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The Daily Dispatch: October 1, 1861., [Electronic resource], The maritime force of Spain. (search)
and courtesy which was imitated in the social life of that period. Here, with Spottswood for the hero, are laid most of the scenes of Dr. Caruthers' interesting novel of the "Knights of the Golden Horseshoe"--a story founded on an incident of his Administration — and no story, I am sure, has a sturdier hero than this remarkable old soldier. This house descended through many hands till the time of the Revolution, when it was known as the "Moore House," a name which it still bears, from a widow Moore, who at that time owned it. In the preparations and progress of the siege it became Washington's headquarters, and one of its ample rooms is still shown as the place where the "articles of capitulation and surrender" were drawn up by Lieutenant-Colonel Laurens, and the signatures affixed by the British and the allied commissioners. Fire, the ruthless destroyer of too many of the valued antiquities of Virginia, has spared the "Moore House," although it is built of wood. Time, too, has t
The Daily Dispatch: October 1, 1861., [Electronic resource], Sudden death. (search)
Melancholy event. --Our community says the Charlestown, Va., Free Press, of Thursday, was greatly shocked at the intelligence of the death of Mr. Lawrence Lee Berry, of Charlestown, son of the Rev. R. T. Berry, aged twenty-two years. He was a member of Capt Moore's "Botts' Grays," and was shot on Saturday morning last near Munson's Hill, whilst on picket duty, by some of the Federal fiends who stealthily approached him. He received two wounds, one in the thigh and the other in the right breast, causing instant death. Mr. B. was an estimable youth, and gave much promise of usefulness. To his bereaved father, (who was absent and was deprived even of a last look before his body was committed to mother earth,) and his affectionate relatives, the heartfelt sympathies of our citizens are extended. Mr. B.'s body was brought to town on Sunday afternoon, and on Tuesday afternoon interred in the old Presbyterian burying-ground. We learn that the two wretches who killed Mr. B. met t