POE--How can so strange and fine a genius and so sad a life be expressed and compressed in one line? LORD TENNYSON (_From letter in Poe Memorial Vol., 1877_) _Robert Edward Lee born, 1807_ _Edgar Allan Poe born, 1809_ _Georgia secedes, 1861_ January Twentieth No truth is lost for which the true are weeping, Nor dead for which they died. FRANCIS O. TICKNOR January Twenty-First The following lines are remarkable in that they represent a boy's estimate of Stonewall Jackson before the war between the States. They were written by William Fitzhugh Lee when a cadet under Jackson at the Virginia Military Institute:-- Like some rough brute that roams the forest wild, So rude, uncouth, so purely Nature's child, Is "Hickory," and yet methinks I see The stamp of genius on his brow; and he, With his mild glance and keen, but quiet eye, Can draw forth from the secret recess where they lie Those thoughts and feelings of the human heart Most virtuous, good, and free from guilty art. There's something in his very mode of life So accurate, steady, void of care and strife, That fills my heart with love for him who bears His honors meekly and who wears The laurels of a hero! This is a fact, So here's a heart and hand for "Jack!" _Stonewall Jackson born, 1824_ January Twenty-Second Wherein, then, lay his strength, and what was the secret of his influence over all this land? I answer in one word--character. And what is meant by character? Courage? Yes; courage of his opinions, and physical courage as well; for he had a Briton's faith in pluck. Pride of race? In a limited sense, yes. Honesty? The question is almost an insult. Love of truth? Yes, undying love of it. GEORGE W. BAGBY ("_The Old Virginia Gentleman_") January Twenty-Third I reckon hit's well we wuz all set free, I s'pose dat's de way folks wuz meant ter be, But I kain't see w'y dey's no manners lef' Jes' kase dey happens ter own deyse'f. I dunno rightly how ol' I is, Hit mought be eighty, I reckon 'tis, Yit I nuver gone now'ers, I tells you true, But I tucken my manners an' breedin', too. ANNE VIRGINIA CULBERTSON January Twenty-Fourth Dem sassy young niggers, dey plum' disgrace De res' uv de' 'spectable cullud race. Dey got dey books, dey kin read an' write, But dey dunno 'nough fer to be perlite. I kain't see how dey gwine git erlong, Hit seem lak sump'n have done gone wrong. I gits wo' out wid'em, dat's de fac', But I orter mek 'lowance fer how dey ac', 'Kase de times an' de doin's is changed a lot, An' dey ain' had de raisin' dat I done got. Dar's nuffin lef' me but lookin' on Twel me an' de ol'-time ways is gone. ANNE VIRGINIA CULBERTSON January Twenty-Fifth