That Christmas week was a busy and cheery one to our Woodburn folk
and their near and dear ones on the neighboring estates. The Fairview
family were expecting to spend the rest of the winter at Viamede;
Cousin Ronald and his Annis had accepted a cordial invitation to do
likewise, and Grandma Elsie's brother and his family from the Oaks
would also pay her a visit there, the duration of which was not
settled, as that would depend upon how well Horace's affairs at home
should be carried on without his presence and supervision. His little
daughter Elsie was to make one of the party on the yacht, but the
others would go by rail, as that would not necessitate so early a start
from home. The _Dolphin_ was being put in readiness for her trip, and
the overseeing of that business occupied quite a portion of Captain
Raymond's time during that week.
Grace made a lovely bride, surrounded by all her own and Harold's kith
and kin. The ceremony took place at noon; a grand dinner followed; then
wedding attire was exchanged for a pretty and becoming travelling suit,
carriages conveyed bride, groom, his mother and their young charges to
the _Dolphin_, and presently the southward journey was fairly begun.
It had been rather hard for Ned to part from "papa and mamma" for even
a few days, though with dear grandma and uncle left to him, sister and
cousins also, and wearied with that grief and the exciting scenes of
the day, he was soon ready to take to his berth and fall asleep.
The others found it too cool for comfort on the deck, but very pleasant
in the well-warmed and lighted saloon. They sat and chatted there for
some little time; then retired to their staterooms for the night.
The morning found Ned refreshed and strengthened, the rest in fine
health and spirits. They made a cheerful, merry little company about
the breakfast table, afterward took some exercise on the deck, then
gathered about Grandma Elsie in the saloon and pleaded for one of her
"lovely stories."
"Well, dears, what shall I tell of?" she asked with her own sweet
smile. "Something more of our Washington or of others of our
Presidents?"
"Oh, tell us about the time of our Civil War and the pictures Nast
drew then," cried Elsie excitedly. "I saw something about him and his
drawings the other day, and I should like to know more of him and his
wonderful work. Was he an American, grandma?"
"No, my dear; he was born in the military barracks of Landau, a little
fortified town of Germany, and came to this country at the age of six.
He and his sister were brought here by their mother. The husband and
father was then on a French man-of-war; afterward he enlisted on an
American vessel, and he did not join his family until Thomas, his son,
was ten years old, and mother and children had been four years in this
country. A comrade of his told them he was coming, and the news made a
great excitement in the family.
"The mother sent Thomas to buy a cake with which to welcome his
father. As he was coming home with that he was passed by a closed cab.
It suddenly stopped, a man sprang out, caught him up and put him in
the cab, then got in himself. For an instant Thomas was frightened,
thinking he was kidnapped. Then he found he was in his father's arms,
and was full of joy; but he was troubled when he saw that between them
they had crushed the cake. He thought his mother would be greatly
disappointed by that. But she was so glad to see her husband that she
did not seem to mind it--the damage to the cake; nor did the children,
being so delighted to see their father and the many presents he had
brought them from distant places, and to listen to all he had to tell
about his travels.
"Thomas was a short, stout, moon-faced lad. He attended a German school
for a short time after his father came home, but he was constantly
drawing pictures. His teacher would say to him, 'Go finish your
picture, Nast; you will never learn to read.' Often he would draw a
file of soldiers or a pair of prize fighters; sometimes things he
remembered from his life in Landau--as a little girl with her pet lamb
or old Santa Claus with his pack.
"In 1860 he went to England, where he still made drawings. Every
steamer brought letters from him and papers to the New York _News_.
From England he went, that same year, to Italy to join Garibaldi."
"Who was Garibaldi, grandma, and what did Nast want to join him for?"
asked Ned.
"To help him to get Italy free," replied Mrs. Travilla. "But I will
not tell the story of Garibaldi now--some other time, perhaps. The
war was not very long, and Nast stayed until it was over. In November
of that same year he said 'Good-by' to his friends in Italy. Then he
visited Rome, Florence and Genoa. Late in December he reached Landau,
his native city. The old place had not changed, except that to him it
looked much smaller than it had before. He went on through Germany,
visiting art galleries and cathedrals. But he grew tired of it all and
wanted to get home. He crossed the channel to England, and there heard
talk of the brewing of war in this country, now his own land. He stayed
a few days in London, then sailed for the United States, which he
reached on February 1st, 1861. He had been gone a year, and now arrived
in New York with only a dollar and a half in his pocket."
"Oh, how little after such long, hard work!" exclaimed Elsie Raymond.
"Yes," said Mrs. Travilla; "but he was brave and industrious and went
on working as before. Mr. Lincoln had been elected to the Presidency
the November before, and in March Nast went on to Washington to see his
inauguration."
A portfolio lay on the table beside which Mrs. Travilla now sat, and
she took it up and opened it, saying, "I have some articles in this
which I have been saving for years past, among them some things about
Nast--some of his own writing; for I have taken an interest in him
ever since the time of our Civil War. Listen to this, written of that
time when Lincoln was about to be inaugurated. Nast had been ordered
by his paper--the News of New York--to go on to Washington to see the
inaugural ceremony. Stopping in Philadelphia, he was near Lincoln
during the celebrated speech and flag-raising at Independence Hall,
and afterward heard the address Lincoln made from the balcony of the
Continental Hotel.
