ered an address which is said to have been characterized by rare beauty of thought and diction. It is not surprising that one who possessed such ethereal charms as Octavia Walton should have been the recipient of many flattering regards, and that even as Madame LeVert she should still continue to exact adoring homage from the great host of admirers whom she still kept in willing thralldom. More than one sonnet blossomed in the triumphant train of this gifted woman whose career was an Appian Way of conquest; and not the least beautiful of the tributes which her personality inspired was the apostrophe which she drew from the harp of General Mirabeau B. Lamar.

Though Dr. LeVert cared far less for society than for science he fairly adored the woman of genius who bore his name with such an air of queenliness among the royalties, and who requited his affection with an ardor which the deepest devotion alone can feel. He died soon after the war, and Madame LeVert spent the remaining years of her life between New York and Augusta. The beautiful city of the Gulf Coast was no longer the same after the palatial home on Government street ceased to enshrine the brilliant hostess who had been so long the beloved occupant. But it was kindly ordered that this dear old lady of the old regime in whose sweet face the lines of beauty were still distinct should close her days near the old home of the Waltons in her native State; and, though Georgia has produced more than one gifted woman whose genius. suggests the efflorescence of the mountain laurel, yet in view of her manifold accomplishments it is necessary for thought to scale the very highest summit of the Blue Ridge to salute the Magnolia Grandiflora of Georgia womanhood: Octavia Walton LeVert.

W

CHAPTER V.

Josiah Tattnall.

RITTEN high upon the honor-roll of the early commonwealth, like the signature of John Hancock upon the Great Charter of American liberty, is the name of Josiah Tattnall. But the head of the ancient household was an uncompromising old servitor of the king who stubbornly refused to draw his sword against the flag of England. The elder Tattnall, whose Christian name was also Josiah, had been an officer of some repute in the colonial wars and had twice been wounded upon the field of battle. Consequently, though he had taken no part in the Whig uprising against the British oppression, it was thought that, after the Declaration of Independence had been signed and the province had joined the free sisterhood of States, he would be ready to espouse the sacred cause; and upon this belief, he was offered the command of the forces raised for the defense of Savannah. But the old man shook his head. He appreciated the compliment. It was an honor which enlisted his deepest gratitude. He also felt that the measures of Parliament called for redress. But he could not assail the crown of the Georges. Still, upon the other hand, he was unwilling to wage war with his own flesh and blood.

It was an embarrassing situation for an old fighter whose passion for arms impelled him toward the front. But Georgia was no place for neutrals. The issue of battle had been joined. If he remained it was to fight either for her or against her. Accordingly he prepared to quit the province.

Every Georgian who has wandered through the dreamy paths of beautiful Bonaventure Cemetery, near Savannah, will appreciate in some measure the sacrifice which the staunch old royalist was called upon to make when he suffered the ordeal of expatriation, on the eve of the American Revolution. This ideal resting-place which is now swept by trailing mosses and sentineled by ancient Druids centuries old, was the Arcadian home of Josiah Tattnall. It came to him through the Mulrynes, into which family he had married. He had laid off the walks. He had planted the live oaks. He had beautified the spot until it brooked no rival among all the beauteous homesteads around Savannah. It had furnished the scenes of his courtship in the ardent days when he went a-wooing. It had been the home of his maturer heart-beats. He had hoped to make it the asylum of his old age and the sepulchre of his entombed ashes. But the time had come for the elder Tattnall to lift the Byronic sigh of separation. He was about to go into exile, perhaps never to return. And the supreme test of the old hero's devotion to the royal house was well sealed in the groan which escaped his lips when, looking backward through the mulberries, he tried to say, amid broken sobs: "Bonaventure, fare thee well."

Too young to appreciate fully the underlying pathos of

man.

the situation, was the lad of tender years who accompanied the exile upon this unwelcome departure from Georgia. Liverpool, in England, became the port of the voyagers; but, after placing young Josiah in school at Eton, under the care of an uncle, the elder Tattnall recrossed the Atlantic ocean to Nassau, in New Providence, where he continued to reside for an extended period. It looked as if young Josiah were destined to become an EnglishBut such was not the decree of the fates. The arena chosen for his future achievements was on the opposite side of the intervening waters. The biographical accounts are meager. But young Josiah Tattnall appears to have given his guardian uncle some trouble upon the score of his future sphere of activities. Consequently an academic career of only eighteen months at Eton was followed by an apprenticeship at sea. To prevent the boy's return to Georgia, the uncle succeeded in getting him a place on board a man-of-war. The special interest of the captain was enlisted on behalf of the youthful novice and the vessel was soon making rapid headway toward distant India.

But futile are the attempts of men to arrest the looms of destiny. The spindles continue to unwind the threads in accordance with the preconcerted plan and the wheels receive no set-back. Fate is like Alexander: it always conquers. Most of the members of the crew proved to be Americans. Mutinies followed. The malcontents were transferred from ship to ship. The younger Tattnall was among the number. On board one of the vessels which bore the British flag, he submitted the patriotic cause to the issue of the sword's point; and, in the duel, his antagonist was wounded. Without the knowledge either of his uncle or of his father, the lad procured some money

through his godfather, who had once been in Savannah, but now lived in England, and he managed, with the help of this small bounty, to work his way to America.

Penniless and friendless, young Josiah Tattnall at last reached the mouth of the Savannah River. Going ashore upon the upper side, he traveled through South Carolina on foot and finally crossed into Georgia at Perrysburg. Here obtaining definite information, he hastened at once to join the army of General Wayne at Ebenezer. But it was too late to take any part in the struggle which was now about to end. Terms were already under consideration, looking toward the evacuation of Savannah. Governor Wright was soon to sail for England. However, the youthful outcast had returned to the home of his ancestors. He had given proof of the patriotic impulse which had brought him hither. He could yet retrieve the fortunes of his family; and, full of the ardor known only to the youth of eighteen years, he stood upon the threshold of what was soon to prove an almost unparalleled career of achievement.

Despite the Toryism of the elder Tattnall, the Revolutionary blood of the youthful patriot was considered in no wise attainted, and he was rapidly promoted in the military service of the State until he attained the rank of brigadier-general. He undoubtedly possessed the true mettle of the soldier, and it was the most tantalizing caprice of fate to be denied the privilege of drawing his sword in the great struggle for independence. But he gave marked evidence of his soldiership in occasional sallies against the Indians. He was also called upon in 1786