgence ; 
 
THE 22nd day OF FEBRUARY. 139 
 
 and that after forty-five years of my life dedica- 
 ted to its service v^ith an upright zeal, the faults 
 of incompetent abilities will be consigned to ob- 
 livion, as myself must soon be to the mansions 
 of rest." 
 
AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 
 
 GEN. GEORGE ROGERS CLARK. 
 
 The local records of the town of Clarksburg, 
 W. Va., show that at an early meeting of the 
 settlers at this place, the name for the town was 
 suggested and adopted, in honor of Gen. Clark. 
 This meeting was held sometime prior to Octo- 
 ber 1785, for it was then that the town was in- 
 corporated. 
 
 This was probably the first public recognition 
 of the services of this able officer, who had wrest- 
 ed the Northwest Territory from the British 
 and Indians, and had held it against all odds, 
 under circumstances of peculiar hardships, and 
 as it proved in the end, at the sacrifice of his per- 
 sonal fortune. 
 
 It is a regrettable circumstance that our mod- 
 ern historians have almost ignored the services 
 of G-en. Claik. He was doubtless, in a military 
 point of view, one of the most accomplished 
 and useful officers that served on the western 
 frontier in the war of the Revolution. 
 
 It is seldom that a military officer whose ser- 
 vices have redounded in results of such vast im- 
 portance to his country, has gone to his grave 
 140 
 
AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 141 
 
 unrewarded and forgotten, save, perhaps, by the 
 descendants of the hardy pioneers who shared 
 with him the toils and dangers of the border 
 warfare. 
 
 Until quite recently, one was compelled to 
 search the original writings of pioneer times in 
 order to give even a brief sketch of his life. 
 
 George Rogers Clark was born near Charlott- 
 esville, Virginia, in 1752. In early life he was 
 a farmer and a surveyor. He first appeared upon 
 the scene of public action, as a captain in Dun- 
 more' s War; but further than this we have been 
 unable to learn any particulars of him at this 
 period. 
 
 Upon the breaking out of the Revolution, he 
 soon became distinguished as one of the most 
 active leaders of the frontiersmen, in their he- 
 roic efforts to protect the border settlements from 
 the incursion of the Indians. Patriotism and a 
 laudable desire for military fame seem to have 
 been the predominant traits of his character. He 
 rallied the backwoodsmen at points of danger ; 
 led counter attacks against the Indians ; built 
 block-houses and forts, and, although quite a 
 young man, displayed such great courage, firm- 
 ness and military skill in all these exploits, that 
 whenever he appeared upon the border, he was 
 the acknowledged leader of the backwoodsmen. 
 
 He led through the wilderness the party of 
 pioneers who made the first settlement at the 
 
142 AN HISTOKICAL SKETCH. 
 
 falls of the Ohio river, where the city of Louis- 
 ville now stands, and he was its able defender 
 during the subsequent years of savage war- 
 fare. 
 
 Before leaving the immediate border of Vir- 
 ginia, however, he is said to have made the plan 
 for Fort Henry at Wheeling ; and which after- 
 wards withstood several fierce assaults, and one 
 four-days siege from the Indians. It was here 
 that Elizabeth Zane performed that valorous act 
 which has been celebrated by the painter and 
 the poet; but as Kipling says, "that is another 
 story." 
 
 In June 1775, a meeting of the settlers of Ken- 
 tucky known as, "The Dark and Bloody ground," 
 and then a part of Virginia, took place at Har- 
 rodstown. Their object was to secure the aid 
 of the Commonwealth in defense of their homes. 
 They selected Clark and one other to represent 
 them before the General Assembly then in ses- 
 sion at Williamsburg, the capital of the state. 
 
 Clark and his companion started upon their 
 long journey through the unbroken wilderness ; 
 but when after many days they reached Fincas- 
 tle, they learned to their regret, that the As- 
 sembly had adjourned. 
 
 Clark's companion then returned to the woods, 
 but he himself proceeded to the residence of 
 Governor Patrick Henry in Hanover County. He 
 found the Governor lying sick at home, but he 
 
AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 143 
 
 listened with interest while Clark explained the 
 object of his journey. 
 
 This soldier from the woods, at the same time 
 made known to the Governor the bold and dar- 
 ing scheme he had formed for the reduction of 
 the British posts in the Illinois country. Clark 
 found in Governor Henry a man of similar spirit 
 to his own; he cordially approved the hazardous 
 plans he had formed, and gave him a letter to 
 that effect, directed to the Council of State. 
 Clark appeared before that body and presented 
 his petition in August 1776. He received from 
 the authorities an order for five hundred pounds 
 of powder to be delivered to him at Ft. Pitt. He 
 at the same time received a colonel's commission 
 with a warrant to raise a regiment, and was or- 
 dered to protect the settlers in Kentucky. 
 
 These were orders from the state authorities 
 that were made public ; but he had induced them 
 through his appeals, and by the sanction of Gov- 
 ernor Henry, to give him the secret order to at- 
 tack the British post of Kaskaskia in the Illi- 
 nois country. This last order Clark did not di- 
 vulge to his officers and men for many w^eeks, 
 not until the opportune moment had arrived for 
 its execution. 
 
 It appears that Clark's Expedition started 
 down the Ohio river from "Red Stone Old Fort," 
 with only three companies, which had been re- 
 cruited in the counties of Fauquier, Frederick, 
 and the country west of the Blue Ridge. 
 
144 AN HISTOiaCAL SKETCH. 
 
 When his boats had arrived at the mouth of 
 the Great Kanawha, he found that the post there 
 had been attacked the day before by the savages ; 
 and because he would not stop to pursue them, 
 he received censure from those who did not 
 know of his more important plans. 
 
 Floating day after day with the current, the 
 expedition finally reachtd the Falls of the Ohio 
 where Fort JefPerson was erected. Here Clark 
 received some reinforcements, which increased 
 his command to four companies, less than four 
 hundred men. 
 
 Col. Clark then announced to his officers and 
 men the true object of the expedition, and on 
 June 24, 1778, his boats passed the Falls of the 
 Ohio, and the expedition was fairly launched 
 that was destined to change the boundary line of 
 the nation. 
 
 When the boats had reached a point not far 
 from the mouth of the Wabash, Col. Clark landed 
 with a part of his command; he ordered the oth- 
 ers to proceed with the boats and the baggage 
 to the mouth of the Ohio, and thence to Kaskas- 
 kia on the river of that name, one mile east of 
 the Mississippi. 
 
 He then marched across the country by the 
 most direct route for the same place. When he 
 emerged from the woods in sight of the village 
 of Kaskaskia, the inhabitants were as surprised 
 as if he had dropped from the clouds. He took 
 
AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 145 
 
 the precaution to inarch his men in a circuitous 
 manner past an opening in the timber which 
 led the enemy to count them two or three times 
 without discovering the artifice. 
 
 Then with a part of his men he advanced 
 against the fort with his flag displayed, and 
 sternly demanded the unconditional surrender of 
 the garrison. 
 
 Rocheblave, the commandant of the fort, dis- 
 mayed at the sudden apparition of an armed 
 force, dropped upon him from the clouds as 
 it were , and with an exaggerated idea of the 
 force of his enemy, surrendered at discretion. 
 
 Col. Clark then proceeded as rapidly as possi- 
 ble to the British post of Cahokia, about sixty 
 miles north of Kaskaskia and four miles south 
 of the present site of East St. Louis. Here also 
 he succeeded in capturing this garrison without 
 bloodshed. 
 
 These conquests were achieved before the ar- 
 rival of the main body of his forces from the 
 boats, and were made known through spies to 
 the British Governor, Hamilton, of Detroit, 
 then at the post of Vincennes on the Wabash. 
 Gov. Hamilton was apprised at the same time 
 of the small force by which the forts were cap- 
 tured. He immediately took steps to collect a 
 large force, in order to surprise the Americans, 
 and retake the posts. But before he could ac- 
 complish his purpose Col. Clark's reserve 
 
146 AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 
 
 arrived at Kaskaskia from the boats; when, 
 leaving a sufficient number to hold the forts he 
 had captured he marched without delay against 
 Ft. St. Vincennes. 
 
 This was an arduous march of many days 
 through the swamps and quagmires of the Wa- 
 bash : the men often wading to their armpits in 
 the ice cold water; yet they did not hesitate to 
 follow their heroic leader. They were five days 
 marching the last nine miles. This was in 
 February 1779, and they must have perished had 
 not the weather been mild for the season. 
 
 On the 23rd of February, Col. Clark led his 
 men from the swamps and stood upon the solid 
 ground in front of the fort at Vincennes. The 
 place was taken completely by surprise, and 
 after a siege of eighteen hours the fort was car- 
 ried by storm. 
 
 Governor Hamilton and his whole garrison, 
 numbering more men than Clark had in his com- 
 mand, became prisoners of war. Hamilton, who 
 had incited the savages to deeds of atrocity by 
 paying rewards for human scalps, was sent to 
 Virginia w^here he was treated as a felon and 
 imprisoned in chains, but was finally exchanged. 
 
 Thus within a few months. Col. Clark had 
 gained possession of all the British posts north- 
 west of the Ohio, and had moved the boundary 
 line of Virginia from that river to the Missis- 
 sippi. 
 
AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 147 
 
 This expedition has been compared in diffi- 
 culty and suffering, and in daring courage, to 
 that of the memorable march of Arnold to Que- 
 bec in December 1775 ; but it was far more 
 important in its results. 
 
 Unfortunately, the state of Virginia when it 
 commissioned Col. Clark to raise a regiment 
 for the protection of the western frontier, did 
 not provide means for its support, but author- 
 ized him to procure supplies as he could, either 
 on his own credit or on that of the state. Act- 
 ing upon this authority he at first gave drafts 
 upon the state of Virginia for supplies for his 
 army ; at the same time he pledged his personal 
 security for their payment. 
 
 On the«2nd of January 1781 the Assembly of 
 Virginia ceded to the United States the terri- 
 tory northwest of the Ohio river which they had 
 established in 1778 as the "County of Illinois," 
 at the request of Col. Clark for the appointment 
 of a civil government for the territory he had 
 conquered. 
 
 After this time the state of Virginia claimed 
 that all expenses incurred by Col. Clark in cap- 
 turing the Illinois country, and in holding 
 possession of it, should be assumed by the Gov- 
 ernment of the United States. 
 
 The general Government did not acknowledge 
 this claim, and Col. Clark was thrown on his 
 own resources; either to abandon his conquest, 
 
148 AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 
 
 or to hold it. He was an officer equal to the 
 occasion. As his difficulties increased his reso- 
 lution gained strength, and when the appeals of 
 the state and government had failed, he resolved 
 to hold his conquests by the strong hand of 
 power. 
 
 He took by force such scanty supplies as he 
 could do with, for the support of his army, from 
 the sparse population of the country. He gave 
 them in return certified accounts, to be paid by 
 the state of Viriginia or by himself ; and as his 
 personal credit at this time was better than 
 that of the state, of course he was the one 
 looked to for payment. 
 
 Thus General Clark continued to hold posses- 
 sion of this valuable territory until the close of 
 the Revolution, otherwise the strong grasp of 
 England would have been upon it ; and it is safe 
 to say that she would have held yet all the ter- 
 ritory included in the States of Ohio, Indiana, 
 Illinois, Michigan and Wisconsin. 
 
 The proof of this assertion is attested by the 
 diplomatic correspondence of the Treaty of Pa- 
 ris, signed Sept. :-^rd, 1783. Here it is expressly 
 stated that the tenable ground of making the 
 boundary line at the Lakes instead of at the 
 Ohio river, as the British commissioners claimed, 
 was the fact that General Clark had conquered 
 the country and was at that very time in actual 
 military possession of it. 
 
AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 149 
 
 Thus we see that consequences of great im- 
 port hinged upon the acts of this officer ; yet in 
 the American Cyclopaedia there is not one line 
 of his biography ; although brief mention is 
 made of his brother, William Clark, who was 
 one of the principals in the "Expedition of 
 Lewis & Clark," the first to cross the Rocky 
 Mountains in the year 1804. 
 
 The expenses of General Clark's expedition 
 were never paid by his state and not by the 
 government until long after his death. He on 
 his part, honorably sacrificed his own property, 
 as far as it would go, to pay these claims. But 
 after he had exhausted a fine estate in this way, 
 he was still harassed by law suits and by the 
 importunities of poor friends, who had aided his 
 expedition. 
 
 Under these circumstances he unfortunately 
 gave way to intemperance; and drank of strong 
 drink as if it contained some oblivious antidote 
 that could dispel sorrow. He died near Louis- 
 ville, Kentucky, February 18, 1818. 
 
 The state of Virginia sent General Clark a 
 sword after he had become old and poor ; but he 
 broke it into pieces, exclaiming: 
 
 "When Virginia needed a sword, I gave her 
 one. She now sends me a toy. I want bread !'* 
 
 Judge Burnet, of Cincinnati, in his ''Notes on 
 the Northwest Territory," in speaking of Gen- 
 eral Clark, said: "He had the appearance of a 
 
150 AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 
 
 man born to command, and fitted by nature for 
 his destiny. His majestic person, strong features 
 and dignified deportment gave evidence of an 
 intelligent, resolute mind." 
 
 This is the onl}^ allusion to his personal 
 appearance that we have seen. He probabl}'' 
 never visited the site where Clarksburg, his first 
 namesake, stands ; but he was known, person- 
 ally, to some at least, of the settlers who built 
 their cabins here, more than a century ago. These 
 honest, simple minded pioneers no doubt thought 
 when they gave his name to their rude hamlet, 
 they would thus perpetuate his fame while that 
 name should abide. Yet there are few now w^ho 
 know the origin of the name except those who 
 read the records of the past ; for to those who 
 do not read, there is no past beyond the memo- 
 ries of their youth. 
 
 At the time General Clark was raising troops 
 for his Illinois Campaign, a company was re- 
 cruited at Clarksburg by Colonel George Jackson. 
 
 This company with the thrift of the times 
 hewed out their canoes from the forest trees, 
 and into them they loaded their munitions of 
 war ; consisting mostly of their flint-lock rifles, 
 bullet-pouches, jerked-venison, dried-beef, and 
 likely, a rundlet or two of corn-whisky. 
 
 These men were no holiday soldiers ; of lux- 
 ury they knew not the name; many of them had 
 heard the whiz of the Indian bullet, and had 
 
AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 151 
 
 stood with rifle in hand in defense of their 
 cabins when the horrid war-whoop liad broken on 
 the stillness of the night in the gloom of the 
 forest. 
 
 When all was ready the canoes were loosened, 
 and the little fleet floated on the limpid waters 
 beneath the shade of the great trees. It followed 
 the meanders of the river for many days until 
 Redstone Old Fort, Fort Pitt, and Fort Henry 
 were passed, and finally their boats were moored 
 in the mouth of the Great Kanawha. 
 
 At this point for some reason that the records 
 do not explain, the expedition was abandoned, 
 and the volunteers from this section returned to 
 their homes. 
 
 An anecdote is told of General Clark which 
 will further illustrate his character. At the 
 treaty of Fort Washington, where Cincinnati 
 now stands, Clark had only seventy men, while 
 the Shawnees appeared at the Council with 
 three hundred warriors. 
 
 In the council-room of the log fort, Clark sat 
 at a table, with two or three of his officers. The 
 chief of the Shawnees rose, and after making a 
 boisterous speech placed on the table a belt of 
 white wampum ; and also, to the dismay of the 
 whites, a belt of black wampum ; this latter indi- 
 cated that he was as ready for war as for peace. 
 At the same time the three hundred warriors 
 applauded their chief by a terrific yell. 
 
152 AN HISTORICAL SKETCH. 
 
 General Clark pushed the black wampum off 
 the table, then rising as the savages muttered 
 their indignation, he stamped the belt under his 
 feet, and with a look of stern defiance and a 
 voice of thunder he ordered them to leave the 
 hall. They involuntarily left, and the next day 
 sued for peace. 
 
 But the quality which distinguished Gen. 
 Clark above all men of his time, save one, was 
 that statesman-like prescience with which he ar- 
 rived at a just estimate of the future inestimable 
 value of the northwest territory; as late as the 
 first regular Congress under the Constitution, 
 there were senators who thought that the 
 "western wilderness," as they called it, would 
 never be settled; and they stated that it was not 
 worth the cost of its protection by the go verment ! 
 
 Washington and Clark, to judge from their 
 acts and words, were the only public men of 
 that day who had any just conception of the 
 value of this territory. 
 
 And now, while it is in order to commemorate 
 the deeds of Revolutionary heroes, and societies 
 are organized for that purpose , it is but chari- 
 table to predict that the beautiful city of Louis- 
 ville on the banks of the "Belle Riviere," as the 
 French named the Ohio, will in time erect a 
 monument to George Rogers Clark, her founder 
 and defender in the days when the world was 
 young on these western shores. 
 
EVANGELINE. 
 
 (In the Acadian Land, the Scene of Longfellow's Poem.) 
 
 A few years since, while traveling with a 
 companion through the maritime provinces of 
 Lower Canada, we were turned aside from our 
 route — drawn by an eager desire to visit a spot 
 made classic by the genius of one of our own 
 poets. 
 
 It seems wonderful that the creative imagina- 
 tion and the glowing fancy of the poet can 
 cast a spell of enchantment over a material 
 landscape and through mere power of words to 
 endow it with a glamour that does not fade with 
 the lapse of years, but still illumine the deeds 
 narrated and the scene long after the actors on 
 that scene and the poet who wrote of them have 
 passed from earth. 
 
 Little did the English officer, Col. Winslow, 
 thiak when he delivered to the Acadian peasants 
 the cruel proclamation of his king — and which 
 task he declared — "was painful to his natural 
 make and temper," — that the events of that day 
 would be perpetuated in the lines of a beautiful 
 poem. 
 
 Some such thoughts we had as we left the 
 153 
 
154 EVANGELINE. 
 
 train at the lonely station of Grand Pre, in Nova 
 Scotia. 
 
 We stood then "In the Acadian Land, on the 
 shores of the Basin of Minas." Yet, without 
 the story of Evangeline and the poem, the 
 scene presented here might not have lived in 
 our memory ; but now every spot was glowing 
 with the poet's touch. 
 
 "Stretchirg to the eastward," and all around 
 were "the vast meadows that had given the 
 name to the village." 
 
 Back from the marsh-lands, or "salt-meadows," 
 there was presented to our view a wide cham- 
 paign country, not unlike the rolling prairies of 
 the west. Directly in front of the station is 
 the site of the church where the Acadian peas- 
 ants were confined. There remain to mark the 
 spot a row of ancient willow trees and a small 
 well, which latter was unearthed by the plow 
 only a few years since. This "well on the slope 
 of the hill, "was accepted of course as the veritable 
 one that had contained "the moss grown bucket 
 fastened with iron, near which was a trough for 
 horses." 
 
 However, a regard for the truth compels us 
 to add that the well in question is not "on the 
 slope of the hill," but in the flat land near the 
 willows which mark the site of the church. 
 
 The Acadian peasants who settled here were 
 mostly emigrants from the west coast of France 
 
EVANGELINE. 155 
 
 and had been accustomed in their own country 
 to reclaim the marsh lands by building dikes to 
 shut out the tides. This system they pursued 
 here as their fathers at home in La Vandee, in 
 the olden time, had done before them. 
 
 It is well known that the tides rise higher 
 in the Bay of Minas, at the head of the Bay of 
 Fundy, than elsewhere on earth. At the full 
 of the moon, about the time of the equinoxes, 
 the spring tides rush up these narrow inlets 
 — a wall of water sixty feet high ; — advancing 
 with a roar, the mighty waves overspread the 
 lowlands and crash against the dikes. 
 
 The poet refers to these immense dikes, "which 
 were raised by the hands of the Acadian farm- 
 ers with labors incessant." 
 
 We lingered long by the site of the church 
 and plucked a few wild flowers by the side of 
 the well, to carry with us as mementoes of our 
 visit. 
 
 Then we turned to the north, where the prom- 
 ontory of Blomidon, four hundred feet high, 
 stands at the entrance to the Basin of Minas. 
 
 Between this headland and the site of the old 
 church lay the village of Grand Pre at the mouth 
 of the Gaspereau river. It is more appropriate, 
 perhaps, to term it a hamlet, as the place con- 
 sists of about twenty houses scattered over the 
 farm-lands with not more than three or four 
 clustered together at the cross-roads. 
 
156 EVANGELINE. 
 
 All the old French houses, with their "thatched 
 roofs, dormer windows and projecting gables," 
 have long disappeared, and only the dikes, the 
 willows and one apple tree remain, the work of 
 Acadian hands. We walked along the road from 
 the site of the old church to the mouth of 
 the Gaspereau river, a mile distant. It was 
 along this road, on the 10th of September, 
 1755, that four hundred and eighteen Acadian 
 peasants, men and boys, were marched to the 
 British ships that lay in the mouth of the river. 
 They were followed to the beach by their wives 
 and daughters bewailing their sad fate, where, as 
 so touchingly recounted in the poem, all were 
 forced into the ships and sent into exile, never 
 to return. 
 
 My companion and myself stood for a time on 
 the rude pier at the mouth of the Gaspereau, and 
 looked down on the vessels — several schooners 
 and a bark — that rode at anchor in the bay. Our 
 conversation was of that time, one hundred and 
 thirty-six years before, when from this pier, the 
 Acadians had been crowded into the ships that 
 then lay in this harbor. My companion said : 
 "No doubt Evangeline had walked out on this 
 pier, while gazing with wistful eyes for a glimpse 
 of Gabriel." Then we spoke of the relentless 
 cruelty practiced in the parting of families and 
 the separation of parent from child, husband 
 from wife, brother from sister, and alas ! Evan- 
 el i ne from Gabriel. 
 
EVANGELINE. 157 
 
 But as the character of Evangeline is only a 
 fair vision of the poet's brain, typical of some 
 French peasant girl who dwelt here then — it is 
 probable that but for this crucial wrong there 
 would have been no grounds for the pathetic 
 story, and the poet's imagery would not have cast 
 its spell upon these fields. 
 
 The noon-hour arrived, we left the spot where 
 the Acadians had embarked on their long exile, 
 and walked up the hill to a cottage where we 
 were informed we could procure accommoda- 
 tions. On the way we actually met the "wains" 
 coming from the meadows, as described by the 
 poet, 'laden with the briny hay that filled the 
 air with its odor." 
 
 This cottage was the home of a retired sea 
 captain, a stalwart man seventy-five years of 
 age. In the afternoon the old captain drove us 
 all over the neighborhood, and finally back to 
 the railroad station at Wolfville, where is situa- 
 ted the Acadia college. He knew all the points 
 referred to in the poem of Evangeline, but it was 
 his belief that the Acadians had received noth- 
 ing more than their just deserts. 
 
 He was a native of this place, and we ques- 
 tioned him in regard to his life here, but as he 
 had been at sea from early youth, only visiting 
 his home at long intervals, he could tell us but 
 little that had transpired in the meanwhile. He 
 knew the place had changed greatly since his 
 
158 EVANGELINE. 
 
 childhood, and he had been told that ten or a 
 dozen years before there had been a large num- 
 ber of visitors coming every summer to Grand 
 Pre, but for some cause unknown to him they 
 had been dropping off, until now there were very 
 few. 
 
 While the captain was talking, we noticed his 
 dialect was entirely different from that of the 
 people among whom we had been travelling — 
 the French of the lower St. Lawrence, and the 
 English and Scotch of New Brunswick and 
 Prince Edward's Island. 
 
 This circumstance we mentioned to him, and 
 told him he talked very much like our Virginia 
 people. He replied that we were all of the same 
 stock ; that he and nearly all the people about 
 here w^ere descendants of the Tories who were 
 driven out of the United States at the close of 
 the Revolution, about the year 1783. They were 
 all exiles as well as the Aeadians, and had re- 
 ceived about as hard measure, but he had never 
 been told that any one had written poetry about 
 them ! He had never known any French 
 people on this shore, they had all gone long be- 
 fore his time. He had been in command of 
 vessels, he said, for about thirty years, and 
 twice in his life he had navigated to the east- 
 ward and returned by the west, having sailed 
 his ship entirely around the globe. 
 
 At the captain's house we met a young man, 
 
EVANGELINE. 159 
 
 a native of the Bermuda Islands, who had been 
 visiting here for several weeks. He was much 
 interested in this place, because as he stated, 
 "it was the scene of the events described in 
 Evangeline," which he had read in his island 
 home. However, it was not for that he h?d 
 come here, but in search of health. He had 
 been advised that the atmosphere of this coast 
 "would be of benefit to him, although in his 
 islands they had spring all the time, and the 
 fields and trees were always green. There are 
 as many islands in the Bermudas as days in the 
 year, but only about five of them are large 
 enough to turn around on. 
 
 As we stood on an eminence commanding a 
 wide prospect, he gazed with delighted eye across 
 the grand meadows to the lofty range of the 
 Cobequid Hills and remarked : "The world seems 
 very large to me here in Nova Scotia, as this is 
 the only part of the mainland I have ever been 
 on. I am a farmer, when at home, but perhaps 
 you would not call me a farmer but a gardener, 
 as I have seen gardens here in Nova Seotia 
 much larger than my farm in Bermuda. O yes, 
 I have heard of Grand Pre many times when at 
 home, and I regret that Mr. Longfellow could 
 not have lived to write more good poetry." 
 
 He spoke in a lisping drawl, clipping his 
 words after a manner peculiar to these islanders ; 
 yet he was withal of very pleasing address. He 
 
160 EVANGELINE. 
 
 very kindly accompanied us in our drives the 
 whole afternoon, in order to assist the captain 
 in pointing out the places of interest. 
 
 This is a charming vallej^, cultivated through- 
 out its whole extent like a garden. Travelers 
 say that only the valley of Wyoming in our 
 country can match the valley of the Grand Pre 
 in tradition and beauty ; one has its Gertrude, 
 the other its Evangeline. 
 
 We learned of a peculiar custom the farmers 
 on this coast have of harvesting the "sedge" 
 grass that grows on the marsh lands outside the 
 embankments. They float their boats over the 
 meadows, and at the ebb rest them on the grass. 
 Without delay they now begin to cut the grass 
 and fill their boats as rapidly as possible ; then 
 on the flood-tide they float with their cargoes of 
 sedge-grass to the docks far inland. When they 
 have no boats, they often employ means more 
 hazardous. Then they go on the marshes as 
 soon as the tide has ebbed, and cut as large bun- 
 dles of grass as possible. At the turn of the tide 
 they secure the grass with long ropes, to which 
 is tied, at intervals, wisps of straw, in order to 
 float it; as the tide comes up they move inshore, 
 pulling their bundles after them. Sometimes ad- 
 verse winds cause them to move slowly, and the 
 tide gains on them at such rate that they are 
 compelled to abandon their crops, and seek 
 safety by fleeing to the shore. 
 