"At Washington Nast stopped at the Willard Hotel, which was Lincoln's
headquarters. A feeling of shuddering horror, such as a bad dream
sometimes gives us, came over him there. The men who had sworn that
'Abe Lincoln' should not take his seat were not gone. Now I will read
you what he says about that time."
The children sat very still, listening attentively--Elsie Raymond with
almost breathless interest--while her grandmother read.
"'It seemed to me that the shadow of death was everywhere. I had
endless visions of black funeral parades accompanied by mournful music.
It was as if the whole city were mined, and I know now that it was
figuratively true. A single yell of defiance would have inflamed a mob.
A shot would have started a conflict. In my room at the Willard Hotel I
was trying to work. I picked up my pencils and laid them down as many
as a dozen times. I got up at last and walked the floor. Presently in
the rooms next mine other men were walking; I could hear them in the
silence. My head was beginning to throb, and I sat down and pressed my
hands to my temples. Then all at once, in the Ebbett House, across the
way, a window was flung up and a man stepped out on the balcony. The
footsteps about me ceased. Everybody had heard the man and was waiting
breathlessly to see what he would do. Suddenly, in a rich, powerful
voice he began to sing "The Star Spangled Banner." The result was
extraordinary. Windows were thrown up. Crowds gathered on the streets.
A multitude of voices joined the song. When it was over the street rang
with cheers. The men in the rooms next mine joined me in the corridor.
The hotel came to life. Guests wept and flung their arms about one
another. Dissension and threats were silenced. It seemed to me, and I
believe to all of us, that Washington had been saved by the inspiration
of an unknown man with a voice to sing that grand old song of songs.'"
"Who was that man, grandma?" asked Ned.
"I can't tell you that, Neddie," she replied. "I think it has never
been known who he was."
"Is there some more story about Nast and his pictures?" he asked.
"Yes; he made a great many more pictures. One, on the first page of the
Christmas _Harper_, was called 'Santa Claus.' It showed him dressed in
the Stars and Stripes, distributing presents in the military camp. In
the same paper was another called 'Christmas Eve.' It had two parts:
one, in a large wreath, was a picture of the soldier's family at home;
and in another wreath was the soldier by the camp-fire, looking at a
picture of his wife and children. Letters came from all parts of the
Union with thanks for that picture. A colonel wrote that it reached him
on Christmas Eve; that he unfolded it by the light of his camp-fire and
wept over it. 'It was only a picture,' he said, 'but I couldn't help
it.'"
"I don't wonder," sighed Elsie softly, "for how he must have wanted to
be at home with his wife and children."
Harold and Grace, who had been taking their morning exercise upon the
deck, returned to the saloon and joined the group of listeners just in
time to hear their mother's story of Nast's Christmas pictures.
"Nast certainly did a great deal for the Union cause," said Harold. "Do
you remember, mother, what Grant said of him when asked, 'Who is the
greatest single figure in civil life developed by the Civil War?'"
"Yes. He answered without hesitation, 'Thomas Nast. He did as much
as any one man to bring the war to an end.' And many of the Northern
generals and statesmen held the same opinion."
"Yes, mother; and all lovers of the Union certainly owe him a debt of
gratitude."
"Now, children, shall I tell you something about Lincoln?" she asked.
There was an eager assent, and she went on. "He was a noble, unselfish,
Christian man; came to the Presidency in a dark and stormy time; did
all in his power to avert civil war without allowing the destruction
of the Union, denying the right of any State or number of States to go
out of the Union. But the rebellious States would not listen, declared
themselves out of the Union, began seizing government property, firing
upon those who had it in charge, and Lincoln was compelled to call out
troops for its defence.
"But I shall not go over the whole sad story now. After four years,
when it was all over, every loyal heart was full of joy and Lincoln's
praise was on every tongue. They felt that he had saved his country and
theirs, and that at the expense of great suffering to himself. But only
a few days later he was fatally shot by a bad fellow, an actor named
John Wilkes Booth."
"One of the Confederates, grandma?" asked Ned.
"I think not," she replied. "It is said that his controlling motive for
the dreadful deed was insane conceit. That for weeks beforehand he
had declared his purpose to do something that would make his name ring
round the world."
"As it has," remarked Harold; "but in such a way as I should think no
sane man would desire for his."
"And did they hang him?" asked Ned.
"No," replied his uncle; "the awful crime was so sudden and unexpected
that for several minutes the audience did not comprehend what had been
done, and the assassin escaped for the time. He ran out, leaped upon a
saddled horse kept waiting for him and galloped away into the country.
He rode into Maryland, from there into Virginia, and took refuge in a
barn. He was pursued, cavalry surrounded the barn, and called upon him
and his companion to surrender. The other man did, but Booth refused
and offered to fight the captain and all his men; then they set the
barn on fire, and one of them, against orders, shot Booth in the neck.
That shot made him helpless. He was carried out, laid on the grass,
and after four hours of intense agony he died."
"That was a sad, sad time," sighed Mrs. Travilla. "The whole North was
in mourning for Lincoln, and even the South soon saw that it had lost
its truest and best friend; and there was a movement of sympathy for
our nation in its great loss throughout the world."
"Yes, mother," said Harold; "and time only increases the esteem of the
world for that great and good man."