The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1880-06-10
Sheridan's Ride.

NeDtly pau u thdt CNCL III lCuCo duf
language or land was composed in Gin
cinnati on the morning of October 81,
1864. A somewhat minor triAing cir
cumstance which cannot be generally
known was the cause Of its production
at that time. How it's author might
have sung later its theme of glory no
mortal can tell.
Cy,us Garrett, brother-in law of Blu
chanan Read, with whom the artist and
his family sometimes reside on West
Eighth street, that morning discovered
in Harper's Weekly, a spirited drawing
by Thomas Mast, representing General
Philip Henry Sheridan mounted and
clearing madly along the road far ahead
of his escort" to join his troops twenty
miles away.
While at his breakfast che did not
dream of the horrible rout and disaster
lowering that moment over his army"
but as he rode out of Winchester the vi
hrations of the ground, under heavy dis
charges of artillery in the distance, gave
him the first intimation of danger. Five
dlAlOuS lOuIS tuC StlQSSlC v \Ouui
Creek went on before Sheridan arrived
upon the field. Encountering, as he
neared it, some of his retreating soldiers
he swung his cap over his head and
shouted, "Face the other way!' AS he
galloped to the front, under his quick
commands, the broken ranks were re-
formed, and for two hours more the tired
soldiers, who had eaten nothing since
the night previous, obeyed the inspira-
ton of his presence, and that wonderful
victory followed. The first pictured il
Illustration of that famous ride Mr.. Gar
rett held tefore Mr.. Reads eyes.
"Look at this, my boy! Isn't there a
poem in it, There's a chance for YOU
write one"
The poets dark eyes centred on the
picture. There are moments which time
itself never measures. Perhaps with n
swell of enthusiasm, Il more than poetic
infatus, the blood of a patriot already
dashing in his veins, ''faster and %faster,'
he thus replied to Mr.. Garrett. cay,
but a poem is not written m a minute,
nor as easily as you can order a new
coat at Sprague's!'
George Gillian had declared that the
secret of Thomas Campbells success as II
poet was that Of enthusiasm subdued; n
requirement for success that is not often
understood, rs the critic adds. Ii III
Campbells case, the same must be true
of many personal experiences and OK
plots.
Notwithstanding his prompt a%llusion
TO the tailor, which, by any other theory
than subdued enthusiasm, would be
anomalous, Mr.. Read was at the NO
ment inspired, and as though Mr.. Nast's
drawing had been a chimera rejecting
the whole twenty miles of that dashing
ride in IA moveless mystery Of the poetry
of motion. The witty c%aricaturist prob
ably has never fancied himself to have
been TIE medium" of immortal verse
which converted the %victor's wild olive
leaves on Phil. Sheridan's brow to flow
ers of amaranth.
Mr.. Reed retired and wrote the poem.
Emerging two or three hours later from
his labratory of thought he read "Sheri-
dams Ride to a delighted family circle.
1t appears that James Z. Murdoch, a
frequent guest at Mr.. Garret,'s house,
and Mr.. Davis, war correspondent Of
Harper's, both CHANGED to be present.
Then to Mrs. Read was assigned the
pleasant task of copying the poem III
large text in order that the trasedian
might readily memorize it for that even
ing's programme ut Pixies Opera House,
the older structure which a twelvemonth
later, like a fairy fabric, disappeared in
ashower of burning flakes on the streets
of Cincinnati. Leaving Mr.. Murdoch
vigorously committing the lines with
appropriate ~gesticulation, Mr.. Read and
Mr.. Davis sauntered forth to call on
various friends To one of them, as
they entered, the poet, with a radiant
face, exclaimed, "Well, - ! struck
off a new poem this morningl Its fresh
from the oven"
Naturally, from ;hc appreciative con
fdant, suitable inquiries and congratu-
lations followed, with a confession of
pleased curiosity
y grand ovation to Mr.. Murdoch,
whose devotion to his country had been
evinced by many labors of love, occurred
that very evening. The occasion was
illuminated with the intellect of Cincin-