EVANGELINE. 161 
 
 These dike lands are, perhaps, as durable and 
 productive as any in the world. For more than 
 one hundred and fifty years the best of them have 
 produced, without intermission, from two to 
 three tons of timothy hay per acre, annually. 
 These fertile spots w^ell deserve the name of "the 
 fat of the land," by which they are known to 
 the natives. 
 
 It is sad to reflect that of the race that built 
 these immense dikes and reclaimed this land 
 from the hungry maw of the sea, there are now 
 none here to enjoy its fruits. "Blown by a 
 blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert," 
 they were scattered, and the soft accents of the 
 French tongue are heard in Acadia no more. 
 
 While walking along this shore one thinks of 
 the personages of the poem, who were identified 
 with these scenes ; of Belief ontaine and the gen- 
 tle Evangeline ; of sturdy Basil La Jeunesse and 
 Gabriel ; of LeBlanc and Father Felician ; and 
 there arises in memory the pitiful appeal of 
 Evangeline when, with hope deferred, she had 
 reached the home of her lover in far Louisiana — 
 "Gone? is Gabriel gone?" 
 
 In the course of nature the Acadians would 
 have passed away, but without persecution they 
 would have left descendants behind them ; now 
 there are none of the Norman name on the coast. 
 
 Among the hardy guides and voyagers whom 
 Fremont collected for his first Rocky Mountain 
 
162 EVANGELINE. 
 
 expedition, there was one, by name, Basil La 
 Jeunesse. This man, the favorite of his leader, 
 assumed as his role always the foremost place in 
 every danger, and finally lost his life in a peri- 
 lous venture. Perhaps this circumstance may 
 have suggested to the poet the name of the 
 blacksmith of Grand Pre. 
 
 Mr. Longfellow never visited the scene of his 
 poem. It is said he feared his high ideal might 
 receive a shock from the reality ; yet could he 
 have stood with us there on that July day in the 
 midst of the harvest, he would have perceived 
 with the poet's eye, the landscape in all accord 
 with his own imagery: "Peace seemed to reign 
 on earth and the restless heart of the ocean. And 
 pleasantly gleamed in the soft, sweet air, the 
 Basin of Minas, as the sunset threw the long 
 shadows of the trees o'er the broad ambrosial 
 meads." 
 
 In all her journeyings in search of Gabriel, the 
 poet has followed the Acadian maiden through 
 many a sunny land — along the shores of the 
 "Beautiful River" — over the bright prairies, 
 "where bloom roses and purple amorphas" — 
 across the lakes of Plaquemine, and southern 
 Atchafalaya, where, "resplendent in beauty, 
 the lotus lifts her golden crown" — yet in all her 
 wanderings, Evangeline's sad gaze rested on no 
 scene more beautiful than this view at Grand 
 Pre — the home of her youth. 
 
EVANGELINE. 163 
 
 Dr. Johnson has said: "A man's patriotism 
 should gain force upon the plain of Marathon;" 
 likewise, the traveler in Acadia should gain in 
 appreciation of the poem of Evangeline, on 
 viewing the scene of the most beautiful and 
 pathetic story in American literature. 
 
FICTION. 
 
 PART III. 
 
PART III. 
 
 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 Mount Pinnickinnick looks loftily down, 
 On the valley, and on the town ; 
 Where 'mid scenes of calm repose, 
 Dwells the charming,demm*e Rose! 
 
 The sun is just gilding the tops of the tall 
 hills, and the dew is on leaf and lawn, as a 
 girl crosses the portico of a mansion on the hill- 
 side, and trips down the steps to the walk that 
 winds among the trees to the park gate. 
 
 The surroundings of this residence are indic- 
 ative of wealth and taj?te, yet the elegant figure 
 of the girl seems to enhance the air of refinement 
 of the place. She passes through the gate, and 
 follows the road round the hill till opposite a 
 neat cottage where she turns aside and bows her 
 head beneath the low trellis of morning glories 
 and honeysuckles that cover the doorway. 
 
 Seated within the little room of the cottage is 
 an elderly lady whose refined, pale face lights 
 up at the sight of the girl approaching through 
 the bower of flowers. As she enters and places 
 a covered dish on the table, the old lady ex- 
 167 
 
168 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 claims: "Why Rose, you look as pretty as the 
 morning!" 
 
 At this the young girl stands erect ; the color 
 mounts in her pink cheeks and for an instant the 
 silken lashes droop over her hazel eyes; then 
 with a little laugh that falls pleasantly on the 
 ear, she runs to the old lady — pats her on either 
 cheek, and kisses her — after which the unex- 
 pected happens, for then she throws herself on a 
 seat and weeps silently. 
 
 Man may explain, at times, curious phenomena 
 of nature ; but the varying moods of young 
 women are to him inexplicable ; and that this 
 charming young person should pass suddenly 
 from the sunshine of laughter to the storm of 
 grief, seems alarming. 
 
 Yet the elderly lady was not much disturbed 
 by it, but soothed the girl gently, and when a 
 smile shone on her fair face, said : "I am sur- 
 prised at you. Rose Trevillian ! Here you are, 
 crying because you have two beaux, and there's 
 many a girl hereabouts cries because she has 
 none at all!" 
 
 '*0 Aunt Annette," cried the girl, "no young 
 lady ever had two such beaux, in the world, 
 before. There's Lawyer Fuljames, old enough to 
 be my father, and vain enough to be a peacock ! 
 And there's poor Tom Hilton, wild enough and 
 nonsensical enough to be in a nursery ; though 
 he's not a day less than twenty-three ! Whatever 
 I'm to do with them, I don't know." . 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 169 
 
 And then Rose began to laugh in her very 
 attractive way, and the old lady laughed too. 
 
 Now, while Rose and Aunt Annette are ex- 
 changing confidences, we shall take occasion to 
 recount somewhat of her life's history. 
 
 She is an orphan ; her father had died about 
 ten years before the opening of this veracious nar- 
 rative, w^hen she was about eleven years of age. 
 When Rose was an infant of four years she had 
 lost her mother, and the little girl wondered 
 often whether the dim memory of her mother's 
 sad face that came to her on lonely nights was a 
 reality, or the vision of a dream. 
 
 After the death of her father she had been 
 adopted by her uncle, Colonel Effingham, whose 
 handsome residence we have seen her leave on 
 this beautiful spring morning. In Colonel 
 Effingham she had ever found a father and a 
 protector. He was a widower and childless. 
 
 Mrs. Annette Savoy, whom Rose called 
 "Aunt," had been his housekeeper during the 
 tender years of her infancy ; but now, for nearly 
 tw^o years past. Rose herself had been the mis- 
 tress of his palatial residence. 
 
 Rose Trevillian had received every advantage 
 that wealth and culture could command. After 
 having graduated at Vassar College she was sent 
 abroad with "Aunt Annette" as chaperon, and 
 then for a year she had studied in the museums 
 of Paris, and later, attended the School of De- 
 
170 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 sign for young ladies under the direction of the 
 famous Rosa Bonheur. Thence, going to Berlin, 
 she passed another year devoted to science under 
 the private instruction of professors of the re- 
 nowned University in the Linden. 
 
 At the end of this time, she found herself well 
 versed in three languages. Her mind had been 
 broadened by observation and travel; her active 
 intellect, stimulated by her intercourse with 
 brilliant people of two continents. 
 
 Yet, when Rose returned to her native land, 
 she found things sadly changed at home ; her 
 uncle's usually cheerful countenance now bore a 
 careworn expression ; he seemed ill at ease, until 
 he had informed his niece of the changed condi- 
 tion of his affairs, w^hich would necessitate a 
 great change in their manner of life. 
 
 *'I have become very much embarrassed finan- 
 cially, my child," he said, "and we may expect, 
 sooner or later, to be sold out of house and 
 home." However, they had continued to struggle 
 along for nearly two years since the return of 
 Rose, living in their beautiful home, pretty much 
 after the old style. It is true that Rose had 
 taught a class in fine arts during this period, and 
 thus contributed her moiety to the house- 
 hold expenses. 
 
 In fact the old colonel's embarrassment was 
 perhaps more in anticipation than in reality. 
 Meanwhile, Miss Rose had w^ritten a novel which 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 171 
 
 had been published only eighteen months, and 
 had begun already to yield considerable revenue. 
 
 The success of Rose's adventure in literature 
 was a surprise to her friends, not because they 
 thought her incapable of writing a novel, but 
 because she persisted in choosing for her subject 
 one so incongruous with the life and thoughts 
 of a young lady ; one, they said, she could not 
 possibly know much about. For, despite their 
 objections, it had pleased her to write a tale of 
 the sea, entitled: "The Captain of the Bellero- 
 phon; A Tale of Nantucket." 
 
 Now to find out what a young lady could 
 possibly know about seafaring, even one as 
 gifted as Rose, was the curiosity that had 
 prompted many young men and a few mariners 
 to read the novel written by "Rose Trevillian." 
 
 For she persisted also in writing under her 
 own proper name ; but this w^as not an objection 
 offered by the gentlemen of her acquaintance ; 
 for they declared that no nom-de-j^lume she 
 could have assumed w^ould have sounded so well 
 to them. 
 
 Those w^ho read her book were warm in their 
 praises of it and one or two professional critics 
 wrote of it, in such terms that her friends said : 
 "Rose is about to wake up some morning and 
 find herself famous." One critic wrote: "She 
 has written a graphic story of the sea ; her 
 knowledge of nautical terms is surprising, and 
 
172 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 her sea-tale is natural, lifelike and of absorbing 
 interest. We predict it will be read by mariners 
 wherever the English language is known." 
 
 The subject of Rose Trevillian's novel had 
 been suggested to her mind by a tragic incident 
 that had occurred on her voyage to Europe, 
 which may be briefly stated. 
 
 As her steamer crossed the Grand Banks the 
 "look out" had sighted the wreck of what proved 
 to be a Nantucket fishing smack which had been 
 crushed by contact with an iceberg. From a 
 bit of this wreck Rose had seen the sailors snatch 
 the dank, limp form of the captain of the ill- 
 fated craft, the only survivor of a crew of thir- 
 teen. She was standing near the rail of her 
 ship when his almost lifeless body was lifted on 
 board; and her woman's heart was touched with 
 pity as she noted that his bronzed face, though 
 tinged with the pallor of death, still wore an ex- 
 pression of resolution and that his hand still 
 grasped the trumpet, while those who had an- 
 swered its call were beneath the waves. 
 
 After a time the surgeons succeeded in bring- 
 ing this man back to life and a week ^ater, when he 
 was serving in the capacity of a boatswain on 
 her ship. Rose had noticed him, as he was stand- 
 ing forward directing the sailors aloft, through 
 the same battered trumpet he had brought from 
 the wreck, she felt drawn to speak to him. So 
 after his task was finished she called him aside 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 173 
 
 to the cabin door and "questioned him the story 
 of his life." 
 
 He replied in frank and sailor-like phrase 
 that added a picturesque effect to his narrative 
 of perils and sufferings on the sea. 
 
 This incident made such an impression on her 
 youthful mind that it did not fade from her mem- 
 ory, and when two years later she began her 
 novel it must needs be a story of the sea, and 
 the Nantucket captain must of course be the 
 chief hero of her narrative. 
 
 This is the explanation that Rose gave to her 
 friends in regard to the origin of her story that 
 is now so much read by "those that go down to 
 the sea in ships, that do business in great 
 waters." 
 
 Now that Rose has just ended her conversa- 
 tion with "Aunt Annette" and is leaving the 
 cottage, we shall go with her. 
 
 It is a remarkable coincidence that as soon as 
 she reaches the pavement a young man should 
 drive up to the sidewalk with his buggy. He 
 pretends to be much surprised to meet her; how- 
 ever, he jumps out, dolfs his hat, and begs the 
 honor of driving her home. 
 
 Rose consents with a pretty air and Mr. Tom 
 Hilton, for 'tis he, assists her to a seat in his 
 vehicle which, by the way, is rather a ramshackle 
 affair, although the horse is a good one. 
 
 Tom Hilton is a tall man of florid complexion 
 
174 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 with a sandy moustache and a smiling, pleasant 
 countenance. He is the son of a wealthy farmer 
 living in the suburbs of the town. 
 
 ' 'The shortest way home is the longest way 
 around," remarked Tom as they started. Now, 
 although he misquoted the proverb and perhaps 
 did not care for its significance, yet he inter- 
 preted it very handsomely, that is to suit him- 
 self, and made considerable of a detour from the 
 direct route. 
 
 But as they turned toward home and after Tom 
 had talked himself to a standstill on matters 
 personal, he thought it best to change the sub- 
 ject and try to be really entertaining. So he 
 said: "Miss Rose, the thermometer had a late 
 fall this spring!" At this his companion broke 
 down completely and began to laugh. 
 
 Thereupon, he began to jest with her about 
 her novel, and he wanted to know, "whether the 
 captain's gig was drawn by a sea horse!" Con- 
 tinuing, he stated very gravely that "her sea- 
 story was so natural the publishers said they 
 could see its sails !" 
 
 They were nearly opposite the court house by 
 this time and Tom was about to "get off" some- 
 thing else, when there was a crackling noise 
 heard somewhere about the old buggy. Tom 
 pulled up his horse and Rose hopped lightly out ; 
 but as he was about to follow one of the hind 
 wheels crashed down and he rolled over back- 
 wards and fell out ! 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 175 
 
 Tom scrambled to his feet and was clawing 
 the mud from his coat when he observed his 
 rival, Lawyer Fuljames, advancing, hat in hand, 
 and bowing most obsequiously to Miss Rose. 
 Mr. Fuljames proposed very politely to relieve 
 Mr. Hilton of his present embarrassment by 
 escorting Miss Trevillian home. 
 
 It was the only thing to be done, as Hilton 
 could not leave the horse, so he had to be con- 
 tent vsrith the sweet words of sympathy that fell 
 from Rose's lips in regard to the accident, and 
 then to see her depart, walking up the hill with 
 the man of all others he feared most as a rival. 
 It seemed to him that Fuljames had some secret 
 hold or unknown influence over Col. Effingham, 
 the uncle of Rose, and through him he appeared 
 to exercise some influence over her out of all 
 proportion to his deserts when one considers the 
 age of the lawyer and his personal appearance. 
 
 "What was there about this man to attract any 
 young lady?" that was the question Hilton had 
 asked himself on many occasions and could not 
 answer. 
 
 Lawyer Augustus Fuljames was about fifty 
 years or age, of medium stature and rotund fig- 
 ure, with small twinkling eyes; his sandy 
 goatee was died black in spots ; his dress was of 
 the shabby genteel style and there was that 
 about the man to excite in a stranger a feeling 
 of distrust. In fact there was a general air of 
 
176 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 insincerity and a want of conviction in what he 
 said, as if he were always shifting and tacking 
 to avoid controversy or the giving of offense. 
 He was a lawyer of great shrewdness, and many 
 said, unscrupulous and heartless in his dealings ; 
 and as a sequence was successful and had ac- 
 quired a large fortune. 
 
 As the lawyer and Miss Rose walked up the 
 hill together he began to harp on the subject 
 that had of late distressed her much ; but now 
 that he was much more importunate and much 
 bolder than ever, she was driven to answer him 
 with firmness, that he need never approach her 
 on the subject of matrimony as it was an endea- 
 vor hopeless on his part and one that always 
 gave her pain. 
 
 Fuljames then, flushed with anger and disap- 
 pointment, spoke to her insolentlj^ and as a 
 craven. 
 
 "I have been very patient with your foster 
 father, Col. Effingham," he said. '^But now I 
 shall push matters as becomes a man of business. 
 I don't think it is at all necessary for you to put 
 on so many airs with me, when I own the very 
 house over your head, and your foster-father 
 has remained there only through my charity and 
 at my expense !" 
 
 By this time they were near the entrance to 
 Col. Effingham's fine grounds, and at this un- 
 manly siDeech of Fuljames, Rose turned on him 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 177 
 
 with flashing eyes: "Go," she exclaimed "and 
 never speak to me again, sir!" 
 
 The man slunk from her presence with a 
 dejected air but went away shaking his head 
 and mumbling threats. 
 
 II. 
 
 Rose Trevillian's indignation aroused by the 
 insolent language of Lawyer Fuljames caused her 
 to walk with a very stately step through the 
 winding way of the park, while she resolved in 
 her mind what part of this conversation should 
 be divulged to her uncle. 
 
 She knew his impetuous temper and feared 
 the consequences that might ensue; yet she con- 
 sidered it a duty to inform him of the lawyer's 
 threats so that if he could provide any stay for 
 the threatened legal process he would have time 
 to act. 
 
 As Rose approached the house, Col. Effing- 
 ham, a tall white-haired man of very im- 
 posing presence, was walking back and forth on 
 the portico. He noticed au once the agitation 
 of his niece, and as she walked by his side and 
 recounted to him her conversation with the law- 
 yer, the old colonel began to bring his cane down 
 with great force, and then to saw the air with it 
 as if he held a saber in his hand and was mak- 
 ing "cuts and thrusts." 
 
 His language was very emphatic and decisive 
 
178 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 in regard to the character and conduct of Ful- 
 james, and it took all of Rose's persuasive pow- 
 ers to make him promise that he would not 
 "wear his cane out on that 'pettifogger,' on 
 sight!" 
 
 He admitted, finally, that "it would be dis- 
 graceful for a man like himself who had led sol- 
 diers in battle to have a personal encounter with 
 an ignoble foeman like Fuljames." 
 
 Col. Effingham was a gray-haired man, even 
 in time of the war with Mexico, now ten years 
 past ; for one of his officers then wrote home : 
 "Our 'Plume of Navarre' is our colonel's white 
 head, for it shines through the smoke, and we 
 have to spur very hard to keep up with the 'old 
 man,' so he won't do all the charging by him- 
 self!" 
 
 Hence, it is easy to be seen, the colonel is now 
 too old a man to begin life anew should his prop- 
 erty be taken from him, which seemed probable. 
 He had been induced to go on the notes of a 
 brother officer. Colonel Dalton, who owned large 
 possessions in the shape of valuable pine forests 
 in North Carolina. 
 
 Colonel Dalton died the year after the Mexi- 
 can War, and Effingham claimed that the prin- 
 cipal note had been paid, as his friend had 
 written to him to that efPect; but through some 
 mischance this note had not been canceled, but 
 had fallen into the hands of Lawyer Fuljames 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 179 
 
 for collection. Now, as it happened, Effingham 
 was the only responsible endorser left, and the 
 note with the interest added amounted to a great 
 sum, more than his estate would pay. Such was 
 the present condition of his affairs. 
 
 Colonel Dalton had left a son, Edward, who 
 had been a captain of cavalry under Effingham, 
 and was a great favorite with him. In fact, it 
 was largely due to his great affection for this 
 gallant Captain Edward Dalton, that had chiefly 
 influenced Colonel Effingham to assist his father, 
 to the extent of greatly embarrassing himself. 
 
 The year his father had died, Edward Dalton 
 had gone to sea as the captain of a merchant 
 ship, and had now been absent from the country 
 for ten years. Colonel Effingham had tried in 
 vain to communicate with him. 
 
 He believed that Edward Dalton knew this 
 debt had been paid before he left the country, 
 otherwise, he would not have departed, and left 
 his old colonel in the lurch to pay a debt of 
 which he had not received one dollar. 
 
 "My only hope," said the colonel, "is to delay 
 legal process in this business until Edward Dal- 
 ton shall return to settle with the administra- 
 tor's of his father's estate. This is the hope 
 that has long sustained me, but now, that Ful- 
 james is smarting under his rebuff — 1 fear he 
 will push matters to extremity." 
 
 The gentle Rose was very sorrowful as she 
 
180 ROSE TEEVILLIAN. 
 
 looked in her uncle's careworn face and felt as 
 though she were to blame for increasing the 
 anxieties that were weighing hina down. 
 
 Before she left him and passed into the house, 
 she said: "O Uncle, I am so sorry, so very 
 sorry; yet what could I do?" 
 
 Rose had uttered these modest words in low, 
 sweet tones ; for she possessed that characteris- 
 tic token of refinement — "a voice ever soft, 
 gentle and low." 
 
 Yet the old soldier would not let her make an 
 apology in extenuation of her rebuff of Fuljames, 
 but said, as he laid his hand on her head: 
 
 "My child, you did exactly right; you must 
 never think of this man any more. The gyrfal- 
 con does not mate with the carrion crow ! I knew 
 your father well, and rode by his side in battle ; 
 he was a brave and honorable man; and were he 
 alive to-day, he would have it so." The old 
 man kissed her and she tried to smile, but tears 
 were in her eyes as she passed on into the house 
 with a sad heart. 
 
 Coincident with these occurrences the spring 
 term of the "Federal Court" was holding in the 
 town, and there were many visiting lawyers and 
 strangers in attendance. In honor of these vis- 
 itors the citizens were to give a large ball that 
 night at the "Old Stone Tavern." But more 
 esi^ecially did the towns-people wish to honor 
 the able and dignified court — a judge profoundly 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 181 
 
 versed in legal knowledge and yet endowed with 
 such courtly and affable manners as rendered 
 him everywhere a great favorite in society. 
 
 Soon after the shades of night had fallen the 
 old tavern was ablaze with candle light, and here 
 the eager and expectant elite of the town were 
 assembled. 
 
 To Lawyer Fuljames had been assigned the 
 pleasing task of escorting Miss Rose Trevillian 
 to the ball. But after the contretemps of the 
 morning, of course, this could not be. 
 
 The ceremonies were about to begin ; the 
 strains of music were heard; and the jocund 
 laugh, and all the merriment that precedes the 
 giddy whirl of the dance, were on; when on 
 looking around for their partners, the young 
 men noticed that one of the fairest of the fair 
 was missing! 
 
 Tom Hilton exclaimed with a tragic air: 
 "The sun has gone down at noon-day! I no 
 longer take any interest in life!" 
 
 But when young Cameron, one of the exquis- 
 ites of the town, sidled up to him and whispered: 
 "Tom there's old Fuljames over there, fuller 
 than a biled owl! Miss Rose wouldn't come with 
 him in that condition — of course not!" 
 
 Then Hilton, despite his words, began to take 
 considerable "interest in life;" for he gazed at 
 Fuljames for a moment, and there was a danger- 
 ous glint in his eyes as he noted the disrepu- 
 
182 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 table plight of the lawyer. But he said nothing 
 about it, but merely remarked to young Cameron, 
 as he turned aside: "I depart immediately, 
 in quest of the queen of the ball," and left 
 the house. 
 
 Tom Hilton arrived at the residence of Col. 
 Effingham soon after Miss Rose, arrayed in a 
 Worth costume, had taken her seat in the parlor 
 to await her uncle, w^ho, she supposed, would 
 escort her to the grand ball which had been 
 looked forward to as the event of the season. 
 
 Tom was ushered into the parlor without 
 being aware of her presence, and his eyes falling 
 on her, as she sat silent and motionless, she ap- 
 peared to him a vision of loveliness beyond 
 compare. 
 
 Indeed his surprise, shown by his silence and 
 awkward attitude, appeared so ludicrous that 
 Miss Rose exclaimed, laughing: 
 
 "Why, Tom, you didn't take me for a ghost, 
 did you?" 
 
 "For a ghost," drawled Tom. "I took you 
 for an angel, fresh from the shores of the blest!" 
 
 It was now Miss Rose's tarn to be abashed at 
 this warmth of expression w^hich bore the unmis- 
 takable ring of true feeling, and she hung her 
 head and colored very prettily, as she said : 
 
 "O Tom, you are too ridiculous for anything!" 
 
 Nov/ this was rather a w^eak remark to fall 
 from the lips of the dignified and learned Miss 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 183 
 
 Rose Trevillian, and really showed how much 
 she was embarrassed by the unbridled admira- 
 tion of her suitor. 
 
 III. 
 
 Tom Hilton had not much time to reflect upon 
 the criticism made by Miss Rose Trevillian, that 
 his remark was — "too ridiculous for anything." 
 
 For Col. Effingham appeared at the parlor 
 door soon thereafter and directed them to go on 
 without awaiting him. "Tell the judge," he 
 said, "I'll be along pretty soon and give him 
 such a rubber at whist as will remind him of old 
 days. Nothing will please the old man more 
 than that," he concluded; "for he dearly loves 
 a rubber at whist." 
 
 These orders Tom essayed very cheerfully 
 to carry out, but as they went along he seemed 
 possessed for the nonce with a desire to talk 
 about Lawyer Fuljames. Miss Rose changed the 
 subject very adroitly several times, but Mr. 
 Hilton still persisted in turning the conversation 
 to that noted lawyer, till Miss Rose finally said: 
 "Tom, please never mention Mr. Fuljames' 
 name to me again; I ask this of you as a favor !" 
 
 "There's nobody on earth I'd sooner quit 
 talking about than Fuljames!" exclaimed Tom. 
 "For my part, Miss Rose," he continued, "I 
 wish one of those sea-porpoises you wrote about 
 in your book would swallow him ! 
 
]84 ROSE THE VILLI AN. 
 
 "I don't know whether a porpoise could swal- 
 low a man, but I don't think it would take a 
 very big fish to swallow a small potato like 
 Ful James!" 
 
 But as these vagaries evoked no reply from 
 his companion, the forbidden name was not 
 again mentioned. 
 
 Mr. Hilton arrived at the ball-room in time 
 to sail through the first cotillion, and also 
 through the first waltz with his charming com- 
 panion ; after which, finding that he could not 
 retain possession much longer — he escorted 
 her the length of the room, that they might pay 
 their respects to the distinguished judge, who 
 had requested the pleasure of again meeting 
 Miss Rose. 
 
 The courtly judge took her by both hands, 
 as he spoke to her of her gallant father, whom 
 he had known ; and then he complimented her 
 on her book which "he had read, not only with 
 interest, but with profit. I have informed my 
 law class that your book is, in my opinion, a 
 work of genius ; and now I take this occasion to 
 thank you for your contribution to literature. 
 Yes, my young lady, for such a story as brings 
 gladness to eyes that fail with wakefulness, and 
 consoles sorrow, this, I conceive, is the noblest 
 form of fiction." 
 
