The Dillon herald. (Dillon, S.C.) 1894-????, May 05, 1910, Image 2
f AUTOGRAPH LEI
If I Written July 25,
The letter of President Davi
answer to an inquiry made by one w
Roanoke College in regard to natioi
eight years, it is now placed before 1
and judicially. It is worthy of the
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1 r-| NAME!
t?T WINIFR
a Jg
With us in the South, Memorial
Day is an even more pathetic anniversary
than in the North. Owing tc
difference of latitude and climate, too
It is observed, in most of the States
earlier in the spring. In Georgia 11
is observed on April 26th, instead ol
May 30th.
In the North the holiday arose fron
the patriotic exertions of Genera
Logan; but in the South the observance
of the day was originally due
O the personal efTorts of a Mrs. Will
lams, of Columbus, Georgia, and began
earlier.
With us, however, little effort ot
persuasion was required to initiate
the holiday. in many of our small
towns and village": the custom ol
bearing flowers to the graves of our
dead soldiers began spontaneously.
I remember that in the lirst years
after the war we were accustomed on
that day to drive to the cemetery in
our old family carryall, loaded with
wreaths of cedar and glossy magnolia
leaves, made on long, pliant willow
branches; piled, too. with sprays of
dogwood and bushels of wild purple
pansies and dog-tooth violets from
the valley of the Oostanaula, and
crab-apple and peach-blossoms from
the fields.
The old earrv.all was an nrhnr nf
fragrance, all Us old ribs and worn
wheels hidden in pink and white
blossoms.
Yet however heavily we went
loaded to the cemetery, we never had
flowers enough for all the graves,
there were so many of them. Always
there would be found one more grave,
in some far corner, still bare of floral
tributes; and my father, himself a
lame veteran of Lee's army, would
call to us to fetch another armful
If we said there were no more, he always
bade us divide those on th?
other graves and make up whai
seemed an equal "honor" for the neg
lected one.
There was one grave, however?
not in the cemetery, but down undei
the magnolias by the fence, in the ex
treme corner of our grounds a
Sprlngbank?which for many years
no one of us ever dreamed of decor
ating with flowers.
*And You Have Done This- These Flower
?For My Son!"
In troth, we children never wen
near the spot. Only in low, awe<
tones or whispers did we ever speal
of It?"the Yankee's gra<o!" For it
all those Had old days, after Slier
man's devastating march througl
Georgia, the name Yankee was to n:
something far more terrible than tha
of Indian; it was the synonym foi
desolation and grief.
In my childish thoughts, too, tin
word was even more dreadful. Or
the day before the battle at Wood
lands, four miles from Springbanlr, i
troop of Northern cavalry had halted
at oar ??lace to water their hones
?rpopers came lato th?
[TER OF PRESIDENT J
1881, Touching "Secession as a I
Is which follows touches upon the vita
rho was called at that time to answer
lal questions under the Constitution,
the public as worthy of publication be
great man whose merits are being mo
v ? ?
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LESS GRAVE
ED LA URENS
I house. My mother put us children i
the parlor and hastily locked th
? door; but the windows stood ope
, wide, and with childish curiosity
, had toddled forward and stood undc
t the high sash, watching the horse:
? One of the cavalrymen crossed tt
piazza, and before I could run nwn
~~w ?
i he caught me up and kissed me! 1
. A NEW MEMORIAL TO THE PRE!
; 1DENT OF THE CONFEDERACY.
Jefferson Davis is here portrayed 1
, an emotional role, with one hand res
i ing on the open book of history. Tb
statue is by Edward Valentine, an
I was dedicated recently in Richmond,
J this day I seem to hear his word
"You little dear! You are the vet
\ image of my little sister Rosy!"
} For years afterward, whenever ir
t brothers or younger sister Josenhii
wished especially to humiliate <
plague me, they would point the fii
. ger of scorn and cry, "A Yank<
r kissed you! A Yankee kissed you!
It may possibly have been the san
I young trooper, although that Is u
5 likely, whom, after the skirmish ax
. battle across the fields, our old hou
servant, Uncle Joe, found near tl
fence down by the magnolias, sh
through the lunge, mortally wound*
and unconscious.
As I was but three at the time,
retain of course, but a confused recc
lection of the fight, the shouting ai
yelling outside, the burning barn
the awful sounds of the firing and tl
well-nigh frantic fears of my mothi
for our safety,
Kelley's brigade of Mississippiai
was formed across the road ar
across our plantation; the enemy wi
repulsed, and fell back to Woodland
leaving a number of their dead ar
wounded. But these were all tak*
away that night except this cavalr
man, who was overlooked, and who
our old colored man found dow
there by the fence the following evei
ing. He died during the night, ar
Uncle Joe brought to my mother
sliver watch with the initials "J. W
in the back of the hunting-case, ar
a a small seal ring engraved with
coronet and two crossed spears,
t. All the men of our household, i
I well as our neighbors, were with tl
( Southern array. There was no one
! cull upon; we were even in straits f<
. food. Nor was there a horse or
! mule or a cart left us. Down thei
# by the fence, under the magnolia
t | Uncle Joe burled the body. And tha
r I in brief, was the story of the Yankee
grave.
