The weekly Thibodaux sentinel and journal of the 8th Senatorial District. [volume] (Thibodaux, Lna. [i.e. La.]) 1875-1898, 1878-06-08
The old man looked after them

The old man looked after them,
the horse and rider, and knew
not which to admire most, the
athletic beauty Of the boy, or the
tempastuous vigor of the horse.
Thrice they threaded the aven-
ues iu front Of the White House,
and at last stood painting before
the President; the boy leaning
over the neck Of his steed, as he
cody exclaimed-"Well how do
you like me e''
"Do you think you could kill
an Indian g. the President said,
taking him by the hand' as he
leaped from his horse.
AYE, and eat him afterwards9'
cried the boy, ringing out his
fierce laugh as he read his fate in
the old mans eyes.
"You had better come in and
get and your commission ;" and
the Hero of New Orlens led the
way INTO the White House.
There came a night, when an
old mar--President no longer
sat in the silent chamber of his
Hermitage home, a picture of a ge
trembling on the verge of Eterni-
ty. The light that stood upou the
tnble, revealed his shrunken
form, resting against the pillows
which cushioned his arm chair,
and the death-like pallor of his
venerable face. In that face, with
it's white hair massive forehead.
everything seemed already dead
except the eyes. Their deep gray
blue shone with the fire of New
Orleans, as the old man with long
white fingers, grasped a letter
post-marked " Washington"
"They ask me to designate the
man who shall lead the army. in
case the annexation of Texas
brings on a war with Mexico
his voice, deep toned and thrill
ing, even in that hour Of decrep.
titude and decay, rung through
the silence of-lthe chamber
"There is Onl y one man who Cal
do it, aud hjssname is Zachary
Taylor"
1t was 4 dark hour when thi'
Boy and this General, both ap
pointed at the suggestion, or b.
voice Of the man of the hermitage
met in the battle of Resaca de la
Palma.
By the blaze of cannon, and bt
meath canopy of black smoke, W.
will behold the meeting.
''Captain May, you must TAX
that battery ?"
| AS the old man uttered thes
words, he pointed far across th'
ravine with his sword. It was lik
| the glare of a volcano-the steat
" blaze of the battery, pourin:
| from the darkness of the chapal
| raj.
Before him, summoned by hi
command from the rear, rose th
form of a spendid soldier, who's
hair waving in long masses, swep
his broad shoulders, while hi
beard, as black as midnight, from
ed a determined face, surmount
ed by small cap, glittering wit
a single golden tassel. The youns
warrior bestrode a magnificen
charger. broad III the chest, sma
in the head, delicate in each sic
der limb, and with the nostril
Quivering as though they sho
forth jets of fame. The steed Wa
black as death.
! Without d word, the sOldie
, turned to his men.
Il Eighty four forms, with throat
, and breasts bare, eighty-tour ba
, tie horses, eighty four sabre'
that rose in the clutch Of make
arms, and flashed their lightnin
, over eighty four faces, knit in e
ery feature with battle fire.
, "ATen, follow !" shouted Il
young commander who had BET
;. created a soldier by the hand
4 JACKSON as his tall form rose
4 the stirrups, and the battle bree
played with his long black ha