 Rose was very happy at commendation of her 
 writing coming from such high authority, and 
 
ROSE TRE VILLI AN. 185 
 
 there were no clouds to mar the festivities of 
 the evening ; but all went "merry as marriage 
 bells," till the late hour when the tired dancers 
 sought repose. 
 
 However, there was a little episode "after the 
 ball," not down on the programme. 
 
 As Mr. Tom Hilton was walking past the 
 hotel "after seeing Miss Rose home," he was 
 accosted by Lawyer Fuljames, who with others 
 stood in front of the billiard room, the window 
 of which was still open, although it was then in 
 the small hours of the morning. 
 
 Fuljames called out in a blatant tone : "Hello ! 
 Hilton, if you are after money, you'd better let 
 Miss Rose alone, and go for Miss Silverside!" 
 
 Hilton turned, and said fiercely : "I'll go for 
 you, you — " just then Fuljames aimed a blow 
 with his cane at Tom's head, which he warded 
 off with his left arm; and before he could repeat 
 it, Tom straightened out his strong right arm — 
 his fist striking Fuljames squarely on the mouth, 
 and actually driving him through the window 
 into the billiard room. There he lay for a time 
 motionless, with his feet protruding from the 
 sill, the only part of his body in view from the 
 street ! 
 
 There was a great commotion about the tav- 
 ern; the landlord, a friend of Fuljames, ran out 
 and caught Tom roughly by the shoulder ; but 
 by this time Hilton's mettle was well up and the 
 
186 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 landlord went down instantly before his power- 
 ful stroke. Then looking around very fiercely, 
 Hilton said: "I've a notion to go in there and 
 finish that one-horse lawyer!" 
 
 But some of the young men gathered about 
 him and persuaded him not to do it, and as his 
 arm pained him severely he concluded to go down 
 to the office of Dr. Squills and have it dressed. 
 
 When Tom appeared at the office of Dr. Squills 
 that gentleman was about to retire after the 
 fatigues of the ball. 
 
 He examined the wounded arm with a very crit- 
 ical eye and pronounced : "No fracture, but if 
 there had been one it would have been a compound 
 or a comminuted complex one!" 
 
 However, he fixed it up with bandages and 
 opodeldoc so that it was very comfortable. 
 
 Then Hilton called out: "Doc," said he, "how 
 will a little spiritus frumenti set on me after the 
 exercises of the evening?" 
 
 But the learned physician declared "it would 
 increase the fever of his wound," and that "he 
 must forego that indulgence for the present." 
 
 The doctor who had gotten an inkling of the 
 brawl was curious to know "whether the land- 
 lord or Fuljames had received any fractures or 
 mortal wounds?" 
 
 "I don't know," replied Tom to this query, 
 "I only know that the landlord went down, and 
 that I knocked Fuljames out of sight!" 
 
EOSE TEEVILLIAN. 187 
 
 On the next clay the doctor laughed heartily 
 as he came to understand the significance of 
 Tom's reply as it had reference to Fuljames. 
 
 Now let us turn from the trivial incidents of 
 this brawl and take up one of the scattered 
 strands that must be woven into the fabric of 
 this true tale ; "for aught that we could ever 
 read, could ever hear by tale or history, the 
 course of true love never did run smooth." 
 
 If we could trace to their source the diverse 
 influences that cross like threads in the warp of 
 life and shape our destiny, we should be led 
 into distant scenes and among strange fellow- 
 ships beyond the power of imagination to con- 
 ceive. 
 
 Even now after the grand ball at the "Stone 
 Tavern," if we shall take the wings of a dove and 
 fly far to the eastward ; far beyond the first 
 ocean and the night, and then far beyond the 
 second ocean till the day wanes toward the 
 second night, we shall then be in that distant 
 tropical sea where spice islands gem the waves 
 and "the amber scent of odorous perfumes" fills 
 the air, and where fronded palms spread their 
 foliage to the torrid sun. 
 
 Here we shall see a stately ship, foreign from 
 beak to talFrail, sailing majestically over the 
 silent waters. 
 
 We go aboard this foreign frigate where no 
 sound of English speech is heard. All the crew 
 
188 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 are "Lascars," the officers too are of the Malay 
 race ; but surely the captain, who now gives 
 over the watch to the first officer and walks aft, 
 is not of this race. For as he lifts his cap from 
 his swarthy face and smoothes back his dark 
 locks, he displays a brow too fair for that of a 
 Lascar. 
 
 He enters his cabin and we shall enter with 
 him, for this man is none other than Edward 
 Dalton, the captain of the ship and the former 
 comrade-in-arms of Col. Effingham. 
 
 Now it is the custom of Captain Dalton, when 
 alone, to talk aloud to himself in the English 
 language that he may not forget his native 
 speech during his long exile from his country. 
 
 On entering the cabin he approaches a small 
 desk containing books which he examines,saying: 
 "I'll see what Raoul gave me to read at Manila. 
 I ordered him to give me English works" — 
 then he lapses into the languages of the books — 
 talks for quite a while — recovers himself and 
 repeats in English — "I am tired of Dutch and 
 Spanish and the Lascar lingo — no, here is one — 
 *The Captain of the Bellerophon : A Tale of 
 Nantucket,' by 'Rose Trevillian.' 
 
 "Well, well, I'll have to read it for the sake 
 of the English." And then he prepares his 
 easy chair, turning it to the light of the port, 
 also arranges his lamp to have it ready as the 
 evening draws on apace. 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 189 
 
 "What does a woman know about a sea cap- 
 tain?" he says, scanning the title curiously as he 
 takes up the novel. 
 
 "Trevillian? where have I known that name — 
 oh, yes — the colonel of the cavalry — the friend 
 of my old colonel — Effingham ! What a flood of 
 memories these names revive. I've been a wan- 
 derer for a long time and have led an eventful 
 life; now I am thirty-two and with a compe- 
 tency earned I shall soon return to my native 
 hills and renew the friendships of my youth." 
 
 And then Captain Dalton begins to read, and 
 he reads on, and the stars come up and go down 
 and still he reads on; and when he turns the 
 last leaf and "turns in" the day is dawning on 
 the Banda Sea. 
 
 Now when next we shall meet this ship-captain 
 of the Indies, it may, peradventure, be in the 
 town where we left the tired dancers asleep. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Whatever the future may have in store of good 
 or evil fortune, it is a true saying: "The veil 
 which covers the face of futurity is woven by the 
 hand of mercy." 
 
 Winter has returned and a deep snow lies on 
 the ground when we again see Miss Rose Tre- 
 villian walking down into the town from her 
 uncle's residence on the hill. 
 
 The scene is as diiferent from a former one as 
 
190 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 the season is different ; for now she is well muf- 
 fled in furs, and trips along through the snow 
 at a livel}^ step to keep warm. As she approaches 
 the crossing to the principal street, she notices 
 Lawyer Fuljames in conversation with a very 
 distinguished looking stranger. 
 
 This man's face was turned from her, but his 
 air and figure presented such a strikingly favor- 
 able contrast to that of Fuljames that almost 
 any young lady would have noticed him. 
 
 Rose passed within a few feet of them and 
 had already reached the middle of the street 
 when there came to her ears a sound as of the 
 breath of the North wind — sonorous, and com- 
 manding in intonation as if from the blast of a 
 trumpet — "Avast! there, Lassie ! the craft will 
 run ye down ! ' ' 
 
 Rose turned and was horrified to see a runa- 
 way horse, with the wreck of a sleigh flying at 
 his heels, almost upon her! 
 
 He carried no bells, and she had not heard 
 the thud of his hoofs in the snow. 
 
 She hesitated; what was she to do — run back, 
 or run forward? 
 
 In that supreme moment a strong arm clasped 
 her waist; she was lifted from the ground and 
 in a bound or two the tall stranger stood on the 
 pavement, holding Rose under his arm as he 
 would a sack of salt. 
 
 The man was still looking after the horse 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 191 
 
 which a short distance beyond fell — striking his 
 head against a tree — and stretched himself in 
 death. 
 
 Meanwhile Miss Rose was struggling, and even 
 kicking, in an undignified way to rid herself 
 from the clasp of her rescuer. 
 
 The stranger, when he turned his head and 
 looked at her, set her down instantly and ap- 
 peared much embarrassed. He even took off his 
 hat, and tried to apologize to her ; but Rose, be- 
 ing confused, did not know what he was saying. 
 
 But her own thoughts were — "What a sun- 
 browned, handsome face! Pity that scar; maybe 
 he's a soldier — but his speech is that of a sailor. 
 'Avast! there, lassie!' That's the way he hails 
 me! He saved m}^ life, I ought to thank him." 
 
 Miss Rose remembered afterwards with morti- 
 fication, that she did not speak one word to 
 the stranger. 
 
 However, "she shook herself, and primped 
 her feathers like a wet duck." At least that's 
 what Miss Silverside said, and she lives oppos- 
 ite the place of the accident, and "saw it all." 
 
 That young lady ran across the street, and 
 took the very much agitated Miss Rose into her 
 own house, and ministered to her wants — chat- 
 tering all the time. 
 
 The stranger walked away down the street, 
 and disappeared. "Rose, you did struggle 
 mightily, and kicked too," laughed Miss Silver- 
 
192 ROSE TBEVILLIAN. 
 
 side. "And he was such a handsome man,'* 
 she cried. "But you are not used to being run 
 over, or hugged either, Rose, and you were mor- 
 tally skeered, no doubt." 
 
 ''He didn't even look at me," replied Rose, 
 "until he had seen what had become of the horse. 
 He certainl}^ is handsome; he saved my life, but 
 he has a grip like a grizzly bear; my ribs ache 
 yet." 
 
 Miss Rose Trevillian had been invited to spend 
 the day with one of her friends; she was on her 
 way to that friend's house when she met with 
 the thrilling adventure that may change the cur- 
 rent of her whole life. 
 
 After she had become somewhat composed, 
 she left Miss Silverside and repaired to her 
 friend's house. Here she recounted, in her mod- 
 est, fascinating way, her mishaps of the morn- 
 ing. A thousand surmises were made by the 
 young ladies present in regard to the "gallant 
 stranger ;" but their curiosity was not to be grat- 
 ified on that day. 
 
 The next morning when Miss Rose met her 
 uncle. Col. Effingham, at the breakfast table, 
 she was surprised to find him in such excellent 
 spirits ; in fact he appeared almost ten years 
 younger than on the day before. 
 
 He approached her with a glad smile, and tak- 
 ing her by both hands, said: "My lassie, our 
 troubles are all over." 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 193 
 
 Now Rose's first thought was, "Whoever called 
 me 'Lassie' before? Oh, that whirlwind of a 
 stranger when he snatched me from the earth ! 
 But what could her uncle mean?" 
 
 While they were at the table, Col. Effingham 
 explained to his niece that on the day before, 
 when she was absent, he had received a visit 
 from Captain Dalton, his former comrade-in- 
 arms, whom he had not met for many years. 
 
 Captain Dalton had come all the way from 
 the sea-port in order to pay his respects to his 
 old colonel, and to apologize to him for the great 
 trouble that he, Effingham, had involved him- 
 self in, indorsing notes for his father. 
 
 "But now he has removed all these troubles," 
 the colonel said, "for he has settled all claims 
 against his father's estate. He informed me also, 
 that he gave Lawyer Fuljames 'a round rating' 
 in regard to the rascally manner in which he had 
 managed the business. 
 
 "I am now very happy for I don't owe a cent 
 in the world but am rich again," he said. "I am 
 also well pleased that I have not been de- 
 ceived in Captain Dalton ; but I never doubt- 
 ed him for a moment. I have invited him to 
 dine with us to-morrow, Rose, when I shall 
 take great pleasure in presenting you to one of 
 the most gallant men I have ever known !" 
 
 " What is the personal appearance of Captain 
 Dalton?" inquired the demure Rose. She was 
 
194 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 all anxiety, for she began to suspect that he and 
 the handsome stranger who had delivered her 
 safe from the hoofs of the runaway horse were 
 one and the same. 
 
 "Oh, well, child," replied the colonel, "he's 
 good enough for looks, in fact, he's a very hand- 
 some man; but he's better far than he looks: 
 he's as true as steel ! you shall see him to- 
 morrow. ' ' 
 
 Rose then recounted to her uncle her fearful 
 escape from death — how the stranger, at great 
 peril to himself , had snatched her from under 
 the horse's feet. She then described her rescuer 
 minutely, his manner and dress. Before she had 
 finished, the colonel exclaimed: 
 
 "Of course that's Dalton !■;— just like him not 
 to say anything about it." 
 
 Miss Rose was somewhat disturbed that Cap- 
 tain Dalton had not thought worthy of mention 
 the thrilling adventure in which he had saved 
 her life. Yet she consoled herself with the re- 
 flection that he did not know her and of course 
 was not aware that this adventure could be a 
 matter of interest to Colonel Effingham. 
 
 She was very busy all that day in preparing 
 for the dinner party to be given on the morrow 
 to this Captain Dalton of whom her uncle had 
 spoken in terms of such ardent friendship. She 
 appeared unusually bright and happy ;there was 
 a warm flush on her cheeks and her beautiful eyes 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 195 
 
 shone with a glad light which her friends had 
 not noted before. 
 
 Col. Effingham had invited a few old army 
 officers of the neighborhood to meet Dalton ; 
 Miss Rose also invited some of her young friends, 
 among whom were Miss Editha Silverside and 
 Mr. Tom Hilton. 
 
 It was soon noised abroad in the town that 
 Miss Rose Trevillian had been saved from al- 
 most certain death by a daring stranger who in 
 his effort to rescue her from being trampled to 
 death by a runaway horse, had greatly imper- 
 illed his own life. 
 
 Then it became the desire of many to see him, 
 
 and the story of the intrepid act that had 
 
 brought Captain Dalton into public notice, was 
 
 very much exaggerated as it passed from one to 
 
 another. 
 
 V. 
 
 O well for the sailor when on that day, 
 He turns from the charm of the sea away, 
 For the fairest flower of the beautiful hills- 
 For the love of Rose his true heart thrills- 
 And the sailor forgets the charm of the sea, 
 For her love does surpass the charm of the sea ! 
 
 The candles were lighted in the spacious par- 
 lors of Col. Effingham's residence, and most of 
 the guests had assembled when Captain Dalton 
 was observed walking leisurely through the 
 winding way of the approach. 
 
 Miss Rose thought it unfortunate that her 
 
196 EOSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 uncle at that moment was seated on the side 
 portico enjoying a smoke with one of his brother 
 officers and that she was left alone to do the 
 honors of the occasion. It is true, "Aunt An- 
 nette" is there to assist her, but Rose thought 
 her uncle's presence would have made the intro- 
 duction less embarrassing. 
 
 "Aunt Annette" met the captain at the parlor 
 door and led him forward to introduce him ; she 
 noticed as his eyes fell on the charming hostess 
 that he changed color visibly beneath all the dark- 
 ness of his sea-bronzed face. He evidently rec- 
 ognized her but went through the ceremony 
 creditably, perhaps with the thought that he 
 himself was not recognized. 
 
 It was only after Miss Rose in very choice 
 and appropriate phrase had thanked him for 
 saving her life and apologized for not having 
 done so at the time of the accident, that the 
 captain seemed really discomfited. 
 
 He hesitated, then said: "Please don't men- 
 tion it, Miss Trevillian — a little matter like that 
 — pray don't notice it!" 
 
 "A little matter like that!" reiterated Miss 
 Rose, who now that she observed the captain so 
 much disconcerted, rapidly regained confidence, 
 and replied smartly : "Do you call it, sir, a 
 email matter — the saving of my life.'"' 
 
 "Oh no, lady, I did not mean that! I meant 
 — oh, you know what I meant" — and then they 
 both laughed, and the ice was broken. 
 
ROSE TBEVILLIAN. 197 
 
 Captain Edward Dal ton proved to be an inter- 
 esting man in conversation ; there were present 
 not only his old colonel but three or four army 
 officers who had known him in youth. He was 
 a favorite with them all and soon became so 
 with his new acquaintances. 
 
 There was much merriment at the table over 
 the account of "the rescue of Rose" as narrated 
 by Miss Editha Silverside, a society belle, and 
 the only eye witness to the occurrence, save Law- 
 yer Fuljames, who of course was not present at 
 this dinner party. 
 
 Mr. Tom Hilton carried himself with a very 
 jaunty air on this festive occasion, but his heart 
 was not light. He remarked aside to young 
 Cameron : "I believe this Dalton is the very sea- 
 captain Rose wrote her book about ; and now he 
 has to come out here and rescue her ! 
 
 "Why couldn't I have been there w^hen old 
 Bartow's horse was about to run over her! Luck 
 never did light on me. I'm afraid my cake is 
 all dough!" 
 
 Thus he rattled on to the amusement of sev- 
 eral young men in the corner of the room, while 
 Miss Rose and the gallant captain were jprome- 
 nading on the portico. 
 
 Later on in the evening several of the younger 
 set of the young ladies gathered about Mr. Hil- 
 ton, and began to twit him about his new rival. 
 
 Tom bore it all in good part till one of these 
 
198 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 Job's comforters kindly suggested: "He might 
 make away with Captain Dalton as he had 
 done with Mr. Fuljames!" 
 
 To this Tom then made reply, very slowly 
 and gravely : "It is so much easier to forgive a 
 big man than a little one !" 
 
 This repartee amused the girls and they con- 
 tinued their thrusts at his expense, until he 
 finally remarked : "Young ladies when a man is 
 under a cloud, the silver lining is on the other side 
 — that is the silversideV^ Thereupon, with a sol- 
 emn mien he walked across the room and seated 
 himself beside Miss Editha Silverside ! 
 
 This was m(»re than the girls could stand, and 
 they giggled outrageously ; so that it required 
 all of Mr, Hilton's ingenuity in prevarication to 
 smoothe over matters with the prim and polished 
 Miss Silverside. . 
 
 Captain Dalton was quite the lion of the even- 
 ing, especially among the ladies ; but he w^as not 
 a demonstrative man and bore his honors meekly. 
 
 The old officers told aside and in undertones 
 of his deeds as a boy captain. He himself ap- 
 peared much touched by the revival of old 
 memories and the cordial reception and the kind 
 remembrances of his comrades. 
 
 But of late years his life had been cast among 
 a different class, and amid foreign scenes. Yet 
 of his adventures on the seas he did not speak, 
 and there was no one present who could do so. 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 199 
 
 He had stated on his first appearance at the 
 inn that he would probably remain for a few- 
 days, only, until he could see some old friends 
 and renew some old acquaintances. Yet he had 
 remained for many days ; but rumor said, more 
 on account of new friends than old ones. 
 
 However this may be, Captain Dalton was in 
 constant attendance upon the charming Miss 
 Rose; in riding and driving and wandering over 
 hill lands, he was her very shadow. 
 
 He told Col. Effingham that "his old cavalry 
 instincts had come back to him as soon as he 
 had put foot on land." 
 
 This was given in explanation of the fact that 
 he had just received from Kentucky two very 
 fine thorough-bred saddle horses. 
 
 It was a fine sight to see Miss Rose and the 
 captain riding through the forest avenues when 
 they were ablaze with all the autumn hues. 
 
 The captain said that never in foreign lands 
 had he seen "Such beauty and splendor, and 
 that it made his heart glad !" 
 
 As he looked toward the "peerless horsewoman 
 at his side, when he spake this — he doubtless 
 spoke in all candor and sincerity ! 
 
 Miss Silverside and all the other gossips of 
 the town knew exactly how all this was to end; 
 and they were right — at least in this instance. 
 
 It happened in this wise, but how it was found 
 out is not known. 
 
200 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 It was a beautiful morniDg in Autumn; Miss 
 Rose and the captain were riding along a forest 
 path, alight with the blaze of the rising sun, and 
 the glories of the season. 
 
 Such was the situation when the captain be- 
 gan all at once to talk in a peculiar fashion — 
 using sailor-terms and sea-jargon, as Miss Rose 
 had never heard him do before. 
 
 But in a little while she became aware that he 
 was quoting passages from her own novel. 
 
 As soon as she became conscious of this. Miss 
 Rose colored a rosy red, which did not detract 
 from her good looks at all, so thought the cap- 
 tain. But she would not stand much of this, so 
 turning to him, she said: "Why captain! you 
 remind me of Mr. Hilton, the way you are talk- 
 ing now!" 
 
 His reply was: "I think Mr. Hilton a very 
 clever fellow." 
 
 Then Miss Rose continued : "Where on earth 
 did you ever see my book?" 
 
 "Your book!" exclaimed the captain. "Why 
 are you the Miss Trevillian who wrote the great 
 sea novel? Well, well, I'll say first I read your 
 book while sailing over the Banda Sea." 
 
 "And where is the Banda Sea?" asked Miss 
 Rose irrelevantly, in her happy confusion not 
 knowing very well what to say. 
 
 "Many miles from these beautiful hills," the 
 <}aptain replied. "Your book fell into my hands 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 201 
 
 by accident at sea. I began to read it one lonely 
 night, and soon became so much interested in it 
 that I continued to read until I finished it — 
 reading all night." 
 
 "You don't mean to say — you read my book 
 all night!" exclaimed the astonished and well 
 pleased Miss Rose. 
 
 ^^Cela va sans dire!''' replied the captain in 
 his eagerness to assure her. 
 
 And then he thanked her politely for the en- 
 tertainment her book had afforded him when 
 lonely and surrounded by those who did not 
 speak his native language. 
 
 'Twas then he spoke of his deep affection for 
 her, and the new-born hope that had arisen in 
 his heart ; and pleaded his cause in such frank 
 and manly phrase that the gentle Rose could 
 not conceal the riotous joy that mantled in her 
 cheeks, and the bold captain would take no 
 refusal! 
 
 One evening, a few weeks later, as this couple 
 were promenading on the portico, they noticed 
 Col. Effingham regarding them with a wistful 
 look, as if he had that in his heart which he 
 refrained from speaking. 
 
 Then, after a whispered consultation, the 
 captain led the blushing Rose to her uncle's 
 side, and said: "Colonel, you once called me 
 your son on the bittlefield; can you not do so 
 now that Rose has promised to be my wife!" 
 
202 ROSE TREVILLIAN. 
 
 The old colonel seemed stricken with sudden 
 joy; he kissed Rose, and hopped about for very 
 gladness. 
 
 In congratulating the captain he told him he 
 would be in honor bound to name his next ship 
 the "Bellerophon." 
 
 The debonair Dalton bowed low in gracious 
 courtesy to his fiancee, as he replied: "If I ever 
 sail the seas again, my vessel shall be called the 
 'Bellerophon;' and her figure-head shall be 
 adorned with a 'Rose' — the fairest flower that 
 ever bloomed on land to charm a sailor from 
 the sea." 
 
 One of the prettiest weddings ever seen, and 
 remembered because of many distinguished 
 strangers in attendance, was celebrated in the 
 "Church under the Maples." 
 
 This took place in the glorious "Month of 
 Roses," when the fragrance of flowers revives 
 in memory the beautiful creations of the old 
 poets. Then we think of Herrick's "Sappho," 
 how the Roses were all white until they tried to 
 rival her fair complexion, and blushing for 
 shame because the}^ were vanquished, have ever 
 since remained red. And of the lovelorn Juliet 
 as she mused on the moonlit balcony thinking 
 that "the rose by any other name would smell 
 as sweet." 
 
 And of old Chaucer's "Emilie" with hair 
 blown backward gathering roses in the early 
 
ROSE TREVILLIAN. 20a 
 
 morning: "thrusts among the thorns her little 
 hand." And of Milton's "Eve" as she stands 
 in Eden half veiled in a cloud of fragrance, "so 
 thick the blushing roses round her blow." 
 
 The rose& were also very thick at the marriage 
 ceremony of Captain Edward Dalton and Miss 
 Rose Trevillian ; for the good ship "Bellerophon" 
 was there en miniature, laden with a cargo of 
 rarest roses ! 
 
 The church was packed from altar rail to en- 
 trance with the fashionables of the town. 
 
 Well up in front, on the right, sat Miss Editha 
 Silverside in gorgeous apparel, as prim as the 
 erect, yellow primrose ! 
 
 Well up in front, on the left, sat Mr. Tom 
 Hilton in stunning array, still trying to keep on 
 the silverside of the cloud "that lowered upon 
 his house!" The queenly Rose, escorted by her 
 distinguished relative. Col. Effingham, was ac- 
 companied by tw^o very comely bridesmaids, while 
 on seats contiguous sat five army officers, in sup- 
 porting distance of their old colonel. 
 
 The bridegroom, this gallant son of Mars and 
 of Neptune, was also accompanied by two atten- 
 dants; one of them an army officer; but his best 
 man w^as a sea-captain whose brown face pre- 
 sented a striking contrast to the pearly com- 
 plexions of the bridesmaids. 
 
 On a seat hard by were a trio of foreign 
 mariners, like sea-gulls on a spar. They had ven- 
 
204 ROSE TRE VILLI AN. 
 
 tured thus far from the salt water, as they said 
 in their dialect: "To honor the captain and the 
 winsome lassie, who wrote the great sea-book!" 
 Of those present on this joyous occasion there 
 remain some who will contend even to this day, 
 that this was "the loveliest wedding' ' ever cele- 
 brated in the "Church under the Maples." 
 
THE LIGHT THAT FAILED, 
 
 Many years ago, within a dimly lighted room 
 of an old manor-house, on Chesapeake Bay, two 
 men sat at cards. The dead silence of the night, 
 or rather of the early morning, reigned over the 
 place. Much money lay piled on the table; 
 while the tensely drawn features and eager inter- 
 est of the players showed the desperate nature 
 of the game. At last, the elder man threw 
 down his hand of cards with a great thump, as 
 he swept the money from the board, and ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 "That's a huckleberry above your persimmon!" 
 
 "When you hold all the aces in the pack, my 
 loss is a foregone conclusion," replied his op- 
 ponent, as he turned around and rested his head 
 on the back of his chair. 
 
 "Oh, well, Bill," said the elder man, as he 
 gazed into the handsome, dark features of his 
 young companion, "all you've got todoistocall 
 on the old man when you need funds;" and he 
 stowed his winnings into the pocket of his coat. 
 
 "Not much," said Bill, "I think I've eaten 
 my white bread; since father's second marriage, 
 he don't seem to show me much favor, and I've 
 205 
 
206 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 
 
 resolved to quit this house, where I have scant 
 welcome,ancI again seek my fortune beyond seas." 
 
 "Why Bill, you are the only legal heir to your 
 mother's large estate, your father has only a life 
 interest in it, and he cannot keep you out of it." 
 
