THE SUNDAY STAR

VOL. 3. The Public Library, Washington, D. C. NOVEMBER 13, 1921. 150.

THE RAMBLER MAKES ANOTHER TRIP TO FAMOUS CHANTILLY BATTLEFIELD

It is time to go back to chantilly, a region of tragic memories and historic associations, where we spent a few minutes Sunday before last, and the Rambler hopes that is that brief visit you found some facts and thoughts to entertain you. at the close of the "ramble" last week it was written: Please understand that although another Chantilly story is [...] you, you will be served with another Vansville story wherein you will be told such about Gen. Ammon and Admiral Ammen, and something about the Vans if I can find it" It is very easy to contract that as a promise and the Rambler finds it easier to keep that promise than some he has heretofore made in these anneal. And this promise being easy to keep, will be kept.

In going back to Chantilly we will skip over the three and half miles of hard pike rough along its unimproved sections, that lie between the village of Fairfax Court House and the hamlet of Pender. It is an interesting road, and there are many things along it which the Rambler has not seen and some that he has seen, but has not told about, but we will make our star today from pender, a hamlet consisting chiefly of Gheen's general store. Tom Kidwell's blacksmith shop, a Methodist church where the Rev. Mr. Thrasher expounds doctrine and lays the law down to sinners, and a little frame schoolhouse where Miss Tracy Gaines reigns. And in writing that last line the Rambler recognizes the relationship between the words "reign" regina" and "reine."

At the crossroad store you can be supplied with most things that you may need for this journey or any other. You can buy gasoline, cigars, gingersnaps, harness, sirup, vinegar and coal oil, salt, pepper boots and overalls hats, caps, plowshares, spools of thread, a paper of pins, pop, cooking vessels, candies neckties, pickles, looking-glasses, canned tomatoes, etc., and the "etc. covers a multitude of things.

At Tom kidwell's blacksmith shop you can have repairs made to an automobile or a [...], to your thrashing machine, cook stove or bedsteads and you can have the old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket that hangs by the well, rebound. Old buggies can be made to look and run as well as they did thirty-seven years ago. Sewing machines can be adjusted. Joe can put a new handle on the frying pan a new bottom a the skillet or a new spout on the coffee pot. He can shoe a mule without stimulating any sentiment of antagonism in the mule, and a number of very respectable horses in the neighborhood have said to the Rambler, "we always go to Tom [...] for our shoes, They fit well look neat and wear about as well as any shoes can be expected to wear in these days though I will say that Tom has never put any imitation iron in our shoes—that is, so far as I have found out."

In the little church that stands among the oaks at the crossroad the reverend guide, who is stationed there on Sunday will point out the road to salvation and to Kingdom Come, although it is a straight road it is said to be hard and narrow. There is some difficulty in following it, though there are [...] along the way. There is not as much traffic on it as an the wide and smooth auto roadway which passes Pender on its way from Alexandria Annandale and Fairfax Court House to Chantilly village and [...]. Quite a number of persons filled with good intentions, make inquiries at the little church, get directions as to how to travel and read the guide book but the straight and narrow way does not seem to hold out allurements to many of them except in an academic way. Of those who do take up their pack and set out on this old-fashioned and unimproved trail with pious hopes of making camp in Elysian fields or of climbing the mountains of the sky, a good many become tired and discourages and fall by the wayside. However, if you want to explore this straight and narrow, and lonely path you can get all the necessary information on Sunday at the little frame church among the oaks at Pender.

It was my purpose to write a picturesque description of the scenic beauty and the springs of pure cold water along this straight and narrow way—not of course, from my own observation, but merely from hearsay—but just as I started on that part of the story a small and bright red devil hopped on the end of my fountain pen and he compels the to write at his dictation what follows:

"There are many stony places and pitfalls along that straight and narrow way, while along the primrose path of dalliance, which is kept in a [...] state of repair by the public authorities, there are plenty of electric lights, hostels theaters dancing pavilions, chop-suey factories, near-beer refectories, garages, gas stations and jewelry shops and also several extremely fashionable churches where sermons are delivered in cultured language and cultured accent on such felicitous texts as 'Christianity Made Easy; or How to Follow Jesus Without Any Cost of Inconvenience to Yourself."

The little devil, dressed in scarlet that glows as gorgeously at fresh paint or the lips and paws of a fair girl, bids me to tell you that the Primrose path of Dalliance is his favorite road, that he travels on it himself and that he recommends it to all tourists who are passing through this world. On this crowded high way there are no speed restrictions and the sky is the limit. The company he tells me, is exceedingly good and the road is patronized by the most eminent people and the most prosperous bootleggers of our city.