? During all those first years follow
i ing the war?so embittered and te
- rible were all its memories?thi
i' r " *"* ''own hv the magnolia;, waa
II >
J m< i T: 1 flu r.
iU</? .
a
IEF rs'i; DAVIS.
Rigfc Jy
1 iss s and was written in
que; senior students in
He e" letter for twentycau
e it meets so fairly
re ( elated.
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ta i... ^ a< A- a.
?"i ?? ? a_ * <V. aV
. ?.?-Cir.-v. .
1 **'*
such as ours. I think it was on the
day before Memorial Day, 1875, that
as we prepared our floral tributes
for the cemetery, my mother stole
quietly away from the group on the
piazza, and taking a handful of blossoms,
bent her steps to that solltarj
little mound under the magnolias.
In wonder our eyes followed her,
and when she returned, Josephine exn
claimed:
ie "Why, mother, where have ,vou
n been?"
I "Let us hope, children, that somesr
where in the North, kindly hearts are
b. doing the same for our own nameie
less graves there?for your Uncle
y, Pinckney and Cousin Will Gresham,"
'o she replied, gently.
? We were too much surprised to ani
swer.
Afterward no Memorial Day was
allowed to pass that some one of us
did not rake off that little mound and
freshen it with a few flowers.
So the years passed till 1883. That
we should ever know anything further
concerning this little grave under
the magnolias seemed improbable.
It was merely one of so many thousands
of nameless graves. South and
| North.
That spring of 1883, as it chanced,
my sister and I were at home from
Savannah. My widowed Aunt Lena,
too, from Atlanta, was visiting us.
It was the evening of April 2 8, two
days after our Memorial Day, when
all save the bouquets in jars and
glasses had withered on the graves.
The afternoon had been very warm.
We were sitting out in the piazza, to
enjoy the approaching coolness ol
evening and hear the mocking-birds
and whlppoorwills.
Presently there came to our ears
the rattle of an approaching vehicle;
jn and slowly the decrepit old carriage
t_ at the railroad-station, which served
ie arriving travelers, came tolling to oui
,d sate.
"Who can our visitor possibly be?"
? was the thought in all our minds, foi
3> living friends were now few.
'y A lady in mourning stepped down,
with an air of uncertainty, and came
ty
>r | J - ' _ ' g
ot -]
!d
ie Ps
er > inr:te1 Ml
as MISS WINNIE DAVIS.
id ??
as up the walk. With hospitable intent
s, my mother descended the steps t<
id meet her.
;n "It this the home of Mrs. Leigh?'
y- the stranger asked,
m "I am Mrs. Leigh," my mother re
rn plied. "Will you come in?"
n- "I am Mrs. Warrenton from?
id from New England," the strangei
a said. "I fear I may not be welcome
." j My motive for coming to you is i
id ! strange, sad one." She paused, witl
a J a little catch in her voice.
"You are very welcome," m;
as mother replied, gravely. Josephim
ie ! set oat a comfortable chair.
to1 The stranger seated herself, an<
>r | after a pause, spoke again:
a; "1 do inJeed hope that the ques
re , Uon 1 am obliged to ask will stir n<
s. ' unnlr'iiv.'iiV' mcmorii^ of ;i na?t wtil^l
it, we who "ave suffered desire of ai
*s things to! forget. My brother am
my son l'?oth fell In the terrible war.'
v- She glanced pathetically at my moth
r- er's face . "They were, of course, 01
it the Northern side," she added. "M
a brother was killed at Antletam; bu
i'n W s ",7-1 nrm\
4
to learn." Mrs. Warrenton paused
again, to check fast-coming tears.
"I know positively that he was
alive at Dalton," she continued.
"After that I can learn nothing. But
a mother's heart craves more; and
still in the hope of learning something
as to his fate, I have journeyed
South on this sad quest. At the
house of a family near Kingston they
told me of the unidentified grave of a
FpHprnl onMtoe
- .... M. wtutvi UII j villi CBlUie.
"I have been to so many unidentified
graves," the poor mother added,
"that hope has nearly failed me. But
tell me, have you, had you, any clue,
or were there any circumstances that
would?aid me to know?"
My mother, greatly touched, could
hardly summon heart to tell her; but
Aunt Lena interposed. "Have you
reason to think that your son carried j
a plain silver watch, marked Inside j
the case with the initials J. W.?" she
asked.
