ami University, was not a dream of delight to the
poetic soul of the young girl, for Scotch Calvinism, perhaps more
rigid than the Calvinism of Calvin himself, which did not admit of
fitting square dogmatic nails into round theological holes, insured a
succession of oft-recurrent tempests for the family, as well as for
the good doctor. The one letter which remains from the correspondence
of Margaret Junkin at that time, though indicating a buoyant nature on
the part of the writer, gives a sad view of financial difficulties,
her mother's fragility, uncongenial climate, and the persecution
directed against her father. Some of these misfortunes were obviated
by a return to Easton, Dr. Junkin having been recalled to the
presidency of Lafayette College, from which he had withdrawn a few
years before because of a disagreement with the trustees on a question
of government.

Not long afterward the failing health of Margaret's young brother
Joseph led Dr. Junkin to accept the presidency of Washington College,
Lexington, Virginia, in the hope that change of climate might bring
health to the invalid. Thus in the fall of 1848 the step was taken
which made Margaret Junkin one of our Southern poets, devoted to her
adopted State and a loved and honored daughter thereof.

On the arrival in Lexington a younger member of the family wrote:

My first memory of Lexington is of arriving, at midnight, in a
December snowstorm, after a twelve hours' ride from Staunton in
an old stage coach. This was before there was a turnpike or plank
road, and the ups and downs we had that night made an impression
on our bodies as well as our minds.

A later memory gives us a pretty glimpse of daily life as it went on
in that charming little Virginia town:

From the time we went to Lexington we all used to take delightful,
long rambles, rather to the surprise of Lexington people, who were
not quite so energetic. We found the earliest spring flowers on the
"Cliffs," and "Cave Spring" was a favorite spot to walk to (several
miles from town) stopping always for a rest at the picturesque
ruins of old "Liberty Hall."

"Liberty Hall" was the name of an old school building outside of
Lexington.

Writing reproachfully to a friend for not coming to visit her,
Margaret tells of the "sweet pure air of our Virginia mountains," of
the morning "overture of the birds," "such as all the Parodis and
Linds and Albonis in the