The crossroads at Pender are the Little River turnpike and an old dirt road which comes from many places in the northern part of Fairfax county, passes Pender and goes on crookedly south from that celebrated hamlet until it joins the Warrenton turnpike about two miles from Pender. It is called the Millian road after an old and through the lands of the region, and through the lands of this family the road runs a part of its course. It may be that the road got its name because some member of the Millan Family many years ago save the and on which it was laid down, but on that point the Rambler is speculating. The Millan homestead stands far back from the road in the shelter and embrace of a beautiful grave about a mile south of Pender and sometimes the Rambler will do himself and his readers the honor of making a visit there.

The dirt road is narrow, because the woods, and bushery—if you will permit the word—have closed in on the wheeltracks so that in many places your buggy hubs, if you are riding, brush the leaves of [...] sweet gum, sour gum, spice bush, young pines and infant oaks, A few feet back from this margin of wild shrubbery and on both sides of the road [...] thick woods of oaks and pines are growing. There is a deep silence in these woods except when the wind sings or how is through the branches of the trees, Perhaps you will hear the cry of a jay bird or a flicker and the rat-tat-tatting of a woodpecker, but even at that you will probably say that these big woods are very quiet, so far away are they from an automobile road or a railroad. When the wind is favorable—that is from the south—you may hear the whistle of a locomotive on the Southern railroad in the neighborhood of Burke's station, Clifton or Manassas but the miles of air through which the sound waves have passed have taken a sharp edge off them and they give you a lulling, dreaming sense.

Two three big farm clearings are along the way. One of these is on the Ballard farm and another on the Millan farm. You are on the battlefield of Chantilly. The Confederates called it the battle of Ox Hill, and a good many readers of these lines will probably think that the Confederates were higher authorities on this subject than their cousins in blue. The Confederates knew their Virginia geography better than the federals, and on this particular field they fought a god deal better than their northern cousins. Ox Hill would seem to be the more righteous name because the woods and fields in which nearly all the killing was done were, and still are, on Ox Hill.

The hamlet of Pender stands on a part of Ox Hill Chantilly was the name given to an extensive grant of land obtained by an early member of the distinguished Turbersville family when the colony of Virginia was young, The ancient Turberville mansion stood near the Little River pike about four miles west of Ox Hill and Pender. Near the old Turberville house was established a post office called Chantilly. It is fine country up there and a very large neighborhood is called Chantilly. A stranger cannot tell when he comes to Chantilly or when he leaves it.

Whether the Turberville tract of Chantilly extended as far east as Pender and included the battlefield of Ox Hill, the Rambler has no means of determining at this moment, but he considers it likely that Ox Hill was a part of the Chantilly tract 250 years ago, At any rate, the battle which was fought on Ox Hill and in its immediate vicinity was called by the Confederates the battle of Ox Fill, white the federals and their historians set it down as the battle of Chantilly. It was the closing engagement of the federals disastrous second Bull Run campaign, and in a way it was a prelude to the invasion of Western Maryland, resulting in the battle of Sharpsburg or Antietam, which yielded no substantial return to the Army of Northern Virginia for its efforts and Its losses. At this distance one can see that Antietam was a Confederate defeat, though Lee fought McClellan to a standstill and retired with good grace. Time was working against the Army of Northern Virginia and to fight and not win a victory and drive it home was a defeat. With time against it and with resources being heaped up on the federal side, it was a Confederate defeat to fight a dawn battle.

Two Sundays ago the Rambler wrote:

Turning south at Pender you will note on the left of the old dirt road a number of earnings set with small houses. On the right is a broad, deep stretch of woods. A quarter of a mile, perhaps it may be a few [...] further than that, you come to the south of the woods and before you are hundreds of acres of farm land, rolling or undulating—that is, filled with gentle rises and ridges and equally gentle vales. With the woods on your right and a few yards before coming to the point where the wood tract and the rolling fields meet is an old and weather-beaten gate that [...] feebly on its rusty hinges. It guards a way that was once a road, but which is now only a trace, a memory a ghost of a road. But it is plain enough for you to follow through the woods. It leads up a very easy slope, and at the southwest edge of the woods a few hundred yards from the gate, you halt. Where you stand in the woods close to their edge and a few feet within a gray rail fence is a little plot of ground bonded by a single rail of galvanized iron pipe imported by ten thick granite posts. Within the plot are two big pieces of granite about two feet wide, a foot and a half thick and three feet [...] as Rambler carries them in his mind. Each of these pieces of granite is as like the other as granite markers can be. They are eight or ten feet apart and set on north face. The west tablet reads: "Major General Philip Kearny Killed on this spot September 1, 1862. The tribute of Kearny's 1st New Jersey Brigade and friends" The other tablet reads: "Here fell Major General Isaac Ingalls [...] with the flag of the republic is his dying grasp, September 1, 1862,"

