The Fremont weekly journal. [volume] (Fremont, Sandusky County, Ohio) 1867-1877, 1875-02-19
9elistfllautous,
A HEROINE OF '76.

/ don't like to hear the noise of those
hammers. The dull sound of laborine
picks bearks upon the ear with mono
tonous regularity. They are making
tracks for railroad in this old town.
am not pleased with the ''improve-
ments, as some call it, for pleasant
farmhouse and its surrounding fields
that sloped from high and undulating
hills have vanished forever before its
nod.
The great genius of enterprise, with
his ugly shears of commerce, is clip
ping at the poor wings of poetry and
romance, till, 1 fear, by-and-by they
will have power only to flap along the
ground, their ethereal faculties changed
TO stock-taking and invoices.
am sorry the house has gone, for
there were some recollections connected
with its history, for the sake of which
IT would be PLEASANT could it have been
spared. An old red farmhouse, sur
rounded by fields of waving grain and
corn, in the autumn time, and overhung
by the branches of various fruit trees,
golden with the fullness of time, is q
sight of picturesque beauty in a rich val
ley; especially if a fine old mountain
looms up in the background, OF q deep
of forest trees stretches away into the
clear, mellow atmosphere beyond.
In that one before us, am speaking
now as if it stood in the old spot, the
widow of a noble Capt. Pierpont lived
some twenty years ago. The lady was 6
fine specimen of old-time women; dig
nifed, even commanding in manner
with fresh bloom upon her cheek, {
finely modelled forehead, and a deep
earnest expression in her yet brigh
eyes.
She was woman of refined and cul
tivated intellectual powers; woman
who in youth had known no stint O
wealth; whose mind was stored witt
classic lore; who had never, till she EN-
igrated to the wilderness of the Ney
World, soiled her white fingers Will
even household work.
Father and husband were both dead
The bones of the former reposed in an
other country beneath marble monu
Inent; the latter had now slept tw,
years in the little burying ground be
side the wooden church in sight of tn
red farmhouse, and small gra
stone marked the spot where his ashe
mingled with the dust.
One day, during the hardest can
paign of our sturdy soldiers, Madam
Pierpont was alone at the farm. POM
n negro servant had gone on some e
rand, which would detain him unit
nightfall, and Aleck, the hired man, ha
wounded his hand in the morning wit
an ax, SO that he was quite disabled
and obliged to return to his home abo,
amile distant, which by the way, w
the nearest homestead to the old re
farmhouse.
The widows four brave sons, of az
varying from eighteen to twenty-si
had started but two days previously f,
the field of their country's battle.
While the widow realized that in g
probability some, perhaps all, of h
treasures would be smitten by Il
ruthless hand Of war, her cheek WI
still unbleached, and holy hope sat
the repose of hor beautiful feature
Only now and then she turned to Il
open Bible before her, and read fe
eOnsohng passages, and straightway T
sumed her work with a trusting smil
Ah patriotism found an enduri1
home in many such a gentle breast
Suddenly, from the distance came
sound like the tramping Of horses fec
and great cloud of dust betoken,
the approach of travellers hurrying
their destination. The widow moved
the door, and, shading her eyes from Il
intense sunshine, watched their pro
ress. They drew nearer, and
another moment three horsame
wheeled up before the door al
aIighted.
They wore military costume, al
were all fine looking men. The for