 ''Well, he is doing it anyway; he has recorded 
 the will of my mother, w4iich conveys the prop- 
 erty to himself, 'her beloved husband.' " 
 
 While the speaker, William Walcott, was re- 
 counting this, his hearer, Lawyer Chapman, list- 
 ened with manifest interest. 
 
 After a long pause, the lawyer said: "Bill, 
 there must be something wrong about this busi- 
 ness ; I knew your mother when she was young, 
 and I was young, and a kinder woman never 
 lived on the earth. She never disinherited her 
 only child, though that child was yourself, a 
 wild rover, in foreign parts when she died." 
 
 In this strain he talked for some time, but the 
 young man made no reply. Finally the old law- 
 yer, in a querulous tone, said : 
 
 "Why don't you talk? When did you first hear 
 of this will, before your father's second marriage, 
 or only since your new mother came on the tapis?" 
 
 Thus appealed to, the young man sat up and 
 smoothed back his hair; but he paused in 
 thought, before he said: "The will was recorded 
 within the last month. I never heard of it be- 
 fore, but I hear much of it now; especially from 
 my new mother; and finding myself an unwel- 
 
THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 207 
 
 come guest in my own house, I have resolved to 
 quit" — he stopped suddenly, arose, and re- 
 lieved his feelings by kicking the chair across 
 the room. This raised a great noise which re- 
 echoed in the wainscoted room of the old man- 
 sion ; when this had subsided, the lawyer whis- 
 tled low: "Is it so bad as that?" he said; then 
 he put his hand under his coat slowly, and as if 
 with great reluctance, drew forth the money he 
 had won. This he handed to the young man, 
 saying : "Take that, William, I never pluck a 
 wounded pigeon; you'll need that on your trav- 
 els, for I see you are going, and I don't blame 
 you; however, I'll keep back a tenner for contin- 
 gent expenses," he said on second thought, as 
 he withdrew that amount. "The other you can 
 repay me when you are able," he concluded. 
 "But are you sure this will is all regular?" 
 
 "I asked Guilford, who, as you know, has 
 been the family lawyer for many years, to in- 
 quire into the matter. He expressed great sur- 
 prise that he had not known of the will before, 
 but upon searching the records, he declared that 
 it was all regular and that I had been disinher- 
 ited. He is a cautious man, and while he says 
 this, he will look at me and shake his head in 
 doubt and wonder." 
 
 Chapman's only reply was: "Guilford is a 
 good lawyer and he may well shake his head 
 over such business as this!" Then he looked at 
 
208 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 
 
 his watch, and remarked: "It is now in the 
 wee small hours and it is time to be going." 
 
 Walcott then walked around the table and 
 said, as he took the old lawyer by the hand : 
 "Mr. Chapman, I shall remember your kindness 
 to me ; it may be long, if ever, before we meet 
 again ;but I trust I shall be able to return to you 
 or yours, all that I owe you." 
 
 "No obligations at all, my boy!" exclaimed 
 the lawyer. "I remember old scores and I wish 
 you well — you are a wild blade, William, but of a 
 generous strain and I hope you may yet come 
 into your own." He then shook hands warmly, 
 and took his leave. 
 
 The young man sat long with bowed head, as 
 if in deep thought, then rose and walked down 
 the pathway, out the gate. 
 
 After this night, William Walcott was not 
 seen again at "Bolton House," which stood on a 
 rocky peninsula overlooking Chesapeake Bay,- 
 in lower Virginia. This mansion, situated in 
 the midst of farm lands, surrounded by ancient 
 oaks, was the manor house of the estate which 
 had been the marriage portion of his mother, 
 and which should now belong to him as her le- 
 gal heir. But upon his return from his travels, 
 he had found that his father had married again, 
 and that he himself had been dispossessed of his 
 natural inheritance by the will of his mother^ 
 It seemed wonderful that no one had known of 
 
THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 209 
 
 the existence of this will until after his father's 
 second marriage. It was equally unfortunate 
 that the officers of the probate court, and all 
 who had had to do with the will had passed 
 away. He pondered over the strange injustice 
 of the act, and the wrong that had been prac- 
 ticed upon him ; yet he accepted the opinion of 
 the family lawyer as final, and abandoning his 
 cause, he walked forth into the night, and the 
 darkness inclosed him. 
 
 On the following morning the absence of 
 William Walcott from home excited no surprise 
 in the family circle as his habits had been irreg- 
 ular since his return from abroad. 
 
 After the lapse of several weeks his friends 
 heard by chance, through the Cunard office in 
 New York, that he had taken passage on one of 
 their ships for Liverpool, bound thence to the 
 gold fields of South Africa. 
 
 Amid the gayeties and festivities that were 
 now held under the new regime at Bolton House, 
 the rightful heir to the estate seemed apparently 
 forgotten. 
 
 The new mistress of the mansion was youth- 
 ful and gay, and entertained much company. 
 She required of her servants and dependents 
 that they should address her as^Lady Walcott." 
 But the negro people of the neighborhood per- 
 sisted in calling her "Miss Frances." This arose 
 perhaps from the circumstance that she would 
 
210 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 
 
 employ none of them about her house, saying, 
 "she had never been used to negroes." 
 
 Even had it been otherwise the astounding, 
 mysterious happenings at this residence within 
 the next few months would have dispersed and 
 banished every mother's son of this superstitious 
 race from the premises. 
 
 A short time after the disappearance of the 
 young heir orBolton House, Lawyer Chapman 
 met Miss Kate Beuchtel, the housekeeper to 
 Lady Walcott. 
 
 "When will Mr William Walcott return?" 
 said Miss Kate to the lawyer as they met at the 
 post office. 
 
 "Indeed, my young lady, I don't know," he 
 replied. "Why don't you inquire of lawyer 
 Guilford, he is the legal light of the family and 
 is expected to know all things." 
 
 "Mr. Guilford is not a friend to Mr. William 
 — I know that," she answered. 
 
 "Miss Kate is a true friend to Mr. William," 
 said the lawyer, looking her steadily in the 
 eye. 
 
 The girl colored painfully, and with a toss of 
 the head, started to move on, but paused and 
 remarked rather saucily : "Yes, I am, Mr. Chap- 
 man, and you are too ! What do you think now 
 of that will that has just been found, which 
 takes everything away from the poor boy?" 
 
 "I think," said Chapman with his accustomed 
 
THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 211 
 
 bluntness, "that it is wrong, and ought not to 
 be allowed to stand ! ' ' 
 
 "Why then, don't you right this wrong done 
 to your young friend — you are a lawyer!" said 
 the girl warmly. 
 
 "Lawyers do not usually try to right wrongs 
 unsolicited," he replied. "Besides, Mr. William 
 has abandoned his own case and left the country, 
 I believe, not to return." 
 
 "Don't you think he'll come back after while?" 
 she said in evident distress. 
 
 "I do not," answered the lawyer; "he is of a 
 proud nature, and very fixed in his notions." 
 
 Tears welled up in her dark eyes as he said 
 this ; and she made an effort to speak, but her 
 emotions seemed to choke her utterance. 
 
 Finally she replied: "Well, he has one friend 
 left here who will not forget him, and some 
 people will find that out, too, to their long sor- 
 row!" 
 
 Then she left the office, and the lawyer mar- 
 veled much as he noted the flash of fire in her 
 eyes. His reflections were: "That girl has more 
 force of character than I gave her credit for; 
 she may do something yet outside of the com- 
 monplace !" 
 
 Bolton House was supplied with many modern 
 conveniences, rare even in city residences at the 
 date of this story. A former proprietor, a man 
 of science, had erected a private gas works 
 
212 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 
 
 which furnished light and fuel to the premises. 
 Dumb-waiters and elevators run by water power 
 moved noiselessly between the floors, and speak- 
 ing tubes communicated with the chambers. 
 The superb dancing hall with waxed floor and 
 brilliant chandeliers was often the scene of rev- 
 elry. The present proprietor, Thomas Walcott, 
 had followed the sea, and his trim yacht was 
 now moored in a picturesque boathouse, just at 
 the foot of the yard at the head of the inlet. 
 Surmounting the house was an immense glass 
 dome, from which at night shone a great light, 
 the beacon to the harbor. 
 
 It was at a ball given just before Christmas 
 by Lady Walcott, in honor of city guests — and 
 to her sister. Miss Celeste Stanley — that a mys- 
 terious and startling occurrence took place in 
 the dancing hall. 
 
 There were many guests from the city ; the 
 large hall was quite full and an excellent band 
 was playing; the night was about half spent 
 and the festivities were at full height when the 
 lights were suddenly extinguished and the hall 
 was left in total darkness ! 
 
 The surprise was sudden, the silence profound 
 for a few seconds, and then murmurs began to 
 be heard in the vast crowd until a feeble light 
 was visible high up on the middle wall — when 
 exclamations arose — "What is it?" "It's a 
 hand!" "It's on fire !" "What is it writing?" 
 
THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 213 
 
 Then overcome with awe they remained silent 
 as they conned in the flaming letters on the wall, 
 this jingle of rhyme: 
 
 ''Read my riddle if you can. 
 
 This house belongs to the younger man." 
 
 The hand that wrote shone with some lumin- 
 ous substance, and appeared to protrude from 
 a dim form; and hand, form and inscription all 
 paled and faded away in a few seconds. Yet it 
 seemed altogether miraculous ; the crowd was 
 dazed with fear ; a few persons near the door 
 ran out and women screamed. Thomas Walcott, 
 a rugged man of sixty years, was seated near 
 one of the large windows in conversation with a 
 lady. He arose and threw up the sash, then in 
 loud, stern tones ordered the servants to bring 
 lights as the gas was filling the room. 
 
 When this had been done there was nothing 
 to be seen on the wall, and the scared dancers 
 were more mystified as they began to consider 
 how the lights had been put out while the gas 
 was still flowing through the pipes. This the 
 head servant declared had been the case ; the 
 gas plug was in the yard covered with mud and 
 had not been tampered with while the escaping 
 gas pervaded the house. 
 
 Thomas Walcott stood for some time after the 
 room had been relighted, gazing at the spot 
 where the inscription had been. It was all too 
 much for this unlearned, seafaring man with 
 
214 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 
 
 much of the sailor superstition in his composi- 
 tion. However, he was brave and even stern 
 when dealing with human affairs, and he now 
 turned to his guests and said: ''Friends, I don't 
 understand this, but go on with the dance ; this 
 seems some ill-timed trick played by s ^me mal- 
 icious person to injure me before my friends; 
 do not let it interfere with our merrymaking, 
 but go on with your dance." 
 
 The music began and the dance continued, in a 
 half-hearted way, but it was soon over and 
 dancers and guests retired to discuss the start- 
 ling occurrences of the night. 
 
 This affair was almost the sole topic of con- 
 versation in the village for several days, and 
 distorted accounts of it appeared in the city 
 papers. The family at Bolton House, however, 
 refused to discuss the subject. 
 
 The fact that the former proprietor of this 
 residence had somewhere about the building a 
 laboratory or "ghost room," as they called it, 
 and which had not been found by the present 
 occupants, was given as a circumstance that may 
 have had to do with the apparition on the wall 
 which had terrified the dancers and for which 
 no rational explanation was offered. 
 
 Lady Bolton was greatly disturbed at the in- 
 terruption to the holiday festivities, but con- 
 cluded to dispel the gloom that was over the 
 place by a grand ball on New Year's Eve. The 
 
THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 215 
 
 preparations for the same were very elaborate and 
 many invitations were sent out. 
 
 When the eventful evening came the parlors 
 and dancing hall were filled with the elite of 
 society, both of the neighborhood and nearby 
 cities ; but it was noticed as a circumstance 
 worthy of remark that many staid people who 
 were present at the first entertainment were now 
 absent. 
 
 Even from those present there was many a 
 hurried, scared look directed towards the spot 
 where, on the wall, the mysterious writing had 
 occurred; yet the night waned and nothing hap- 
 pened, nor was like to happen, for in the early 
 evening Thomas Walcott had called to him his 
 handsome housekeeper, Miss Kate Beuchtel, and 
 had remarked significantly that "if there was 
 any more handwriting on the wall it had better 
 be done by a body as thin as that of a ghost or 
 else it would stop a pistol bullet!" 
 
 Miss Kate, shortly after that was observed in 
 earnest conversation with two of the house-maids. 
 Meantime everything went well with the danc- 
 ers — even "charmingly," as one of the young 
 guests remarked to Lady Walcott. Despite all 
 that, exactly as the great clock in the hall-way 
 was on the stroke of midnight — the lights were 
 extinguished absolutely from the gleaming 
 "light-house" in the cupola to the basement 
 story — all was left in utter darkness! 
 
216 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 
 
 It is difficult to give any adequate expression 
 to the scene that followed — women screamed of 
 course — the fumes of the escaping gas pervaded 
 the house — there was a great rush by the fren- 
 zied people for the hall-way — and midway of 
 the hall three youn* ladies who had a good start 
 and were running out, hand in hand, as if for 
 mutual support — ran plump against an artic- 
 ulated, gleamy skeleton that was dangling from 
 the center chandelier ! They fell down in a 
 dead faint and were quiet for the time. 
 
 This terrible skeleton without doubt saved 
 their lives; for the frightful object, swaying to 
 and fro, parted the rushing crowd to the right 
 and left of the broad hallway ; otherwise these 
 girls would have been trampled to death. 
 
 A man came along, and striking a match, 
 lighted one burner of the chandelier to the dan- 
 ger of an explosion; but he noticed that all the 
 windows in the long hallway had been raised. 
 Thomas Walcott, who came next, also noticed 
 this ; his fury was unbounded and he seemed 
 a dangerous man ; he tore down the skeleton 
 and trampled it to pieces on the tile flooring ! 
 
 Unfortunately, for him, the next to appear on 
 the scene was the head waiter. He was pale 
 with fright, but grew paler still as Walcott 
 grasped him by the neck, threw him to the 
 floor and would have trampled him under foot 
 had he not been restrained by the men about, 
 
THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 217 
 
 as he hissed between his clinched teeth : "What 
 means tliis tomfoolery — this conspiracy in my 
 house?" 
 
 The house was soon relighted, but the guests 
 were thoroughly panic stricken and hastily took 
 their departure without any formal leave-taking. 
 
 Lady Walcott retired to her room and was not 
 seen again, even by the servants of the house- 
 hold, for several days. After she became some- 
 what composed she stated that she and her 
 husband had concluded to return to the city for 
 the remainder of the winter, and in the spring 
 they would have Bolton House repaired and 
 refurnished. 
 
 This plan was carried out; they dismissed the 
 servants and retired to the city, but did not 
 take up their residence here again, as they had 
 expected to do. It was not till late in the fol- 
 lowing May that an architect and house decora- 
 tors came down to make the needed repairs. As 
 thftre was no change made in the building, some 
 of the citizens surmised that the architect had 
 been employed that he might" through his tech- 
 nical skill discover and explain the mysterious 
 happenings at this house which had given it a 
 bad reputation, and fixed upon it the name of 
 the "haunted house." 
 
 If this was the purpose of the architect he 
 signally failed, for a critical examination of the 
 whole premises presented no clue that led to an 
 
218 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 
 
 explanation of the mysteries that overhung the 
 place. After the furnishers and decorators were 
 through with their work, the house was closed 
 again, and so remained until late in the fall. 
 Then word was received that the master and 
 mistress w^ould return on their yacht from a voy- 
 age along the coast, accompanied by a few 
 friends, and would make a brief stay at Bolton 
 House. Upon the reception of this announce- 
 ment, the servants were collected, and the house 
 put in order. 
 
 The yacht was to reach her landing at the 
 head of the inlet about nine o'clock on the fol- 
 lowing Saturday night ; all was in readiness, but 
 as it had not arrived at midnight the servants 
 retired, and all the lights were out save the 
 light m the cupola, "the light-house," which 
 was the beacon by which the master was to pilot 
 his craft up the narro\v, rocky inlet. 
 
 Half an hour later, the greatest crime of the 
 seas was perpetrated — God forbid that any 
 light in any light-house should fail in the 
 midnight and the storm! — yet that is what 
 happened at Bolton House ;for, just half an hour 
 after the servants had retired, the great light 
 in the cupola was extinguished, as if snuffed 
 out by a mighty hand ! There was no one awake 
 to notice this, and it was not known at the 
 house until after daylight. 
 
 But far down the bay, this is what occurred; 
 
THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 219 
 
 half an hour after midnight, the yacht of Cap- 
 tain Thomas Walcott was struggling in a heavy 
 cross-sea, about two knots below the lower head- 
 land of the inlet. Walcott himself was at the 
 wheel, his passengers, two ladies and two gen- 
 tlemen were in the cabin, all very sea-sick ; his 
 three seamen were at their posts on deck. This 
 was the situation when the most fearful storm 
 arose that was ever known on Chesapeake Bay. 
 
 But Captain Walcott was thoroughly familiar 
 with his surroundings, his craft was a stanch 
 one ; he was soon running before the storm under 
 bare poles, and steering by the light in the 
 cupola of his own house. He had every reason 
 to hope that he would make the harbor in safety. 
 Now, w^hile he was holding hard with both 
 hands on the wheel, in tacking, with the wind 
 on his port bow, and the weaves washing the 
 deck, his eyes were steadily fixed on the light 
 by which he was steering when it suddenly 
 went out! He let go the wheel with one hand, 
 and rubbed his eyes, as if he could not believe 
 his senses — but the light was gone ! and when 
 he realized this — though his heart was sinking 
 — he uttered a sub.^tantial oath in cursing "the 
 light that failed!" 
 
 He called his oldest seaman to the wheel ; he 
 with the other two went to the life-boat, and 
 loosed the tackle in the davits ; no questions 
 were asked, the sailors unt'erstood, and the pas- 
 
220 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 
 
 sengers in the cabin were unconscious of their 
 danger. These preparations finished, he walked 
 aft and again took charge of the wheel. An 
 hour later, w^hile he was baffling with the seas 
 with rare seamanship, the noble craft was 
 dashed upon a rock, and began to settle down 
 immediately. The passengers rushed out of the 
 cabin in wild dismay, but were met by Walton 
 and his sailors who took possession of them, 
 crowded them into the life-boat without cere- 
 mony — lowered away, cut loose, and put off 
 without the loss of a moment. It was well — for 
 they had barely cleared the vessel w4ien she gave 
 a lurch forward, and went down by the bows 
 beneath the weaves in some twenty fathoms of 
 water. 
 
 The life-boat with its human freight was now 
 tossing on the rough waters in the inky black- 
 ness of the night. Walcott was at the helm, 
 two sailors at the oars, the third bailing con- 
 stantly to keep afloat ; the passengers, one of 
 whom was Lady Walcott, lay helplessly in the 
 bottom of the boat unnoticed by those who were 
 making the brave struggle for life. 
 
 All through the weary hours of that night 
 Walcott's brain was troubled with bitter 
 thoughts not unmixed with superstition, as he 
 brooded over the light that had failed him at his 
 utmost need and left him a wreck on the wild 
 waters. He determined if he should escape the 
 
THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 221 
 
 perils that were about him that light should 
 never be relighted, but remain out forever and 
 mislead no other mariner on the seas. 
 
 The sun was gilding the east when the life- 
 boat broke through the surf and grated on a 
 sand bar six miles below Bolton house and half 
 a mile from a fishing hut. The women were 
 supported to the hut where some substantial 
 refreshments were found. The fisherman was 
 dispatched to the neighboring farm to procure 
 a vehicle ; he returned with a two-horse wagon ; 
 in this the party were conveyed to Bolton House, 
 arriving there about ten o'clock in the morning 
 to relate their story of shipwreck and sufPering. 
 
 No explanation could be made by the servants 
 why the light had failed, and before the day was 
 over Thomas Walcott sent to the village for a 
 mechanic, and all the gas fixtures were removed 
 from the dome. 
 
 The next day the family returned to town; 
 the servants were discharged, and Bolton House 
 remained closed.- Several weeks later the archi- 
 tect returned and removed the cupola from the 
 house and remodeled the roof; even then the 
 mystery was not discovered. 
 
 One day late in the fall Thomas Walcott 
 called at the office of Lawyer Chapman, a cir- 
 cumstance unusual, as they were not on friendly 
 terms. He took a chair upon invitation and 
 commenced abruptly — 
 
222 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 
 
 "You are in correspondence with my son, 
 William, I have been told." 
 
 "I have received two or three letters from him 
 since he has been in Africa," the lawyer an- 
 swered. 
 
 "When does he expect to return?" 
 
 "I understand that it is his intention not to 
 return at all," was the reply. 
 
 Thereupon, Walcott drew forth a legal paper 
 which he requested the lawyer to read. 
 
 This he did, seemingly, with great satisfac- 
 tion, and when he had finished he turned to 
 "Walcott and said : 
 
 "Captain, that is all right, and I congratulate 
 you heartily upon this just act, but why do you 
 show this to me?" 
 
 "As you see," Walcott replied, "this is a deed 
 in fee simple, granting to my son, William, the 
 Bolton House and whole estate which had been 
 the property of his mother. She left this prop- 
 erty to me with the verbal understanding that I 
 should transfer it to him upon coming of age. 
 This matter I have delayed to do — being unduly 
 influenced by others; but now I right this 
 WTong and ask you as the friend of my son to 
 write to him and ask him to come home and live 
 among his people, first informing him what I 
 have done." 
 
 The lawyer eagerly assented and in his delight 
 at the turn affairs had taken, he gave ex- 
 
THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 223 
 
 pression to one or two unguarded thoughts as 
 follows: "Miss Kate Beuchtel will be glad to 
 hear of this, and there will be no more disturb- 
 ances at Bolton House!" 
 
 Walcott looked him sternly in the face and 
 said : "What had Miss Beuchtel to do with the 
 disturbances you refer to?" 
 
 "I don't know," the lawyer replied hastily, 
 "perhaps I ought not to have said that, but you 
 know that she and your son have been lovers 
 since childhood, and she was very much wrought 
 up when she heard that he had been dispossessed 
 of the Bolton property." 
 
 "I think myself," the captain replied, "she 
 had something to do with that matter, but how 
 that light was put out, I never could fathom." 
 Then as his thoughts recurred to the scenes of 
 that night, he continued : "What a mortal sin it 
 be to douse the light of a beacon on a stormy 
 night when there be naught to pilot by!" 
 
 He spoke with so much feeling the lawyer 
 was moved to say: "I believe the person who 
 did that did it without any thought of ship- 
 wreck or without any knowledge of the storm 
 raging on the lower bay at the time. They were 
 only trying to frighten you, captain." 
 
 ' 'Well they did it, ' ' he said. And continuing : 
 *'I teU you, sir, we were all nigh unto death for 
 four hours ! Had Bolton light been aglow on 
 that night my yacht would not now be at the 
 
224 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 
 
 bottom of the bay !" Ashe said this he walked 
 out of the office. 
 
 The letter which Lawyer Chapman sent to his 
 young friend, William Walcott, by way of Cape 
 Town, Africa, at the request of his father, 
 contained this paragraph : 
 
 "Come home, William, and take possession of 
 your own ; the sport is still fine along the old 
 Bay shore ; the Club will welcome their gamest 
 sportsman; the finest estate is yours; the pretti- 
 est girl awaits your coming; the times are pro- 
 pitious; you cannot tarry!" 
 
 ^ ^ * * * 
 
 It is needless to say, William Walcott returned 
 to his Virginia home on the receipt of thi& 
 letter ; and a few months thereafter was united 
 in marriage with the beautiful Miss Kate 
 Beuchtel, and that they took up their residence 
 at Bolton House. 
 
 Some months later when there was pleasant 
 company at this fine old residence, the young 
 mistress, Kate Walcott, took the old captain 
 by the arm and led him into the ancient 
 library where, after removing books from three 
 shelves, she showed him that this section of the 
 bookcase was hung on three hinges, and on the 
 opposite side of the same section there was a 
 secret spring, which, upon pressing, the whole 
 section of the bookcase swung around, disclosing 
 behind a small door which seemed to open into 
 
THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 225 
 
 the jamb of the chimney. Lighting a lamp, the 
 lady opened this door, and ushered the captain 
 into the secret closet of the scientist who once 
 lived here. 
 
 It was an uncanny place, cluttered up with 
 specimens of bones, herbs, minerals and chemi- 
 cals ; together with instruments and implements 
 of curious construction. The room was only 
 three and a half feet deep, about six feet wide, 
 and extended in height to the roof ; in one cor- 
 ner was a ladder fastened to the wall, which 
 seemed to lead nowhere and to answer no useful 
 purpose ; as it stopped midway the wall, which 
 wall was the inner surface of the wainscoting of 
 the dancing hall. 
 
 The young lady pointed out to Thomas Wal- 
 cott the main gas-pipe running through this 
 closet, and showed him the plug by means of 
 which the gas could be controlled without access 
 to the one used by the family in the yard. 
 
 She then apologized prettily for having shut 
 off the light from the "light-house," on the 
 night of the storm. "She had done it in her 
 ignorance only to frighten, and not to harm — 
 could she ever be forgiven for that foolish, 
 wicked act!" 
 
 She was abashed and troubled as she made 
 the confession, for the grave, stern man smiled, 
 and bowed in silence. 
 
 But mustering up her courage as she came to 
 
226 THE LIGHT THAT FAILED. 
 
 the lighter comedy, she took up a stick of phos- 
 phorous from the table of the old chemist, and 
 climbed the ladder that led to nowhere. When 
 she was ten feet from the floor she removed a 
 spring and slid back one of the panels of the 
 wainscoting, and putting her arm through the 
 opening she showed the captain how the hand- 
 writing had been made on the wall! 
 
 Then the old man laughed. 
 
 When she came down and rejoined him, he 
 said: "Well, well, let bygones be bygones. I 
 always thought there was some conjuring trick 
 about that, and I have lain awake at night turn- 
 ing that thing over in my thick head, but I 
 couldn't make it out!" 
 
 Then the young woman laughed. 
 
 •St ^ * * * 
 
 Thomas Walcott, with the breath of the sea in 
 his resonant voice,continued : "But my daughter, 
 that night down on the bay, the blackest night 
 I ever saw — when there were no moon and 
 stars — when the wind was blowing a hurricane 
 and the waves were breaking over the deck — 
 when I was steering by Bolton Beacon — and the 
 light went out — I thought the bottom had fallen 
 out of the world ! 
 
 ' 'I am an old man and have weathered the 
 storms of the seas — and though I forgive you 
 freely — I can never forget The Light that 
 Failed!" 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 The first "meet" of the fox-hounds of the 
 Eedwood Club was held this season at Coverdale, 
 a pretty village nestling among the hills, distant 
 twenty miles from the Club House. 
 
