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Pages Prom My Scrap "Hook.
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XUAXvX XxxxXxLiXXM.
in February, X/ao, Colonel George
Washington, accompanied by two
aides-de-camp, left ins residence at
Mount Vernon, on horseback on a
joftxney to Boston, to confer with
uenerai Shirley concerning some mili
tary'matters. On reaching .New York,
he called at the house of Beverly
liobinson, an old army friend, who
had served with him under Braddock;
Colonel Robinson wishing to make the
visit pleasant to his guest, invited
a few friends to add to the social
attractions of his home. Among those
invited was Mary Phillips, a sister
of Mrs. Robinson. She was about
eighteen years of age, bewitchingly
beautiful, with a form of rare grace
and perfection, brilliant accomplish
ments, and lively and vivacious dispo
sition. She was likewise an heiress.
I'he young Virginian Colonel, fresh
from the rural society of Mount Ver
non, and the toils of the backwoods
campaign, immediately charmed
by this vision of loveliness and gay
ety. Turning away from every other
attraction, he spent much of his time
in her society; and the walks, talks,
and rides in which they indulged,
brought upon them the raillery of his
associates. In this way the few days
that Washington intended to remain
passed, but still he lingered, chained
by the magic spell of the fair charm
er. It was the lirst time in the his
tory of his mature life that the sly
Cupid had hurled his dart at the
young Colonel, and the arrow had
sunk deep into his'heart. Days went
by almost unnoticed, until a week had
been wasted in these enjoyments, and
the infatuated man was forced to
tear himself away and proceed to
Boston. They parted with an en
gagement on his return, and it. is
hardly necessary to say that he was
true to the promise. Nearly another
week was now passed under the hos
pitable roof of his old friend, and
the society of his charming relative.
But the urgency of military engage
ments forced his return to Virginia,
and George Washington and Mary
Phillips parted with mutual regrets,
to meet no more for nearly a quarter
of a century, when one was the great
leader of the patriot armies, and the
other the wife of a colonel fighting his
own countrymen in the service of the
king.
CLAVERING’S INTRODUCTION
TO BURNS.
It was about the year 1795 that I
made a tour to Scotland, with the
sole hope of seeing Burns. I was suc
cessful. On my arival at Edinburg,
where I had some literary acquaint
ance, I obtained a letter of intro
duction to him. I had always been
a great admirer of his genius, and of
many traits in his character; and I
was aware that he was a person
moody, and somewhat difficult to deal
with. I was resolved to keep in full
consideration the irritability of his
position in society. About a mile
from his residence, on a bench, under
a tree, I passed a figure, whiph, from
the engraved portraits of him, I did
not doubt was the poet; but I did
not venture to address him. On ar
riving at his humble cottage, Mrs.
ximus opcntu taio uovi. One was tne
plain sori 01 a num Die woman sue nau
oeen described; she usuereu me into
a neat apartment, ana said sue would
send tor Burns, who was gone tor a
waui. une ox me cmidren ran tor
him —lie was used to sucn visits, xn
about halt an hour ue came, and my
conjecture proved right; he was the
person 1 had seen on the bench by
me roadside. At first, 1 was not en
tirely pleased with his countenance;
it was not only dark, and somewhat
coarse and vulgar, but did not look
good-tempered. I thought it had a
Kind of capricious jealousy, as it he
had a mind to treat me as an in
truder. I resolved to bear it, and try
if 1 could humor him. I let him
choose his turn of conversation, but
said a few words about the friend
whose letter I had brought to him.
It was now about four in the after
noon of an autumn day. While we
were talking, Mrs. Burns, as if ac
customed to entertain visitors in this
way, brought in a bowl of Scotch
whisky, set the table, and laid on
pipes and tobacco. I heartily ac
cepted this hospitality. I could not
help observing the curious glance
with which he watched me, at the
entrance of this signal of homely en
tertainment. He was satisfied. He
filled our glasses. “Here’s a health
to auld Caledonia! ’ ’ The fire spark
led in his eye, and mine sympathetic
ally met his. He shook my hand
with warmth, and we were friends at
once. Then he drank, “Erin for
ever!” and the tear of delight burst
from his eye.
LOVE SEEKS AN OBJECT.
Regarded as a sentiment, love is
possible in respect to principles, but,
regarded as a passion, it is possible
only touching a person. No one dies
for abstract truth. Idealize it, con
nect it with something tangible, and
man will die for it —not before. Even
then his self-sacrifice is impelled by
regard, necessity, or the force of col
lateral circumstances. A patriot does
not lay down his life for liberty in
the front rank of battle with the same
feeling which fills the bosom of a
frontiersman when he dies fighting at
the door of his cabin in a heroic at
tempt to defend his wife and children
from murderous savages. We admire
beauty; we revere virtue; we praise
modesty as elements of a character,
but never until these are embodied;
until the eyes behold them in a physi
cal form, never until the woman who,
we believe, represents these qualities,
stands before us, do we love them.
The qualities we admire, the woman
we love. Here, at this point, you
see how love educates one in worthy
directions. The man loves the wo
man, the woman the man, and each
the qualities that the other repre
sents. Each educates the other into
a finer appreciation, a truer regard,
a higher emulation of the virtues
each embodies, and thus, as Tennyson
sings:
‘‘They grew together,
Dwarfed or Godlike, bond or free.”
Amid all the scurrying around
these days to prevent exposure the
North pole betrays no alarm that it
will be discovered. —Chicago Post.
WATSON’S WEEKLY JEFFERSONIAN.
XX Vxa X XJXuZi.x't XX.XjXjO BX XlXlXl.
