yr friend L. P. Walker
And here is the second letter:—
General Beauregard:—
I send you a design entirely my own for a Confederate flag. I have never been satisfied with the Confederate flag, because it is too much like that of the United States. I am a little girl nine years old and though I have never seen you I feel as though I knew you
Your admirer
Matilda Pope Walker
Daughter of the Secretary of War
Richmond, Virginia. Sept. 14.
I feel that I must return for a moment to Lincoln. Although I have letters of the greatest historical import not only from the martyr President himself but from nearly all his generals and members of his cabinet, I prefer the notebook of Surgeon C. S. Taft, who was at Lincoln’s bedside at the time of his death. You can hear in it not only the last tragic heartbeats of one of the truly great characters of all time, but the knell of a soul-stirring epoch. The meagre words that follow, extracted from the notebook, are to me more moving than all the fine writing in the world:—
The wound ceased to bleed or discharge about 5.30 A.M. and from that time the breathing was stertorous but gradually increased in frequency and decreased in strength up to the last breath, which was drawn at 21 minutes and 55 seconds after 7; the heart did not cease to beat until 22′ 10″ past 7; my hand was upon the President’s heart and my eye upon the watch of the Surgeon General who was standing by my side.
The finest character after Lincoln in the whole Civil War was undoubtedly that great gentleman and descendant of gentlemen, Robert E. Lee. From my schooldays I had read of his life of nobility and sorrow. The letter in which he resigned his commission, addressed to General Winfield Scott, who commanded the American Army, has always been to me the highest example of patriotism and the soldier’s ideal credo. The words, “save in defence of my native State, I never desire again to draw my sword,” have been indelibly impressed upon every mind. I know of no letter that I would sooner possess than this, but it was thirty years before I could finally call it my own. I give it here without further comment:—
Arlington, Washington City P. O.
20th April, 1861
Lieut. Gen. Winfield Scott,