The watchman and southron. [volume] (Sumter, S.C.) 1881-1930, 1897-03-31
A Memory of the Late War.

The old Blandford Church at Petersburg,
Vi.giuia, WAS built ia l735. 1t is 8 beauti.
full OLD building, unique 10 its pic1nresqre ao-
pearance aud appealing in its suggestive as
eociatious This old building, that stood
| before the birth of our republic, has seen this
republic strengthen with its increasing yeas
until now IT stands tle rival of the empires
of earth This house of God saw and felt
the convusions Of the war of the Revolu
ton and in the more recent years it felt the
shock Of the struggle TO civil liberty.
In Wordsworth's poem of a man without
an imagination we 6ld The following vers.s
GA tall old house wi windows dim,
A tall old house is st II 10 him,
And it is nothing more
Or man Of this kind we might say
A she'll torn church With easements grim,
An old-,ime house is still to hin,
And ii is nothing more.
But one who is blessed with the gift Of an
imagination, whose soul Can be carried rack
upon the pinious of fancy to any age, would
see 10 this "old pie" at Petersburg some
,biog tc awakea the tenderest thoughts, the
% ost pleasing imagirings, and the most pro-
itabe reflections
A Confederate soldier and officer told me
recently thar during the war be had gone
into tbis beautiful ola building and was en-
joying the peaceful calm of all within, when
bis attention was attracted to piece of paper
on one of the walls On it were written four
starzas of poetry. The verses were 80 beau
tiful that after reading them over carefully,
be began to copy them. He had just finished
the first stenza, whe1 shell burst imH1edi.
ately above the old church. What con-
tcast This perfect peace within this sacred
building could not shut out those sounds
that so fo-cibly reminded the officer of the
blood that vas flowing elsewhere and of his
duty with his men. he left with the one
stanza of the poetry that had 80 appealed to
him, feeling sad to have teen so ruthlessly
torn away from this pesceful old place 80
full of beauty AID sncred suggestions.
Last April, when the old soldiers from the
whole South met TO commune one With the
other, this officer again visited the old Bland
ford Church. he found that its old battered
walls had been repaired and that the venera-
BILE bulldog was narsed with tender care.
On goiug within, he fonnd that the piece of
blurred poetry written with lead peocil5
and signed, ga Stranger" had been trans
ferred to marble 8 ab. Its form bad been
changed, but its sentiment was the same, and
as that sentiment is 30 beautiful, We appeal
the poem iu full for the apprecia tcn of our
! readers
Thou art cru blicg to the DUST old pile,
Thou art Fastening to thy fall,
And round thee 10 thy Loneliness
Ciiogs the ivy to thy wall.
The worshipers are scattered now
Who knelt before thy strine,
And silepce reigns where anthems rose
In days of "Old Lang Syne."
And sadly sighs the wandering wiod
Where oft, 10 years gone by
Prayers rose from many hearts to Him,
The Highest of the high;
The tramp of many busy foot
That sought thy nisles, is o'er,
And many a weary heart around
Is still for ever N ore.
How doth ambitions hope take wing
How droops the spirit now,
We hear the distant city's din,
The dead are muGe below
The sun that shone apon their paths
Now gi!ds their lonely graves,
The zephyrs which once famed their brows,
The grass above rhem waves.
o could We call the many lack
Who've gathered here 10 vain
Who've careless rored where we do.pow,
Who ne'er shall meet again.
How would our very souls be stirred,
To meet the earnest gaze
Of the lovely and The beautiful
Yes the lights'of other days.
Herschal.