by John McElroy
CHAPTER IV.
BATTLE OF DOLINSBURG.--HEROIC CONDUCT OF COL. TOM ANDERSON --REPORTED DEAD.--HIS WIFE REFUSES TO BELIEVE THE REPORT.
"There was speech in their dumbness, language in their very gesture, they looked as they had heard of a world ransomed, or one destroyed, a notable passion of wonder appeared in them; but the wisest beholder, that knew no more but seeing could not say, if the importance were joy or sorrow; but in the extremity of the one it must needs be."--Shakespeare
The next morning the march was resumed. At an early hour the whole armywas in motion on different roads with the general understanding that thecommand would close in line around the west side of the fortress thatafternoon. The weather being very disagreeable for marching, there wasdelay on the roads, but, finally, late in the evening the army commencedclosing in and forming its line. The centre was commanded by GeneralSmote; the left, resting north, on the river, commanded by GeneralWaterberry, and the right, resting on an almost impassable slough,connecting with the river, commanded by General McGovern. In moving intoposition the place was found to be well protected by a heavy abatis andchevaux-de-frise, from point to point, above and below the fortress.This seemed impassable, and the enemy, seeing our army closing in aroundthem, kept up a terrible fire on our advancing columns, causing us verysevere loss in getting into position. It was at a late hour in the night(when our lines were only partially formed) that our army rested, asbest as they could, in the snow and sleet; but not a murmur washeard. The next morning our lines were advanced to the front and theimpediments removed as much as possible; though a severe and deadlyfire was poured upon our men most of the day. Late in the afternoon anassault was ordered in the centre, and a bloody affair it was; againand again our brave fellows moved on the works, but were as often drivenback with severe loss. About 'o'clock Gen. Silent came riding alongwith an orderly by his side, his staff having been sent in differentdirections with orders. He came up to where Col. Anderson was sittingon his horse, watching the engagement in the centre. Gen. Silent, afterpassing the compliments of the day, said to the Colonel:
"'Your engagement at Snake Creek (that being the name of the creek wherethe Colonel met the enemy the day before) was a rather brilliant affairas I learn it.'
"'Yes,'said the Colonel; 'it was my first attempt at commanding in abattle, but we had the best of it.'
"'Yes,' said the General; 'and now I want to see if you can do as wellhere. I wish you to assault the enemy's works in this low ground on theright, in order to draw some of his forces away from the centre; ourforces are having a hard time of it there.'
"Col. Anderson gave the order at once to prepare for action--knapsacksand blankets were thrown off, and the assaulting column formed. TheGeneral rode away after saying:
"'It is not imperative that you enter their works; but make the assaultas effectual as you can without too great a sacrifice of men.'
"The Colonel looked at the ground over which they must pass and viewedthe works with his glass, but said not one word save to give the command'Forward!' On, on they went, and as they moved under a torrent of leadenhail, men fell dead and wounded at every step; but they went right upto the mouths of the cannon. There they stood and poured volleyafter volley into the enemy, until at last he began to give way, whenre-enforcements came from the centre, as was desired. The Colonel'sforce could stand no longer. Sullenly they fell back to a strip of woodswhen night closed in, and the battle ceased for the day.
"Our lines were much nearer the enemy than in the morning.
"The centre held their ground at last, and all was still, Part of thenight was employed in hunting the dead and wounded. Many were woundedand frozen to death, being left on the ground during the night. Thesuffering in front of Dolinsburg was something almost indescribable--itsnowed, sleeted, hailed and froze during the whole of the night. Thetroops did not sleep, nor did they attempt it; they had to form intosquads and walk around trees all night. No fires could be lighted--theywere so close to the enemy's entrenchments. Just at daylight the sharpsound of their skirmishers was heard. They had concluded to move out onour right and attack us on our flank, and open the way for the escapeof their army. On they came. Our line was soon formed and our musketryopened. During the night one of our batteries had been brought up andgiven position on a slight elevation to the right of Col. Anderson'scentre. The enemy opened furiously on our line, and in a few minutes ourbattery was knocked to pieces and was charged by infantry. Here therewas a bloody conflict; men fell by the score; the snow was reddenedby the blood of both patriots and traitors. The smoke seemed to hoveraround the trees and underbrush, as if to conceal the contending forcesfrom each other. The flame of musketry and the red glare of the cannonslighted up the scene with a lurid tint. Limbs fell from the trees,and the ground was mown as smoothly of weeds and underbrush as if bya scythe. Our right was under orders to hold their position at allhazards. The battle, dreadful and bloody, continued. By degrees thetroops on the right of Col. Anderson gave way and abandoned the field.At noon but one regiment besides Col. Anderson's withstood the enemy onthe right of our line. They were terribly cut up, and having no food,were nearly exhausted. Their ammunition was growing scarce, none havingbeen brought up to this point for their supply. In this conditionthey stood like a wall, under the most galling fire of artillery andmusketry, their comrades falling like grass before the sickle. Atlength the enemy's cavalry appeared in the rear; not in line, but as ifobserving the battle with a view of taking advantage at the proper timeof any mishap that might occur in our lines. Col. Anderson seeing this,and feeling that his command was now in great peril, conceived the ideaof a bayonet charge on the line to his front, and so ordered it.
