The
twilight song of birds came to us from the maple trees as we
passed, or broken phrases were just audible from the distant
meadows. It seemed that plenty, purity and peace had always
reigned here and it was with a feeling of rare delight we
approached the charming Wayside Inn, peeping from its gracefully
overhanging elms. After procuring rooms for the night we went in
search of the spot where Barbara Frietchie lived. The day had
been extremely oppressive, but since the shower we were enjoying
a cool breeze that was stirring the leaves and rippling the
grass with its purifying breath. Slowly we made our way along
the streets of the town until we arrived in front of the spot
where Old Glory had been flaunted over the Confederate troops.
We thought of that day when,
"Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,
Flapped in the morning wind; the sun
Of noon looked down and saw not one."
But, -
"Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bowed by her three score years and ten;
Bravest of all in Frederick town
She took up the flag the men hauled down."
We proceeded from this spot to the beautiful Mount Olivet
cemetery. Here we were thrilled anew, for near the entrance we
beheld the splendid monument erected in memory of Francis Scott
Key. This, aside from its significance, is one of the finest
statues our country affords. The grace and beauty of that
figure, as if still pointing toward his country's glorious
emblem, causes the heart of the beholder to swell with emotion.
We seemed to catch from those lips the grave question: "O! Say,
does the Star Spangled Banner yet wave, o'er the land of the
free, and the home of the brave?" Something in this monument
made us think of the fine statue erected to the memory of Vauban
in Verdun.
We passed the grave of Barbara Frietchie over which waved the
flag she so dearly loved, and in a twinkling came the answer to
the eager questioner of bronze, as the west wind caught the
lovely banner and waved it, oh, so gently, over this hallowed
spot. A robin repeated his evening song softly from a maple near
it, and a mourning dove began his meditative cooing. Slowly we
left the secluded place where the hero and heroine slumber and
returned to the Wayside Inn, while myriads of stars began to
sparkle and gleam on the vast field of blue above, reminding us
that "ever the stars above look down on the stars below in
Frederikctown."
What a bound our hearts gave as the gleam of the massive dome
met our sight. A crowd of old associations thronged through the
galleries of memory to see printed there, radiant and bright
with many a glorious page of American history, the dome of the
Capitol at Washington.