 The Club-men had come down the evening 
 previous to the day appointed for the chase, and 
 had made themselves comfortable for the night 
 at the quaint wayside inn. And now the morn- 
 ing of the "meet," after a substantial breakfast 
 by candle-light, they were preparing their 
 "mounts" in the narrow street of the village. 
 
 The day had dawned with a fair promise of a 
 successful hunt; the air was moist; the wind 
 was light and southerly ; and every true fox- 
 hunter knew "the scent would lay." 
 
 One veteran of the chase, as he was tighten- 
 ing the girth of his saddle, gave a searching 
 glance over the back of his "hunter" to the 
 fields and sky, and then remarked: "The pack, 
 on such a day as this, would follow the trail 
 breast high at full speed without putting a nose 
 to the ground." 
 
 This was a hearty prophecy to which there 
 227 
 
228 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 was no dissenting voice among the "red-coats" 
 that thronged the street. 
 
 The level rays of the rising sun began now to 
 enlighten the animated scene ; the master of the 
 hounds wound his horn ; and the pack of fifty- 
 two dogs, all spotted, black, white and tan, 
 thorough-bred fox-hounds, gave an answering 
 cry in chorus, yet each in his own peculiar note, 
 which fell upon the ears of the assembled 
 huntsmen as rarest music. 
 
 The Redwood Club was composed of fifty 
 members ; a choice lot of city men mostly young, 
 but there Avere a few veterans of the chase 
 among them who had learned to ride under cir- 
 cumstances in which a fall from a horse had 
 been regarded as the least of the dangers that 
 beset them. 
 
 When all was ready the master of the hounds 
 wound his horn again, very cheerily, and with 
 the baying of the dogs and the clatter of hoofs 
 the gay cavalcade moved noisily through the 
 village street and was soon afield. 
 
 This was the most gallant array of horsemen 
 that had ever assembled at a "meet" of the Red- 
 wood Club, and the citizens of Coverdale were 
 correspondingly excited at the unwonted scene. 
 
 They proposed to honor the occasion to the 
 extent of preparing a sumptuous dinner for their 
 sporting guests at the close of the hunt. The 
 dinner party was to be held at a private resi- 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 229 
 
 dence which was the most pretentious mansion 
 in the village. However, the entertainment 
 was a town affair, and all who could do so were 
 expected to take part in it, especially the young 
 ladies, as the guests they desired to honor were 
 for the most part young men, the elite of city 
 society. 
 
 Sometime after the echo of the horn and the 
 baying of the hounds had died away and the 
 street had resumed its wonted silence, the parson 
 of the village — "Parson" Dilworth — came driv- 
 ing along together with his friend and guest, 
 Dr. Hooper. 
 
 The doctor had come down from the city to 
 attend the "meet of the fox-hounds;" although 
 he was too old a man to ride afield, yet his 
 enthusiasm for the royal sport remained unim- 
 j)ared, and it was his delight to ride, even in 
 his buggy, within sight and hearing of the 
 hounds. 
 
 Parson Dilworth, also an aged man, was a 
 most congenial companion for the doctor on 
 such an occasion. He was heard to say to young 
 Vernon — the only member of the club belonging 
 to the village — "I do really love a little manly 
 sport now and then and I fear very much that 
 the modern young man who is content with ball 
 and lawn-tennis is becoming a little too effem- 
 inate!" 
 
 The parson and Doctor Hooper drove along 
 
230 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 the turnpike in the direction taken by the 
 *'hunt," and it was their good fortune to come 
 in sight of the "field." 
 
 Here they stopj^ed on the ridge as the hunt 
 was bearing away from the road, and as they 
 gazed across the fields they saw the grand 
 "burst'' when the fox "broke cover," and heard 
 the stirring cry of the huntsmen: "Tallyho! 
 Gone away! Tallyho ! Gone away!" 
 
 It was a gallant sight, and they watched the 
 riders under whip and spur as they strove to 
 keep up with the hounds until the outlines of 
 their figures grew dim in the distance and fin- 
 ally disappeared behind an intervening ridge. 
 
 They were much elated at the scene, and 
 the parson, who knew the country well, said: 
 "The road takes a turn about a half mile 
 beyond here ; let us drive on, we may come in 
 sight of the chase again." 
 
 When they arrived at the point indicated by 
 the parson they did perceive two horsemen, one 
 of them a "red-coat" mounted on a splendid 
 chestnut "hunter ;" but his companion was not in 
 hunting costume and was mounted on a stocky 
 "roadster;" these horsemen were the only part of 
 the hunt in sight. 
 
 The doctor took out his field-glass and looked 
 at them long and steadily ; they were gradually 
 approaching the road on a diagonal line, and as 
 the sun broke through a rift in the clouds he dis- 
 
ON THE TEAIL. 231 
 
 cerned them plainly. Thereupon, handing his 
 glass to the parson, he exclaimed : 
 
 "Why, bless my life ! if that isn't Montague 
 and old Lawyer Wingfield." 
 
 "What!" said the parson, "is that Wingfield? 
 Was it not in his city office that death overtook 
 our poor Martin Rus'sel!" 
 
 "Yes," was the doctor's reply, "and I never 
 could understand how a narrow soul like Wing- 
 field could find enjoyment in a fox chase; there 
 seems to be something incongruous in the mere 
 fact of his attendance on such sport." 
 
 While the two friends conversed the horsemen 
 had drawn near enough to be plainly visible to 
 the naked eye. 
 
 Wingfield was a tall, gaunt man who sat his 
 horse in a slouching fashion that ill became the 
 hunting field. 
 
 In contrast, Montague, a man of medium 
 stature, was "cast in a mold for manly sports." 
 His hair was iron gray, the only evidence of age 
 noticeable, as he sat his noble hunter with an 
 ease and grace that proclaimed the practiced 
 horseman. 
 
 The old parson closed his spyglass very delib- 
 erately and remarked : "I have seen that man 
 Wingfield once or twice before and I must say 
 I don't like him ! There seems to be some mys- 
 terious or malign influence about him." 
 
 "I think myself he is a very secretive man," 
 replied the doctor briefly. 
 
232 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 ''Is that Mr. Montague, the detective, of whom 
 young Vernon was speaking?" queried the 
 parson. 
 
 "Yes, that is Col. Montague." 
 
 "He is not a young man," observed the par- 
 son, "and he seems to have a frank and open 
 countenance. I should have taken him for a 
 manly, generous man, never for a detective." 
 
 "Parson, you read men well," answered the 
 old physician. "Montague is not a young man, he 
 is at least Mtj, and he is as frank and manly as 
 you have read him : nevertheless, he is a detec- 
 tive, yet something more than a detective." 
 
 Just at this time several hounds "opened out" 
 in the covert on the hillside, about two hundred 
 yards in front of the horsemen who were the 
 subject of conversation; and almost immediately 
 thereafter a fox "burst" from the cover, closely 
 pursued by six hounds. 
 
 At this, Montague with the cry of "Tally- 
 ho!" put his hunter to speed and rapidly drew 
 on the hounds. 
 
 The doctor and the parson as they occupied 
 high ground thought it best to retain their posi- 
 tion. 
 
 The fox bore straight away holding his own 
 w^ith the hounds and the solitary huntsman in 
 pursuit ; for Wingfield could not be said to have 
 a part in the race as he jogged along on his fat 
 roadster. 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 233 
 
 It was a hot chase ; Montague was riaing in a 
 gallant fashion and was almost up with the 
 hounds. Reynard, being hard pressed, had 
 turned towards the ridge and the covert on the 
 left, but the cry of a stray hound in the brush 
 had turned him back again, when he continued 
 straight ahead toward the brook, w^hich crossed 
 the line of the chase about fifty yards in advance. 
 
 It seemed now that the hounds were gaining 
 on the fox as they approached the "run," but 
 he turned quickly aside and ran across the top 
 rail of a water gate without wetting his "brush;" 
 beyond, he sought the friendly cover of the 
 thick undergrowth which here closed the way. 
 
 The hounds in full cry ran straight ahead 
 with noses in air; they plunged into the brook 
 which was full to the banks, and paddling over 
 with w^himpering cry were soon lost to view in 
 the thicket. 
 
 They were scarcely out of the water when 
 Montague's chestnut hunter at full speed sprang 
 upon the bank, and at one brave bound cleared 
 the brook ! But unfortunately the bank broke 
 under him, as he made the leap, and the gallant 
 horse fell prone on the opposite side ! 
 
 Nothing daunted, his rider with rein and spur 
 lifted him to his feet, and was away before one 
 could realize that he had been down. 
 
 Thirty yards beyond the brook there was a 
 rail fence, about five feet high, which enclosed 
 the wood. 
 
234 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 Over this fence Montague shot like a red me- 
 teor, and disappeared in the underbrush beyond ! 
 
 The hounds were now running in from all 
 directions and there was a great clamor as the 
 chase bore along the wooded ridge ; but as yet 
 none of the huntsmen had come into view. 
 
 Twenty minutes later the fox again broke 
 from the covert. There were then a large num- 
 ber of hounds at his heels, and Montague was 
 riding in the midst as straight as a bolt ! Thus 
 they ran at a tremendous space for fifty yards 
 until they passed over the ridge and out of sight. 
 
 The doctor, all wrought up with excitement, 
 turned to the parson and exclaimed: "There 
 never was a more gallant sight than that ! Mon- 
 tague does stir my old blood with his noble 
 horsemanship !" 
 
 "He is indeed a fearless rider, I never saw 
 one more so," replied the parson. 
 
 "By the way. Doctor," he remarked after a 
 pause, "is this Montague a relative of the cav- 
 alry colonel who led the famous charge on the 
 day you were wounded?" 
 
 "Why Parson, this is the man himself!" 
 
 "0, well then, " replied the minister, "I am 
 not surprised at his feats in the hunting field. 
 But I doubt if there is another man in the Club 
 who would have taken the hazard of that leap, 
 while going at such fearful speed." 
 
 Then after he had congratulated the doctor 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 235 
 
 on having witnessed so much of the sport, he 
 turned his vehicle around and drove slowly back 
 towards the village. 
 
 As it so happened they were overtaken by 
 Lawyer Wingfield mounted on his fat cob. 
 
 "How are you, Doctor? This is a fine day 
 for sport," was his salutation as he rode up. 
 
 To this the doctor gave assent by a stiff nod. 
 Wingfield, nothing abashed by his cool recep- 
 tion, began to dilate on the incidents of the 
 chase. The doctor bluntly stopped his harangue 
 by the query: 
 
 "Wingfield, you heard the verdict of the cor- 
 oner's inquest in the case of Martin Russel before 
 leaving town?" 
 
 "Of course I was a witness in the case," was 
 the reply. "They returned as their verdict that 
 he had died of apoplexy ; there was nothing else 
 to do; the physicians all said he died of apo- 
 plexy." 
 
 "I did not say so." 
 
 "Oh no. Doctor, you testified that you did not 
 know of what he died." 
 
 "I may know some day !"was Doctor Hooper's 
 reply. 
 
 At this rejoinder a scowl darkened the lawyer's 
 face, as he remarked : "I don't see why you talk 
 to me in this manner, and on an occasion when 
 a more pleasant theme should be the subject of 
 conversation. That fellow, Montague, had the 
 
236 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 bad taste to broach this subject to me on the 
 hunting field. I want to hear no more of this 
 from you, Doctor; I'll ride on now as I wish to 
 catch the train for the city." 
 
 After he had passed out of hearing the doc- 
 tor said to his companion: "He will hear some- 
 thing more from me on this subject whether he 
 wishes to or not, when the proper time comes." 
 
 "Gracious! Doctor, you don't think Martin 
 Russel died an unnatural death, do you?" 
 queried the parson. 
 
 • "Parson, I have been a surgeon for fifty 
 years ; I have seen a number of fatal cases of 
 apoplexy, and have read of many more : but I 
 never knew a case in which the patient had the 
 constitution, physique and youth of poor Martin 
 Russel." And then after a pause, he continued : 
 *I admit the symptoms were all those of apo- 
 plexy, and the young ph3'sicians who assisted 
 me in the post mortem had no doubt that was 
 the cause of his death. Yet we old physicians 
 know more than the books — we have our in- 
 stincts and intuitions that seldom fail, although 
 not always admissible of proof. 
 
 "If Russel had been a man past middle age, 
 of florid complexion, short neck, plethoric or of 
 intemperate habits, I myself would have diag- 
 nosticated his case as apoplexy. 
 
 "As it is, I believe before God that he died an 
 unnatural death; but how he was killed, as 
 
ON THE TRA.il. 237 
 
 he was killed without doubt, I can't explain. 
 Yet on this diagnosis I will stake my reputation 
 as a physician, and with the assistance of Col. 
 Montague I hope in time to be able to solve the 
 mystery. If it is not beyond human ken, he, of all 
 the men I have known, is the one most likely to 
 master the secret. I will tell you this in strict 
 confidence, Parson, you must never say a word 
 about it, not even to Montague himself shovild you 
 ever have the pleasure to meet him." 
 
 The aged minister was silent for several min- 
 utes after the doctor had ceased to speak, as 
 though dazed with conflicting emotions ; then 
 in a trembling voice, he said: "Doctor, I shall 
 never abuse your confidence ; but your words 
 have moved me with painful thoughts. What a 
 wicked world this is, yet the sun has shone fair 
 over our heads this beautiful autumn day, the 
 birds have sung sw^eetly, and all nature has 
 seemed peaceful. It is hard to realize that man, 
 the lord and master of this beautiful scene and 
 all it contains, can be so desperately wicked, so 
 cruel to his brother man." 
 
 As the good man ceased to speak, his horse, 
 apparently without guidance, turned aside and 
 stopped before the gateway to the parsonage, a 
 quaint cottage enclosed in a bower of shrubbery 
 at the outskirts of the village. 
 
 The two old friends descended from the buggy 
 and took their seats on the cottage porch as the 
 
238 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 level rays of the setting sun shone on the faces 
 of the returning huntsmen, riding down the vil- 
 lage street. The world had turned half around 
 since the chase had begun and the shades of 
 night were closing on the pleasant day. 
 
 In the earlier part of the chase at Coverdale, 
 Col. Montague who had fallen to the rear, much 
 to the surprise of his fellow sportsman, managed 
 so that in riding to the front again he should 
 overhaul Lawyer Wingfield, who was also lag- 
 ging in the rear. 
 
 After he had caught up with him, Montague 
 seemed to be in no haste to go to the front, but 
 was unusually communicative. In the course of 
 conversation Wingfield mentioned casually: "I 
 was late in getting down to the 'meet, 'by reason 
 of being detained at the inquest held over the 
 remains of Martin Russel." 
 
 This gave Montague the opportunity he sought 
 to hear Wingfield' s version of that sad affair. 
 
 He said: "Russel had called at my office by ap- 
 pointment made ten days before, to attend to 
 some legal business ; but unfortunately I was de- 
 tained in Philadelphia on that day and did not 
 reach my residence in the city until after night- 
 fall, several hours after the dead body of Russel 
 had been found reclining in my office chair, cold 
 in death." 
 
 "Who first discovered chat he was dead?" 
 queried JVlontague. 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 239 
 
 "The janitor, who came to sweep the office at 
 six o'clock in the evening." 
 
 ' 'At what time were you to have met him at 
 your office?" 
 
 "At two o'clock p. m." 
 
 "When did you first see his dead body?" 
 
 "At ten o'clock that night at the coroner's 
 morgue." 
 
 "Were there any marks of violence on his per- 
 son, or any expression of pain in his counte- 
 nance?" 
 
 "None whatever ; not in the least; he seemed 
 to have nothing the matter with him except that 
 he was dead I" 
 
 "Did the coroner ask you to state your busi- 
 ness with Russel that was to have been transac- 
 ted at your office at that appointment?" 
 
 "Yes, fortunately for me, I have a good alibi. 
 I was in Philadelphia — or some mean suspicious 
 person might think that I had something to do 
 with his death." 
 
 "You have not answered my question." 
 
 "I think I have, Colonel, yet I am not aware 
 that I am under obligations to do so." 
 
 "None, except mere courtesy, of course. You 
 know that Russel was my intimate friend, audit 
 is but natural that I should inquire about his 
 death." 
 
 "What more do you wish to know about 
 it?" 
 
240 ON THE TEAIL. 
 
 "I attempted to ask what business took Rus- 
 sel to your office on the day of his death?" 
 
 "Well, if you wish to know, it was to divide 
 a legacy that was bequeathed us by our uncle^ 
 Jethro Scales, of Hartford, Conn. 
 
 "You know — or perhaps j-ou don't know — 
 that Eussel and myself were first cousins — it's a 
 fact, however. 
 
 "Well, now, if you are so very particular 
 about it, this legacy consisted of thirty-nine 
 thousand dollars in bonds and cash paper, to be 
 equally divided between us. 
 
 "Nobody was so much interested in his living 
 as myself," he continued, "for Russel had the 
 custody of the bonds and money, and now that 
 he is dead, I don't know where they are." 
 
 Col. Montague, who was unaccustomed to being 
 addressed in the tone and manner in which 
 Wingfield spoke to him, felt all the embarrass- 
 ment of the situation. But as the fox "broke 
 cover" about this time, as we have seen, he 
 gave vent to his feelings by spurring to the 
 front. 
 
 He had food for reflection, and on that even- 
 ing at sunset as he rode with the fox-hunters 
 into the village street, he pulled up his horse in 
 front of Parson Dil worth's to have a word with 
 Dr. Hooper, in regard to the mystery of the mur- 
 der which now filled all his thoughts. 
 
 The old minister was delighted to take Col. 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 241 
 
 Montague by the hand ; he was quite enthusias- 
 tic in his expressions, as he recalled the excit- 
 ing episodes of the chase, of which he and the 
 doctor had been eye witnesses. 
 
 Montague replied: "Oh, sir, these young men 
 are not quite so sturdy as the doctor and my- 
 self, who learned rough riding in the cavalry. A 
 little brush like that of to-day don't amount 
 to much, does it, Doctor?" 
 
 But not awaiting the reply of the old surgeon, 
 he motioned him aside, and after an earnest con- 
 sultation they again approached the preacher, 
 and informed him that they would be compelled 
 to return to the city that night. But in the 
 meantime, they said, they desired to talk over a 
 matter of great secrecy and also of serious im- 
 port, in which they would be pleased to have 
 his advice and counsel. 
 
 Thereupon the minister showed them into his 
 study, but as it was near his supper hour he for- 
 bade any business until after they had partaken 
 of refreshments. 
 
 The minister's good wife noticed that her 
 guests were much preoccupied throughout the 
 meal, despite their polite efforts at sociability. 
 
 After supper the parson led them to his li- 
 brary, where Montague presented the doctor 
 with a small package which was wrapped in oil- 
 paper, and tied with red tape, such as was for- 
 merly used by lawyers in tjing legal papers. 
 
242 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 The doctor began to open the bundle very de- 
 liberately, and while so engaged he stated to 
 the preacher with all seriousness that he and 
 Montague were both of the opinion that Lawyer 
 Wingfield was implicated in some strange way 
 in the murder of Martin Russel. Neither of them 
 doubted that a murder had been committed, and 
 Wingfield, they said, was the only man in the 
 world who would be benefited by his death. 
 
 By this time the doctor had unwrapped the 
 parcel, that had been folded and tied with such 
 extreme care. After all, the package contained 
 only an old new^spaper ; but this the doctor held 
 up before the preacher's face and said: "This 
 paper may carry the seeds of life and death ; it 
 certainly contains more information than was 
 ever printed on it. 
 
 "Montague got this copy of 21ie Sunday Beg- 
 ister on the hunting field, from young Vernon, 
 who is his assistant. Vernon is pretty sure he 
 saw Wingfield drop the paper, while riding in 
 the chase, and from the very careful manner in 
 which it was tied up he concluded at once that 
 it was a document of great importance, and im- 
 mediately presented it to his chief." 
 
 Whilst he w^as talking, the doctor had opened 
 the paper and was scanning its columns with a 
 curious eye. 
 
 "Montague informs me, this paper contains 
 'marks' or 'hieroglj^phics,' — that must cer- 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 243 
 
 tainly mean something — where are they, Monta- 
 gue, I don't see them?" 
 
 Col. Montague pointed out a marked column 
 that seemed to contain only the notice of a land 
 sale ; but in the adjoining column there were a 
 number of blue dots, a single one over a word. 
 These dots were triangular in shape, and had 
 been made most carefully with the point of a 
 blue pencil, specially prepared for the purpose. 
 
 "They must mean something," he continued, 
 "for they cost care and trouble to make; so 
 much, that no one would have done this with- 
 out design." 
 
 Thereupon, they all pondered over this column 
 for more than an hour ; but the result was dis- 
 couraging in the extreme. The doctor had set 
 down on a slip of paper all the words over 
 which a blue dot had been placed ; but they 
 would make no sense, arrange them as he would. 
 Finally, the parson suggested that he should 
 set dowm the letters only, over which the blue 
 dots had been placed. This he did and the re- 
 sult was as f ollow^s : 
 
 "iwillbeonhandonthetenthforrusselandifyouh- 
 avelef tathousanddollarsf ormeinthedrawerthe jo- 
 bwillbedonebutifathousanddollarsisnotinthedra- 
 wernothingwillbedonegypdyce." 
 
 This at first view was all Greek to them, but 
 after much perplexity, they straightened out 
 the syllables to read as follows : 
 
244 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 "I will be on hand on the tenth for Russel, 
 and if you have left a thousand dollars for me 
 in the drawer, the job will be done. But if a 
 thousand dollars is not in the drawer, nothing 
 will be done ! 
 
 "Gyp Dyce." 
 
 Now, the doctor and Montague both knew of 
 "Gyp Dyce" who was a gypsy doctor, and had 
 frequently been through that part of the coun - 
 try with gypsy bands. He had the reputation 
 of being an educated man and was really a 
 skillful surgeon. 
 
 This dark mysterious crime was now made 
 clear to them in a measure, by this communica- 
 tion in cipher. They knew almost beyond a 
 doubt that Martin Russel had been foully mur- 
 dered, and they believed that Lawyer Wingfield 
 had employed this desperate vagabond to assas- 
 sinate him, in order that he, Wingfield, might 
 become the only surviving heir to the legacy of 
 thirty-nine thousand dollars, that had been be- 
 queathed them jointly by their uncle Jethro 
 Scales. 
 
 Here was a motive indeed, and Wingfield was 
 known to them as an unscrupulous man, espec- 
 ially bold in planning for others to execute. 
 Whilst this was their confident belief, it was by 
 no means clear to them that they could prove 
 that a murder had been really committed ; cer- 
 tainly, it was not in their power at present to 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 245 
 
 show the manner in which the cruel deed had 
 been done. 
 
 Tliere was an impenetrable mystery about 
 this ; it would require an additional autopsy, if 
 it could be shown at all. 
 
 Hence, Col. Montague remarked that it would 
 be necessary for the doctor and himself to re- 
 turn to the city on that night. 
 
 They felt that they had before them a task 
 that would tax to the utmost the powers of the 
 most skillful of detectives. The men they had 
 to deal with were no ordinary criminals ; and to 
 fathom the depth of their plots would require 
 the exercise of an intelligence equal in subtlety 
 to the mind that had planned the inexplicable 
 murder. 
 
 The craftiness of the cipher made in the ordi- 
 nary columns of a newspaper and in euch a man- 
 ner as would pass unnoticed, save to the closest 
 scrutiny, was but characteristic of the dark 
 mind that had plotted this incomprehensible deed. 
 
 The old surgeon. Dr. Hooper, with all his 
 long and varied experience, was nonplussed. 
 
 "How is it possible," he asked, "to kill a 
 man so as to leave no marks of violence upon 
 his person ; no poison in his stomach ; no expres- 
 sion of pain on his countenance — to produce an 
 instantaneous and painless death, as if from the 
 visitation of Providence?" 
 
 Yet this had been done in the case of Martin 
 
246 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 Russel ! They felt assured that they knew, 
 from the vague cipher, whom it was that had 
 perpetrated the foul deed ; and also, they knew 
 who had instigated the crime. 
 
 "How were they now to fasten the guilt upon 
 them?" the old surgeon asked. 
 
 "It is first necessary," he said, "for us to 
 discover how the crime had been committed, and 
 the implement or the means employed, that had 
 bereft Martin Russel of his life, and had left 
 him as if apparently enjoying a natural and 
 painless sleep." 
 
 During all the subsequent, weary days of 
 their search, the doctor and Montague were ever 
 propounding to themselves the single query: 
 "How, and by what means did Gyp Dyce kill 
 Martin Russel?" 
 
 II. 
 
 When a man dies in the vigor of manhood 
 from some explainable cause, dragged down to 
 his grave, it may be, by the burden of disease, 
 or else cut off by calamitous accident, his death 
 entails upon his relatives only that natural grief 
 and mourning that come to all humanity, soon 
 or late. But if he shall die as did Martin Rus- 
 sel — "the picture of health and strength" — a 
 sudden, mysterious, unexplainable death — to the 
 natural grief of his taking off, there is added an 
 element of harrowing suspicion that tortures his 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 247 
 
 stricken relatives and friends with a disquietude 
 that only the revelation of the mystery can allay. 
 
 It was such feeling that had prompted Col. 
 Montague, a lawyer, to play the part of a detec- 
 tive for a time, in his endeavor to unfold the 
 dark mystery that surrounded the death of his 
 friend. 
 
 The old surgeon, Dr. Hooper, who had served 
 at the coroner's inquest, while consenting that 
 the jury should return as their verdict: "Death 
 from some unknown cause," yet firmly be- 
 lieved that Russel had been murdered, although 
 his remains had borne no tangible evidence of a 
 violent death. 
 
 The doctor had not consented to this verdict 
 through any desire to conceal crime, but rather, 
 to facilitate its discovery. Russel was his friend 
 also, and he never for a moment thought to re- 
 linquish the search until the murderer had been 
 discovered. 
 
 As a man of science he was also deeply inter- 
 ested in discovering the manner of the murder. 
 
 The younger surgeons at the inquest believed, 
 as already stated, that the death of Russel was 
 most probably the result of apoplexy ; 3^et be- 
 cause of the doubtful nature of the case they 
 also agreed to the above verdict. 
 
 Martin Russel, a native of Coverdale, had 
 come to Wheeling when a mere lad, and had 
 found, as good fortune directed, a position as 
 
248 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 office boy in the office of Richard Montague. 
 From him, he had won such favors, as the years 
 had passed, that by his generous aid he had been 
 enabled to attend the public schools where he 
 had received a practical, useful education, and 
 was in the meantime guided by his friend in the 
 study of the law; so that on becoming of age, 
 he was admitted to practice in the city courts. 
 
