The native Virginian. [volume] (Orange Court House, Va.) 1867-187?, 1868-05-22


chew tobacc0--which is profancly Tn
virginian in him. l doubt his sound
ness, on the corn-field pea question.
hope he loves ash-cake, but l. will not
swear to any man born North of the
James river. He begins writing in the
morning, soon after breakfast, and
writes rapidly until late dinner
Writes on fine note paper unruled.-
His handwriting is smooth, easy. uni
form. Bears lightly on the pen; makes
10 flourishes or curly Qs. A page of
his Ms. is pleasant to look at. lie re-
quires to be alone when he is composing.
His door must be locked, his table, pa
per, ink, pens &C., must be just to his
liking, or he cannot write to his salts
faction. Like me in that. The noise
of children, any notes.-the humping of
dogs tail against the fioor-bothers
him. Me, all over. Wonder If he ever
had a young rooster, just learning how
to crow, TO come and practice by the
hour under his Window L have. 1t is
the curse of country life, and enough to
madden two or more Jobs, of literary
turn.
lie writes on common pine Il
will most positively not call It deal
table, unvarnished, and without cover.
Has plenty of books in his room, but
none for reference. At least, l saw
none. His library is mostly in his
head. He draws his Inspiration thence
and from the beautiful scenery amid
which he lives. l only wish his Chin
ney would draw equally as well. When
L was there, it initiated its master
smoked all the time. What a snug
room he had then at ''the Viney lrd,"
cut off, as it were, from the rest of the
house, and all to himself! Plainly
furnished, too, quite so; the pine table
aforesaid, a double bed, wardrobe, few
chairs, wash-stand, &c. On the wall, a
sabre; most of the chairs full of books;
in the wardrobe, Jeb Stuart's uniform
coat presented by him to Cooke
Stuaro's picture over the mantel.
He is fond of talking OF Stuart and of
telling about the coat. But the day !
reached the Vineyard, he had just re-
ceived and put on bran new suit of
clothes, made in Baltimore. sAin't
they elegant Wufffx, just feel that
| never saw u better piece of goods
thick as "a board and soft as velvet-good
color, too-made up i'm style. ''IIe was
as proud of them us boy. liked it in
him.
1t was midnight when we wound up
our long talk, during which Cooke
smoked any number of pipes, and, an
nounced his intcntionsto write better
novels than he had ever written" Ny
mind, ''said he," has been lying fallow
during the war. have seen and felt
enough to furnish me material for a
life-time of arduous labor.p
Arrived in his room, mine author
said.
s.shall I read a verse or two in the
Bible ?" fst
eyes, surely," .a5t
The verses read, the novelist knelt
reverently, and soon we were in the
realm of dreams. or rather he was, for
for that copious dinner, those many
pipes and certain strange noise over
head, which sounded as If a spirit-rap-
ping Sednce were in active blast, proved
too much for me, and | laid awake a
long time, revolving gravcly the differ
ence between a successful author ito
whom the publishers stood In reverent
attitude, hat in hand, so to speak) and
an unsuccessful no-author, whose writ
ings all publishers, with beastly unan-
nifty, refuse to print. Revolving this,
not without due amount of envy and
mean jealousy (very hateful in you,
Wuffix) I fell asleep, and the first thing
knew it was morning. splendid No
vember morning. Without lifting my
head, / could see the rime on the leaf
less tree-branches Just outside the win
dow, and the cold pearly sky, flushing
lightly before the unrisen sun, like
maiden who knows her lover is coming.
Cooke'waked up,wide awake as a school
boy who has had plenty of sleep and
don't want to sleep any more, bounced
out of bed and, to my amazement, said.
"Come, Wuffix, let's take BATH"
"Where 2"
"ln the creek, at the foot of the hill."
"You're crazy"
s1Not much;" and off he went, full
tilt. Twenty minutes afterwards, he
looking very blue about
the gills, and with his teeth fairly chat
tcring in his head.
laughed at him.
$50 much for showing Off, AsifI
didn't know tina. great authors had thin
skins and felt cold as much as other 2eo-
ple."
"Fact, Wufiix, fact. don't think II
try itagain soon. BY Jove it was cold.
Whew."
That day was Sunday. So. after
breakfast, we went to Church in Mill
wood, Cooke bestriding his war-horse,
"Buck," flea-bit.en animal, as COM
pact and scrviceable a piece of horse
flesh as Lees army could boast, rather
too big in the barrel for beauty, but with
unequalled "bottom," to which Cooke
owes his escape from capture more than
once. Coming TO o level bit of grass,
just before we reached Millwood, Cooke
said, "Let's have canter."
And away we few, over the stream,
up the bill. by Maj. Randolph's, past
with q rush--a grand entree as | thought
which didn't at all astonish the dozen
young men standing near the Church
dosrefor that's their swn way of doing
things. Cooke is bold rider. Horse
back exercise is the only kind he in-
dulges in. When he feels out of sorts
and unable to work to his satisfaction,
he dashes down the pen, mounts
"Buek" and sallops madly across the
country, as ifhe were going to see his
sweetheart. or had the Yankees at his
heels. Unlike his brother, the poet, he
cares little OF nothing for hunting or
fishing. Philip Pendleton Cooke was
the greatest uendtor and piscator IN that
whole countryside, and came to his
death, as have heard, OF a cold, con-
tractsd while swimming the Shenan-
deah for wild ducks which he had shot.
The church at Millwood is an uncom-
mon one for the ceun try. The veal
thy Episcopalian families of the neigh
borhood would not be content with a
homely editice of any kind, private or
public. The preaching, that day, was
not extraordinary, but the singing was
unusually good. certainly heard one
very fine voice. 1t was not my own
or any other mans.
Here must really stop. Ihave writ
ten too much already, bat not as much
as l wanted. bow often must l tell
vou Wuffix mt to mako vour articlau