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ux Mcpucxuoex- xom an uxucxe ueuucu,
“uenexai nee xxxter me Wax," oy
luaigaret J. Breston, in wxiicn sue
gives an illustration ox Uie tenuer
ueaxt ox tue great soldier, m me xoi
luvvmg words: “At one ox the lirst
commencements, 1 tniuk the very
nrst, at wnicn General Bee presided
alter he became president ol the col
lege, the hall was filled wnfi an im
mense crowd, to whom he was the
central object oX interest. During tue
progress ol the speech a little boy
xour years old became separated Irom.
his parents and went wandering up
one of the aisles in frightened search
of them. The General noticed the
child’s confusion, and gaining his
eye, he beckoned him to come to him
on the platform, where he sat sur
rounded by brilliant officers of the
late Confederacy. He instantly made
his way to the feet of the General,
sat down there and leaned his head
against his knee, looking up into his
face with the utmost trust, appar
ently thoroughly comforted. Thus
resting he fell'asleep with his pro
tector’s arm around him, and when
the time came for the General to take
part in the prescribed ceremony we
who were looking on were touched in
no little degree as we saw him care
fully rise from his seat and adjust
the little head softly upon the sofa,
so as not to waken the confiding lit
tle sleeper,” etc.
The confidence and trustfulness of
that little child comes nearer repre
senting the sentiments of the army
towards General Lee than anything
I have ever read. His men idolized
him, and like the immortal Jackson,
would have followed him blind fold
ed anywhere, as long as “Marse
Robert” was in command. He was
as brave as a lion and as gentle as a
little child, but when aroused there
was nothing pleasant in coming in
contact with him; and in that line I
wish to narrate a circumstance that
happened to me at the battle of
Sharpsburg, Md.
General Lee took command of the
army of Northern Virginia on the
morning of the first day of June,
1862, after General J. E. Johnston
had been desperately wounded at Sev
en Pines and carried from the field.
I was an active participant, or lis
tening to the music of the guns at
Mechanisville, Coal Harbor, Gaines’
Mill, Nine Mile Road, Peach Orchard,
Savage Station, Frarie’s Farm, Mal
vern Hill, Rappahannock, Thorough
fare Gap, Second Manassas, Ox Hill.
South Mountain, Sharpsburg and
Fredericksburg. During that time 1
had the honor of commanding one
gun, and that carried on my shoul
der, while General Lee defeated the
army of the Potomac under Pope at
Manassas and fought a drawn bat
tle with the army of the Potomac un
der McClellan at Sharpsburg, and de
feated the army of the Potomac un
der Bumside at Fredericksburg.
The first time I ever saw General
Lee was on the sth day of August.
3862. McClellan, after his defeat
around Richmond, retreated down the
James river to Harrison’s Landing,
where he bottled his army up in the
Horse Shoe Bend. On the sth of Au
gust he recaptured Malvern Hill,
there being only a small force of Con-
federates to defend it. While Long
sheet’s corps was marching rapidly
for the Hill we halted and dropped
down by the roadside store to rest.
While resting, a troop of horsemen,
passed going to the front. Riding at.
the head of the troopers were Presi
dent Davis and General Lee, the sec
retary of war and General Long
street, then several major generals
with their cavalry escorts bringing up
the rear. There was not so much as
a whisper among the soldiers, every
one seemed intent on hearing what
they were talking about. Every eye
was on General Lee, and well they
might, for he had the grandest and
most commanding appearance of any
one I have ever seen, and was the
the most graceful rider I ever saw
mounted upon a horse. He must
have been something over six feet in
height, weighing between 160 and 170
pounds, with an erect military fig
top boots and black felt hat. The
collar of his coat was turned down,
showing his white shirt and black
necktie. He were a heavy, closely
trimmed beard and moustache, and
his eyes were black and as piercing
as those of an eagle. He was mount
ed on Traveler, his famous battle
horse, who shared with his famous
rider the love and admiration of the
soldiers. He was a very dark iron
gray, tall and well proportioned, with
a beautiful head and neck, stepping
as though he disdained the ground
he walked on. But I am getting as
far from my subject as the straggler
told the captain he was from his
command. One day while the army
was on the march, a chaplain of some
regiment jovertook a soldier strag
gling on the road, and said to him:
“My friend, what command do you
belong to?”
“General Blank’s,” replied the
straggler. “What command do you
belong to?”
“To the army of the Lord,” re
plied the chaplain.
“Well, my friend,” replied the
straggler, “you are a d long
ways from your command.”
The battle of Sharpsburg, Md., on
the 17th of September, 1862, was said
to be the bloodiest of the Civil War.
There 33,000 Confederates under
our immortal leaders Lee and
Jackson, defeated 87,000 Feder
als. Sixty thousand were engaged
on the field, with 27,000 held in re
serve, ready at a moment’s notice.
The battle opened at daylight and
lasted until the friendly shades of
night hid that field from view. Then,
as if by mutual consent, the two ar
mies fell apart and dropped down
to rest, with the Confederates in
possession of the battle field. The
loss in the two armies amounted to
25,000 men, about equally divided.
The Confederates lost 12,500, with
8,000 lying helpless on that bloody
field. On the morning after the bat
tle. General Anderson’s brigade was
near the northeast corner of the town.
Feeling thirsty, I went to a pump in
front.of the town after a canteen of
water, and when returning discover
ed an apple orchard on the corner
lot, with the trees and ground cov
ered with delicious fruit. That was
Thursday morning, and I had not
had, with the exception of a few
apples the evening before, anything
to eat since Sunday. Hungry was no
(Continued on. Page Eleven.)
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