Col. Anderson Wounded 059]
"His line moved forward, in a double-quick, and with a shout drove theenemy, who was stampeded by the impetuous assault. The Colonel, beingon foot, led his men right up to the works, the enemy having been driveninside. As he leaped forward to them, with sword in hand, calling tohis men, 'Come on, my boys,' he fell, as they then thought, mortallywounded. The enemy seeing this made a fresh assault, and drove ourforce back. Col. Anderson was left on the field supposed to be dead. Thebattle raged all along the line. Our right was driven and forced underthe brow of a hill. While under this partial shelter a portion of theenemy made their escape through this unoccupied part of the field.At this time our left made a successful assault upon the works of theenemy, capturing their outer line and forcing them into their morecontracted lines but more strongly fortified. The centre had madeseveral ineffectual assaults and had lost in killed and wounded veryheavily. Re-enforcements came to the right, and a renewal of the assaultall along the line was ordered. To the work of blood and death the menagain came forward with a heroic will, and for about an hour the battlewas like the long roll on a thousand drums. The air was filled withshells; the heavens were lighted up as if meteors were flying in alldirections; the rumbling of artillery was heard as batteries changedposition, and the loud commands of excited officers. On and on movedthe serried masses. As the lines opened by the dropping of the dead andwounded, 'close up, boys,' could be heard. It was now about dusk. Onegrand charge all along the line, one grand shout, 'up with the flag,boys!'--all was over, the fortress was ours, and the Stars and Stripesfloated over Dolinsburg. That night, however, was a night of gloom andsorrow in our army. Gen. McGovern was killed in the last assault. Gen.Smote was badly wounded and died a few days later. Gen. Waterberry,a brave and gallant officer, fell a few weeks later at the battle ofPittskuk."
"I remember when Waterberry fell, poor fellow," said Col. Bush.
"Yes, many a poor fellow lost his life in those two battles. We captureda great number of prisoners. Gen. Bertram surrendered. Many of hisleading officers were killed and wounded, and some made their escapethrough the opening in our line on the right, where Col. Anderson fellwounded."
Dr. Adams asked: "Uncle Daniel, did you ever hear of him? Was his bodyfound?"
"Yes, Doctor, and the story of that and his recovery is a very singularone. Peter searched diligently for him, but failed to find him; thisdistressed him so much that he decided to ask for a leave and returnhome, so as to stay a short time with the family and do what he couldto help us bear the sorrow of the Colonel's supposed death. After ourgrief-stricken family could have the patience to listen to his recitals,he gave us the story just as I have told it. Mrs. Anderson, althoughstricken down with grief, insisted that her husband was not killed,or he would have been found among the slain; that a man of such markedfeatures would have been noticed by some one who did the interring. TheCaptain insisted that there could be no doubt but that he was killed.Time passed on, but little Mary would continually ask, 'If her papawas dead?' 'Was he shot?' Who had killed him?' and a thousand otherquestions which constantly kept her mother thinking of the Colonel'sfate, and soon she determined to go in search of him. Peter was leavingfor his regiment, now under command of Colonel Rice. Col. Andersonhaving been reported as killed, Rice had been promoted Colonel, andthe regiment had moved with the army in a southwesterly direction someconsiderable distance from Dolinsburg. Still there had been troops leftthere, so that it was perfectly safe to visit the battle-field, therebeing no rebel force in that part of the country at that time. I agreedto go with her, and made all the arrangements necessary for the family;the farm of Col. David having been looked after, and our family-schoolreorganized under Jennie, which had become demoralized by the news ofCol. Anderson's death. In the meantime we had heard from Col. David andJames, who were well, and also had letters from Stephen and Henry; bothhad joined the army: Stephen in an infantry regiment from Ohio, where helived, and Henry in a cavalry regiment from Michigan, where he had beenemployed for a time in surveying for a company; so at this time I hadone son left not yet in the army, he being my third son, Jackson, whowas then engaged in railroading in Minnesota. We had not heard from himfor some time, and his mother was sorely troubled, expecting soon tohear of the last of the Lyons being in the army. This, she thought, wasa little more than ought to be required of any one family."
