St. Johnsbury Caledonian. [volume] (St. Johnsbury, Vt.) 1867-1919, 1890-09-25
Gbe Californian
!. John-bury, Thur-day, sept. rs, 1890
VIRGINIA MEMORIES.
DR.. blanchard Along the Line of tn
PeninsuIar Campaign.

To the Editor of the CALIFORNIAN:
Since my last letter | have, at the
instigation of Uncle Sam, made a trip
through the Midland and Piedmont
regions of "Ole Virginny." The trip
occupied just two weeks. My bust
ness took me rapidly from point to
point, often breakfasting in one town,
dining in another, and lodging in a
third but nevertheless, had time to
see a great deal that | never saw be-
fore, and | will try to tell you some
thing about what | saw.
The counties visited were Fairfax,
Fauquier, Culpepper, Orange, Prince
William, AIbemarIe and Rappahan-
mock. Any old soldier of the Army
of the Potomac can guess what |
thought of most as | heard the brake
men call such names as Alexandria,
Warrenton, Rapidan, Rappahan-
mock, Brandy Station, Orange, Gull
pepper Court House, etc. At the
very start we cross Long bridge
Well, old soldier, do you remember
Long bridge? Do you remember
how bruised and muddy and disgust
ed you were when you crawled across
it after the first battle of Manassas
That little, muddy brook is Bull Run.
Over there at the right is the stone
bridge, where the hard fighting was
done. Here is a boy selling bullets
at ten cents a piece. He picked them
uPin the furrow following his fathers
plow We cross the Rappahannock.
How many brave men caught their
death drinking its muddy water.
We stop at the dead old town of Gull
pepper. Here we visit the national
cemetery, where lie buried 400
Union soldiers, from nearly every
state in the Union. Their crumbling
bones were gathered from the battle
fields of Northern Virginia. A little
marble slab, with a number on it,
marks each grave. On some the
name and state are given; but the
greater part are Unknown"
notice the name of c. A. Lyford,
private in Co. A, 10th VT. He died
Oct 10, 1868. and was first buried
at Fultse's Was he from Peacham,
| wonder.
Believe me when | tell you that |
walked among those graves with my
teeth set tight together. My upper
most thought was, Curse every
ranting demagogue whose bitter
words shall ever stir up another
war" The cemetery is beautifully
kept. A fine hedge surrounds it, and
trim borders of box cvergreenS, and
Towering shrubs and vines are every
where. How appropriate it seemed
that the northern cedar was planted
among the graves. My heart beat
warm for old Vermont at the sight
oft. The superintendent is crippled
Union soldier He loves every bit of
dust that sleeps in his care. He lives
here a stranger among strangers.
He cannot forget Gettysburg and
the Wilderness. He cannot forgive
Libby and Andersonvile. No South
ern foot crosses his threshold, save
when, at rare intervals, some mem
Der of his wife's church makes a for
NAL call. You can appreciate his
position better when | tell you that
this part of Virginia is the old dead
South, not the New" South The
people here have not caught the in
spiration of work See that farmer
carrying his wheat to market. The
wheat is loaded into canvass-cOvered
wagons precisely like the one that
my grandfather used to drive be-
tween Windsor and Boston in the
days before the railroad. There is
one difference, however. The rear of
the wagon-body is tilted up nearly 4
foot higher than the front with the
idea of thus making the wagon run
more ily-which seemed ridiculous
to me. 1t must be a nice thing to
roll a barrel into. The wagon is
drawn by four or six horses or mules.
A big darkey sits on the nigh"
wheeler, and drives. Behind, on
horseback, is the owner. He is a
thorough gentleman" He owns a
thousand acres of land. He is polite,
generous, hospitable He can talk
politics by the yard. He is pore"
Wheat was half crop, and corn is
failure. But he lives in THE finest
country in the world, sir" He never
hood hill of corn in his life, and he
never will. Why should he, when he
can hire a niger for $40 month
twill take him three days to market
that load of wheat and get back to
his home in Madison county.
| asked a wOman-an ignorant
woman, to be surc-if she would like
to return to old slavery times and
ways. Said she, What dye think
DYE s'pOSe I'd ruther do nv own
work, or hev some one do it for me ?"
Her opinion was exceptional, how
ever Nearly every one pronounced
slavery a curse, and was glad that it
had been done away with forever
Stopping at hotel over Sunday,
| asked for a daily paper. After con-
siderable hunting, the clerk found
one-the Richmond Dispatch-six
weeks old. 1t was the only news
paper there was in the house Yet
the railroad, with trains every hour
or two, ran close to the house |
challenge you to parallel that in New
England.
The country roads are horrible, !
and bridges are few. Riding 5 miles |
| forded one river IA times That
was in Rappahannock county. Much
of the way the road was a mere rut
filled with cobble-StOneS, like the dry
bed of a stream. Occasionally one
finds a macadamized, or metal"
road. These are passable at all times
of year, but are very rough, like a
city pavement The dirt roads be-
come practically impossible in the
mud season. My advice was, stop
talking politics, and go to fixing
your roads.
Everybody rides horseback-men,I
women, children and darkies They
ride well too, as if they were grown
to the horses back. That accounts
for the superiority of the confederate
cavalry during the first years of the
war.
I Of hn1