He said to an interviewer that he became a surgeon from dressing a sore
on an old mare's back. I wonder what he was talking about?
He is about to start a woman's hospital for poor women.
Cousin Fanny would have been glad of that; she was always proud of Frank.
She would as likely as not have quoted that verse from Tennyson's song
about the echoes. She sleeps now under the myrtle at Scroggs's.
I have often thought of what that doctor said about her:
that she would have been a very remarkable woman, if she had not been
an old maid -- I mean, a spinster.
The Burial of the Guns
Lee surrendered the remnant of his army at Appomattox, April 9, 1865,
and yet a couple of days later the old Colonel's battery lay intrenched
right in the mountain-pass where it had halted three days before.
Two weeks previously it had been detailed with a light division
sent to meet and repel a force which it was understood was coming in
by way of the southwest valley to strike Lee in the rear of his long line
from Richmond to Petersburg. It had done its work. The mountain-pass
had been seized and held, and the Federal force had not gotten by that road
within the blue rampart which guarded on that side the heart of Virginia.
This pass, which was the key to the main line of passage over the mountains,
had been assigned by the commander of the division to the old Colonel
and his old battery, and they had held it.
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