"So say I, Uncle Daniel," spoke up several of the listeners.
"True, true; but our country's demands should be satisfied by hercitizens, no matter what they may be. Well, when all was arranged, MaryAnderson and I started. We went as far as we could by cars and boat, andthen obtained horses and traveled on horseback to Dolinsburg. Coming tothe pickets we were halted, and, on telling our errand and where wewere from, we were taken to the headquarters of Col. Harden, who was incommand of the post. We were well received and most hospitably treatedby himself and officers. They all sympathized with Mrs. Anderson; knewof the Colonel's gallant conduct in battle, but all thought there wasno use of a search for him; that he was certainly killed in chargingthe works near the fort. They showed us where he made the assault. Afterresting for the night we started on our search, Capt. Day accompanyingus as guide and protector. We first went to the place where the Colonelfell, but there was nothing but long trenches, where the dead had beenburied. We passed over the battle-field, which was mowed down smoothlyby bullets. Limbs of trees had fallen in confusion, furrows were plowedin the ground by shell, horses' skeletons, broken muskets, pieces ofwagons, parts of caissons, spokes, ammunition boxes, pieces of blankets,coats, pantaloons, parts of tents--everything in pieces, the evidencesof a great contest were marked at every step. Late in the afternoon,worn out with walking and the excitement, we returned, very muchdisheartened. We dined on soldier's fare, which seemed to us delicious.After discussing the battle and the probabilities of the result of thewar until a late hour, we retired to the camp cots for a night's rest.Next morning we got ready for a start. Mary Anderson inquired of Col.Harden which way the rebels who got through our lines had retreated.He answered her that they retreated on a road along the river up streamsome twenty-five miles, and then crossed on a boat that had come downthe river on its way to Dolinsburg, which was stopped by the retreatingrebels. Mary said:
"'Uncle Daniel, I am going to that place if I can be allowed to do so.'
"I replied: 'This would be a very tiresome and fruitless trip, my child;but if you will be any better satisfied by doing so, I will make it withyou.'
"Col. Harden said he would send a small escort for protection, thoughthere was no danger of any force of the enemy, but there probably wouldbe some wicked people there who might do us some harm. He had our horsesbrought out, and sent Capt. Day and ten mounted men with us. The roadwas somewhat rough, but very passable for saddle-horses. When we hadgone about ten miles we met a colored boy, some fourteen years old, whosaid he was going to Dolinsburg. Mrs. Anderson rode on with Capt. Day.The escort was in front of them. I asked the boy why he was going toDolinsburg. He said he lived about ten miles further up the river, andthat an old colored woman, called 'Aunt Martha,' had sent him down tosee if any soldiers were at Dolinsburg; and if so, to tell them thatthere was a Union officer at her house, sick.
"'Do you know his name?' I asked.
"'No, sir; but Aunt Martha calls him Massa Tom.'
"I trembled all over. My blood was hot and cold by turns.
"'When and how did he come there?" asked.
"He said that the rebels had left him. My brain was now dizzy, and Itold him to turn back and take me to the place. We rode past the restof the company while they were resting for a short time. I told them Iwould ride on to the place where the river was crossed, and wait therefor them. Mary was hearing all she could from Capt. Day about thebattle, and so she raised no objections. I inquired of the boy as tothe appearance of the sick officer. He described him as very pale, blackhair, eyes and beard. I could understand his being pale, and felt sureit was Col. Anderson. I asked the boy if he ever spoke to him. He saidhe had not, but Aunt Martha talked to him about his wife and little girland Uncle Daniel. I now was positive it was Tom. I reeled in my saddleand nearly fell from my horse. What should I do? I could not tell Mary,for if it proved not to be him she would not be able to bear it. So Irode on. After a long time we came to the house. It was some hundredpaces from the road, a square log cabin or hut, occupied by an oldcolored woman ('Aunt Martha ') and her husband('Ham'), both over sixtyyears, I should judge.
Uncle Daniel meets Aunt Martha 064]
"The old aunty was in the yard, a smooth, hard, flat piece of ground,fenced off by a low fence, about four rails high, which a man couldeasily step over. I saluted her with:
"'How do you do, aunty, do you live here?'