Against the old rail fence and at a panel that is broken down is a rough white quartz boulder streaked with black. It was picked up in the field just outside the woods and you can find other pieces of quartz there today, but none so large. This quartz boulder was set there many years ago to indicate the tragic spot where Kearny and Stevens fell within a few feet of each other and nearly at the same minute. It was put there by a Confederate soldier, who owns the farm. He is Capt. John Ballard and that historic land was in his wife's family for a good many generations. The comrades of Gen. Kearny expressed a desire to mark and inclose the tragic spot, and Capt. Ballard homestead, about a thousand yards from the deathliness of Kearny and Stevens, is a little book bound in the finest binding and printed from engraved plates. Let me read it to you, It follows:

"Whereas Capt. John N. Ballard. late of Company A, 43d Virginia Cavalry. C.S.A., and Lilly Reid Ballard, his wife, have cheerfully donated the ground upon which the late Maj. Gen Philip Kearny was killed at Chantilly, Va., September 1, 1862 has kept marked the spot to this date, thus showing a generous respect for a brave and gallant foe, as a further indication of that soldiery spirit to the memory of a good soldier, have deeded said tract of land to the representatives of Kearny's First New Jersey Brigade Society without compensation and

"Whereas the committee of the Society of Kearny's First New Jersey Brigade in the performance of their duties came in contact with this Virginia family who by their acts of courtesy and world-known southern hospitality have endeared themselves to said committee, therefore be it resolved that our deep sense of obligation and appreciation are due and are hereby tendered to Capt. John N. Ballard and his estimable wife for their gift of land for the purpose of permanently marking the spot where our brave Kearny fell, and be it further resolved that the willing helpful aid and kindly entertainment rendered to the committee by Capt, Ballard his wife, his amiable daughters, Ella May and Margaret L. and his son James W. Ballard whose valuable legal services were without compensation have made our duties a task of pleasure, the acquaintance with and the recollections of this family will always remain a pleasant memory, and be it further resolved that the grateful and sincere thanks of the Kearny's first New Jersey Brigade be and are hereby, tendered to Capt. John N Ballard, his wife and family for their many acts of kindness and be it further resolved that these resolutions be entered in full upon the minutes of the society and a suitably engrossed copy of the same be sent to Capt John N. Dallard Committee—John W. Bodine, Charles F. Hopkins, Theo W. Alston,"

The circumstances under which the monument to Gen, Stevens was erected by the side of that to Kearny are not known to the Rambler but it is likely that after the donation of land the Kearney and Stevens societies got together and decided to erect like monuments on the plot where Kearny and Stevens were killed.

Gen. pope in his account of the second Bull Run campaign, written many years ago for the Century, tells the story of Chantilly. He said:

"On the morning of the 1st of September I directed Gen. Summer to push a reconnaissance toward Little River pike, which enters the Warrenton turnpike at Fairfax, with two brigades to ascertain if the enemy was making any movement toward our right by that road. The enemy was found moving slowly again toward the right, heavy columns moving along the Little River pike in the direction of Fairfax. This movement had become so developed by the afternoon of that day and was evidently directed to turn out right that I made the necessary disposition of troops to flight a battle between the Little River pike and the road from Fairfax to Centerville, Gen. Hooker was sent early in the afternoon to Fairfax Court House and directed to concentrate all the troops in that vicinity and to push forward to Germantown (Jermantown) with his advance."

Pope tells at considerable length of his disposition of troops, and then says: just before sunset the enemy attacked us toward our right, but were met by Hooker, McDowell and Reno and by Kearny's division of Heintzelman's corps. A very severe action was fought in the midst of a terrific thunderstorm and was only ended by darkness. The enemy was driven back entirely from our front and he did not again renew his attack upon us.

"In this short but severe action the Army lest two officers of the highest capacity and distinction, whose death caused general lamentation in the Army and country. The first was Maj. Gen. Philip Kearny, killed in advance of his division and while commanding it. There were few such officers as Kearny in our own or any other army. In war he was an enthusiast and he never seemed so much at home and so cheerful and confident as in battle. Tall and lithe in figure with a most expressive and mobile countenance and a manner which inspired confidence and zeal in all under his command no one could fail to admire his chivalric bearing and supreme courage.