"Yes, yes!" cried our visitor, eagerly.
"The school watch I gave him on
his sixteenth birthday! Those were
his initials?Jerome Warrenton."
In our growing excitement we were
now all on our feet, gathering about
her.
"And did he wear on his little finger
a signet ring, with a coronet and
crossed spears?" my aunt asked,
quickly.
"Oh, it was he! It was he!" Mrs.
Warrenton cried aloud. "That is the
crest of my own family," she explained.
"O my poor boy! My poor
boy! And have you the watch and
the ring? And his grave?is it far
to go?"
Too much affected to reply, my
mother rose silently and brought
forth those sad mementoes of the j
terrible past; and then we turned i
' away Instinctively from a grief too
| sacred for the eyes of strangers.
A little later, just as the sun was
! setting, my sister and I led the way to
| the little mound under the magnolias,
my mother holding our visitor's hanrf
Nor had the bouquets of pansies,
' placed there two days before, as yet
wholly withered. It was when,
through her tears, her eyes fell on
1 these flowers that the last traces of
Mrs. Warrenton's reserve vanished.
"And you have done this?these
1 flowers?for my son! For my poor
dead boy!" she cried impulsively, and
\ threw her arms about my mother's
neck.
In truth, a common sorrow makes
sisters of us all; and it was thus, at
last, that "the Yankee's grave" was
1 identified.
1 Mrs. Warrenton remained with us
for nearly a fortnight, and at the end ^
of her visit changed her first intention
A VIEW OF ARLINGTt
of having her son's remains removed
' and re-interred in the North.
"If I were to do that, dear friends,"
, I qhp aoM in no t
ou?u ?.w uo, x aiivuiu igci mat 1
was breaking this dear new bond of
friendship which, born of a common
sorrow, has grown up between us.
Here, where heaven moved your
hearts to lay flowers on his grave?
here let him rest; and I, if you will
permit me, shall come to his grave."
And every spring, since that first
sad pilgrimage to us, Mrs. Warrenton
journeys southward to pass a few
weeks at Sprlngbank, and be near the
grave of her son on Memorial Day.?
Youth's Companion.
The Place For It.
An old Scotswoman was advised
by her minister to take snuff to keep
herself awake during the sermon.
She answered briskly, "Why dinna ye
pu' the snuff in the sermon, mon?"
L uLNKK^L in i?. iAni
^'-'- &Lx&Hu.
TO A DRUMMER BOY.
BY R. W. ORIZZARD, LOUI8VILLE, KT.
The robins nest in fair Cave Hill
And gentle zephyrs blow
Where sleep both braves of blue and graySoldiers
of long ago;
The slabs are white, the sunshine's bright
The turf is light and green?
Nobler sires nor braver soldierThe
world has never seen.
Hnrd by Louisville's gav. bustling streets,
Where grim Death Pears his own.
Where dwell the dead in their long sleep,
The Reaper has his throne;
And there upon a cloudless day
1 paused beside a tomb
To dwell in thought on life and death
In that lone place of gloom.
Many deep-wrought inscriptions there
On serried grave stones gleamed;
But of them all none held my eye
Nor to my fancy seemed
So fraught with love's tender tribute,
So tense with woe to come,
As that which simply told but this:
"Boy, we miss tnee at home."
Long rears have flown since he went fort]
To live a soldier's life;
The stone that marks his resting place
Tells he fell in the strife.
Gone now the friends who vigils kept
Where his young feet did roam,
But biding through all the years this?
"Boy, we miss thee at home."
?Confederate Veteran.
Ix*e and Arlington.
After all, it is at Arlington, on tb(
Potomac, that the present-day visitoi
vis most vividly reminded of Genera
Lee and the life he loved so well. This
beautiful estate?now a national cem
etery, where 16,000 Union and Con
federate soldiers are buried?is lo
j cated opposite the city of Washington
and it was here, as has been ex
)N ON THE POTOMAC.
plained, that General Lee spent al
the happiest years of his life. N<
person can visit this splendid domain
with its magnificent trees, its pano
I rama of the river winding like a sil
ver ribbon in the distance, and it
quaint mansion rendered distinctlvi
in appearance by massive Doric col
umns and not gain a new conceptioi
of the matchless peace and charm am
restful content of the life on the ol<
baronial estates of the South in th<
halcyon days before the war.
| The stately Arlington mansion
; which was modeled alter the Tempi*
of Thesus at Athens, was erected ii
1804. It is of brick, covered witl
stucco, and with its two wings has i
frontage of more than 140 feet. Tlr
grand portico is sixty feet in widtl
and twenty-five feet in depth. Fea
tures of the manor house are the rem
nants of the old decorations, includ
ing the hunting scene fresco, whlcl
was painted by General Lee's father
in-law, Mr. Custis, who, with his wife
is buried in a quiet nook in the wood
1 on the Potomac, their graves bein
j marked by plain marble shafts. Thi
| historic home is in an excellent stat
I of preservation and visitors are show
all the apartments of especial inter
' est, lucluding the room in which Gee
i eral Lee was married. There is n
! record that General Lee ever returnei
! to Arlington after the war, althoug
! the veteran servants at the mansio
have long been wont to declare mot
i steadfastly that "Colonel ltob" wa
seen about dusk one evening slowl
1 riding through the grounds in com
pany with General Grant, and pre
sumably bidding a last farewell hi
j old home.?Waldon Fawceti.
