A large and beautiful mound standing in the precincts of the
original plat of Columbus, Ohio, was demolished, the clay taken
therefrom and used as the material for the bricks with which the
first State House was built. Here where a thousand years came
and went and the Indian warrior reverently spared the last
resting place of these unrecorded dead, another people reared
their legislative halls out of their mouldering sepulchres and
crumbling bones. O, American Nation, with your wonderful
civilization of today, it is well to pause here amid the "steam
shriek" career of your harried life with all its getting and
spending, to contemplate the ruin of even this once consecrated
piece of ground.
Here as you watch, the swift winged swallows dart from their
homes in the steep bank of the stream; the kingfisher sounds his
discordant rattle and hangs poised in mid air as he gazes into
the waters below; the woodbine like a staunch friend still
clings round the oak or hangs out its crimson banner in autumn;
the meadowlark walks sedately on the vast coils of the serpent
calling, "Spring o' the year," or as we fancied, "they are not
here," as he did on that first morning. Man, yes, nations pass
away and are forgotten, yet the spirit of life is ever
perpetuated in a thousand new and lovely forms. At times we are
touched by the fluttering of the maple leaves as if we read a
mournful prophecy. Even now the petals of the wood rose are
lying around us and we see signs where earlier blossoms have
faded. Yet will they never bloom again ? Men may return to dust
from whence they sprung, but out of the mould will rise new
blossoms to make glad the earth, and while some other nation
shall wander over the ruins and tread with solemn step over the
resting place of those who now wander here, they too shall
listen to the liquid notes of the wood thrush through the hushed
aisle of some shadowy forest and also learn that nothing dies.
Here crowning the summits of these ancient mounds of an older
race of tillers of the soil dwell the peaceful American farmers
in their comfortable rural homes all unmindful of that other
race who toiled here. How well the secrets of the past are
guarded! "Try as we might we could not roll hack the flight of
time, even by the aid of ancient history, by whose feeble light
we were able to see but dimly the outlines of the centuries that
lie back of us; beyond is gloom soon lost in night. It is hidden
by a present veil that only thickens as the years roll on."
The encroaching days of the Red men and the ravages of time, as
the centuries came and went, have affected but not obliterated
these ancient mounds. The vandal hand of conquering man has
destroyed or hid from sight many of the monumental works of this
primitive people. But there yet remain many mournful ruins here
in Ohio which cannot fail to impress us with a sense of a
vanished past.
"To think of our own high state of civilization is to imagine
for this nation an immortality. We are so great and strong that
surely no power can remove us. Let us learn humility from the
past; and when, here and there, we come upon some reminder of a
vanished people, trace the proofs of a teeming population in
ancient times, and recover somewhat of a history as true and
touching as any that poets sing, let us recognize the fact that
nations as well as individuals pass away and are forgotten."
"There is the moral of all human tales;
'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past.
First Freedom, and then glory - when that fails,
Wealth, vice, corruption, - barbarian at last,
And history with its volume vast,
Hath but one page."
(footnote NOTE. Many of the quotations given in the above are to
be found in "Allan's History of Civilization." We are also
indebted to Mr. Randall, State Secretary of the Ohio
Archaeological Society, for material used.)
THE SHENANDOAH VALLEY
Shenandoah, "the Daughter of Stars," as the Indians have called
this lovely valley, lies in the northwestern part of Virginia
between the Blue Ridge mountains on the east and the Alleghanies
on the west, beginning near Staunton and extending in a
northeastern direction to the Potomac Water Gap at Harpers
Ferry. Through it runs what was once known as the "Great Valley
Pike" and which is now part of the National Highway. Not only
its incomparable scenery but its many thrilling campaigns of
historical significance make this valley the Mecca for thousands
of tourists. It has been the stage of vast scenic beauty on
which the bloody drama of war has so often been enacted. How
many and varied have been its actors! How sanguine and gruesome
the part they played!
"Many and thrilling were the Indian massacres that occurred
here; it knew the horrors of the French and Indian War; from it
during the Revolution Morgan conducted his vigorous operations
against the British; last but not least, it was the scene of
Stonewall Jackson's brilliant "Valley Campaign" and Sheridan's
Ride made famous by Thomas Buchanan Read.
"What stirring campaigns this broad and beautiful plain,
stretching from the foot of the Blue Ridge toward the sea, has
known! How like a vast citadel, this Old Dominion above the
other confederate states to guard their capital! The parallel
rivers made a water barrier on the north where the Federals were
compelled to wade to victory; while the western front, a high
range of the Blue Ridge, stretched along the sky like a vast
wall, its purple ramparts frowning down in defiance, or the
nearer hills rising impressively up from the plain, forming in
the valley ways between well protected avenues for invading the
North." (footnote Shenandoah Valley - Pond.) Ages before any
battles transpired here, Nature threw up these beautiful
fortifications and arranged the field of battle.