"'Yes, sa, I lives heah--me and Ham, my ole man. What is you, massa? Isyou Union or is you "Sesh?"'
"'Oh! I am a Union man,' I replied.
"'Den I is glad to see you. I'll jes' call Ham. He runned away when heseed you. He's feared; yes, he's dat. He isn't gwine wid de "Sesh" anymo'.'
"'Well, aunty, have you a Union officer in your cabin, sick?'
"'Well, now, massa, I'se jes' got to know who you is afore I 'fess ondat case.'
"'Well, aunty, I am Daniel Lyon, sometimes called "Uncle Daniel."'
"'Afore God, is dat you, Massa Lyon? Jes' get off yo' hoss an' wait riteheah; I be back in a bit.'
"She hobbled in, evidently to speak to the Colonel. I waited quietlyuntil she returned. Just then the others came in sight, and I sent theboy to halt them. Aunty came out so excited that she could hardly speak.
"'Sho' as you is born'd, dat Massa Tom knows you; but, sah, he'spowerful weak, an' you must exclose who yo' is to him in a mostdelicacious manner, or you'll incite him. He's 'fraid, sah, dat you is aexposter.'
"'O, no, aunty, I am his uncle and benefactor.'
"'Yo'is what?'
"'His uncle,'
"'No, but de oder t'ing what you is?'
"'His benefactor.'
"'Glory to God! Is you? May de Laud shine his light in dis pore house,an' brush away de fears ob dis misfortunate famly.'
"Then she called Ham.
"'Oh, yo' Ham, come heah.'
"I entered the cabin and behe
ld Col. Anderson, as pale as death, lyingon a poor, broken-down bed. I knelt by his side upon the floor and weptaloud. The Colonel could only whisper. Extending his hand, while thegreat tears were rolling down his face, he asked:
"'Is my wife with you? How is my child?'
"He was greatly excited and very weak. I arose from his bedside andtold him who were coming, and begged him to be calm. Aunty brought somecloths and laid on his breast, saying to him:
"'Now, Massa Tom, you mus' be still. Don' be like I tole you. Youmussent get 'cited now--nuffln of the kine. Jes' see de folks like yo'allers done. Dey's come a mighty long ways to fine yo'. Wish dey stayaway 'til I cure yo'; but spose it's all rite. De good Laud he doneknowed de bes'. Maybe de "Sesh" come take him some day afore long, so deLaud he knows what he wants. Bress de good Laud.'
"'I went out to meet the others. Mary at once asked me what the matterwas. I spoke as gently as I could, and said:
"'Mary, Tom is still alive.'
"She instantly leaped from her horse and made for the cabin, and in aninstant was at the bedside of her husband, covering his face with kissesand tears. Tom was too weak to more than whisper 'my dear wife,' andweep in silence. Old Ham had come in, and stood in one corner of theroom looking on the scene with his hands locked together over his head.He was heard to say over and over in a low tone: "'De Lord bress desechilien.' "Aunt Martha took hold of Mary, saying: "'Deah Misses, yo'jes' stop dat cryin'. You ought to be 'joiced dat Massa Tom be libbin.You ought ter seed him when de "Sesh" fotched him heah. I tell you datwas de time what fotched me down, I done got rite on my old knees an'axed de good Laud to spar dis good Massa Tom. I knowed him the berryminute I laid my eyes on him. Many's de time I make his bed and cook hisdinnah. I tell you all about dat. Why, dem "Sesh," when dey fetch MassaTom heah in de old wagon, dey des frowed him out like he been a hog, andtole Ham an' me dat we mus' dig a hole and put him in; dat we be killedif we don't. I done went and looked at him, an' tole Ham dat he wasn'tdead; dat he was wa'm an' bredin. So Ham an' me jes' carried him intodis house, an' got blankets and kivers, and wash him wid wa'm water, andtook keer on him; setted up all de time, one or bofe on us, and kep' himgood an' wa'm, an yo' see he's done gittin' well. De good Laud heah ourprayers, an' he whisper to pore ole Marfa dat he gwine to fetch him outfor some good he gwine to do for us pore people. Bress de Laud; he isgood to us. I tell yo', de man what said to dig a hole fo' him is abad man; his name is Whitthorne. I 'member de name kase I knowed deWhitthornes in Jackson, Miss., when I libbed there. Yes, dat so.'
