"
The motorist will find an ideal road from Baltimore to
Gettysburg. He will see a beautiful and fertile agricultural
country whose well kept homes speak of refinement and prosperity
among the people. It was over this wonderful highway that we
sped while on our way to the famous town.
We entered Gettysburg at nightfall, passing the house where
General Meade had his headquarters. The sky was overcast in the
early part of the evening and now the rain began to fall. It was
too dark to make out the flag as it rose and fell over the
little house. But as we peered through the uncertain light, a
flash of lightning revealed the banner, which at once spoke an
emblematic language too powerful for words. Darkness swallowed
it up again; but we knew that for those stars gleaming on their
field of blue, and for the purification of its white stripes
that had been blackened by slavery, these charming ridges about
us had been washed in the blood of thousands of our fair land.
We had to detour on account of the repair of sewers. Red
lanterns warned the traveler of danger, but it seemed as if they
spoke not of the dangers of the present but of those graver
dangers that once had been. We spent the night at the Eagle
Hotel. The rain continued to fall and by its soothing patter on
the leaves and roof above us we were ushered into the land of
dreams.
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