The Middleburgh post. [volume] (Middleburgh, Snyder Co., Pa.) 1883-1916, 1894-11-22
The National Capital.
PoETrc AND Patriotic DEscRrPTioS.-
A VIEW PROM THE SOLDIERS HOME.

INK ulOhhb Ait CeffNpA W.
rich with historic lore, and refresh
ing to the tourists from every lant
and cline.
Stand with me for a moment al
the Scott Statue on the heights oi
the National Soldiers Home, to the
north of Washington, as the slant
ing beams of evening irradiate the
scene. Far to the right and west
the rolling hills of the Old Dominion
lift their pine clad crests over the
troubled waters of the upper Poto.
mac: and on n nearer view the towers
and turrets of the Jesuit University
shine over Georgetown Heights like
Alpine sentinels guarding the vale
below.
The forest trees of Oak Hill and
Arlington cemeteries nod their en-
erald heads to the beholder, while
the winds of nature sing mournful
requiem over the citizens and sol
diers who have gone into camp on
the upland slopes of Omnipotence.
Oak Hill contains the dust Of
many illustrious men. Chas. Cover
nor, Secretary of the Treasury and
Chief Justice of the United States
slept there until removed to Cincin-
natti. Stanton the Great war Secre-
tary and iron arm of the rebellion
rests under tall granite shaft that
is not more firm or compact than
the heroic character it memorializes.
General Reno who fell at South
Mountain finds peace beneath a
broken marble column. Captain r.
U. Morris, of Monitor, Merrimac,
and Cumberland memory, mingles
here with Mother Earth, and long
as the watos Of HoYVicr Re THAI
shall tumble teir white caps to- W
sea his heroic an patriotic condue(
will be cherished by grateful
country!
Lorenzo Dow, the great apostle
of temperance and revival religion
is covered with a sandstone slab,
grown over with lichens and creeping
grapes. Howard Payne, author Of
Home Sweet Home, has monument
and marble bust to glorify his dust
in death. while in life he was n poor
forlorn wanderer, often without
home, food or shelter another
Diogenes:
when am dead. let no vain pomp display
A surface sorrow DER my pulscless clay,
But all the dear old friends loved IN life
May shed a tear, console my child and wife.
When am dead, some sage for selfrenOwn
May urn my ashes in his native town,
And give when | am cold and lost and dead,
marble shaft where once needed bread.
James G. Blaine, that erstwhile
filled the eye OF nation, sleeps
beneath the giant oaks of this GENE.
terry. by the side of his son and
daughter, with grave unmarked and
memory fading into the twilight of
oblivion.
Many great and good soldiers
sleep their last sleep on Arlington
Heights, that we see in the glimmer-
ing distance. The dashing Sheri-
dan gallant Crook, the Indian fight
er General Meigs, the faithful
Quartermaster; General Hunt, Chief
of artillery Belknap, Secretary of
War; Hazen, Sturgis, Baxter, Crane,
Ayers, and the illustrious Admiral
Porter, with a gallant crew of his
naval subordinates, rest under the
shade of those towering trees.
Lengthen your view from the Sol
dies Home, and we behold fifteen
miles away the hill-tops of Mount
Vernon looming up in fading hori-
zon, and nearer the walls of Fort
Washington shining in the distance !;
the spires and smoke of Alexandria
rising over the ancient town where
jackson shot Colonel Ellsworth in
the hotel, and where Brownel sent a
bullet through the heart of the rash
Virginian, who defied whole Gov
ernment and flung his rebel flag to
that May morning breeze.
Let the eye linger along the banks
of the pellucid Potomac, and you
see II long dark line spanning it's
flashing waters, and perhaps, rapid
railroad train rumbling over the
crumbling timbers of the historic
Long Bridge. Could this bridge
talk what a story it could tell of the
hopes and fears of those beaten