"At this Mary broke down again. She felt sure that this was some of herpeople. Aunty continued:
"'Ole Massa Gawge (George), that we b'longed to, move upheah six yearago, on dis place, from Jackson. He libbed up dar on the hill in datwhite house dat yo' see up dar, dat am locked up an' no one is in it.Dey got lot ob t'ings in dar. When de Union whip de Sesh at Dolins-burg,and de Sesh come dis way, gwine home or some-whar, den Massa Gawge an'all de famly dey go, too, an' take all de niggers 'cepin' me an' Ham.Dey say we's too ole, an' dey done lef us to take keer ob de place; deyleabe de smoke-house so we kin git in an' git sumpin to eat. Well, deyis plenty in dar, an' we lib all right, and, bress de Laud, dat saveMassa Tom's life. De good Laud fix it dat way, sho' as yo' born. He taketkeer ob de good folks.'
"Old Ham, who had been silent, broke out:
"'Yes, dat's so, massa, dat's so. De Laud do do dis. He done told me upat de smoke-house to take all dat we wanted, an' dat when Massa Tom doneget well, dat we mus go wid him 'way from heah an' lib with Massa Tom;dat de Sesh kill us when dey find out we done cure him up. Yes, sah, deLaud say dat to me, sho.'
"I said to him: 'Ham, are you sure the Lord said that; did you not dreamit, or was it not Aunt Martha that said it?'
"'No, massa, no; de Laud told me, sho! I know 'twas he. De words comeright down frough de smokehouse when I was gittin' meal to make de gruelfor Massa Tom. O, no, massa; Martha was down heah. I told Martha when Icome back.'
"'Well, Ham, what did Martha say?'
"'She say dat we must 'bey de Lord; dat he was mo' our massa den MassaGeorge; don't we b'longs to de Laud mo' dan to Massa George. Den I saydat's well, Martha; you know, and if you b'lieve in dat we go. An' we isgwine wid Massa, sho.'
"'If you should go, Ham, they would accuse us of stealing you, and haveus arrested for it.'
"'Well, I doesn't know 'bout dat. I knows we can steal our ownself away,an' go to de place whar Massa Tom lib; I knows dat. We's gwine; dat'sdone fix; we's gwine.'
"The Colonel had been listening, and smiled to find that these two goodold people loved him so, and he nodded his head to Ham, which caused himto laugh immoderately.
"'It's done fix,' said Ham, and he left the cabin.
"I said: 'Aunty, have you any children?'
"'Laud bless yo' good soul, we has six chilien some whar; don't knowwhar. Massa George he sole our chilien 'way from us soon as dey was sixyear old. I never see any ob dem since den; neber heard anything 'boutdem. He sole 'em 'way down on de Gulf some whar; neber would tell us.Dey done forgot us, or whar we lib, long go; dey so young when dey taken'way, O, dey do dat way, so de ole folks not fine 'em. I tell you, MassaLyon, 'tis purty hard on ole folks, to lose de chilien dat way. Ifdey die an' de Laud take dem 'way, dat's all rite; de Laud know he ownbusiness; but when dey sole 'way, dat hard. You see, dese people dey gotchilien, but dey tink we no keer for our'n. Dat is whar dey don't know.We does keer jes as much as de white folks, but we can't help ourself,dats all. I tell you dat's bad. O, I cry myself nearly to deff 'bout mychilien; but all do no good; dey done gone; I neber see dem any mo'. IfI was to, dey would not know me, an' me not know dem; so no good now tocry any mo'; dey be all dead, maybe--hope dey am--den dey work for deLaud and Master all de time, and not be worked all de time fo' de peoplefor nuffin' an' doin' no good. Yes, I hope dey is all done dead. Wish Iknowed dey was, den I'd be feelin' good. You see, me an' Ham talked disall ober. We neber see our chilien no mo' no matter whar we is; so we amgwine where we will be counted wid de people an' not wid de cattle. Yes,sah; dat's what we's got in our heads; dar's no use tryin' to put itout; it in dar, an' dar it stay. We's gwine, sho'.'
"'Well, well, aunty, all right; I will see that you go. I will take theconsequences. I will not see as good an old couple as you are held likecattle if I can help it.'
"The old woman shouted 'glory,' and hobbled out of the cabin, I presume,to tell Ham what I had said.
