San Antonio daily light. [volume] (San Antonio, Tex.) 1886-1907, 1892-03-04
MARGARET PURVIS.

On the eastern bank of Antietam creek
famous in history as the scene of one of
the direst struggles of the civil war-and
about four miles from the small post town
of Sharpsburg, is the estate of Colonel
Junius Willoughby, retired officer of the
regular army. Colonel Willoughby is a
gentleman in the early decline of life
that is to say, he has passed his fifty
fourth birthday, tall, vigorous and active
though he confesses to a dread of rain
storms and changes Of weather. because
at such seasons certain old wounds, re-
ceived in service, reassert themselves with
aggressive aches and twinges.
Especially does he suffer from a shattered
and badly healed shoulder, which confines
him to his room for week together twice
or thrice every year. But he never loses
his temper over these visitations, because,
as he observes, they remind him of an
event which he regards as the most fortu-
nate of his whole career. And when he
makes this statement, it is noticed that his
wife, charming woman some years
younger than her husband, looks at once
embarrassed and pleased, and endeavors to
check or deprecate the story which she
knows by experience the colonel will in
variably recite to any appreciative listener.
Though for nearly quarter Of a century
Colonel Willoughby has been the proprie-
tor of the estate, it is still known through
out the surrounding country as "the Pur-
Wis Farm" John Purvis, the last of four
generations of his name, left his acres as
the dowry of his only daughter, Margaret,
who married Junius Willoughby, at that
time a first lieutenant in the Federal
army. And so, though Margaret became
Mrs. Willoughby, the property has re-
tained and doubtless always will retain,
the patronymic.
In those gloomy mid-September days in
1862, that gloomiest of years for those who,
like John Purvis, had the cause of the
Union at heart, Margaret, returned from
her spring visit to Washington, sat and
listened to the far off boom of cannon
which told of Lees advance into Maryland
with shuddering nerves and sick dread
BY night she could see upon the pail of
overhanging clouds the red glare Of burn
ing villages. Hour after hour she could
hear the deep, mournful tolling of alarm
bells, moaning for help which never came;
and all day long she watched the long pro-
cession Of carts, wagons and carriages de-
filing past the gates of her fathers house,
bearing the possessions, hastily gathered
together, of the wretched people fleeing
before the march of the victorious enemy
And Lee, with his e., 900 troops, was COM
ing. There could be no doubt of that, for
the guns that at daybreak sounded like a
deep murmur among the distant hills, at
nightfall roared like the thunder of a
storm which still hangs on the horizon,
but is rising with every elapsing moment.
John Purvis was Union man, and was
we'll known as such, and many of those
pursuing their way northward would
pause moment to warn him of terrible
things done and seen, and beseech him to
gather together his movables and join
them in their fight from the fate to come
But he would give no heed. The Union
would protect him, he obstinately asserted
he had no fears. Mcclellan was but TWEEN
ty miles away with an army of $4,000 men;
he would abide the issue.
Meantime, in all the turmoil, Margaret
was thinking of one person in that army,
young artillery officer, Lieutenant Will
loughby, whom she had met in Washing
ton during her spring vista handsome,
manly fellow of twenty-five, who had as
SUrSu InftO, udppSh "hoO
south could not win in the great struggle.
She believed him still, though the enemy
was now so near that the boom of his can
non echoed among the old oaks about her
ancestral home.
At daybreak on the morning of the 18th
of September she was aroused from her
slumber by a prodigious uproar on the
road before the dwelling Hastily arising
she pushed back the curtain, and saw that
battery of field guns had halted opposite
the gate She could catch the CLINT OF the
early light upon the polished brass of the
six Founders.
Among them, Immediately under her
window, was huge, iron, thirty FOUNDER
siege gun-a clumsy, old fashioned piece of
ordnance, which might have done duty in
the train of General Scott at Moline del
Rey or Chapultepec. Among its bright,
dapper, well appointed fellows it looked
like worn out veteran in squadron OF
gayly uniformed cadets Yet in the mys-
terious dispensation of events that same
Anticipated gun was to save the battle OF
Antietam for the Union-or was it rather
the hand of Margaret Purvis?-that slen-
der hand which trembled upon the window
sill as she saw young soldier fling himself
from the saddle and walk rapidly toward
the house.
She knew him at once; he was Lieuten-
ant Willoughby, her Washington acquaint-
ance. She hurriedly completed her toilet
and met him at the breakfast table. He
greeted her warmly with a flush of COM