"Gen Isaac I Stevens, who was killed at the same time and nearly on the same ground, was an officer in many respects contrasted by Kearny. He was short and rather stout, with a swarthy complexion and very bright dark eyes. He was a man of very superior abilities and of marked skill and courage. His extreme political

opinions before the war, ardently as serted, as was his habit in all matters which interested him, made it somewhat difficult for him to secure such a position in the army as one of his capacity might well have expected. The prejudice against him on this account was soon shown to be utterly groundless, for a more zealous and faithful officer never lived His conduct in the battle in which he lost his life and in every operation of the campaign was marked by high intelligence and the coolest courage and his death in front of battle ended too soon a career which [...] have placed him among the [...] officers of the war."

The Stop at a Cross-roads Store—A Little Church Among the Oaks—The Primrose Path and Its Popularity Among Certain Classes—A Road Through the Woods—Engagements Between Confederate and Union Soldiers in Chantilly Neighborhood

John Harry Shannon

interpreter. "he say the Ginkwah wanna talk to Uncle Nels, and—and he bring me present Look"

I looked and gasped, It was some trinket—a girdle made of openwork gold links set with green stones—eme-alds. I should say—and if it was worth anything at all it must have been worth a fortune.

"Hand that here." says I "Now, mister, what does all this lead up to? What's the Ginkwan's little plan, if any?"

The interpreter was right there with the come-back. "It is as I say." he announces, patting himself on the close. "His Royal Highness have viewed the so lovely lady and he is much charmed in his heart, quite much charmed. Yes, So he would speak with her—with him, there."

"I get you so far" says I "Well, what does he wants to marry Miss Inex? Is that it—marry?"

"Ah-h-n! Marry! That is the word I forget," says he.

"Some do," says L "Glad I was able to remind you of it. Well that's a bit sudden of the young man, and I hope he knows exactly what he's joing. They don't always when they are so much charmed in the heart as you put it. Now let's get this straight from the Ginkwah himself. You bat it up to him. Ask him if he's in dead earnest about wanting to marry Inez"

They must speak a kind of shorthand in Kassan, for the interpreter shoots over only a few syllables to the Ginkwah, who Immediately unreels a broad smile and nods violently

"It is so, yes," announces the interpreter. "His Royal Bighness says he would have her for wife—for his head wife."

Eh?" says L [...] my ears "Once more with that last."

"For his chief wife of all" says he, beaming first at me and then at the Ginkwah.

And as soon as I got my breath I caught him by the coat [...] "You mean." says I "that she would rank [...]—above all—all the others?"

"True," says he bowing low.

"Get that Ines?" says I "You'd head the list. But just one thing more, mister; how many would there be—that is when he got his full quota?"

The dapper young man shrugs his shoulders careless. "Who should tell?" says he "His Royal Highest has much riches He can pay for many wives, as many as he wants. But he pay most for her which should be first wife. So I make to tell to her Uncleanness You speak and ask how much he want. Yes?"

But as Uncle Nels was standing there with his mouth open and as Index had turned her back and was sniffling into the [...] it was all left up to me. I hardly knew whether I wanted to snicker or to hit this foreigner whipsnapper over the head with something hard. But he was so frank and friendly about if and the Ginkwah did look so boyish and chummy standing there trying to dope out how the affair was progressing that I did not have the heart even to be rough.

"Listen, old son" says I "You land the Ginkwah out and explain to him that he's made the prize break of his young career. Go have him look up the marriage customs of the U. S. A. in some tick book. He'll find that our young men don't start in at twenty-one to make a collection of wives and that it isn't the proper thing to come right out and offer to buy [...] on the hoof or otherwise. Besides, if he did get [...] over to Kassan and she should find a No. 2 wife being unloaded at the front door she wouldn't do a thing but treat her messy and probably she'd wreck the palace before she got through. No. mister, Inez isn't in the market [...] wife shoppers, and by the red tint spreading up the back of her neck I should guess that it would be much safer for you and His Highest to make a quick exit. This way out Yes, that door. And here! Better take this partial payment trinket along with you"

He wasn't much of an interpreter, but there were some words in the English language that he seemed quite familiar with. Anyway, he took the Ginkwah by the arm and led him out promptly, while I tried to sooth Inez from drifting into the only real crying fit I ever knew her to indulge in. Whether it was because she was mad or sorry, I couldn't make out.

And yet when this package came by messenger next afternoon I couldn't insist that she send it back. It was a ruby pendant hung on a curious chain of woven gold thread. With it was the card of the Ginkwah of Kaasan, and something scribbled on the back—a word or so, just as easy to read as if a cockroach had crawled through the ink and then left his footprints.

"Probably," I suggests "It means that if you ever change your mind [...] find him ready to start a new [...] with you as No. 1"

"Huh" says Inez. "Anyway, [...] think I'm too fat. He was a [...] too."

[...] her list him in the past [...] it was finished. Also [...] admit that when it comes [...] Inez has got it all over think! She might have [...]Ginkwahess of Kassan.

[...] 1921, by Ford.)