Adventure | Science Fiction | Ghost stories | Poetry | Children | History BookOpen Original Text olonel T. J. Jackson of the same
institution.
She identified herself with the South, and her "Beechenbrook: a Rhyme
of the War" contains the poems, "Stonewall Jackson's Grave" and "Slain
in Battle." Her later writings are mostly short poems, many of them
religious, articles for magazines, and sketches of travel, all of
which breathe forth a sweet and wise influence.
WORKS.
Silverwood, [novel].
Old Songs and New.
For Love's Sake.
Book of Monograms, [travels].
Beechenbrook: a Rhyme of the War.
Cartoons, [poems].
_Translated_ Dies Irae.
Tales and articles for papers [uncollected].
THE SHADE OF THE TREES.
(On the death of Stonewall Jackson, 1863, his last words being, "Let
us pass over the river and rest under the shade of the trees.")
(_From Cartoons._[24])
[Illustration: ~Natural Bridge, Virginia.~]
What are the thoughts that are stirring his breast?
What is the mystical vision he sees?
"_Let us pass over the river and rest
Under the shade of the trees._"
Has he grown sick of his toils and his tasks?
Sighs the worn spirit for respite or ease?
Is it a moment's cool halt that he asks
Under the shade of the trees?
Is it the gurgle of waters whose flow
Ofttime has come to him borne on the breeze,
Memory listens to, lapsing so low,
Under the shade of the trees?
Nay--though the rasp of the flesh was so sore,
Faith, that had yearnings far keener than these,
Saw the soft sheen of the Thitherward Shore,
Under the shade of the trees;--
Caught the high psalms of ecstatic delight,--
Heard the harps harping, like soundings of seas,--
Watched earth's assoilèd ones walking in white
Under the shade of the trees.
O, was it strange he should pine for release,
Touched to the soul with such transports as these,--
He who so needed the balsam of peace,
Under the shade of the trees?
Yea, it was noblest for _him_--it was best,
(Questioning naught of our Father's decrees,)
_There_ to pass over the river and rest
Under the shade of the trees!
FOOTNOTE:
[24] By permission of author, and publishers, Roberts Brothers,
Boston.
CHARLES HENRY SMITH.
"BILL ARP."
~1826=----.~
CHARLES HENRY SMITH, or "Bill Arp," the "Country Philosopher," was
born in Lawrenceville, Georgia, and has made a wide reputation by his
humorous letters in the Atlanta "Constitution." He served in the
Confederate Army as colonel. Since the war, he has served his country
still by giving some very sound and good advice in his "Country
Philosopher" articles, seasoned with much humor; and his sketches of
Georgian life are valuable.
WORKS.
Bill Arp's Letters.
Articles in Atlanta "Constitution."
Fireside Sketches.
Bill Arp's Scrap-Book.
BIG JOHN, ON THE CHEROKEES.
(_From Fireside Sketches._[25])
Big John had had a little war experience--that is, he had volunteered
in a company to assist in the forcible removal of the Cherokees to the
far west in 1835. It was said that he was no belligerent then, but
wanted to see the maiden that he loved a safe transit, and so he
escorted the old chief and his clan as far as Tuscumbia, and then
broke down and returned to Ross Landing on the Tennessee River. He was
too heavy to march, and when he arrived at the Landing, a prisoner was
put in his charge for safe keeping. Ross Landing is Chattanooga now,
and John Ross lived there, and was one of the chiefs of the Cherokees.
The prisoner was his guest, and his name was John Howard Payne. He was
suspected of trying to instigate the Cherokees to revolt and fight,
and not leave their beautiful forest homes on the Tennessee and Coosa
and Oostanaula and the Etowah and Connasauga rivers. He brought Payne
back as far as New Echota, or New Town, as it was called, an Indian
settlement on the Coosawattee, a few miles east of Calhoun, as now
known. There he kept the author of "Home, Sweet Home" under guard, or
on his parole of honor, for three weeks, and night after night slept
with him in his tent, and listened to his music upon the violin, and
heard him sing his own sad songs until orders came for his discharge,
and Payne was sent under escort to Washington.
Many a time I have heard Big John recite his sad adventures. "It was a
most distressive business," said he. "Them Injuns was heart-broken; I
always knowd an Injun loved his hunting-ground and his rivers, but I
never knowd how much they loved 'em before. You know they killed Ridge
for consentin' to the treaty. They killed him on the first day's march
and they wouldent bury him. We soldiers had to stop and dig a grave
and put him away. John Ross and John Ridge were the sons of two
Scotchmen, who came over here when they were young men and mixed up
with these tribes and got their good will. These two boys were
splendid looking men, tall and handsome, with long auburn hair, and
they were active and strong, and could shoot a bow equal to the best
bowman of the tribe, and they beat 'em all to pieces on the cross-bow.
They married the daughters of the old chiefs, and when the old chiefs
died they just fell into line and succeeded to the old chiefs' places,
and the tribes liked 'em mighty well, for they were good men and made
good chiefs. Well, you see Ross dident like the treaty. He said it
wasent fair and that the price of the territory was too low, and the
fact is he dident want to go at all. There are the ruins of his old
home now over there in De Soto, close to Rome, and I tell you he was a
king. His word was the law of the Injun nations, and he had their love
and their respect. His half-breed children were the purtiest things I
ever saw in my life. Well, Ridge lived up the Oostanaula River about a
mile, and he was a good man, too. Ross and Ridge always consulted
about everything for the good of the tribes, but Ridge was a more
milder man than Ross, and was more easily persuaded to sign the treaty
that gave the lands to the State and to take other lands away out to
the Mississippi.
"Well, it took us a month to get 'em all together and begin the March
to the Mississippi, and they wouldn't march then. The women would go
out of line and set down in the woods and go to grieving; and you may
believe it or not, but I'll tell you what is a fact, we started with
14,000, and 4,000 of 'em died before we got to Tuscumbia. They died on
the side of the road; they died of broken hearts; they died of
starvation, for they wouldent eat a thing; they just died all along
the way. We didn't make more than five miles a day on the march, and
my company didn't do much but dig graves and bury Injuns all the way
to Tuscumbia. They died of grief and broken hearts, and no mistake. An
Injun's heart is tender, and his love is strong; it's his nature. I'd
rather risk an Injun for a true friend than a white man. He is the
best friend in the world and the worst enemy."
FOOTNOTE:
[25] By permission of the author.
ST. GEORGE H. TUCKER.
~1828=1863.~
ST. GEORGE H. TUCKER, grandson of Judge St. George Tucker, was born
at Winchester, Virginia. He was clerk of the Virginia Legislat Previous Next |