The Camden daily journal. [volume] (Camden, S.C.) 1864-1864, 1864-09-19


The Deserted Nsuusion OF General
g4cc :ai Arlington.
A Washington correspondent thus dagucr-
rcotypes the deserted mansion Of General Lee,
standing on Arlington Heights with the poto-
= mac broadening far below
Lees old Arlington mansion is reached At
last, and you stand in the lofty porco, with lis
eight massive columns of marble. There is
nothing light and elegant about it, but all is
grand-almost severe. The walls arc finished
in stucco, and patches Of it have fallen ofrhcre
and there and panels once filled with figures
in relief are empty or dctacrd an hundred
swallows nests bead the corniccs, as with q
mourning necklace, and the plant Of Young
birds and the tiutter Of wings 'fll the silence
like a speech" The wooden shutters arc fast
closed.
The broad doors that once stood wide. bend
ing to the front hospitablc, almost a human
smile, arc sealed like the lips of the dead. 7
fell as did when standing before the botcd
door of a tomb Oh Georgetown Heights, bear
ing name forever fallen ont Of common speech.
Did ever a lovclicr landscape greet tho eve
from portico before? The rolls of Green.
washing mp into richest foliage, lapse away to
the Potomac with it's silver flow At your left,
the old garden thai, like deserted Ea,lcu, lacks
many hands TO "lop the warton growth" vet
makes gorgeous sltow Of flowers. Your eve
catches the telegraph wire spun along from tree
to tree, and through rrcvicc in the window.
paraiyzcd nerve of the old headquarters cs-
tablishcd here. What things from the fcl:,
have flashed along that wire; What sy|Iablcs of
triumph and dcIcat
Rcforc you lies Washington; exactly in your
F,o,,t
sto count the ages by" Srairllt ont beyond
the dome of the Capitol, a splendid bubble. rs
if All angels breath had blown it. And he
who once stood here turned from. the scene q
traitor! push open the reluctant door and
enter the deserted hall the floors covered with
dust; the !rcscocs and the walls are dim with
cobwebs; the arches arc stained ard battered.
A rusty Chain d2mcles from. thc ceiling. s,ls-
pending the fragment OF y lamp, its light pnt
out forever The an;lcrcd hr;,!s OF n!l Nir-
ginia deer, trophies Of some forgotten field dav
to the merry music OF the hounds and the tia sb
ing leaps Of hloodcd hunters vet elm" to the
walls like sculptures. Paintings are here, too,
that have gone into history; starting enough
now, and as literal as Il Scochman, but vet
time has done for them what it docs for books
and friends and wine.
I open door and am in the dininc room
there stands the table yct, the cloth removed
for its old host forever; thc table, with its
lions claws, leaving footprints in the dust
as YOU move it, as il the mansion were indeed
haunt for thc beasts of the wilderness. Here
Lafayette sat guest; here sparklcd Jest and
wine; here rose the song; died out 50 long
ago in sighing; here wonan's smile shonc
round the board. now faded ont in dying 4
Scared sdcboard OF some ancient fashion
against the wall; not so did it look in the old
days, flashing in thc glory Of cutgass, ruby
and amber. DO YOU mark ,Ic door and double
the walls Wine is a truth teller, they say,
and :" no sylIah!cS over tllc third bottle could
fray beyond His room tn ears intent ! catch
n',>rjt III this dim and sliuitcrcd place Of ban
q .cS--aI:is funeral baked meats" all they
seem now trying TO think how. they looked
who throngcd ii: who sat here and there von-
DER but the picture is failed, and my hand
cannot restore II.
60 from room to room. Here hangs ono