Yorkville enquirer. [volume] (Yorkville, S.C.) 1855-2006, 1872-02-29


tack by watchfulness and water. But when
three years old let him play in the brook
one warm, rainy day, and he,took severe
cold, and had still kind Of Group, the first
and last time he ever had it. In spite Of all
I could do he grew constantly worse until he
could only gasp and breathe with his head
thrown back. We thought his last moments
had come when I thought of and applied
Bronson's remedy for minute. When l
stopped he looked up and said: "Do so again,
mother, d." though be could not speak when
I began. You may be assured that l did so
again, and believeit saved his life.
A WONDERFUL MAN-.GEN. MAGRUDER.
The old warrior sleeps the sleep of soldier
in rude Texas grave, over which there IS no
monument. The grass was growing about it
in the early summer, and there were some
flowers there, withered and faded, scattered
by woman's hand. A votary at the shrine
of nature and finished diplomat at the Court
of Venus, it was fitting that there should be
largesse of green.growing grasses, and love
flowers if roses are the tear-drops of angels, as
the beautiful Arab beliefputs forth in poetry,
then is this lowly mound a hallowed spot, and
needs not the sculptured stone, the fretted COL
umn, the ivy and the obelisk.
Magruder was a wonderful man. He stood
six feet four inches high, and had q form men
envied and women adored. His nerves were
all iron. Foreign travel and comprehensive
culture had given to his wit a zest that was
always crisp and sparkling. He never lace.
rated. To the sting Of a repartee he added
the honey of the clover; He could fight all
day and dance all night. In the morning
glass of brandy and a strong cigar renewed
his strength and caused the cup of his youth
to run over with the precious wine of health
and high spirits He loved magnig6cent uni
forms, magnificent horses, magnificent riders
and magnificent women. .. f...-...
Gifted and graceful in conversation, he was
net in the boudoir, and logician in the
barracks. He had studied French in Paris,
Italian in Rome, and Spanish in the Halls OF
the Montezumas The sabre exercise he learn
ed from Turk. His horsemanship was Of
the English kind-that is to say, not graceful,
but impossible to be surpassed for firm riding
and endurance. He wrote little love songs
that we're set to music. one of them, elmo
gene" had in. it the plaintive melody of q
lover and the sad rhythm of burial bugles.
In the Crinea he astonished the French
officers by sleeping at the front with chasseurs
under fire. In Mexico he sent back to the
Archbishop perfumed glove he had found
in his place when the city was won, and with
it note which read, "1t is pretty enough to
have belonged to Queen. Would she have
pardoned me if I had appropriated itY" AS
the Archbishop sent him, next day, basket
of delicious wine, it is supposed that the fair
owner ofthe glove must have looked leniently
upon the handsome American soldier. Later,
and he was riding with Gen. Scott down the
lone street of Iturbide Gen. Garnett Joined
them, and Magruder drew back little for
his superiors to confer together. A white
Duff of smoke curled out from an open win
I dow. sudden report followed speedily, and
Garnett and horse fell hard and bloody. An
ounce ball, intended for Scott, had broken
4 Garnett's thigh and killed his charger. Fear
ing another fire, Magruder galloped to the
side of his chief and covered his body with
his own. The old mans eyes never dropped,
nor his voice changed an intonation. chow
long will it take you to batter down that
house p he spoke curtly to Lieut. Magruder,
pointing with sweep Of his fingers to the
one nearest, and from which the bullet came.
"An hour, by the watch, general" "Ihen
open fire at point blank range, and leave not
one stone upon another"
Itwas done, and well done, and those who
saw Mapruder soonest afterward noticed that
he had another bar on his epaulettes- he had
been made captain. War was his element,
the bivouac his delight, and the battle his per-
feet happiness. Besides, prodigal, fashiona-
BILE, foolishly brave sometimes, spendthritt,
. generous, true friend and staunch comrade,
the surrender at Appomattox made him an
aged man in his prime, wrinkled his features,
which had before resisted all the attacks OF
time. .,....... ........ -....
One who wandered far and long with him
in other lands, in sweet, sunshiny weather, re.
lates how. from Vera Cruz to Chapultepec, he
went with Magruder all over the battle-felds
of the Mexican war. The light came back
to his eyes, and the fire to his face, when teli'
ing of Contreras, and ,Churubusco, and Pc
rote, and Molino del Rey, and the Belen Gate,
and Chapultepec, and the City of Mexico.
His talk was never ended of Scott and Twiggs,
Wood and Worth, Smith and Pillow, Taylor
and Ouitman, and all the young subordinates
who afterward played such bloody parts in
the greatest of American dramas Of Nc
Clellan, he told this incident, among thous-
and The fire from the hill Of Chapultepec
was terrible Fifty pieces Of artillery were
massed against my four-gun battery at point
blank range, and in the valley below, regi.
ment of lancers were forming for charge.
Our fire had been slackened, and the men
we're lying down. A young man sat beside
one of the guns, amusing himself with pick
ing up pebbles and shooting them from his
hand. The lancers came nearer. 1 called
the Young officer whom I had noticed, and he
sprang up, saluting. "Your namep Lieu.
tenant George B. Mcclellan" "Very we'll,
Lieutenant. Take command of one Of these
guns and disperse those lancers." The gun
ners rushed to their pieces. All the great
cannons about Chapultepec went to roaring.
The battle begun anew. Worth was sweep
ing up the activity, the lancers were routed,
and the next saw of Mcclellan, he was
smoking cigarette in the palace Of Santa
Anna-his face as black as powder keg, and
an ugly wound in his arm.
What book his life would make in the
hands of some men, He once intended to
write biography. Whether it was begun or
not, we do not know-most certainly it was
never finished. s. ""'
The brave, fond heart is pulseless now. The
form of the stalwart soldier is dust in its far
away grave. The laurels that he gathered
and wore so we'll are faded and gone. Back
from the unknown land no voice will come to
tell of what rank he takes in the spectral col.
umns, closed up and SILENT awaiting the resur.
rection day. Yet God deals gently with
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