 Step by step he had risen from obscurity to 
 the honorable position of City Attorney. But 
 the Civil War intervening, both he and his 
 friend, Montague, had lain down their "briefs" 
 and taken up the sword. 
 
 In the course of this war Col. Montague had 
 won such great renown as had completely 
 eclipsed and overshadowed the honorable record 
 of all his previous endeavors. Martin Russel, 
 too, had won fame as a captain while serving in 
 Col. Montague's regiment. 
 
 Thus the friendship of these men became 
 cemented. They had endured together the toils 
 and sufferings of the soldier's life, and they re- 
 spected each other for the dangers they had 
 passed in common. 
 
 We have seen the conspicuous part that Col. 
 Montague bore in the chase of the Redwood 
 hounds at Coverdale ; but his chief object in be- 
 ing present on that occasion was to follow a 
 trail other than that of the fox — one in fact, 
 which he. was to follow for months. 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 249 
 
 He was, however, a zealous lover of the chase, 
 and on that occasion his eager spirit had been 
 moved by the opportune incidents narrated; so 
 that for the time, forgetting his errand there, 
 he gave himself up entirely to the joyous excite- 
 ment of the moment — and rode to the front on 
 that field of rural sport as he had ridden on 
 other fields, where the bugle's call, and not the 
 hunter's horn, had rallied the horsemen. 
 ***** 
 
 In the coroner's morgue in the city a bright 
 light shone during all the silent watches of the 
 night after the chase at Coverdale. 
 
 Here, Dr. Hooper, assisted by a surgeon, an 
 expert in brain diseases, was holding a second 
 autopsy in making a critical examination of the 
 skull and brain of Martin Russel; for the elder 
 surgeon insisted that the injury that had caused 
 his death, if any existed, would be found some- 
 where "in the organism of the nerve tissues of 
 the brain." 
 
 Patiently and silently they labored, while Col. 
 Montague, seated nearby, was a spectator to the 
 ghastly scene. 
 
 It was two o'clock in the morning when Dr. 
 Hooper with an exclamation of surprise called 
 the younger surgeon to his side. Together they 
 used the microscope freely, and after a long dis- 
 cussion, the old physician extracted some minute 
 particle from the mass of the brain before him. 
 
260 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 and then turning to Montague, said: "We have 
 found it!" 
 
 The colonel arose and walked to his side and 
 at his request looked through the surgeon's mi- 
 croscope, and saw in a magnified form an object 
 which he was enabled to discern with his naked 
 eye — a small steel point like that of a cambric 
 needle about one-sixteenth of an inch in length. 
 
 This had been imbedded in the brain of the 
 victim! "This foreign substance," said Dr. 
 Hooper, taking it up with his tweezers, "caused 
 the death of poor Russel ! 
 
 "It has been shot into his brain by some 
 powerful force," he said, "through the foramen 
 magnum, destroying the medulla, the nervous 
 center, and causing immediate death. See, this 
 little bit of steel is newly fractured ; besides, the 
 man could not have lived for two seconds after 
 this had punctured the medulla. 
 
 "The movements of respiration are performed 
 partly by the diaphragm and partly by the inter- 
 costal muscles and are differently modified by 
 injuries of the nervous sj^stem according to the 
 spot at which the injury is inflicted. If in this 
 instance the spinal chord had been divided or 
 much com^Dressed in the lower part of the neck, 
 the intercostal muscles would necessarily have 
 been paralyzed and his respiration would have 
 been diaphragmatic. 
 
 "If on the other hand the j^hrenic nerve had 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 251 
 
 been divided, the diaphragm would have been 
 paralyzed and his respiration would have been 
 then what is termed 'thoracic' or 'costal'. 
 
 "If the injury had been inflicted on the spinal 
 chord alone, just above the origin of the second 
 and third cervical nerves, both the phrenic and 
 intercostal nerves would have been para- 
 lyzed and death would necessarily have taken 
 place from suffocation. But in these cases the 
 attempt at respiration would have been mani- 
 fested by the distended mouth and nostrils of 
 the subject, which was not the case. 
 
 "It is a matter of some comfort to us to know 
 that he died a painless death. For this steel point 
 which must have been at the extremity of a 
 curved needle, eight or nine inches long, was 
 driven so forcibly through the foramen magnum 
 that it punctured the medulla oblongata. 
 
 "Here the reflex actions, which I have just 
 mentioned, all take place; hence both the power 
 and the desire to breathe were at once taken 
 away. He made no attempt at inspiration; 
 there was no struggle and no appearance of suf- 
 fering. The man died simply by a want of 
 aeration of the blood which led to the arrest of 
 his circulation. His death was instantaneous with 
 the blow." 
 
 Col. Montague inferred from all this without 
 following very closely the doctor's technical dis- 
 quisition, that his poor friend, Martin Russel, 
 
252 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 had been foully dealt with by some unknown 
 person, who had been concealed in Wingfield's 
 office with the design of putting him out of the 
 way. 
 
 He remembered the stress Lawyer Wingfield 
 had placed on the circumstance that "he could 
 prove an alibi," and also with what precision he 
 had made known his absence from his office at 
 the very time he was in honor bound to have 
 been present to have kept his engagement with 
 Russel. 
 
 He believed these facts justified him in enter- 
 taining the opinion that Wingfield, himself, had 
 planned the murder, though it was not his hand 
 that dealt the cowardly blow which had driven 
 the stiletto to the "vital point," the center of 
 the nerve origin, stopping at one fell blow all 
 the functions of the living body ! 
 
 The assassin who directed this blow must have 
 possessed an intimate knowledge of human 
 anatomy, and more than that, the hand that had 
 guided the strange weapon must have been the 
 steady, trained hand of a most skilful surgeon ! 
 
 Col. Montague and Dr. Hooper were unremit- 
 ting in their efforts to ferret out the mystery of 
 the murder. The "cipher letter" in the news- 
 paper was convincing to their minds that Wing- 
 field had been the instigator and evil plotter of 
 the deed. And though they now had positive 
 proof that a murder had been wrought, yet they 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 253 
 
 felt it would be next to impossible to fix the 
 guilt on him through the vague uncertain com- 
 munication of the cipher which had caused them 
 such trouble to unravel. Even if they had made 
 no mistake in their interpretation of it, this 
 secret communication nowhere bore the name of 
 "Wingfield." 
 
 Young Vernon, who had picked up the paper 
 in the hunting-field, said: "He felt sure that he 
 had seen Wingfield drop it, but as there were 
 other horsemen near that spot at the time, it was 
 not impossible for him to be mistaken." 
 
 It is true they could prove that he had died 
 in Wingfield's office ; that he had been killed by 
 an anatomist thoroughly familiar with his human 
 subject; they could show the point of the 
 needle that had punctured the medulla oblon- 
 gata of the victim and caused his instant death 
 
 If they could have procured the arrest of Gyp 
 Dyce, the gypsy doctor who had devised the 
 cipher and whose hand, no doubt, had directed 
 the instrument of death — they then might have 
 been able to implicate Wingfield with the 
 crime. 
 
 But Gyp Dyce had disappeared as mysteriously 
 as he had come, and the only evidence that he 
 had ever held any communication with Wingfield 
 was the unreliable, indefinite, "cipher letter." 
 Even this would be denied successfully, unless 
 they could show beyond all controversy that the 
 
254 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 ''cipher" had really been in the possession of 
 Wingfield. 
 
 Col. Montague had employed detectives to 
 search the gypsy bands far and near, all in vain ; 
 for Gyp Dyce was never seen again in Wheeling. 
 
 Could they only discover the implement or 
 means by which the murder had been done ! — 
 and where was the "drawer" in which Wing- 
 field was to have placed — and no doubt did 
 place — as the "job" was "done*' — the "thous- 
 and-dollars?" 
 
 A search of the law-office of Wingfield might 
 produce some clew to the mystery, but how was 
 this to be brought about? It would not do for 
 them to bring a charge of murder against him, 
 until they could substantiate it. 
 
 But time, which ends all things, also put a per- 
 iod to this mystery; but all too late to encompass 
 the ends of justice. 
 
 It was about three j^ears after the death of 
 Martin Russel that old Lawyer Wingfield was 
 stricken with pneumonia, complicated with fever, 
 and died within two weeks. 
 
 Then Dr. Hooper and Col. Montague began to 
 think that the mystery, on the trail of which 
 they had been plodding with unflagging zeal, 
 would never be revealed. But they did not de- 
 spair entirely, for Montague had obtained per- 
 mission from th^ administrators of Wingfield' s 
 estate, to search among the books and papers in 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 255 
 
 his office. He had hopes of finding there some 
 clue that would lead to the unravelment of the 
 mystery. 
 
 For many days he had searched in that dingy 
 office, over dusty shalves and drawers, and ex- 
 amined bundles of musty law papers, without 
 avail. 
 
 There came a time when he w^as w^earied with 
 his labors, and had seated himself beside an an- 
 tique table, and was thrumming idly thereon. 
 His attention was soon attracted to the peculiar 
 sound made, as if the table contained a drawer 
 — for on tapping on a table with a drawer, the 
 confined air within makes a sound entirely dif- 
 ferent from that made under similar conditions, 
 when one taps on a table without a drawer. 
 
 Now, the only remarkable thing about this was, 
 this table contained no drawer apparently, al- 
 though the "sound" proclaimed that it did. 
 
 He took a searching look about it, and pulled 
 at the sides all around, yet found do drawer. 
 Then it occurred to him that he would better 
 look under the table anyhow ; this he did by 
 stooping down and peering beneath, as it was 
 very low; when, sure enough, there was a 
 drawer ! 
 
 Sound, in this instance, had been truer than 
 sight. The question now was, how he should 
 find an opening to the drawer ; he spent a full 
 half hour in fruitless efforts to do so, pulling at the 
 
256 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 sides and lifting at the top, until he was almost 
 tempted to take a hatchet and split it open. 
 
 But on looking more closely at the inner sides 
 of the legs, up near the lid, he discovered on one 
 of them a spot about the size of a thumb-print, 
 which appeared of somewhat lighter color than 
 the paint and also somewhat raised. 
 
 On this spot he pressed and found it was a 
 spring that moved ; this he compressed and at 
 the same time tried to tilt the top by taking 
 hold of the sides, without effect. Then still com- 
 pressing the spring, he tried to lift the corners 
 and at the third corner the top tilted and the 
 drawer was opened easily; the top was hinged ta 
 the opposite diagonal corner. 
 
 Within the drawer there was nothing except 
 an implement,somewhat like a large metal match 
 sa^'Cjyet it was easy to be seen it was not a match 
 box ; for on its sides there was a small wheel and 
 rachet, on the former a diminutive handle to 
 turn, with the evident design of compressing a 
 spring. 
 
 Whilst Montague was examining this curious 
 instrument, he noticed Dr. Hooper, who at that 
 moment was passing the office ; he hailed him 
 and invited him to enter. 
 
 The old surgeon came in, thumping his heavy 
 cane on the floor, all the while glancing around 
 from beneath his shaggy brows, as if in search of 
 something lost. 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 257 
 
 "Doctor, I want to show you a curious piece 
 of furniture," Montague said, as he walked to 
 the antique table. "You see this table has no 
 drawer," turning it around. "Now, look, you 
 see it has a drawer!" as he pressed the spring 
 and tilted the top. 
 
 "Well! Well!" exclaimed the physician, "if 
 that isn't a rascally piece of furniture — did you 
 find anything in it?" 
 
 "Yes, this implement; I don't know what 
 it is — you will have to explain it," said Mon- 
 tague. 
 
 The doctor took it in his hand, turned it over 
 carefully, then said: "I think it must certainly be 
 some kind of lancet, and it is already set ; now 
 look out ! I've found the spring, and will let it 
 off ," then he pressed a little button, and out 
 flew with great force — a thin curved wire-like 
 lancet, with the point broken oflP. 
 
 The old surgeon gazed on it aghast and silent ; 
 then, when he could recover himself, he said 
 sternly: "This is the accursed implement that 
 killed Martin Russel!" 
 
 Montague, on examining it was satisfied of 
 that too : but the doctor to make assurance 
 doubly sure, hobbled down to his office and soon 
 returned with the bit of steel which he had ex- 
 tracted from the brain of Russel and found that 
 it exactly fitted the point of this stiletto ! 
 
 Old Doctor Hooper was greatly excited by the 
 
258 ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 discovery; he set the "lancet," as he called it, 
 many times and "shot it olf." 
 
 "This accursed instrument," he said, "was 
 made in the old world, perhaps in the dark ages ; 
 no man in this new country would ever devise 
 such a weapon to slay his enemy with ; this dev- 
 il's-dagger came from a land rife with tyranny, 
 cruel oppression, torture and secret murder ! 
 
 "But this murder of Russel is the most scien- 
 tific assassination that has ever been perpetrated 
 in this country !" he continued; "no man, except 
 a thorough anatomist, one with iron nerves as 
 well as the technical knowledge, could have di- 
 rected the fatal blow to 'the vital knot.' 
 
 "The victim's life was snuffed out as a can- 
 dle: as surely, as painlessly, and as noiselessly; 
 there is no parallel to this murder in all the an- 
 nals of crime ! 
 
 "We uhould gain great applause to ourselves 
 by making plain to the world the dark and sub- 
 tle ways of the learned murderers. But as \Ying- 
 field, the arch assassin is dead, we must not 
 reveal our discovery to anyone, for the sake of 
 his innocent wife and children. We must 
 search the world over for Gyp Dyce, and if we 
 shall find him, then we shall make all known in 
 order to encompass the ends of justice." 
 
 Several years passed away and Dr. Hooper and 
 Col. Montague continued on the trail of the 
 "gypsy-doctor" until it led to a lone camp in 
 
ON THE TRAIL. 259 
 
 the far west, where that accomplished villain 
 had yielded up his own life to the stiletto ; yet 
 in a much less skillful way than that by which 
 he had taken the life of Martin Russel ; for he 
 was stabbed to death, with many wounds, by 
 his wdld associates in a drunken brawl. 
 
 After they had learned this, Montague and 
 Dr. Hooper ceased their labors. 
 
 However, they continued to observe the strict 
 silence which they ever maintained in regard to 
 their discovery; for they would bring no dis- 
 tress of mind to the innocent relatives of Wing- 
 field through any effort to vaunt their own skill, 
 as show^n in the unravelment of the intricacies 
 of the mysterious murder. 
 
 It was only through the writings of Dr. Hooper 
 published many years after his death, that the 
 details of the murder of Martin Russel became 
 known to the medical profession. 
 
TRELAWNEY, 
 
 OR THE MYSTERIES OF THE TAGGART HOUSE. 
 I. 
 
 Opposite the town of Clonmel, now in West 
 Virginia, and on the bank of a rugged moun- 
 tain stream, stood an ancient time-stained house 
 which, in its day, had been the most pretentious 
 residence in all that country side. A tall por- 
 tico extending the whole length of the main 
 building and supported by six massive Doric 
 columns, gave rather an official aspect to the 
 mansion. This house was marked by another 
 feature more common to public than to private 
 residences; an antique cupola in which hungan 
 equally antique bell, surmounted the building. 
 The bell had been silent for many years, but the 
 times were in the prosperous days of old, when 
 morning, noon and night its silvery notes had 
 rung out afar, across hill and dale. 
 
 This house was for many generations the home 
 of the Taggart family, and was surrounded b}^ a 
 plantation of a thousand acres of fine arable 
 land. The men of this family had been noted 
 for their great energy and enterprise, and had 
 pretty much dominated affairs in this part of 
 260 
 
TRELAWNEY. 261 
 
 the country. But the last of the race had passed 
 away and the estate had fallen into the hands 
 of a collateral branch which did not occupy it; 
 but had leased it, together with the mansion, for 
 many years previous to the happening of the re- 
 markable events here recorded. 
 
 Even in the time of the Taggart family there 
 were uncanny stories, told by the negroes of the 
 plantation, of ghostly sights and sounds, seen 
 and heard within the gloomy recesses of the old 
 manor house; but at that time, these stories 
 were attributed to African superstition, and 
 made but little or no impression upon the more 
 intelligent white citizens of the community. 
 
 It is necessary to go back to a period several 
 years anterior to the opening of this story, and 
 to recount briefly the dreadful occurrences of 
 that time, which incidentally as it were, never- 
 theless cast an indelible glamour of horror upon 
 this ancient house. 
 
 Towards the close of a beautiful October day, 
 in the year of grace 1826, two horsemen might 
 have been seen riding along the road in the di- 
 rection of the town of C. and at a distance of 
 about three miles from that place. These travel- 
 ers were men somewhat past middle age ; and he 
 who rode in front would have arrested attention 
 even within a crowded city, much more upon a 
 lonely, country road. 
 
 He was apparently about sixty years of age, 
 
262 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 but still vigorous,tall and elegantly formed ; his 
 complexion was very dark, as if from exposure 
 to a tropical sun; his eyes were piercing, black, 
 roving and fierce of expression : his nose was ac- 
 quiline; his face long and oval; his locks, which 
 fell upon his shoulders, were streaked with grey 
 as were his moustache and the thinner beard 
 upon his bronzed cheeks. He sat his horse with 
 ease and grace which is acquired only from long 
 practice in the saddle ; yet there was a military 
 stiffness and dignity of bearing about the 
 man which he seemed to be unable to shake olf, 
 or, perhaps it was that air of authority which 
 attaches to those who have been long accustomed 
 to command. 
 
 The horse of this rider was as remarkable in 
 appearance as himself ; he w^as a powerful ani- 
 mal, with a clean, high head, pointed ears, thin 
 mane and tale, and of a curious tawny color, 
 marked upon the sides and flanks with stripes, 
 in less degree but somewhat resembling those of 
 a tiger. 
 
 The other traveler was a man of medium height 
 compactly built; of sand}^ complexion, red hair 
 and beard ; goggled eyed ; and there was nothing 
 about him to attract attention except his foreign 
 dress, and the very fine animal he rode. The 
 horses of these travelers were evidently of a 
 strain then uncommon in this part of the world, 
 and showed at every point their Arab origin. 
 
TRELAWNEY. 263 
 
 It was about nightfall when the elder man, 
 who rode in front, turned to his companion and 
 said: "Symonds, the day is far spent and 
 Saracan is leg weary ; we shall stop at the first 
 shelter." 
 
 "If it please you, sir" replied the one 
 addressed,- as he raised his hand to his hat in 
 military salute, and then relapsed into silence. 
 
 But a short time thereafter a turn in the road 
 brought into full view of the travelers a habita- 
 tion which appeared to be some kind of a fortifi- 
 cation or fort, as the square of rude cabins was 
 surrounded by a strong, high picket fence except 
 immediately in front, where the pickets had been 
 removed and replaced by a rail fence about five 
 feet high. As they came nearly opposite to this 
 fort the elder traveler. without a word, reined up 
 his horse and turned off the road at a trot : he 
 rode directly at the fence, which his horse 
 cleared as lightly as the swallow skims the wave. 
 Now Peter Luttrell,the master of the house, who 
 was standing in his doorway at the time, was 
 filled with admiration at this feat of horseman- 
 ship. 
 
 The stranger stated briefly his needs and 
 craved hospitality for the night ; he spoke with 
 a full pleasant voice, but with a foreign accent 
 and a slightly lisping speech. "He was James 
 Trelawney, and his companion, John Symonds ; 
 they were from foreign parts, strangers, travel- 
 
264 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 ing through the country." Further than this he 
 made no statement concerning himself. 
 
 ''If you can put up with our humble fare, I 
 shall be pleased to accommodate you," replied 
 Luttrell heartily, and with old Virginia courtesy 
 hastened to assist the stranger to dismount. 
 
 By this time Symonds who had ridden around 
 to the gate approached and he and Luttrell took 
 the horses to the stable at some distance from the 
 dwelling. 
 
 Trelawney walked into the house as directed; 
 saluted the woman there with grave courtesy ; 
 took the chair which she had placed for him, and 
 sat in silence. But he was not unobserved, and 
 from what occurred afterwards all these unim- 
 portant details were matters of absorbing inter- 
 est, as related to the neighbors by Mrs. Luttrell 
 who described in detail the dress and manner of 
 Trelawney. 
 
 "Has not this house been used as a fort of 
 some kind?" asked Trelawney, as they sat at 
 the supper table, noticing the small portholes 
 in the logs. 
 
 "Yes"' replied Luttrell, "we had a good deal 
 of trouble with the Indians here a little over 
 thirty years ago ; and this is one of the log forts 
 in which our neighbors used to collect when 
 they were making a raid in this section. How- 
 ever, we have had no fight with them since the 
 great treaty, in the year ninety-five, when the 
 
TRELAWNEY. 265 
 
 Redskins promised to keep the peace, " 'as long 
 as the sun sliall set in the west;' and I 
 reckon, sir, they are gwine to do it," he con- 
 cluded. 
 
 "There ought to be plenty of game in this 
 country," remarked Trelawney, "as it seems to 
 be pretty much all woods." 
 
 "Yes indeed, sir," said his host, "this is a 
 great game country ; it was the big hunting 
 ground of the Indians ; they never lived here, 
 only came here to hunt, and that's what made 
 them fight like the devil before they would give 
 it up." 
 
 "You cannot blame them much," said the 
 stranger. 
 
 "Oh no, "replied Luttrell,"! don't blame them, 
 but I used to shoot at them when I was a boy. 
 I got that mark on my cheek thar when I was 
 fighting the red devils at the fort over on the 
 creek." 
 
 Mrs. Luttrell noticed that Trelawny gave a 
 quick glance at the scar on her husband's cheek 
 and from this time forth that he treated him 
 with deference which pleased her greatly, as 
 coming from a man of such distinguished pres- 
 ence, and so different from any she had ever 
 seen. She longed too to inquire how he had re- 
 ceived one or two scars that marked his own 
 bronzed face, but did not care to do so. 
 
 After the frugal repast was ended, the trav- 
 
266 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 elers sat around the huge wood fire and smoked 
 their pipes while Luttrell recounted to them 
 various anecdotes of his hunting adventures in 
 
 the surrounding mountains. 
 
 At length Trelawney expressed a desire to 
 stop over on the morrow for the purpose of tak- 
 ing a deer hunt. Luttrell eagerly encouraged 
 him to carry out this design, as the grave 
 stranger had won much upon his favor. He 
 promised to have guns and everything in readi- 
 ness at daylight, as the travelers had expressed 
 a desire to return to the house in time to pro- 
 ceed to the town on the following evening. 
 
 With this understanding the strangers were 
 shown to their place of rest, which was in an 
 out-building standing at some distance from the 
 main house, and in the direction of the stables. 
 Here they found a small cabin containing two 
 beds ; and while all things within were rude and 
 humble, they were at least comfortable, and the 
 travelers expressed themselves well contented 
 with their quarters. 
 
 May they rest well ! as this may be the last 
 night on earth in which they shall repose in 
 untroubled sleep ; for the heavy hand of misfor- 
 tune is hanging over them, as the sword hung 
 over Damocles, ready to fall and destroy. 
 
 As we shall see, the acts and words of these 
 strangers while they remained at the house of 
 Luttrell, were afterwards subjects of the deepest 
 
TRELAWNEY. 267 
 
 interest to the people of this vicinity, and even 
 called forth the closest scrutiny the law could 
 command. We shall now leave them to their 
 rest, and turn to the events of this night at a 
 point not far distant; and to that terrible trag- 
 edy which filled this peaceful country side with 
 horror, and enveloped these strangers within its 
 baneful shadow. 
 
 II. 
 
 It. was ten o'clock and the night was dark and 
 lowering although the gibbous moon hung high 
 in the heavens, and at rare intervals cast a 
 gleam of light to earth between the scurrying 
 clouds. At a point on the road called "The 
 Narrows," about half way between Luttrell's 
 and the town, and which is about a mile 
 from either place, there is a gloomy and narrow 
 passage between the hill and the creek, of som.e 
 fifty yards in length. A stranger traveling this 
 road after nightfall would hesitate to pass 
 through such a dark and forbidding way ; yet 
 there were those, it seems, who had sought this 
 place in w^hich to tarry for good or ill ; for by 
 the uncertain light of the moon, the dim out- 
 lines of dark figures were to be seen upon horses 
 about midway of this passage, where a small 
 stream trickled doAvn from the hill. 
 
 There they sat, silent and motionless, facing 
 the road. After a time the moon shone out; 
 
268 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 although dimly, it was reflected from the barrel 
 of the long pistol which each figure held in his 
 right hand, and rested on the mane of his horse. 
 
 Fifteen minutes passed, and no sound from 
 man or beast ; only the hooting of an owl on 
 the hillside had broken the stillness. And so 
 the half hour passed, and the hour, and still no 
 change or movement. 
 
 Will these figures never move or make a sound, 
 or are they only a figment of the imagination? 
 
 For what purpose would armed men station 
 themselves on this deserted road at the dead 
 hour of the night, where none do pass? 
 
 But even now, in the far distance is heard 
 the faint sound on the stony road, of a horse's 
 hoofs ; nearer it comes, and louder the sound; 
 evidently, it is some traveler riding at a round 
 trot towards the town. 
 
 As the ringing hoofs resound at the entrance 
 to the narrow way, one of the waiting figures, he 
 on the right, comes to life as it were; turns his 
 head as if upon a pivot, and nods to the figure 
 on his left, who nods in return. 
 
 Then their long pistols are raised and extended 
 over the horses' heads, pointing across the road. 
 
 On comes the traveler without slacking his 
 pace, until a stern "Halt!" causes him involun- 
 tarily to pull up his horse and turn his face in 
 wild alarm toward the rock, whence the sound 
 seems to come ; but only for a second was the 
 
TRELAWNEY. 269 
 
 suspense, when two pistol shots rang out on the 
 night air, and the fated rider plunged headlong 
 from his horse to the ground ; then rolled over 
 and lay upon his back with his face turned up 
 to the dim light of the moon, while the blood 
 flowed rapidly from a ghastly wound in his head. 
 
 The work of the assassins has been well done ; 
 this traveler, whoever he be, has finished his 
 journey ! 
 
 But, perhaps the robbers did not premeditate 
 murder, for as the shots were fired, a gruff voice 
 called out — "Job, what made you shoot?" 
 
 "What made you shoot?" was the reply; 
 "well, he'd a knowed us anyhow; he'll not talk 
 now," the voice continued. 
 
