The Vermont transcript. [volume] (St. Albans, Vt.) 1864-1870, 1864-10-14


hangs one of old Arrowsmith's nan
keen-colcred maps Of North America,
with no Northwest in it at ALL but sym.
bolic bear, and 10, the poor Indian
There is a leaf of Virginia story, q
picture of Pocahontas. Here is q
stray loiterer of velvet chair; old
bureaus full of emptiness; chest of
drawers with "till' in the top. had
not seen one in twenty years and lift
ed the lid, almost expecting to see my
mothers old fashioned gold beads, and
the pencil sketch Of "the little boy
that died, +" for those old mothers, vou
know. kept their bits of trea' ure in
the "till. Gold picture-frames and
nothing in them; high-post bedstead
big enough for a mill; broken mir
ror with spider watching at the frac-
ture; fragments of marble mantles
strown about the floor; the guest
chambers carpetless, comfortless and
as cherries as the cave of Macpelah;
the football sounds as sharply as the
stroke Of hammer.
And so go from room to room and
think Of Hogarth's picture of the end
of all things, and that it wants only
this to complete it. This has been
federal headquarters / told you, and
traces Of the truth remain, oblong
boxes marked "Habana,' bottles sus-
piciously labelled "Sillery," and "Old
Tom riding gloves, furnished spurs,
''passes" out of date, rosters of regi-
ments in the front or in heaven; such
signs on parlor doors and chamber
doors as "Quartermaster," "Adjutant,"
mo Admittance." A strange tumble
it all is, of yesterday and to-day.
Retracing my steps, / SO out from
the heavy darkened air of the silent
house into the glad sunlight where
the trees are waving and the birds are
singing, as if this were not the Dead
Mans Land. Not far from the man
sion is the Gods acre of the family,
surrounded by wall, the gray tablets
bearing such old historic names as
Randolph. Washington and others that
sometime had wearers to illustrate and
adorn them. Returning to the porti-
co, where the birds SO brave are bring
ing home thir dinner, find soldier
curled up beside the door, and lazily
carving laurel root pipe. How do
you think old Lee will like the i'm
provements," he said "a Freedman's
Village on one side, National Ceme-
terry on the other, and his house gone
up to the birds, if not to the bats ?"
Lee is dead" gravely replied, and
passed out, but not before I heard the
soldier mutter "He be id"
As / told the boy yesterday, SO tell
you to-day, and it is true: Lee is dead.
Lee, the Federal lieutenant colonel;
the genial, generous, large-hearted
host; the keen, brave, accomplished,
Northumberland of the old Second
Cavalry, is as much dead as if / had
read his name on gray tablet in the
old graveyard, and better, thousand
times better, for his name and fame if
| had. But Lee, the rebel general,
trampling on the flag as the Japanese
trampled on the cross, turning his
sword to the breast of loyal neighbors
and friends, and ancient brothers in
arms, and reddening poor old Virginia
with the richest, best blood Of man
kind-what has he to do with our gall
liant Colonel Lee of lang syne? Should
that general ever be captured, l would
not lift hand against his life He
should have all of it until the wheel
should be broken at the cistern and
stand still. would bring him back
to Arlington Heights, and he should
stumble by moonlight over the three
thousand graves he helped to fill; he
should linger round his field of ghast-
~ tillage; he should sit at that lonely
table and say with Duncan's faithless
general:
Give me some wine fill full;
drink to the general joy%
Linger there until he should cry out,
"Oh be alive again Thou canst not
say | did it !"
The heart aches to think what largo
souls are emptied of their loyalty,
like old Etruscan vases overturned;
what noble brains have plotted treason.
each fine, white fibre Redeemed with
much blood. Paradise was on the
Euphrates they say, but have seen an
Eden here, on the bank of the Poto-
mac. The fall of man has again trans
pred, and banished hence, now as
then flaming sword waves to the
eastward of Eden.