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Interesting Incident--Lieut. Gen. Winfield Scott.

A correspondent in this city communicates the following:

As I passed through the public square to-day a column of the Louisiana Zouaves marched in, and wheeling into line before the Equestrian Statue of Washington, presented arms, and stood for a while immovable as statues, gazing with reverential respect and awe, the like of which I never saw before, and can scarcely expect to see again, upon that magnificent work of art and sublime memorial of gratitude and affection which his mother Virginia has consecrated to his memory.

It was a noble tribute, simply and unostentatiously manifested by patriotic and gallant Southern hearts, which might have called forth a tearfrom every manly eye that was looking on. My mind involuntarily and rapidly passed from the stalwart, noble band, thus spontaneously rendering unbought and unpurchasable homage before the image of the greatest and the best, to another and a living son of this ancient Commonwealth, who, instead of bearing aloft her flag on the field, is banding the fanatics of the North and ‘"the motley dregs of every distant clime, each blast of anarchy and taint of crime, "’ to trample upon the rights, aye, and to deluge with the blood of her people-- to blot out of existence — the State that gave birth to Washington.

If he and his followers could possess themselves of this metropolis, they might deem it an appropriate and congenial work to dash to pieces the noble form which the affection and reverence of Virginia has endeavored to perpetuate in bronze, and to grind it, like the ashes of the golden calf, into the dust.

While every Southern boy at the Military and Naval Academies of the late United States has promptly returned to his mother State, where is ‘"the great Captain of the age?" ’ Where? And now I ask if it is not a duty solemnly incumbent upon the representatives of the people of Virginia to blot out the name of that man wherever it appears upon their records, as he is blotted out from every true Southern heart?

I remember, just after the close of the War of 1812, exulting, in conversation with a young friend who was himself distinguished in battle, at the brilliant fame of that same man, and expressing admiration of the gallant Col. Miller, who, when asked by the Commanding General if he could take the British battery which was mowing down the ranks of our little army, modestly replied, ‘"I'll try, sir."’ My friend remarked, ‘" Iknow the man, you do not, and this is the difference between them — Scott fought for himself, Miller fought for his country."’ Alas, alas, that this should have proved too true!

Old Virginia.

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