 The highwaymen then made a fruitless at- 
 tempt to catch the riderless horse which ran 
 past them, down the road, in the direction of 
 the town ; but they themselves, after they had 
 robbed the dead man of money and papers, de- 
 parted in the opposite direction. 
 
 The sun was an hour high on the following 
 morning when a countryman dashed into the 
 town of C. with the startling intelligence that 
 Richard Hinton, ex-sherifi^ of the county, had 
 been foully murdered and that his body lay in 
 the "narrows of the road on the creek!" 
 
 It was not long before the whole male popula- 
 tion of the town had gathered about the 
 spot where the tragedy had occurred. 
 
270 TRELAWXEY. 
 
 Hinton was a maa past middle age, and as his 
 children were all grown, there was none present 
 to mourn his sad taking off with that violent 
 outburst of grief with which the young bewail 
 sudden death. Yet the whole community was 
 deeply moved , as no murder had occurred in 
 this quiet neighborhood within a generation. 
 Hinton was known personally to every one in 
 this part of the country; an ex-sheriff and a 
 trusted man; he was just on his return from 
 Richmond with land warrants and considerable 
 sums of money belonging to citizens of the 
 town. 
 
 As his pockets were turned wrong side out 
 and there was not left on his person any article 
 of value, not even his old silver watch, it was 
 the consensus of the assembled wisdom that he 
 had been murdered for the purpose of robbery. 
 
 After the remains had been removed with all 
 tenderness and rude ceremony to the town, and 
 the excitement had somewhat subsided, those 
 who had met pecuniary loss by the tragedy be- 
 gan to feel a lively interest in discovering the 
 perpetrators of the murder. 
 
 The sheriff's posse comitatas soon discovered 
 the place where the robbers sat on their 
 horses and from which they had shot their vic- 
 tim. Step by step they trailed the horse tracks 
 up the road until they led into the stable at Lut- 
 trell's. 
 
TRELAWNEY. 271 
 
 Here, the party were greatly surprised to find 
 two liorses, tlie finest they had ever seen ! and 
 wonder of wonders ! there were on each saddle, 
 holster pistols, and the right-hand pistol of each 
 holster had been recently discharged while the 
 pistols in the left holsters were still loaded ! 
 And more than that, a land warrant belonging 
 to Col. Donovan, and which Hinton was to bring 
 from Richmond, was found stuffed into one of 
 the holsters alongside the pistol ! 
 
 Could any case be clearer than this ; surely 
 the foul murderers had but illy concealed their 
 tracks ! Where were the owners of these fine 
 horses who had killed Hinton and had even 
 carelessly left one of his land warrants with 
 their saddles ! 
 
 Mrs. Luttrell told the sheriff and his party 
 all about the strangers, her guests, describing 
 them minutel37-, and at the same time she stated 
 that they would return from the hunt about 
 three o'clock, when she was to have dinner pre- 
 pared for them so that they could go on to the 
 town that night. 
 
 The sheriff concluded to conceal his party in a 
 thicket near by and await the return of the 
 strangers, when he would make the arrest. 
 
 Col. Donovan, a bluff, hearty man of middle 
 age, was one of the party, and he was the 
 ■only one of it who was not convinced that the 
 owners of the horses were the murderers. He 
 
272 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 said to some of his companions while they lay- 
 in concealment : 
 
 "Boys, this won't do; this is a put up job; 
 these men would never ride back here after such 
 a murder and then go off for a deer hunt — this 
 is against human nature!" 
 
 "Colonel, you may know more about the law 
 than we do," was the reply, "but we can't help 
 being governed and convinced too, by the evi- 
 dence of our senses!" 
 
 The hunting party returned at the time they 
 had appointed and the strangers seemed elated 
 at their fine success in the chase. They were 
 allowed to enter the dwelling and were 
 seated at the dinner table when the sheriff led 
 his party, unseen, up to the side of the house near 
 the door. Then he and one other entered. 
 
 The sheriff approached rapidly and caught 
 the elder stranger, Trelawney, by the collar of 
 his coat, exclaiming : 
 
 "You are my prisoner, you bloody murderer ! " 
 
 Trelawney, without a word but with a dark 
 scowl on his countenance, sprang up, and the. 
 next instant the sheriff lay sprawling on the floor 
 from a blow of his fist. The man who went to 
 his assistance met the same fate ; but the party 
 at the door rushed in and dis^ilayed their weap- 
 ons and the strangers were compelled to sur- 
 render. 
 
 In fact the man Symonds, the companion of 
 
TRELAWNEY. 273 
 
 Trelawney, had not attempted to move, but had 
 sat as if dumbfounded, with his eyes bulged out 
 as if they were about to drop from their sockets. 
 
 After things had quieted down a little and 
 all the belongings of the strangers had been col- 
 lected and their horses made ready to go to the 
 town, Trelawney turned and thanked Luttrell 
 and his wife for their hospitality and at the 
 same time took out some money to pay them. 
 
 But the sheriff would not permit this ; he 
 ordered the prisoners to be searched and every- 
 thing of value taken from them, which w^as done. 
 
 Trelawney then sternly demamded "by what 
 authority he was arrested; and what kind of peo- 
 ple they were, who with arms and force of 
 numbers thus maltreated strangers?" 
 
 He spoke with the foreign accent and lisping 
 speech, before remarked, and it was also noticed 
 by the party that he was a man well advanced 
 in years. 
 
 The sheriff who was still smarting under the 
 blow he had received, replied coarsely: "You 
 will find out what you are arrested for,you bloody 
 murderer, when you come to swing on the gal- 
 lows!" 
 
 "Tut, tut, sheriff," said Col. Donovan, "the 
 man is innocent until he is proven guilty." 
 
 At this, Trelawney turned and bowed w^ith 
 grave courtesy to Col. Donovan, but he spoke 
 not again. 
 
274 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 The prisoners then, after a brief examination 
 Ipefore the village magistrate, were remanded to 
 jail to await the action of the grand jury at the 
 November term of court. But as the whole com- 
 munity, with the exception of Col. Donovan, 
 and one or two other lawyers, had already de- 
 cided upon their guilt, some of the more hot- 
 headed citizens insisted on hanging them then 
 and there, and thus save the expense of a trial. 
 But this rash counsel did not prevail. 
 
 III. 
 
 Now the ill repute of the old Taggart house 
 was greatly enhanced by its connection with this 
 dark tragedy, brought about in the following 
 manner : For some time previous to the trial of 
 Trelawney and Symonds for the murder of Hin- 
 ton, a new court house was building in the town. 
 The clerk's and sheriff's offices had been moved 
 to this ancient mansion temporarily; and here 
 it was decided to hold the November term of 
 the court. 
 
 The judge's stand was placed inside the door- 
 way of one of the ancient rooms, facing the hall, 
 and just leaving room enough for the jury to be 
 seated to the right and left of the door, while 
 the spectators must be content to occupy the hall 
 aod the large portico. 
 
 Here the trial was held which from its appall- 
 ing attendant circumstances was afterwards the 
 
TRELAWNEY. 275 
 
 subject of conversation about many a winter fire- 
 side, where tlie youthful listeners were chilled 
 with horror at the recital of the ghostly stories 
 which relegated the "haunted house" to the do- 
 main of spooks and wraiths and those unearthly 
 apparitions that are believed to take possession 
 of ancient houses, where some cruel injustice or 
 grievous 'wrong has been perpetrated, and which 
 needs to be righted. 
 
 When the trial came on, Colonel Donovan was 
 appointed by the court to defend the prisoners. 
 
 As all their effects had been taken from them, 
 and deposited in the bank by the sheriff for safe 
 keeping, it was not known that they had funds 
 of their own with which to employ counsel. 
 
 The inhabitants of the whole country were as- 
 sembled at the Taggart house on the day of trial, 
 many coming two or three days' journey through 
 the wilderness to witness this famous case. 
 
 However, the trial did not continue very long, 
 for it took only half a day to empanel a jury; 
 and the whole case was concluded within three 
 days. 
 
 The testimony elicited by the prosecuting at- 
 torney was the same as already known. It was 
 proven to the satisfaction of every one that the 
 murderers of ex-sheriif Hinton had ridden to 
 the place of the murder on the horses owned by 
 the prisoners. 
 
 It was further proven beyond a doubt, that 
 
276 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 the weapons used were the holster pistols belong- 
 ing also to the prisoners. 
 
 Two shots had been fired, and two of the hol- 
 ster pistols were found to be unloaded; besides, 
 a wad picked up at the scene of the murder ex- 
 actly fitted the pistols, which were all of the 
 same foreign pattern. Moreover, a bullet of the 
 same gauge was extracted from the body of the 
 dead man ; and this together with the damning 
 evidence of the land warrant, found in one of 
 the holsters, and known to have been upon the 
 person of Hinton, brought conviction to almost 
 every mind, of the guilt of the prisoners. 
 
 The able attorney for the prosecution stated 
 that in the course of his long practice, he had 
 never before had a case of so much importance, 
 that really proved itself and needed no argu- 
 ment; and that for his part, he would be per- 
 fectly willing to submit the case to the jury with- 
 out a word of comment. 
 
 Col. Donovan, for the defense, was unable to 
 disprove the testimony already detailed ; he was 
 compelled to admit that the prisoners' horses 
 were ridden by the murderers ; and that their 
 pistols had been used to commit the crime; but 
 he contended that these were facts disconnected 
 from the prisoners, and that some other persons, 
 not they, had killed Hinton. 
 
 He reviewed in detail the testimony of Lut- 
 trell and his wife, repeating every word and 
 
TRELAWNEY. 277 
 
 describing every act of the prisoners, from their 
 first appearance in the neighborhood, up to the 
 time of their arrest. 
 
 But here, he was interrupted by the state's 
 attorney, who stated that there was one fatal 
 omission ; and that was the time which elapsed 
 between nine o'clock at night — the time at 
 which the strangers had retired to rest in the 
 cabin, which was nearer the stable and the road 
 than was Luttrell's house — and the hour of five 
 o'clock in the morning, when Luttrell had awak- 
 ened them for the chase. Here were eight hours 
 when the strangers were unobserved by anyone, 
 and no doubt this was the time within which the 
 murder had been committed. Luttrell admitted 
 on the witness stand that his guests might have 
 taken out their horses and ridden down the 
 road in the night without his knowledge. 
 
 But the prosecutor neglected to add, that Lut- 
 trell on leaving the stand had volunteered the 
 statement, "he did not believe they did." 
 
 Col. Donovan resumed: "Not one cent of 
 money or one article known to have belonged to 
 Hinton, was found on the persons of the pris- 
 oners ; only, the land warrant belonging to my- 
 self, and which was placed in the holster by the 
 unknown murderers with the deep design of 
 throwing suspicion on my innocent clients. For 
 the same subtle purpose, the horses had been 
 used by the murderers, and then had been re- 
 
278 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 turned to their stables in the dead hour of the 
 night, so that in the morning light the trail 
 might lead directly to these defenseless strang- 
 ers. Where then, are the murderers? God only 
 knows, they are not here !" 
 
 "I think the}" are here, and pretty safely 
 here!" interrupted the state's attorney. 
 
 By the remark Col. Donovan seemed to be 
 much disturbed, and it was with strong emo- 
 tion he said : '*The lips of the accused are sealed, 
 they cannot speak for themselves." Then point- 
 ing to Trelawney, he continued; "But there is 
 a language of nature written in the human coun- 
 tenance, more powerful than spoken words, and 
 the hand Immortal never traced cowardly crime 
 on the bold features of that man!" 
 
 Donovan paused, trembling with excitement; 
 then, after wiping his moist brow, he continued: 
 "The flippant remarks of the attorney for the 
 prosecution are, unfortunately, not character- 
 istic of himself alone, but of his class. 
 
 "Prosecutors feel called upon to convict. Yet 
 why should this be so? Why should the shield 
 of the law be removed from the breasts of de- 
 fenseless strangers, and the sharp spear of the 
 law turned against them? 
 
 "Trelawney and his companion are here, in 
 the toils of the law, friendless and alone. But 
 I can recall one of that name who, in the olden 
 time, had a better following; and I am also re- 
 minded by the song and the old refrain 
 
TRELAWNEY. 279 
 
 " 'And shall Trelawney die? 
 Here's twenty thousand Cornishmen 
 Will know the reason why!' 
 
 "Men love power and are swayed and moved 
 by its influence as the winds move the waves of 
 the sea. Had my unfortunate friend such a 
 follow^ing as the Trelawney of the song, 
 this state's attorney would be peradventure, as 
 obsequious in his bearing, as he is now insolent 
 and intemperate in his language towards him. 
 
 "There has not been developed on this trial 
 one scintilla of testimony except circumstantial 
 evidence, which is entirely unsupported by di- 
 rect testimony. You have heard many cases 
 cited in this trial which have been decided upon 
 circumstantial evidence alone. 
 
 "You have heard in these cases that the jur- 
 ies had been mistaken; the courts had been 
 mistaken ; and irreparable wrong had been per- 
 petrated against innocent men. 
 
 "Do circumstances speak so loud and so sure 
 in this case that you cannot be mistaken? Are 
 you prepared, on such evidence, to condemn 
 these prisoners to death, to take away the vital 
 spark? It is so easily done ; it is so quickly 
 done ; yet when it is done, despite the skill of 
 mortal surgery,it is forever done ! 
 
 "The state's attorney says the murder of 
 Richard Hintou must be avenged. 
 
 "These prisoners are here, strangers and 
 
280 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 friendless ; it is always safe to condemn to death 
 the stranger and the friendless ; for after their 
 death there will be none to remember their 
 wrongs ; they will be forgotten ! 
 
 "But may God forget me when Ineed help, if 
 I should ever consent to use the quibbles of the 
 law to hamper to their destruction the steps of 
 innocent men !" 
 
 Then Col. Donovan walked up close to the 
 jury box and shaking his hand in the faces of 
 the jurors, continued with great earnestness: 
 
 "Should you, relying on these flimsy circum- 
 stances, condemn these men to death — I take a 
 long look ahead to that time when I, and these 
 old men hereabouts have been gathered to our 
 fathers — to that time when the revelation shall 
 have been made to you.younger men of this jury — 
 that you have been mistaken — that Trelawney 
 and Symonds were innocent men ! 
 
 "I draw the veil over the scene to conceal the 
 remorse and recrimination of that time, and 
 speak no more on this subject forever!" 
 
 Donovan sat down; tears were on his cheeks. 
 
 After a brief space of silence Trelawney 
 reached out of the prisoner's box and pressed his 
 hand in gratitude. 
 
 The attorney for the state arose, and after 
 commenting severely on the address of Col. Don- 
 ovan, began to discuss the circumstantial evi- 
 dence that had been brought out in the trial. 
 
TRBLAWNEY. 281 
 
 His face wore a smile of triumph peculiar to 
 prosecutors everywhere, when sure of their cases. 
 In a short time, however,he paused, saying : "The 
 evidence as presented to you in this case, gentle- 
 men of the jury, is all conclusive of the guilt of 
 these prisoners, and I shall not longer tax your 
 patience or the patience of the honorable court in 
 discussing it ; it would be an insult to your intel- 
 ligence — so I shall rest here." 
 
 Then after a stern, brief charge from the court, 
 which in its general tenor seemed to be much 
 against the accused men, the jury retired. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Two hours later the ringing of the court house 
 bell announced to the citizens that the jury was 
 ready to render its verdict. 
 
 All the waiting crowd hastened to the seat of 
 justice, the attorneys assembled, and the pris- 
 oners were brought into the dim light of that 
 dingy old room, there to await their fate. 
 
 It was more than half an hour before the 
 court could be found, and the suspense must 
 have been very trying to the prisoners, as it was 
 evidently to the jurors who appeared ill at ease 
 under the calm gaze of the two men whose all 
 was in their hands. 
 
 When the court appeared and the usual formu- 
 la had been propounded, the foreman of the jury 
 arose and said in a weak and trembling voice : 
 
282 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 "We, the jury, find John Symonds and James 
 Trelawney, the prisoners at the bar, guilty of 
 murder in the first degree!" 
 
 Then silence fell on the room, which was bro- 
 ken only when the judge ordered the prisoners 
 to be returned to their cells. 
 
 This verdict was a foregone conclusion ; it 
 called forth no exjDression of surprise or of j^ity 
 for the condemned men. 
 
 Three days after this time the prisoners were 
 arraigned before the court in order to receive 
 their sentence. 
 
 "Stand up !" said the judge to the i^risoners. 
 They both arose and stood in soldierly attitude, 
 Symonds taking his place a little to the rear of 
 Trelawney. 
 
 "What have you to say, John Symonds, why 
 the court should not now proceed to pass sen- 
 tence upon you according to law?" demanded 
 the judge with unusual severity. 
 
 Symonds cast a quick glance at Trelawney as 
 if seeking aid, but the latter did not remove his 
 eyes from the court. Then the prisoner looked 
 helplessly to the bench and shook his head in 
 stolid despair, remaining silent. 
 
 When the court turned to Trelawney with the 
 same query he had made the other, this prisoner 
 raised his hand, as if in military salute, and 
 spoke with grave dignity as follows : 
 
 "I have nothing, your Honor, to say, that can 
 
TRELAWNEY. 283 
 
 change this verdict; I merely raise my voice to 
 protest my innocence, and the innocence of my 
 companion. I think our innocence may be proven 
 within the lifetime of some now here present; if 
 not, it will be proven in the world to come ! 
 
 "I will admit that it is a grievous thing for 
 me, who have always lived an honorable life, to 
 die an ignominious death ; but I shall try to 
 bear my last burden here, as I have borne mis- 
 fortune in other lands." 
 
 He then bowed to the court in token that he 
 had finished. 
 
 The judge without following the usual preamble, 
 said: "James Trelawney and John Symonds,the 
 sentence of this court is that you, and each of 
 you, shall on the third Friday in Decembernext, 
 between the hours of 10 a. m. and 3 p. m., be 
 taken to the place of execution, and there hanged 
 by the neck until you are both dead, dead! 
 
 "May God have mercy on your souls! 
 
 "Sheriff, return the prisoners to their cells." 
 
 The crowd dispersed, discussing as they went 
 out the merits of the trial. But one w^ho spoke 
 in a loud voice seemed to express the sentiment 
 of all, when he exclaimed : 
 
 "These land pirates won't come in here 
 again and kill one of our best citizens!" 
 
 "Oh no," said another, "they'll stay here 
 till Gabriel blows his horn!" 
 
 And this poor wit evoked laughter from the 
 
284 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 vengeful crew, who rejoiced in anticipation of 
 "a hanging," a rare spectacle for them, and 
 more in their thoughts than any triumph of 
 justice. 
 
 The few remaining weeks were occupied by 
 the condemned men in making appropriate prep- 
 arations for their end. But they continued to 
 observe unusual reticence in regard to their 
 past lives ; they claimed that their past had 
 nothing to do with their present forlorn condition. 
 
 However, it was learned from the meager de- 
 tails let fall at diiferent times, that Trelawney, 
 though English by birth, had served for many 
 years in some army of Asia, and that Symonds 
 had been his military servant. 
 
 After the trial the effects of Trelawney had 
 been returned to him by order of the court. It 
 was found that he possessed eight or ten thous- 
 and pounds in English money besides papers or 
 memoranda concerning property in England. 
 
 He wrote his will with his own hand, leaving 
 his money and property to his nephew, one 
 Edward Trewlaney, with the English army in 
 Europe; at least, he was supposed to be there. 
 He sent as a precaution a letter directed to the 
 Club frequented by his nephew^ when in London. 
 
 His best horse he presented to Col. Donovan, 
 "his respected friend ;" the other, he gave to 
 Luttrell, "in remembrance of the last day's 
 sport he ever had on earth!" 
 
TEELAWNEY. 285 
 
 He also rewarded liberally the few persons 
 who had shown him any kindness or had be- 
 friended him in any way. In concluding his 
 last will and testament, he made only one re- 
 quest; but that was a very singular one, indeed! 
 
 It ran as follows : "I earnestly beseech those 
 in charge to permit my body, after execution, 
 to remain in the open air for the period of two 
 days before interment. And may it be meted to 
 you, in your last extremity, as you shall heed 
 this prayer of a dying man!" 
 
 There was no one to claim the remains of this 
 doomed man, and as the sheriff had profited 
 much by his generosity, he consented to this 
 proposition, strange and weird as it was, and 
 promised faithfully to carry out his wishes. 
 
 The execution was to take place not far from 
 the Taggart House, and "the platform of the 
 scaffold," said the sheriff, "could be removed 
 and placed under the portico of that ancient 
 house, and on this, the body could remain in the 
 open air for two days under the care of a watch- 
 man." 
 
 For this service a liberal sum of money w^as 
 appropriated. The fatal day of execution at last 
 arrived, as all days come, wi:! ether freighted 
 with joy or sorrow. However, there is not much 
 to be told about it except to relate in detail the 
 dark and mysterious occurrences which grew 
 out of this last and singular request of Tre- 
 lawney. 
 
286 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 The day was bright and beautiful as ever 
 shone in December. Col. Donovan and Lut- 
 trell were early at the prison to bid farewell to 
 their friends, as they were not to be present at 
 the execution. The colonel called it "a legal 
 murder," and was very much downcast. But 
 Trelawney himself cheered Donovan up in a 
 hearty fashion, saying: "Colonel, you have done 
 all you could for me; there is nothing with 
 which to blame yourself; go on and enjoy your 
 life — may heaven bless you ! Farewell, my 
 friend!" 
 
 Then for a moment he gazed through the open 
 door and his eyes marked the blue hills that 
 lined the distant horizon ; turning to Luttrell he 
 slapped him on the shoulder and said : "This 
 would be a fine day for a chase, old man ! 
 Good-bye, a long farewell!" 
 
 The friends then parted to meet no more. 
 
 There was a great concourse of people about 
 the gallows ; it was expected that Trelawney 
 would address the people, and perhaps relate 
 the adventures of his life, as the public curiosity 
 was much aroused by this interesting and mys- 
 terious character. 
 
 If such was the general expectation, the people 
 were doomed to disappointment, for he spoke 
 not one word. 
 
 It should be noted, however, that by this time, 
 after the fates of these men had been sealed 
 
TRELAWNEY. 287 
 
 irrevocably, there was something of a revulsion 
 of public sentiment in regard to their guilt and 
 there were those present w^ho began to doubt 
 the justness of the sentence that had doomed 
 them to death. 
 
 As they mounted the scaffold their foreign, 
 semi-military dress, and especially the distin- 
 guished bearing of Trelawney, was remarked by 
 the vast multitude of people who had thronged 
 to the execution as to a show. 
 
 Trelawney stood calmly viewing the land- 
 scape while the last preparations were making; 
 Symonds, who stood at his left side, seemed to 
 take his cue from him as if content to follow 
 where he might lead. 
 
 In conclusion, the sheriff asked them if 
 they were ready ; the elder man bowed ; the other 
 bowed, like an automaton; the drop fell, and 
 these two souls passed from earth away. 
 
 V. 
 
 A few hours after the people had dispersed, 
 the sheriff took away the remains of Symonds 
 for burial ; but the body of Trelawney, accord- 
 ing to his promise, he placed on the platform, 
 under the portico of the old Taggart house. 
 
 And here, in his easy chair, with his blankets 
 wrapped about him, old Tom Slaton, a charac- 
 ter of the town, took his station to watch through 
 the night. He was armed with his pipe and a 
 
288 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 half pint of whisky, and thought he could easily 
 earn ten dollars, as it was pretty certain that no 
 one of the vicinity would disturb his vigils in 
 that ghostly place. 
 
 By eleven o'clock Tom Slaton was sleeping the 
 sleep that is usually supposed to belong to the 
 just, but which also appertains to the intemper- 
 ate; and when he awoke from his slumber it was 
 not only daylight, but the sun was shining full 
 on the eastern end of the portico. 
 
 ''It's all right," he said, "there's no one in 
 sight, and no doubt the dead man is resting com- 
 fortably on the platform up there." 
 
 But he didn't go to look, not he. "I'll wait 
 till the sheriff comes," he said. 
 
 It was nine o'clock when the sheriff came. He 
 and Slaton then climbed up to the level of the 
 platform, so as to view the remains. They little 
 expected the surprise that awaited them. 
 
 For when their heads reached high enough, 
 they saw absolutely nothing. The body of Tre- 
 lawney had vanished, but whether into the earth 
 or sky, there was no trace left behind to show. 
 
 This was incomprehensible, and the sheriff 
 stood dumbfounded. Soon, however, a large 
 number of people collected about the place; and 
 Slaton, mounted upon a chair, began to dis- 
 course to them in an excited manner. 
 
 "I never closed my eyes during the whole 
 night," he said. "This act of vandalism must 
 
TRELAWNEY. 289 
 
 have been perpetrated by the accursed ghosts. I 
 heard them inarching up and down stairs here in 
 this old house all night. By the Lord, it fairly 
 made my hair raise on my head!" 
 
 This last assertion would, perhaps, have pro- 
 voked a laugh, as Slaton was bald, but they were 
 all too much frightened for that. 
 
 The more thoughtful citizens held to the belief 
 that the remains had been taken away by sur- 
 geons for the purpose of dissection and that they 
 must certainly be concealed somewhere nearby. 
 A "tracking snow" had fallen early the preced- 
 ing night, and there was not the slightest trace 
 or trail leading from the portico. 
 
 Every part of the town was searched, and es- 
 pecially every nook and corner in the old Tag- 
 gart house, without discovering the slightest clew 
 to the mystery. 
 
 The excitement was unabated not only on that 
 day but for many days thereafter. For there 
 v^as yet to happen in connection with this sad 
 aifair an event which w^ould increase the con- 
 sternation of the citizens, and would be the 
 theme of many a tale in the years to come. 
 
 Although there was nothing to watch, it w^as 
 thought best in view of the mysterious circum- 
 stances, that Slaton should take his place the 
 second night on the old portico and there await 
 developments. 
 
 Slaton came the second night better fortified 
 
290 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 against ghosts than before ; at least, he was bet- 
 ter supplied with whiskey, and by half past ten 
 o'clock he was safe in the lap of Morpheus. 
 He awoke as before after daylight, and thought 
 all was well, as fears of ghosts and evil spirits 
 always vanish with the sunshine. 
 
 When the sheriff came, he and Slaton, 
 prompted by some unknown impulse, proceeded 
 again to look on the platform ; the sight they 
 there beheld filled them with fear and amazement. 
 
 For there lay the body of Trelaw^ney, booted 
 and spurred and splashed with mud, as if it had 
 just dismounted from his horse ! 
 
