Newspaper Page Text
6
Every' eye is turned toward Washington,
And the Nation’s heart is proud,
And thousands of souls are tramping on
With shouts of victory loud.
Long have we waited for this day—
Have waited struggled and prayed—
But the light of triumph shines on the way,
Though the hope was long delayed.
•'U . .
A man of scholarship and nerve
Os culture and Christian force,
Will not let the Old Ship swerve,
From the righteous, conquering course.
0/ launch the ship into the ocean w T ide,
And filing her sails to the breeze,
And watch her o’er the billows ride,
While liquor fears and flees!
The tempestous sea and the driving gale
Will lash our victory late,
gm
N 1859, Hon. John J. Pettus, of Kem
per county, was elected governor of the
state of Mississippi. There were no rail
roads threading all parts of the country
then as we have them now. Mr. Pettus was
required to make the long trip of more than
100 miles from his home near DeKalb, to Jack
son, the state capital, in his carriage.
In the early days of November, 1859, he, ac
companied by his wife, his little girl of about
five years of age, and other members of his
family, started on their journey to the capi
tol where Mr. Pettus was to be inaugurated
governor of the state, November 21, 1859. The
sinking sun of the first day’s journey found
this happy party at the little village of Phila
delphia, the county site of Neshoba county.
This little village at that time consisted of some
twelve or fifteen houses all told, among which
were a court house, and a hotel, which stood
on the spot where the Methodist parsonage
now stands, but which has long since fallen
to decay.
At this hotel Mr. Pettus and family took
lodging for the night. Some time during the
night the little 5-year-old girl above mention
ed was taken violently ill. The best medical
skill of the community was employed, but to
no avail. The golden rays of the morning sun
kissed the cheeks of this little child cold and
pale in death.
The journey to Jackson must be continued
as the inauguration day was fast approaching,
so there was but one thing to be done: a tem
porary resting place must be found for the lit
tle girl’s body until an opportunity should pre
sent itself when it could be conveyed to the
family burying-ground back in Kemper coun
ty. No burying ground had been begun in
Philadelphia at that time, so out in the corner
of the garden belonging to the hotel, then own
ed and conducted by a Mr. Wilson, a little
grave was dug, father and mother kissed the
palled cheeks of their darling farewell and with
its little hands folded on its little breast, clasp
ing a new-white rose, they gent’y laid her to
ON TO WASHINGTON
A LONG FORGOTTEN GRAVE
The Golden Age for May 1, 1913
But before the storm or the leaden hail
We’ll anchor the Ship of State!
God of the battle and God of the storm,
Sitting today upon His throne,
Will hold our leader with heart so warm—
And bring the nation to her own
The Common People long pressed and sore,
Have asked of their Masters bread;
But alas! a stone (shall it be evermore?)
Was given the hungry instead.
No, the Eternal Heavens high,
Common justice shall be done;
And God will hear the people’s cry
Beneath the shining sun.
Militant Captain with Damascus blade;
Hear the groan of thy brother-man,
And strike to the death the evils that made
This heartless, pittiless ban.
rest in the land of strangers to await the re
moval.
Wiping the tears of grief hastily from their
cheeks, the party with bleeding hearts, turned
their faces to the setting sun and to Jackson,
where a few days later Hon. John J. Pettus
was inaugurated governor of the white state of
Mississippi and became the state’s ‘‘War Gov
ernor. ’ ’
Soon after he became governor the tocsin of
war was sounded between the states and a blaze
of fire burst forth all over the country and death
and despair was in every place. In these peril
ous days the little grave in the garden was tem
porarily forgotten. Ten thousand were dying,
what was one beside so many ? Two years pass
ed, and still the war raged with more fury
than ever.
Finally this bloody strife came to a close.
All my readers know the result —homes brok
en up, plantations laid waste, and ruin and
gloom everywhere. The waste places must be
built up and other things of momentous impor
tance must be looked after.
Thus time went on, year after year, and the
little grave in the village was unmolested; the
little body slept undisturbed. Father and moth
er, one after the other, dropped into the un
awaking slumber and the little sister was for
gotten by the children of the family. The for
mer owners of the old hotel passed to their re
wards, the old house fell into disuse, and
finally was demolished, the garden walls de
cayed and fell to the ground, the hogs, sheep,
goats and cattle of the villagers had free ac
cess to the premises, and soon the little mound
was worn away and lost to view.
One by one the people^who lived in the place
in ’59 dropped to rest, and the rising genera
tions, having no interest in the little child, it
was soon forgotten, and for many years the lit
tle grave and the incidents connected with it
have not been mentioned, or even thought of.
Time went on. A railroad passed by the
sleepy village, and, like magic, it sprang into
a town of some two thousand people. Beautiful
By a man with* a life so clean and white,
And a brain so massive and clear,
Will lead his countrymen out of the night
Os darkness, oppression and fear.
The “cross of gold” alas! 0 God,
Has spoken the voice of greed —
While the threat of Liquor and the sweat of
blood
Tell our nation’s shameful deed!
0, drive out the robbers and gamblers,
Drive them from our Father’s hall —
They traffic in souls and fatten the while—
Like oxen in ‘their stalls.
But this manly man, this chivalrous knight,
Has come his people to save —
He will lead the militant hosts to light—
This Moses so true and brave!
—J. C. Solomon.
Jesup, Ga.
streets and sidewalks are being laid out and
constructed. A few days ago, while a party
of workmen were grading a street, their team
broke through into a little cavern. An inspec
tion was made, and to their surprise and as
tonishment a decayed coffin was found, and in
it the form of a little child. For some time
no one could give any light on the ghastly
find, but by and by some of the older ones
began to rake the long-hidden recesses of their
memories and then the incidents above related
were unfolded to an amazed populace.
“This is sacred ground; we must proceed
no faither with this work.” These seemed to
be the sentiments of every heart. So the street
was made to leave this hallowed spot on one
side The little body was rearranged in its
narrow bed, in which it had slept for more
than fifty-three years, suitable protection was
placed over it, and the little mound was once
again raised to mark the long-forgotten grave,
the resting place of one of Misissippi’s royal
blood.
That the place where this body sleeps may
never again be lost a private subscription is
being raised and a marble slab will soon be
placed at her tomb, that henceforth her grave
may be known by all passers by.
R. L. BRELAND.
Philadelphia, Miss.
SOLITUDE.
Oh, Spirit, loneliness so sweet,
What lullabies thou dost repeat
To those who love thee so.
But when thy smiling face departs,
It leaves us sad with troubled hearts
In reveries below.
Yet thy return brings greatest joys,
Brings blissful dreams so fair,
And with thee, loneliness divine,
Thy spirit doth our souls refine,
Amid the silent air.
—W. B. McLeskey.
Mercer University, Macon, Ga.