Farming Without Capital.
It is absurd to ojiu'M n...? <v.
small termor, alone among sinal
men, should achieve success wit.iou
capital. With capital all la possible
without it only the exceptional ma
is likely to be heard of.?Estates Gii
! zette.
Germany in freely imitating Amci
! ican patterns in the manufacture c
| farm implements and machinery
v4m??riran harvesters still nr<
I <1 i . a a. a.
. "J
EXCEPTIONAL MANNERS.
There Wn? a fialiornun iu>1i<<
Whose manners were so fine.
Whenever he went to catch a fish
He'd drop him first a line.
?Judge.
NOT FOR HIM.
"How_ about going to the theatra B
j to-night?" inquired the young lady.
"What, and miss seeing the new
comet?" responded the econ' Meal fl
young man.?Louisville Courie _ "tM
nal.
HEARD FROM AT LAST. *
"I guess all the people in tho |
neighborhood are getting picture j|
postcards from your son?"
"His teacher alv/avs predicted that
he would be heard from some of these
j days."?Houston Post.
NO USE.
"This popular fiction Is all bosh.
In real life the girl's father seldom. jH
objects to the man of her choice." S|
"You're wrong there. He often ?|
objects, but he's usually too wise to
say anything."?Kansas City JournaL . 9
DRIVEN TO IT BY HIGH PRICES. A
Marks?"So you don't patronize- v!
Skinn's restaurant any more."
Parks?"No, sir; when they began
serving fish balls with holes in thn B
centre like doughnuts, I quit."?Bo*- ^
ton Transcript. '
UNCERTAINTY.
"You ought to figure out to a penny
each month's income and expendi- 1
ture." said the economist
i "Can't be done," replied Mr. Bliggins.
"My wife plays bridge."?*
Washington Star,
i
AT LAST. " ,1
"At last I have written something
that will be accented."
"What is it?"
"Check for a year's subscription!'' .;38
?New York Telegram.
THEN SHE SHOWED IiER CLAWS- J|
Miss Elder?"When 1 asked papa . ijji
to let me marry you, he said youcouldn't
keep an old cat alive." 1
De Broke?"Wasn't that a rudt |
name for your father to call you?"?*
Boston Transcript. |
WHERE THEY GROW. 1
"What has become of your old .91
landlady?" |
"She's keeping a boarding-house In- Jja
California now." 1
"Wanted to get near the prunes 1
3 eh?"?Louisville Courier-Journal. I
AN ULTIMATE CONSUMER. I
g "You don't make as much fun of
.. hash as you used to," said one 3
. boarder. ?
a "No," answered the other; "I have
I learned to have the highest respect
i for anything with real meat in it."?*
e Washington Star. !
CHANCE TO MAKE UP. <|
e "I thought, our engagement was' 1
:1 off. but there may be a chance to
I patch up matters." m
a "Then she didn't send back the I
b ring?" ^ jj g
h "No; she wrote me to call for It."' ' 8
" ?Louisville Courier-Journal. 3
A BUDDING ROOSEVELT. ?
II Indignant Old Lady?"You wicked. '
wicked boy! Aren't you ashamed of a
yourself, slaughtering those Innocent- ;<
K Boy?"I ain't em, H
9 lady! I'm out gei for
? de Smlt'sonian Ins
LOVELY
0 She?"She told her-^9 :
j that secret I told > ier."- j
n not to tell you I t?
She?"I promif w. ldn't-*fl
a tell you she told t 1 her J A
y I told you."?Bos J
s "Yes, sir, he iy of
do unemployed." 9
"Want a week's work?" <fgH
"No; I couldn't desort from de^9C
ii "Then just pretend you're on a fur-^9^5
t ; lough."?Louisville Courier-Journal.
n COMFORTS. M
L" "It docs not require great wealth"^ |
to enjoy the real comforls of life," JMB
said the ready-made philosopher. y
" "No," answered the pers^ring rlt-^^HK
Izen; "I understand that Esklm<MfB*tH
who never saw ten cents of realJ^^K
w money, live In houses made of ico."?
Washington Star. B
h