The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1897-08-07
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taliation for two Confederate spies who
were hung by our army. But honest old
Abe soon dispatched a message to Mr..
Davis to the effect that if he carried out
his hellish purpose, that retaliation would
then be in order, and that two OF the Con-
federacy most prominent generals, then in
our hands, would be shot next day. And
Jefferson knew his man and the terrible
order was countermanded and poor old
patriotic Joseph Brown, Of Cherry Hill,
was the happiest man in that old prison,
for preparations were being made for the
execution when the order came
But, why linger here? There are other
points OF interest to be viewed in this once
terrible city, on this beautiful April morn
ing OF the long ago. l retrace my steps up
Seventh street till | come to the Petersburg
and Richmond depot. Then l turn up
Main street, for / must see the rebel capt.
tai on the hill above. But, oh, what
wonderful destruction of property right
here in the very heart of this once beautiful
city. The ruins of many once magnificent
buildings were still smouldering, and the
smoke from which was still ascending
| Heavenward. In the cellars of many of
these ruins the big iron safes, which de-
noted them to have been places of business,
| were still intact, and the Confederate scrip
/ and other papers we supposed were safe,
| pass by and proceed on UP the hill. There
| it is--not their white house but their black
house not because it resembled ebony but
because it was now defunct Great piles
| OF Confederate money were strewn around
but not worth the picking up l met one
dear old Johnnie right on the hill and
asked him if he was not glad the war was
over. And he bristled up and thought at
one time that he was going to pitch in,
but he didn't. He said, ''Who told you
the war was over? You'll see when General
Lee comes back. He'll make you get
worse than you did at Bull Rum
After going about two squares heard
the sweetest vocal music tilat had ever
heard before or since. l stopped and drank
in the heavenly melody and at last
located the singer. On the opposite corner
was "a magnificent mansion and from here
the sweet strains We're floating off to the
very gates of Heaven. 1t was female S
voice, and o. for one glimpse of the beauti-
full being from whose lips this glorious
music emanated. Then | could tell the
boys that saw a real live Southern beauty,
for surely she belonged to none but a
F. f. V. But how was to get peep of
this Richmond belle? couldn't 90 boldly
into that splendid mansion, but | would
hang around and surely would see her
after little while. Still fingered near
the mansion, and the great Newfoundland
dog that was kenneled in the pretty back
yard came out from his kennel and set up
a furious barking at me, for | was leaning
half over the yard fence, that | might
At this juncture the same sweet voice
called to the noble looking black canine,
"Here, Ponto! here! here" Great Scott!
the beauty is coming from behind the
lattice work into open view whats the
matter Ponto?' Gee whiz. she is as black
as the traditional ravens wing! Her eyes
are full of chalk. Her hair is curly. She
was dressed in material that had once done
duty as guano bags. A truer type OF
Topsy Of Uncle Toms Cabin fame, have
never seen not even on the stage.
Now, as have never heard or seen this
beautiful song this side of Richmond, and
hoping that some musician will ent the
lovely poem to music, l will reproduce it
here. These are the words. l alterward
got it written by an old rebel soldier
I | have no mother now, I'm weeping,
: She nas left NC here alone;
She's beneath the sod a-sleeping.
Now there is no joy at home.
Tears Of sorrow long have started,
Her bright smiles no more | see;-
All the loved ones too have parted,
Where, oh! where, Is Joy for me?
CHORUS:
Weeping. lonely, she has left me here,
Weeping sadly for my mother dear.
Oh, how well do / reminder,
Take this little flower, said she.
And when with the dead I'm numbered,
Place it at my grave for me.
Oh! dearest mother I am signing,
On thy tomb 1 drop a tear
For now the little plant is dying,
And feel so lonely here.-Cho.
/ have no mother, still Pm weeping,
Tears my furrowed cheeks now lssvss
While lonely watch Pm keeping
Oer her sad and silent grave.
Oh, soon I hope will be our meeting,
Then our gladness none can tell;