The Laurens advertiser. (Laurens, S.C.) 1885-1973, 1896-07-21
GALLANT PIERCE YOUNG.
He Was the IDOL of Men and Popular
with Women.

with Women.
Mr.. Il. G. De Leon, of Mobile, in wri-
ting to a friend about the late Gen. P.
Nj. b. Young, whom he knew very in
timately, pays handsome tribute to
the valiant warrior and courtly gentle.
man. In the course of the letter, he
says:
The news of Young's death will carry
shock to many good fellow still left.
His personal friends throughout the
South were legion, for he was not only
dashing and fearless fighter, but one
OF the most lovable fellows personally
in all that brilliant array. recall
him now most wildly as he appeared
when the heterogeneous clans began
to gather at Montgomery. About the
time when Miss I.etitia Tyler unfurled
that flag which was to become immor.
tai, before Abram j. Ryan sang its
deathless requiem when 'furled for
ever Young was there. Although a
STRIPPING cadet who had left West
Point on the eve of graduation to offer
his sword to his section, he was even
then one OF the most picturesque and
conspicuous figures about the cradle
of the Confederacy.' Tall, 1.-the and
active; a great horseman and SOL
der by instinct, his impetuous nature
chafed under red-tape delays that wore
out many a more patient man, asking
and deserving commission for active
service. How he accepted eagerly the
proffered adjutancy of Cobb's famous
legion, fought his way over interven-
ing grades, and became a major gen.
eral of cavalry while still mere youth,
is we'll known history.
SIN Virginia, he was the idol of men
and no less popular with the keen
judging women of those days. But
young, handsome and popular as he
was-and he was ever q great ladies'
man at the proper seasons-he never
let social Establishments hold him back
for one instant from volunteering for
most arduous and disagreeable duty,
through August sun or winters snow
and slush. Any allusion to his known
courage and dash were 'twice-t told
tele.' He was the Murat Of the Vir-
ginia lines.
when | began to write my novel,
Creole and Puritan Young largely
furnished the best traits in the South
ern twin OF its heroes, as Charles King
did for the Puritan. OF course, as [
have told you, the pair were not meant
for portraits; for King was no more q
Puritan in the generic sense, than the
Georgia boy was q real Creole. Yet
these two best typed those essential
points OF divergence, to crystalline
which the novel was written. While
the critics were saying .vry pleasant
things about that story, many of them
objected to my making the Creole %
major general on his twenty-fourth
birthday; advising me to stick to
probabilities. | wrote. King the facts
at the time and later when publish
ed The Puritan's Daughter as its &C.
quel, | noted that the statement was
well within the facts. After Young
returned from ST. Petersburg he visit
ed us at Mobile. Then he told me-
with all absence Of vanity in his blunt,
simple way-that he commanded his
division when he was only twenty
three. If | am not In error, that
makes him the youngest major gen.
eral in either army.
"An odd joke on Young during that
visit recurs to me now. Four OF us
drove down the shell road for dinner
at South End. A gulf storm had torn
away a section Of the long wharf, only
narrow planks loosely lying across the
gaps. Louis Chaudron, Shelton Sims
and l passed the first plank looked
uncertain foot upon the thither end.
Sims called back : We'll, here's an an
omaly. a man whp has ridden gaily
into hail OF lead and iron--whose front
Is tattoocd with wounds-fears to
charge a plank to capture his dinner p
Young made wry face, swore it was
a very different thing then marched
across the plank that bent underahis
weight to threatening OF leaving use&t-
erallY with no bridges behind US. But
that dinner with its "reminiscences
stories and jolly chaff comes to me with
clear echo to-day across the valley Of
the shadow OF death. AS these echoes
die away from memory, resistlessly
come to replace them the living words
of Margaret Preston, in her dirge for
another beau sabruer, earlier borne to
the Avalon OF Southern valor
Heard ye the veterans-hearts that
had known
Never throb of fear; never groan--.
Sob, mid the fight they win,
Tears their stern eyes within
Ashby, our Paladin Ashby Is dead =
80 wrote the Southern Barrett
Browning, three decades ago. Time
has filled our lives with now duties and
avocations since then newer memo
ries have dulled somewhat the sound
OF once familiar voices. But when we
| Of the old set hear the toll of the fune-
raj bell, even now tho mists OF circum-
| stance and surrounding clear away.
Time itself rolls back, and we stand on
the edge of each new grave, once more
under the star-barred flag and with
| the fresh Of our youth--again in the
young Confederacy !"
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