Out of the doorway they saw her start (Pickett's Virginians were marching through), Armored with stars and the sacred blue. Stood she and bearded those ranks of theirs, "Come and take it, the man that dares!" Pickett's Virginians were passing through; Wonted to hunger and war and weather; Sterner soldiers the world saw never, To death and failure and fame forever. Rose from the rippling ranks a cheer; Pickett saluted, with bold eyes beaming, Sweeping his hat like a cavalier, With his tawny locks in the warm wind streaming. Fierce little Jenny! her courage fell, As the firm lines flickered with friendly laughter, And Greencastle streets gave back the yell That Gettysburg slopes gave back soon after. So they cheered for the flag they fought With the generous glow of the stubborn fighter, And never a finger was raised to fright her: Through the fresh green June to the shock infernal, To the hell of the shell and the plunging shot, And the charge that has won them a name eternal. And she felt at last, as she hid her face, There had lain at the root of her childish daring And a secret faith in the foe's forbearing. And the stars in the fold of the blue again. (Thank God that the day of the sword is done, VOL. XXII-9 tall to more LONDON AS SEEN BY C. D. GIBSON VI-LONDON PEOPLE ONCE upon a time, judging by John Leech's pictures of English women (who could do almost everything in those days but manage their hoop-skirts), they were all short and became instantly stout when they arrived at forty. If Leech was right, English women must have changed very much since then. It may be that they grew closely resemble Du Maurier's goddesses. In many cases they have succeeded, as may be seen at Lord's or at any There may not be a variety of good looks, but one type is very beautiful. So strong is the family likeness, they might all be handsome sisters. something very sweet and lovable about that plump little woman of Mr. Leech's. I only met her in reality after she had grown into a sweet old lady, and I should have regretted not havi fashionable race-course. There was her before had I not seen her tall granddaughters. The London dowager, although often severe in appearance, is very kind and interesting. Her name has been for years on the most exclusive visiting lists, and she could tell you more about the people in the room than the servants themselves. Sitting often alone, and apparently neglected, she is not an object of pity, nor has she merely the habit of going about. She is a much needed member of society, and she is very happy. She is the social historian. She gives her candid and much valued opinion on a new engagement, and can tell just who the young people's ancestors were. She is so interesting that it is easy to overlook her often ridiculous clothes and over-display of jewelry, and to see beneath her false bang a true and accomplished woman. |