The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1904-02-23
"The Surrender Of CORVALLIS"
Second Prize Essay by
Willis IT. Newton,

/ second Pr1Zo Essay Dy
| Willis T. Newton,
South Side High School, Minneapolis.
On the 18th Of October, 1881, Corn
wallis. hemmed in on all sides by
| Washington and De Grasse, had signi-
! fled his desire for surrender. He had
been cooped up in the town of York
by ''the boy Lafayette, and had been
| stayed in his prison by the same boy
| till Washington and Rochambeau, and
De Grasse appeared upon the scene.
And now he was forced to surrender
to Washington. 1t was four years to
! day from that other surrender of an
English army to an American-when
Burgoyne had given up his sword to
Gates. Surely history had been making,
surely history was now repeating it
self On the 18th negotiations were
| completed. The terms were the same
as given by CORVALLIS and his SUI
| perior, Clinton, to Lincoln at Charles
ton, but eighteen months before.
| And now it was the 10Th. When the
sun rose that morning, shamed at the
sight Of Britain bowling her head to
conqueror, he had yelled his face in
| cloud. Dark and gloomy it looked to the
proud Britons in York. They had never
seen the cloud before. To them it was
| a shadow over the sun of British SUI
| premacy. There was mourning in the
| camp of the vanQuished. Without in
the plain each patriot found a bright
| silver lining on the edge of the cloud,
and its face appeared rosy in hue. To
| them the shadow was just passing
from the sun Of their freedom 1t had
| covered SO long. There was re-
| Joicing in the camp of the
victors. There was rejoicing, too,
| throughout all the country side. The
| country folk awoke that morning
to a sense Of joy such as they had not
| felt for many long, weary years. 1t re-
minded them to harness up the old car
| riages, to ride down to York to see
/ the proud red-coats humbled In the
dust. All roads led to York, and all
Y those roads were full; hundreds upor
hundreds streamed in from every high
way and every byway. Here came an
old man and his three daughters. His
| two sons had been with Lincoln in
/ Charleston, now they are with Lincoln
| IN York. Then, defeat and disgrace,
now victory and glory. Here came a
| mother, here a sister, and here lad of
| ten, with great tales of deeds he should
| do when he became a big soldier like
| brother. The great throng filled the
plain without the town, and from with
In the town swarmed out others, all
bent on seeing the great and fateful
| spectacle.
| Meanwhile the sun had reached it's
zenith and passed down well on it's way
to the west Over yonder in the allied
! camps one hears strains of music. It
IS medley. The martial strains of
the Marseillaise blend gradually into
| the jovial measures of Yankee Doo-
die 1t is near o'clock. From the
town floats out another tune, contrast
ing strangely with the medley, yet
harmonizing well. The Englishmen are
| piping plaintively the Worlds Upside
! Down" How true 1t must seem to
| them. Yonder the lines Of the allies are
forming. A mile long stretches the
white and gold of France. Two rods
away, and a mile long, stretches the
blue and buff of the patriots. White
banners float side by side, with our no
| bic stripes and stars. At the head of
| the line sits Washington on his horse.
1mmobile. Lincoln at his right hand.
| Rochambeau heads the French line.
! Lafayette rides at the head Of the
| Americans
| A cry arrests the attention of all.
Look! here come the red-coats." All
| eyes turn to the town, straining to see.
Forth issues a long, sinuous line of
red. On they come, gradually assuming
shape. Slowly and reluctantly they
move, as if measuring every step. Now
they are abreast the foot of the con-
quer1ng line. The band is in the van
still playing their mournful "The
/ Worlds Upside Down." Then come the
| officers on their steeds, the beasts
themselves, hanging their heads. as If
they, too, felt the disgrace of 1t all.
How sad the officers look, as they re-
| member how much it all means to
the cause. In single file follow the
men, their arms at carry, their banners
| furled
! One does not see their commander
The earl, sick at heart, is unable to
/ leave his tent. An officer rides forth. It
IS O'Hara. Straight up to Washington
he rides Choking down his grief he
hands the sword of his superior to the
conqueror. The great general passes it
on to Lincoln. Lincoln, through no
fault Of his own, had been forced to
give up his own sword but a little be-
| fore. Now the brave man takes it. un-
| sheaths it, then replaces it in its scab-
bard and returns 1t to O'Hara.
/ Twenty-Five standards, furled for
ever; are stacked up at the head of the
line. One by one the soldiers lay down
| their arms and file back and around
again. Artillery is deposited at another
end of the field. At last when every
weapon is laid down, and every man
back in his place, we look upon the
glorious scene. We hear someone at
our side speaking:
What an imposing spectacle. On
the Western horizon the sun is Just set
| ting. 1t sheds its glory on the waters
Of the bay there. Silhoutted against
the gold and pink of the sunset ride
the French ships. their guns booming
the glad tidings. The waters of the bay,
calm and peaceful, are lit up with gold.
In the plain there is that long line of
white, our brave allies. On this side is
the blue of our own men. "Old Glory
floats out in all his splendor The set
ting sun CLEANS on the gorgeous red
of the Britons, their stacked-up arms
are glittering. That sunset is the set
ting Of the sun of British supremacy
In America. But another sun is rising.
the sun of our freedom. May God grant
that it never sell"