 No words '^an express the consternation of the 
 spectators who soon gathered around. Slaton 
 declared solemnly: "I never slept a wink last 
 night, but walked this portico the whole night 
 through; I saw nobody, and I didn't hear any- 
 thing excepc the ghosts galloping round in this 
 old Taggart house that every body knows is 
 haunted!" 
 
 "I oughtn't be held responsible for w^hat the 
 infernal ghosts have done ! The sheriff has got 
 Trelawney all safe here now, and my advice is, 
 that he take him and bury him at once before he 
 has any more trouble with him — them's my sen- 
 timents!" 
 
 This was considered good advice, and the 
 remains of Trelawney were placed in the grave. 
 
 The astounding news of the return of the 
 
TRELAWNEY. 291 
 
 body of Trelawney to the scaffold had only 
 added fuel to the flame of excitement which was 
 all aglow in the breasts of these terrified citi- 
 zens. And in their endeavor to explain the in- 
 explicable, and to account in reason for the 
 irrational, there were many diverse theories 
 advanced. 
 
 One was that Slaton had fallen asleep and that 
 all this fiendish work was but the cruel jest of 
 some lunatic or frantic fool, who had just es- 
 caped from a bedlam. But as there were no 
 lunatic asylums in this vicinity and as there 
 were none of the neighborhood known to be 
 entirely bereft of reason, this theory was not 
 generally accepted. 
 
 When a deputation of citizens waited on Col. 
 Donovan and questioned him in regard to these 
 mysteries, the old lawyer said : 
 
 "I wash my hands of this whole matter ; all I 
 know about it is that two innocent men have 
 been executed, and if it is possible for the spir- 
 its of injured men to return from the other 
 world to torment those who have persecuted 
 them, I think this is a proper place and a proper 
 occasion for such demoniacal exhibitions!" 
 
 There was not much of comfort for any citizen 
 in these words or in the event that had influ- 
 enced their utterance ; and many sleepless hours 
 were passed by those who pondered on these 
 strange and mysterious happenings. 
 
292 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 Not long after the execution of Trelawney and 
 Symonds, the public offices were removed to the 
 new court house and the old Taggart house re- 
 mained tenantless for nearly three years. Then 
 the new Presbyterian minister, Rev. Mr. Henry, 
 and his wife moved into it. They remained 
 here for nearly fourteen years until the reverend 
 gentleman retired from the ministry and returned 
 to the home of his youth. During all these 
 years the minister and his wife were never 
 heard to utter a word about tiie ghosts that 
 were known to frequent their house. 
 
 The first year of their sojourn here, this sub- 
 ject was occasionally broached in their presence; 
 but this soon ceased, when it was found to irri- 
 tate the minister, and to call forth, always, a 
 reply pointed with the keenest sarcasm. 
 
 As the years fled, the careworn countenance 
 of Mrs. Henry was attributed by her neighbors 
 to the annoyances of the evil spirits that abode 
 beneath her ill-omened roof ! Yet there was 
 some compensation at least in a residence here, 
 for Mrs. Henry could raise the fattest turkeys 
 and chickens and they could roost on the lowest 
 trees in her yard unmolested, for no matter how 
 hard the season or how urgent the necessity, no 
 prowler of the night would intrude on these 
 premises. 
 
 And now the old minister and his family had 
 gone away and the old Taggart house was once 
 
TRELAWNEY. 293 
 
 more tenantless and presented a very forlorn and 
 forbidding appearance. 
 
 It was about this time that the clerk of the 
 county court received from the West a legal 
 document that was to revive with added horror 
 the tragic events related of Trelawney. 
 
 This paper was in the form of a declaration 
 made in articulo mortis^ and was subscribed to 
 by one Absalom Meeks. 
 
 Meeks, believing himself to be on his death- 
 bed, stated : 
 
 "I, Absalom Meeks, wish to make this my sol- 
 emn statement in the face of death, that justice 
 may be done. Job Archer, now deceased, and 
 myself were traveling from Richmond, Va., in the 
 year 1826, to our homes on the Ohio River in that 
 state. This was in the month of October, and as 
 we were on our journey we overtook, in Staunton, 
 €X-sheriff Hinton of the town of Clonmel, and 
 sheriff Hinton told us then that he would reach 
 his home on the following Friday night. Now 
 we had found out while we were in Richmond 
 that he would carry to his home a large sum of 
 money from that city. And while Archer and 
 myself were traveling on foot, two days 
 ahead of Hinton, we often talked about his 
 bringing the money. We reached the stable of 
 one Luttrell, a few miles from Clonmel, on that 
 Friday night after dark. We found in the stable 
 two horses with saddles and bridles and pistols. 
 
294 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 We rested here for some time, when Archer pro- 
 posed that we should take the horses ; this we 
 did and then rode on until we reached a dark, 
 narrow place in the road. Here we stopped for 
 the purpose of robbing Hinton. We knew he 
 would come along pretty soon. After a time he 
 did come and in the excitement we shot and killed 
 him, although we only meant to rob him. Archer 
 said that now we would be followed and that 
 we had better take the horses and pistols back 
 to the stable, where we got them, and go home 
 through the woods. This we did, and after we 
 reached our homes on the Ohio river we thought 
 we would be found out. So we moved to Pike 
 County, Missouri, where Job Archer died last 
 year and where this paper is written. In con- 
 clusion, I, Absalom Meeks, believing this to be 
 my dying declaration, do solemnly swear that 
 these statements are true and nothing but the 
 truth, as I hope for mercy." 
 
 This informal declaration was attested by one 
 Dr. Jerrold, and the minister in attendance, the 
 Eev. Simon Felton. It also bore the seal of Pike 
 County, Missouri, and the affidavit of the clerk 
 of the county court, to the effect that Absalom 
 Meeks had died the day after signing the decla- 
 ration. 
 
 Thus it became known to the citizens of Clon- 
 mel that in their town twenty years before, tw^o 
 innocent men had died on the gallows. 
 
TRELAWNEY. 295 
 
 It was well enough before these facts were 
 confirmed that old Col. Donovan was sleeping 
 in his grave. Luttrell too, had passed away, but 
 there were living yet, those who had witnessed 
 the trial and execution of James Trelawney and 
 John Symonds. 
 
 The strange story of these men burdened with 
 irreparable wrong, then became the subject of 
 common conversation. Men told of the frightful 
 happenings at the Taggart house in connection 
 with the execution of Trelawney. And Tom Sla- 
 ton, the eye-witness to these occurrences, was 
 still here and ready to speak for himself. 
 
 The words of Col. Donavan were recalled, 
 and the speech of Trelawney, when he had pro- 
 claimed in open court: "I think our innocence 
 may be proven even within the lifetime of some 
 now here present!" 
 
 "And were they not present and alive to tes- 
 tify that Trelawney spoke the truth?" 
 
 "But what was the good of it; he was d^ad !" 
 
 "I am not so sure of that," said Tom Slaton, 
 "for I have seen things — strange things — that I 
 don't care to talk about to young people!" 
 
 Well, there was no reparation to make and the 
 sad knowledge that two innocent men had been 
 executed in that town, only added to the burden 
 and care of a few elderly citizens, who now de- 
 plored the hasty trial and the short shrift that 
 had been accorded the ill-fated strangers. 
 
298 TBELAWNEY 
 
 VI. 
 
 From its connection with these sad aifairs, 
 the evil name of the old Taggart house, now 
 kept as a tavern by one Mark Tudor, became 
 darker than ever. Yet it was tolerably well 
 patronized by the emigrants who passed this 
 way to the western country. However, it was 
 noticeable that the citizens of the town were 
 rarely seen there after nightfall. 
 
 Now, when the discussion of the dying declar- 
 ation of Meeks brought to mind all the mysterious 
 bedevilment that had followed the execution, 
 the landlord began to have much trouble with 
 his servants. For the disappearance and the 
 re-appearance of the body of Trelawney could 
 never be explained by those who related the 
 story as the great mystery of the "haunted 
 house." 
 
 And now that it was know that Trelawney had 
 died an innocent man, it was not to be presumed 
 that he would lie quietly in his grave; but that 
 he would "revisit at times, the glimpses of the 
 moon," so that living men might not forget his 
 wrongs! 
 
 At least this was the philosophy of Tom Slaton 
 and several of the older citizens, who knew the 
 most about the execution. 
 
 It was about this time that spiritualism had 
 its rise in this country; and the "rappings" and 
 such disturbances, accompanied by apparitions — 
 
TRELAWNEY. 297 
 
 which no rational beings could explain — fully 
 re-established the time-honored belief in "haunted 
 houses," that a realistic age had almost dispelled. 
 
 A number of lecturers on spiritualism had 
 held "seances" in the old Taggart house, and they 
 admitted with one accord that it was the very 
 headquarters of all the spirits. As for "rap- 
 pings" and "table-tippings" — they were common 
 affairs and most any of the lecturers could "call 
 up" the spirit of Trelawney; his jingling spurs 
 could be heard as he marched with stately step 
 up and down the old stairway ! 
 
 But it was the most troublesome thing in the 
 world to have him appear at times when he was 
 not "called up," and when no one wanted to see 
 him. 
 
 In fact, things went from bad to worse at this 
 "haunted tavern," and what with the groans in 
 the garret , and with Trelawney marching around 
 every night — most of the guests were driven 
 from the house, and the servants fled incontin- 
 ently ! 
 
 It was the day after the servants had left, that 
 Tom Slaton was walking past the Taggart house, 
 and when nearly opposite to it, he became all at 
 once very deeply interested in the appearance of 
 a stranger, who was walking to and fro on the 
 portico. 
 
 Slaton looked at this man first with his right 
 and then with his left eye ; turning his head the 
 
298 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 while, after the manner of a turkey. He then 
 took off his hat and ran down the road as fast 
 as he could go ; and did not stop till he arrived 
 at the house of the old ex-sheriff, William Finch. 
 Here, he sat down on a bench by the door, but 
 it was some time before he could speak. As 
 soon as he was able he called for Finch, and 
 when he appeared, said: "Bill, didn't you hang 
 Trelawney over there by the Taggart House, 
 twenty years ago?" 
 
 Finch looked at Slaton curiously, and replied 
 very slowly: "You know I did, and I am very 
 sorry for it now, too." 
 
 "Well, Bill, he's over there now, walking up 
 and down the old portico ! I saw him with my 
 two eyes, and it's a sight I never expected to see 
 in broad daylight !" was the rejoinder of Slaton. 
 
 To this astounding statement, after a long 
 silence. Finch replied: "Slaton I have heard 
 enough of these ghosts stories ; now, if Trelaw- 
 ney is over there and alive, I want to see him!" 
 
 Through much persuasion Slaton was induced 
 to return, and being joined by another old citi- 
 zen, the trio soon arrived in front of the Taggart 
 House tavern. 
 
 Now, as they were approaching they noticed 
 Tudor, the landlord, in conversation with the 
 stranger, but as he passed on into the house, 
 Slaton observed: "That don't count, Tudor 
 didn't know him before he was hung!" 
 
TRELAWNEY. ' 299 
 
 When they got near enough to see distinctly, 
 Finch became more excited, if anything, than 
 Slaton had been; he exclaimed: 
 
 "Great heavens, that is Trelawney, sure 
 enough !" 
 
 And while they stood there unable to move 
 through fear, Trelawney stopped, and taking 
 his cigar from his mouth, called out : 
 
 "Hello, Tom Slaton, is that you? How are 
 you. Finch?" 
 
 This was more than their nerves could bear, 
 and the trio hastily took their departure with- 
 out standing on the order of it. 
 
 Soon the whole town was in a furor of excite- 
 ment, and Slaton swore that he would never go 
 near that haunted place again, if he lived to be a 
 hundred ! 
 
 The next morning a number of citizens went 
 over to interview Tudor. He said: "The 
 stranger, who appeared to be a very iine man, 
 had come there the evening before, and had left 
 that morning on the stage coach." 
 
 "His name? oh, yes, there it is on the register." 
 
 And there, sure enough, they found, written 
 in a bold hand, the signature — "Trelawney, 
 London, England!" 
 
 The sight of this name appeared to cast a 
 spell on these excited citizens, so that they left 
 the tavern hastily, shaking their heads, but ask- 
 ing no more questions. 
 
mo TRELAWNEY. 
 
 However, Tudor had not taken the trouble to 
 inform his anxious enquirers that he had 
 prompted the stranger in regard to the names 
 of Slaton and Finch, when those two cronies ap- 
 peared to be taking such a deep interest in his 
 (the stranger's) appearance. 
 
 So that when Tudor sought to explain these 
 matters later, it was all taken as an afterthought, 
 and his neighbors presumed he was only trying 
 to bolster up the failing credit of his tavern. 
 
 But things were continually growing worse, 
 and had been tending that way for several years 
 at this old mansion; so that Tudor was, perforce, 
 induced to listen to the proposition of the Rev. 
 Slaton-Hicks, who said: "I shall come over 
 some evening, about sundown, with a few of my 
 steadiest church people, and hold a short, relig- 
 ious service on that old portico ; after which, I 
 shall lecture the people on the folly and sinful- 
 ness of a belief in ghosts, and I think that will 
 surely quiet things." 
 
 Now, the Rev. Slaton-Hicks was a very 
 learned young man ; he was not only deeply 
 versed in the scriptures, but he also knew a 
 great deal about Latin and Greek and many 
 other things ; moreover, he was a nephew of 
 our old friend, Slaton, and one of whom he was 
 very proud. 
 
 On this occasion Slaton remarked: "I would 
 have gone anywhere else in the whole world to 
 
TRELAWNEY. 301 
 
 have heard my nephew preach, except to the 
 Taggart house; but not there, I beg to be ex- 
 cused !" 
 
 William Finch, when he heard of this proposed 
 meeting, said: "Maybe the Rev. Slaton-Hicks 
 knows a great deal about ghosts ; but I would 
 consider him a very great man, if he could tell 
 me how Trelawney, after I had hung him until 
 dead and placed his body on the Taggart House 
 portico — how that body went away and came 
 back again, twenty-four hours later! And how 
 that body went away with shoes on, and came 
 back again wearing boots and spurs ! Oh, yes ! 
 it's all very well to talk, but how did Trelawney 
 come back and walk on that portico, and call 
 Slaton and myself by name, twenty years after 
 he had been hung? If there are no spirits, how 
 can such things be? Now, if the Rev. Slaton- 
 Hicks will explain these things to me, I will be 
 willing to throw in the 'rappings' and the 
 'table tippings, 'as matters of no consequence !'^ 
 
 On the evening appointed for the lecture there 
 was a large crowd assembled at the old mansion; 
 there were even many boys, but the latter stood 
 out in the road, so that if anything did happen, 
 they might not be embarrassed by gates and 
 fences but, as they said: "We will have a fair 
 show to get away." 
 
 Everything went off very well during the 
 short religious axercises except noises were 
 
302 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 heard in the upper part of the house which 
 sounded like moans or groans. "That is 
 the cooing of pigeons in the attic," Tudor said; 
 but as tliere were no pigeons seen flying around 
 the place, some persons shook their heads, in 
 distrust; however, the explanation was gener- 
 ally accepted. 
 
 The Rev. Slaton-Hicks made a very "beauti- 
 ful lecture" as the ladies said: the force of it 
 was directed principally against spiritualism, 
 "that modern skepticism which has revived all 
 the ghostly superstitions of theMediseval ages," 
 as he defined it. 
 
 And he was going on in this strain in a very 
 fine fashion, when the boys in the road became 
 vociferous and began to move off at a pretty 
 lively pace. 
 
 This desire to get away seemed to possess 
 those on the eastern end of the portico also, and 
 the crowd there thinned out rapidly, which en- 
 abled the Rev. Slaton-Hicks to see as far as the 
 pump that stood on that side of the yard. His 
 eyes were fixed on that homel}^ object, but more 
 especially on the pump-handle, which they all 
 now observed was working violently up 
 aad down, without any living soul being near 
 it, to cause the motion ! 
 
 "Gentlemen, this is incomprehensible!" ex- 
 claimed the Rev. Slaton-Hicks as he gazed at 
 the preternatural exhibition. "I can't explain 
 that!" 
 
TRELAWNEY. 303 
 
 But by this time most of the people had left 
 the portico and were making their way towards 
 the town, and the farther they went the faster 
 they wf^nt. 
 
 Yet, when they arrived at the court house, 
 the Rev. Slaton-Hicks was not the hindmost 
 one by any means ! 
 
 Here, a number of persons stopped at the 
 court house gate, and among them were Tudor 
 and his family. 
 
 "It's no use denying it any longer," said Tu- 
 dor, "the ghosts or spirits surely have possession 
 of that old house, and if I live till to-morrow, I 
 shall move out of it, and have nothing more to 
 do with it forever." 
 
 On the very next day the Taggart house be- 
 came tenantless, and its ancient halls and rooms 
 were destined never again to resound to pleasant 
 human voices. 
 
 VII. 
 
 It is singular to note that most of the old cit- 
 izens had passed away, and the plowshare had 
 furrowed the site on which the Taggart mansion 
 had stood, when its dark impenetrable myster- 
 ies were unfolded in a distant city. 
 
 Guy Donovan, the son of the old colonel, had 
 always taken a deep interest in the story of the 
 unhappy Trelawney. And so, when on a busi- 
 ness trip to New Y^ork, he had learned that 
 
304 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 Edward Trelawney,the nephew of James Trelaw- 
 ney, and the legatee of his will was at that time 
 in the city — he called to see him. 
 
 Donovan was astonished to observe the re- 
 markable likeness that this man bore to his 
 uncle ; he, whose perturbed spirit was the sup- 
 posed cause of all the preternatural occurrences 
 that had afflicted the citizens of his native tow^n. 
 
 Edward Trelawny informed him that he had 
 learned through his legal adviser, who had se- 
 cured his bequest for him, all the particulars 
 concerning the trial and the untimely death of 
 his uncle. 
 
 "I have received," he said, "from the same 
 source a copy of the dying statement of Absa- 
 lom Meeks, which has substantiated the inno- 
 cence of my uncle. 
 
 "I was traveling through the western coun- 
 try," he continued, "when curiosity led me to 
 stop at the town which had been the scene of 
 my uncle's misfortunes. 
 
 "I was even entertained at the tavern that 
 had been so intimately connected with the last 
 days in the life drama of my gallant, but unfor- 
 tunate kinsman. 
 
 ''While there, I remember very distinctly to 
 have called out to the men you have named ;they 
 appeared to be taking a great interest in my 
 appearance on that porch, and as I thought I 
 could divine the cause, I hailed them, w^hen the- 
 
TRELAWNEY. 305 
 
 landlord had given me their names. I regret 
 now very much that I did so. I had no idea 
 that the effect of that little adventure would be 
 so great or so enduring." 
 
 "And this," exclaimed Donovan, "is the sim- 
 ple explanation of the great mystery, that not 
 only bewildered and frightened Slaton and Finch 
 but the whole neighborhood!" 
 
 It was destined that Donovan, while in New 
 York, was to be instrumental in solving another 
 great mystery. He met there Dr. Cool, an old 
 physician and surgeon, who had formerly lived 
 in the town of Winston, about twenty miles from 
 C. Now, in conversation with Dr. Cool, Dono- 
 van had related to him his interview with 
 Edward Trelawney and the revelations the lat- 
 ter had made. 
 
 Thereupon, Dr. Cool said, it was about time 
 that he himself should make an explanation or 
 an apology. 
 
 "I was a young, practicing surgeon in the 
 town of Winston," he stated, "when Trelawney 
 was executed at C. 
 
 "At that time it was extremely difficult for sur- 
 geons to procure subjects for dissection. As I 
 then had two medical students studying under my 
 instruction, and was very anxious to obtain the 
 body of one of the men who were to be executed 
 at C, I repaired to that place. But I found upon 
 my arrival that the condemned men had ample 
 
306 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 means to defray all their expenses, and so I was 
 at a loss to know how I could accomplish my 
 purpose. 
 
 "The common prejudice against exhumation 
 for such a purpose, was at that time very strong 
 indeed, and surgeons were compelled to act with 
 great precaution in procuring subjects. 
 
 "But after I had learned of the singular cir- 
 cumstance, that the body of one of the men was 
 to remain in the air for two days after the 
 execution, I began to think this body might 
 be procured. As it happened, a brother of one 
 of my medical students was a writer in the 
 clerk's office at Clonmel, which office, as you re- 
 member, was located in an old private residence. 
 
 "To this young man, under a charge of great 
 secrecy, I divulged the object of my visit to his 
 town; and in behalf of his brother's interest, I 
 begged for his assistance. 
 
 "This he consented to render, and the day be- 
 fore the execution he showed me a little closet, 
 or secret room, which he had accidentally dis- 
 covered in the wall of the clerk's office. 
 
 "This secret room was about three feet by 
 eight feet, and was entered by means of a mov- 
 able panel in the wainscoting of the old room. 
 The young man had not shown his discovery to 
 any one besides myself, and when we found that 
 the remains of the executed man were to rest 
 for two days prior to interment on the portico of 
 
TRELAWNEY. 307 
 
 the old house, and within a few feet of the 
 clerk's office, and the secret chamber, it occurred 
 to us that it would be practicable to remove and 
 conceal them in that secret place, until I could 
 find opportunity to convey the cadaver to my of- 
 fice in Winston, twenty miles distant. 
 
 "So the night of the execution we concealed 
 ourselves in the clerk's office, and after the 
 w^atchman on the porch had fallen asleep we 
 stole from our place of hiding, and removing the 
 remains, hid them in the secret chamber. We 
 then fastened the panel, so that it would not 
 slide back, and piled law papers and books 
 against it, nearly up to the ceiling. 
 
 "As a deep snow fell that night after dark, 
 we were afraid to leave the court house on ac- 
 count of the tracks we should make. Therefore, 
 we concealed ourselves again in the office. But 
 in the morning, when the news of the disap- 
 pearance of the remains had caused a large 
 crowd of excited people to gather around, we 
 slipped out and mingled with them. 
 
 "As you know, the excitement grew as the 
 day advanced, and the whole town was diligently 
 searched. But we had no fears of the discovery 
 of our secret room, at least not for two or three 
 days, when of course, natural causes would have 
 led to its detection. But I soon found I was 
 very strong^ suspected, being known to many 
 of the citizens as a surgeon and an instructor of 
 
308 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 medical students. This in addition to the con- 
 dition of the weather, caused me to fear that I 
 should not be able to transfer the remains from 
 their hiding place to my office in Winston, with- 
 out detection. 
 
 "During the course of the day I held several 
 brief consultations with my young friend, the 
 clerk, and expressed to him my fears. We had 
 not counted on the people being so greatly ex- 
 cited, nor on being so closely watched ourselves. 
 The clerk said some of the citizens looked on the 
 disappearance of the body as a thing miraculous, 
 as there was not left behind the vestige of a trace, 
 and the remains were known to have been on the 
 portico after the snow had ceased to fall. 
 
 "Finally, after I decided to return the remains 
 to the platform, whence I had taken them, this 
 knowledge of a belief in the supernatural on the 
 part of the citizens, induced the young clerk to 
 perform an act which I did not entirely ap- 
 prove. 
 
 "By some means he had obtained possession 
 of the dead man's spurs, and these he adjusted 
 to the boots of the corpse, and then mixed a lit- 
 tle mud with melted snow and splashed the 
 clothing, after we had placed the body exactly 
 as we had found it on the platform. "This,' he 
 said, 'will add to the mystery, and turn suspi- 
 cion from you. Doctor." 
 
 "It certainly had the first effect!" exclaimed 
 
TRELAWNEY. 309 
 
 the doctor. "We had pursued the same tactics 
 as before," he continued; "that is, we had con- 
 cealed ourselves in the clerk's office, but we were 
 surprised to see the old watchman on the porch 
 the second night, as there was nothing to watch. 
 He gave us little trouble, however, as he was 
 soon fast asleep. We were very particular in 
 arranging the remains as they had been, and it 
 was impossible for any one to notice the slight- 
 est difference in their disposal, with the excep- 
 tion of the spurs and the splashings of the mud 
 Now, as luck would have it, the snow had fallen 
 again in the early morning and then ceased. 
 Hence, we were compelled to hide in the build- 
 ing till daylight for the same reason as before. 
 
 "So, when the sheriff came, there was not a 
 track about the house, but there was the body of 
 the dead man, after an absence of twenty-four 
 hours, booted and splashed with mud, as if just 
 returned from a journey." 
 
 This was the story that Dr. Cool recounted to 
 Guy Donovan in New York. And when he had 
 finished, Donovan cried: "Doctor, you have 
 solved the great mystery that has perplexed the 
 people of our town for more than twenty years." 
 
 The strange phenomenon of the pump was 
 also brought to light about this time. 
 
 It appears that a few days prior to the lecture 
 given on the portico of the Taggart house by 
 Rev. Slaton-Hicks, two young miners were dig- 
 
310 TRELAWNEY. 
 
 ging coal on the lands adjoining the Taggart 
 manor, and whilst they knew they were trespas- 
 sing on the latter, they were not aware that they 
 were so nearly under the house, until one day in 
 digging, they cut a hole in the pump-stock with 
 their picks. They were alarmed, lest their tres- 
 pass should be discovered; so they sawed out a 
 piece from the broken stock, and neatly fitted a 
 block of wood therein, so that the stock might not 
 be taken up for repairs, and thus reveal their mine 
 under the Taggart lands. 
 
 Now these two miners were present at the ser- 
 vices held by the Rev. Slaton-Hicks, and the 
 thought occurred to one of them that by going 
 down into the mine, he could by taking out the 
 block from the stock, work the pump-handle by 
 taking hold of the rod, and thus add his quota 
 to the ghost business. 
 
 Now, when the pump-handle began to move 
 by the unseen hand, there was only one man in 
 the large crowd, gathered about the old portico, 
 who understood what it all meant, and his lips 
 were sealed for the reasons given. 
 
 The explanation of all this was brought about, 
 when the miners on the Taggart lands also ran 
 their "heading" against the pump-stock, when 
 the "workings" of the other miners were dis- 
 closed, and the neatly fitted block of wood in the 
 pump-stock, explained the last mystery of '-the 
 old haunted house. 
 
TBELAWNEY. 311 
 
 Time assuages sorrow and allays excitement, 
 but it brings no compensation for irretrievable 
 mistakes; and many marvel now at the blind 
 zeal of their fathers in pursuing, on the trail laid 
 by artifice, innocent men to their doom. But 
 this trail, "circumstantial evidence," will never 
 again lead to death in the courts of Clonmel, un- 
 til the events here narrated have faded from 
 memory. 
 
 THE END. 
 
lun 10 
 
 1899