Nashville union and American. [volume] (Nashville, Tenn.) 1868-1875, 1871-09-16

monuments mark these neglected places.
A few hundred feet distant the tides of
the Pamunkey wash the field in which we
stood, and the tranquil, beautiful river
stretches away for miles, gently ebbing
and flowing Son, ever, forever. ."
THE OLD FRAMED RESIDENCE
yet stands, built away back before separ-
alton from Great Britain was thought 0f,
and on the site of all others presenting
the most beautiful view of the Pamunkey
twenty miles from where its waters mingle
with the York. Once it was thought the
capital of the State should be on the
former river, and not on the James. There
most ships came for tobacco and imported
goods and wares. The old house looks
venerable, and unlike the modern struc-
ture of this day. It's timbers are crumb-
ling into dust. The nails used were
wrought at blacksmith shop, not unlike
horse shoe nail, except the broad head.
We picked them from the wall with our
fingers and brought some away. The
steps are sandstone, from across the ocean;
shutters of pine enclose the windows,
fastened with the quaint old "H. L. "
hinge. AS we ate dinner in the hall that
admits the river breeze from side to side
of the house, we talked of the
TRADITIONS OF COLONIAL TIMES,
when beauty, refinement and wealth held
happy sway in these counties, and large
old carriages and iveried servants had not
been displaced by contriyances of steam.
A little distance up the river is the
White House, where Washington first
met his wife, then Mrs. Gusts, and kept
his servant waiting two days, wondering
how it was that important dsi patches
could Iinger so long on their way from
Winchester to Williamsburg. he saw
that Colonel Washington, after defeat
under Braddock by the French, was now
captured by this little widow. Had he
been less chiyalrous and more ambitious
she might have worn crown.
Thus few hours drive carried US from
moderniZed Richmond to section nearly
unchanged by century and q half
from shadows of French roofs and the
Jingle of street Car bells to the home of
the Pamunkey Indian, who yet hunts and
fishes here as when P0Whatan was his
king.
My German friend wrote poetry in
spired by the surroun lings, and sung
songs of Frankfort n-the-M Main.
He wondered why we Americans don't
build great national tomb at Washing
ton or Mount Vernon, and gather there
the dust of John Adams, Monroe, Jeffer
SOD, Taylor, Lincoln, Grant, Jefferson
Davis, Chase, Horace Greeley, and the
balance of them, or any other men who
may become our future kings.
1t is 30 in Europe, and we might do it,
and still have left enough time for money
making. We went on dreaming until a
railroad whistle over the river disturbed
OUR SENTIMENTAL MUSINGS,
and we journeyed home, for half night
expecting to meet the ghosts of Poe ahon-
tas, Christopher Columbus or Lord Corn
wallis. We passed two great cemeteries,
where thousands of graves are marked
unknown" in every one of which lies
buried somebody's darling" whatever
were his faults or the color of his uni
form.
1t would be a soulless man who could
cross the country from Richmond to the
sea and not feel recollections of the past
almost as if in poetic Italy or the classic
East.
We saw where armies fought, and
heard of Lee, Joe Johnston and McClel-
Ian, but theirs were deeds too new-we
wanted to revel in things of other days,
and we resolved to believe that tide water
Virginia is full of interest and full of
fading memories,