. What happened to me . e multi-flora roses and the Lady Bankshire roses andthe golden cluster roses and those great cabbageroses. I have seen the borders of hyacinths inthe springtime and the lilies-of-the-valley bloom-ing in the chimney corner, the beds of violets,the rows of beehives and the lily-beds that thebees knew were theirs, had been planted justfor them. I have stood under the arbor andgathered those strange green looking grapesthat are like the Virginia aristocracy, growingeach one on its own individual stem. I thinkhe called them scuppernongs. I have sat onthat back porch and list
. What happened to me . e multi-flora roses and the Lady Bankshire roses andthe golden cluster roses and those great cabbageroses. I have seen the borders of hyacinths inthe springtime and the lilies-of-the-valley bloom-ing in the chimney corner, the beds of violets,the rows of beehives and the lily-beds that thebees knew were theirs, had been planted justfor them. I have stood under the arbor andgathered those strange green looking grapesthat are like the Virginia aristocracy, growingeach one on its own individual stem. I thinkhe called them scuppernongs. I have sat onthat back porch and listened to the music as hissister Virginia, of whom he was so proud, sangin that glorious voice he told me about, and Ihave swung in this old swing here while themoon and I watched and waited for the old catto die. So I wanted to see the place. I, listening, wondered who he could be, till hefinished and then he said: I am Abraham Lincoln. The President! I gasped. No—no,—just Abraham Lincoln: GreorgePicketts old ABRAHAM LINCOLN WHAT HAPPENED TO ME 169 I am George Picketts wife and this is hisbaby, was all I could say. The baby reached out his arms and Mr. Lin-coln took him, a look of tenderness almost divineglorifying that sad face. I have never seenthat expression on any other face. My littleone opened his mouth and insisted upon giv-ing his fathers friend a dewy baby kiss. Ashe handed my baby back to me Mr. Lincolnshook his long hand at him and said: Tell your father, the rascal, that I couldalmost forgive him anything for the sake ofthose bright eyes and that baby kiss. The tones of his deep voice touched all thechords of life to music, and I marveled no moreat my Soldiers love for him even through allthe bitterness of the years. He turned andwent down the steps and out of my life forever,but in my memory that wonderful voice, thoseintensely human eyes, that strong, sad, tenderface have a perpetual abiding place. He seemedto have a cast in his eye that reminded me o
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookpublishernewyorkbrentanos
