The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1882-09-30
AN INCIDENT OF THE WAR.

AN lNClDENT OF The WAR.
Madam, | am ordered to burn this
house to the ground. You will have one
hour to leave it; you will be permitted to
take nothing away except the wearing
apparel of yourself and daughters -
Thus spoke General Martindal an Off
Ger of the First New York Cavalry, who
was at that time serving as staff officer
to Gen. David S. Hunter, who was in
command of the Union forces il the Shen-
andoah Valley during the eventful years
of 1864. The house was one of those
quaint ancestral mansions seen nowhere
but in the South, and there so common
as hardly to attract attention. 1t was
DID, it was almost nude in it's architecture
but even its rather faded exterior gave
evidence of the wealth of hospitality and
accommodations of rare works both litera-
~ and artistic. In it's historical treas
ures it was especially rich, and besides
the great array of valuable books, it con-
tanned many manuscripts even then of
great worth, which were to become more
valuable with the lapse of time.
This house, filled with these treasures
and crowded with sacred memories, had
been the home of the lady addressed and
of her progenitors for generations. To
her every room-nay, every corner and
part of everyroom--was peopled by happy
wholesome memories. 1t is not strange
therefore, that to her the words of the
officers which doomed her home to the
torch were freighted with no common
sorrow.
But she was not woman to sit down
and wait for misfortune to oyerwhelm
her. She had little time to do anything
to save her house; little chance that any
thing that she might do would be sue
ceSsful. But she determined to make an
effort to save her home, and she did what
many others did in those distressful days;
she made by telegraph an appeal to the
patient, sympathetic, forgiviDg Abraham
Lincoln, President of the United States.
A messenger galloped to the town, and
the fateful message was instantly flashed
to Washington. The distracted lady
could only wait, and each moment of
that hour seemed to her laden with the
anxiety of a century. Meanwhile the
officer and his soldiers lounged upon the
beautiful lawn that stretched out before
the old mansion to the main road, fully
a quarter of a mile away, waiting for the
appointed time to apply the torch. They
knew nothing of what the mistress of the
mansion had done, and if they had known
would not have been greatly concerned.
They were only obeying orders and had
so little liking for their work that they
would be glad of some excuse for not do
ing it.
The moments came and went with as
perating speed; the old clock in the hall
seemed to count the minutes into the past
with malignant and unusual speed. The
servants were hastily packing trunks with
the few articles to be spared from the
flames, but the lady herself seemed to
take no notice Of what was going on
about her. She sat the window, which
commanded a view of the road leading
to the town, as if to catch the frs glimpse
of horseman flying to her relief.
Suddenly the clatter Of horses hoofs
in full gallop was heard down the road.
The lady sprang to her feet with an ex-
preston of mingled hope and fear upon
her face. The soldiers hardly noticed
the rapid approach of the courier. for
they could not be aware that the incident
had any interest for them. The messen-
ger came in plain view and the lady saw
that he was waving letter in his hand
as he urged his horse to greater speed.
In an instant more the messenger sprang
from his horse and rushed up the broad
gravel path to the house. The lady met
him at the door. He handed her the
telegram. She tore it open. 1t was a
brief message of only few words, but
it had the potency Of kingly command.
1t said:
"The property of Charles James Faulk-
ner is exempt from the order of General
David S. Hunter for the burning of the
residence of three prominent citizens of
the Shenandoah valley, in retaliation for
the burning of Governor Bradford's house
in Maryland by the Confederate forces"
(Signed) ABRAHAM LINCOLN.
The lady handed the telegram to Cap
tain Grey Martindale. He read it and
raised his cap in salutation. Turning to
his men he gave the orders which put
them in their saddles, and in moment
more he and his small command were
Gathering down the dusty road toward
their camp. Thus was her home saved;
thus did Abraham Lincoln add another
to the many acts of kindness with which
he illumed and softened the rugged road
of civil war which it was his hard fate to
tread.