A Clara Barton paternal ancestor immigrated to America from Lancashire, England, about twelve years after the landing of _The Mayflower_. Since that date a direct descendant of his has participated in every war, by this country.
Our muskets were of cedar wood With ramrods bright and new;
With bayonets forever set, And painted barrels, too.
We shouldered arms, we carried arms, We charged the bayonet; And woe unto the mullen stalk That in our course we met!
The armies played havoc with each other, had fearful encounters and, what seemed to our young minds then, suffered disastrous results. Camps, regiments, brigades, military terms, she said, thus became familiar to her as the most ordinary matters of home.
Is it warm in that green valley, Vale of childhood, where you dwell? Is it calm in that green valley, Round whose bowers such great hills swell? Are there giants in the valley— Giants leaving footprints yet? Are there angels in the valley? Tell me—I forget.
In my home here at Oxford, we would listen with intense interest to the story of her early years, to childhood and girlhood, and to scenes and events in her old home on the hillside. Clara Barton, by her shining example to our children and our children’s children, has left a rare legacy to the town of her birth.
MRS. A. L. JOSLYN—In _Clara Barton In Memoriam_.
Bucephalus was calmed, and subdued, by the presence of Alexander and became his favorite war-horse.
My arms, my arms. My horse; come quick, my horse——. JOAN OF ARC.
My brother David was the “Buffalo Bill” of all that surrounding country.
My father was a lover of horses, one of the first in the vicinity to introduce blooded stock.
The first horses imported into the United States were brought to New England in 1629. Surviving the ocean voyage were one horse and seven mares. Oxen being used for all farm work, horses did not come into general use until one hundred years afterwards.
Joan of Arc, Clara Barton and Florence Nightingale was each an expert horsewoman and each made use of her skill in horsemanship, in war.
Like many other country girls, Clara Barton was fond of horseback riding. When twelve years of age, on one occasion, she ran away from home to go for a ride. She came down stairs quietly and slipped out for a ride on her favorite black horse.