The news & observer. [volume] (Raleigh, N.C.) 1894-current, 1902-12-14

heard of him until the other day, when
a brief notice in New York paper at
tracted my attention. For sixty years he
was musical composer and a writer of
songs. He was the author of many of
the sweetest pieces that ever charmed
our households, and yet we never heard
of him. Fifty years ago my wife used
to play, Come listen to the mocking-
bird" and l accompanied her on the flute,
and was proud of my skill Then there
is What Is Home Without a Mother"
and Whispering Hope and How
Sweet Are the Roses He made 1000
musical compositions and published
books of instruction for every kind of
musical instrument After the seven days
fight before Richmond Mcclellan was re-
moved because of his defeat and Halleck
was put in his place. This displeased
the soldiers very much, for they were
proud of Little Mac and loved him,
and so Winner took up their grievance
and wrote song and composed the
music. Give Me Back My Old Com
mander." The air was simple and the
words pathetic, and it soon was caught
by the army of $4,000 men, and could be
the camps. 1t was inspiring and signif-
cant and made Stanton mad. He said it
was demoralizing and an insult to Cen
eral HaIleek and must be stopped, and
he issued an order to that effect. OF
course, the boys stopped singing in the
daytime or on the march, but away in the
dead of night whole regiment would
break out. .'Oh, give us back our old
r>l.- ca.
publication stopped and threatened to
arrest Winner. But Winner had sold
The copyright and couldn't stop it. A
famous singer dared to sing it on the
stage in New York city. and she was
warned not to do so any more, but she
repeated it, and Stanton had to give it
up and let it wear itself out. Winner
was the winner of that fight, and Stanton
made fool of himself.
Stephens Collins Foster was another
composer who was very dear TO us in his
day. and charmed millions with his ex-
qnsite melody. We old-fashioned people
still call upon our children to comfort
us with "Old Folks at Home" "Uncle
Ned" 20. Susannah. "Old Dog Tray"
Nellie Bly, and My Old Kentucky
Home The royalty on this last niece
made him good sum of money. What
would the travelling MINISTRIES have done
without his songs. But in his last years
he aspired to higher plan of compost
ton, and wrote such pieces as Come
Where My Love Lies Dreaming" He
was man of fine culture and familiar
with many foreign languages. He, too,
is dead and there has no one come to
take the places of these sweet fireside
songs.
Shakespeare says: '"The evil that men
do lives after them. The good is often
inferred with their bones" Well, it is
often, but not always. Isaac Watts has
been dead one hundred and fifty years.
but his beautiful hymns and his cradle
songs are still familiar to every Chris
tian household Hush, my dear, lie still
and slumber.' has soothed to sleep
thousands of little children. Let dogs
delight to bark and bite. is the first
little speech of childhood, and next
comes How doth the little busy bee"
The hymn books of all Christian church
es abound in his beautiful verses, such as
When l Can Read My Titles Clear
There Is Land of Pure Delight" and
While the lamps holds out TO burn, the
Vilest sinner may return. These were
not inferred with his bones and will live
through the ages.
Sometimes the man or woman who did
the good is forgotten, but the good re-
mains. Not one church member in
thousand in this country knows who
wrote the DoXology that is sung all over
the world. Praise God from whom all
blessings flow Thomas Ken has been
dead two hundred years, but those four
lines will live and doubtless he Is in
heaven and hears more of his own verse
and music than any saint around the
throne of God. Shakespeare might have
said with more truth, THE good that
men do lives after them" Our venerable
Judge Warner went North in his old age
to revisit the home of his youth and
found the town adorned and shaded with
beautiful elms around the churches and
along the sideWalks-trees that he plant
ed half a century before and had never
seen since he came to Georgia to teach
school. The high tops of those trees
seemed to reach the sky and men and
women walked and children played I'M
der their shade, but not a human being in
that town remembered him or knew who
planted these trees. He found one old
schoolmate, but he was blind and in the
poor house. Fifty-five years ago when
| first visited the little town of Rome |
noticed a good old man by the name of
Smith-Jobnny Smith he was called-and
he, too, was planting little trees around
the churches. He was lover of orna-
meDt and he was doing it without pay,
but not without reward. They grew
apace and gave some shade before he
died, and kept OH growing until they.
too, almost reached the sky and are still
there, a living, breathing monument to
the good man. But who knows who
planted them-who besides myself? And
there is my old friend and partner Judge
Branham, who for twenty years has been
working on that beautiful cemetery on
Myrtle Hill-making new walks and
grading them, laying off lots on the new
purchase building walls on the steep
slopes, planting trees and flowers and
in many ways ernamenting and beauti-
fying the city CT the dead. Within a few
more wears he will be one of its sleeping
citizens and later on another generation
will frequent the romantic place and
wonder who shaped it into beauty, and