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Updated: June 7, 2025
He talks with the female visitors, remarking on Ellen Jewett's person and dress to them, he having "spared no expense in dressing her; and all the ladies say that a dress never set better, and he thinks he never knew a handsomer female." He goes to and fro, snuffing the candles, and now and then holding one to the face of a favorite figure.
That was in Maryland, however, north of the Potomac and, after we had crossed into Virginia, Jewett's father succeeded in finding the body of his son and performed the sad duty of giving it proper sepulture. All the members of the field and staff of the regiment have been mentioned, except Quartermaster Charles H. Patten and Commissary Jacob Chapman. The latter soon resigned.
Miss Jewett wrote of the shadows of memorable events. Once upon a time, her stories all remind us, there was an heroic cast to New England. In Miss Jewett's time only the echoes of those Homeric days made any noise in the world at least for her ears and the ears of most of her literary contemporaries.
The notes are not many which this simple music sounds, but they have a Sabbath tone, mostly, and win the listener to kindlier thoughts and better moods. The art is at its highest in some strong sketch of Rose Terry Cooke's, or some perfectly satisfying study of Miss Jewett's, or some graphic situation of Miss Wilkins's; and then it is a very fine art.
We then marched off into a piece of woods and, the regiment having all reunited, learned those who had not known of it before of Jewett's death. His body was still where it fell. The suggestion was made to go and recover it. Weber and his men made an attempt to do so, but by that time the enemy had come up and taken possession of the field.
If "A Marsh Island" shows no distinct advance upon Miss Jewett's earlier work, it is yet a pretty, artistic product which delicately emphasizes the author's best points and gives us her distinct charm without any waste of effects. Her feeling for rural life and her clear comprehension of rural people were never better displayed than in this little story.
Major Jewett's work became more important as the great struggle went on. Other lines of railway fell into the hands of the Yankees, and all of them in that division of the army came under his control. They were good for him, for they made him a very busy man and kept him from panting for the firing-line.
One comfortable matron, in a cinnamon silk, was just such a figure as that in the Miss Wilkins's story where the bridegroom fails to come on the wedding-day; but, as I say, they made me think more of Miss Jewett's people.
I wish it were to you, Lieutenant; I'd keep my own he'll be all right in a day or two and give you Captain Jewett's." "Well, just for a day or two, do that, while I lend my horse to a friend." I had already asked myself what was to become of Charlotte Oliver while the Harpers were preempting her little wagon, and now I took keen alarm. "Why, Lieutenant, I shall be glad!
The road was one of the oldest and poorest in the state, and one of the very first chartered to build west from Chicago. It was sorely in need of a young, vigorous, and experienced man, and Colonel Jewett's ability was not long in finding recognition. Step by step he climbed the ladder until he reached the General Managership. Here his real work began.
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