"By this time the Colonel had recovered somewhat from his excitement,and quietly and in a low voice told us how he came to be there. He saidthat when he was wounded on the works of Dolinsburg and left for dead,that some one came along and stanched the flow of blood by binding somecloth around the wound saturated with something--his wound was throughthe right breast, touching slightly the right lung--that in theafternoon, when a portion of the rebel army passed over the ground thathe occupied, Col. Whitthorne, his wife's brother, discovered him and hadhim placed in one of his ambulances, bringing him away; had no knowledgeas to what his intention was--whether to take him to some place ofsafety--some hospital, or let him die and bury him where his remainscould afterwards be found by his family; that up to within a few dayshe had no idea where he was; that these old colored people had kept hiswhereabouts a profound secret, except among a few of their racewhom they could trust; that when he found a force was stationed atDolinsburg, he got them to send there and give the information, so thathe might make some arrangement about getting away, for fear of recaptureby the enemy, and they had sent the boy that we met. He was anxiousto get away, and thought that he could bear being moved in some easyconveyance to Dolinsburg in two or three days' travel. We consultedtogether, and Capt. Day sent a messenger back with a letter to Col.Harden, asking him to send an ambulance and a surgeon the next day,we remaining with the Colonel until their coming. There was plenty offodder at the plantation barns, and the men took care of the horses.Aunty prepared a sufficient quantity of wholesome food for ourselves. Wepassed the n
ight without much sleep, the Captain and I using our chairsfor beds, as there was not sufficient accommodation for us all; Mrs.Anderson slept on the bed by her husband, and the men found comfortablequarters in the stables. We enjoyed ourselves, however, hearing AuntMartha and Ham tell us how they had taken care of the Colonel; howthey had bathed and dressed his wound once each day with warm water andpoultices of white-oak ooze and slippery-elm bark; how they stoppedthe bleeding with soot from the wooden chimney; how they dosed himoccasionally, when his wound seemed painful, with good whiskey that Hamgot up at the house on the hill (he had managed to force an entrancesomehow); and how every day they asked the Lord to heal his wound andmake him well, so he would take them away from their long suffering andunhappy life. The story of the old woman was most interesting as well asvery amusing. The next morning we had bread, coffee and chicken, whichwas relished by all, I assure you. The Colonel was fed on gruel and apiece of chicken. Aunty, who had him entirely under her control, wouldnot allow him to eat anything else. After breakfast was over I askedAunty how she came to know Col. Anderson, and she in her way told me thestory of her having been hired out once by her master to Col. Anderson'sfamily before the Colonel was married, and she said:
"'Laud bressyou, chile, I know Massa Tom soon I put my eyes onto him.Yes, sah. I neber let on, doe. He didn't know nuffin when they frowedhim out heah like a pig. No, sah. He was mos' dead, sho'. Dat's one timehe mos' done gone to glory, sho'. But he all right now; he come out. An'when he do, oh, great Laud, don't I jes' want him to go for dem "Sesh."Yes, I tell you, I do. Dar is no mistake on dat pint.'
"The day passed. The Colonel improved and conversed considerably withhis wife. We left them together all we could to enjoy their reunion.He was very desirous of getting away and having the assistance of asurgeon, who, however, could do no more for him than was being done.In the afternoon late, however, there came an ambulance and the PostSurgeon. This seemed to give new life and spirit to all. The Surgeonentered the cabin, and, after pleasantly conversing about the Colonelwith us, proceeded to make an examination of his wound. Aunty wasdetermined to be present. She raised the Colonel up, and showed theSurgeon where the wound was, its condition, etc. He said it was healingrapidly, and would be well soon, but that he would be some considerabletime gaining sufficient strength to do any service. He said that auntyought to have a diploma; that she had treated him as skillfully asanyone could have done, and much better than some might have done, Auntyat once replied:
"'I tell you where you gib de "'plomas." You jes' gib dem to de Laud. Heis de one what do dis work. I tell you, He keep Massa Tom for some good.I don't know what, but he is got some good work afore he, sho' I tellsyou, de Laud never show dis pore old nigger what to do, des like shebe a doctor, less He wanted Massa Tom to do something. He know what Hewants. He know all t'ings, de Bible say so, an' dats the book you can't'spute.'
"We all agreed with aunty, and she was happy. The next morning theambulance was arranged in the best possible manner and the Coloneltenderly carried out and laid in, his wife and Aunt Martha having aplace arranged so they could stay in the ambulance with him. We allstarted, old Ham tying their belongings up in a couple of blankets andlashing them on a horse loaned him by one of the escort. We weretwo days in making Bolinsburg, but did it without any very greatinconvenience or suffering to the Colonel. When we arrived Col. Hardenwelcomed us most heartily, and made all necessary arrangements for thecomfort of Col. Anderson, as well as the rest of us. I noticed that Col.Harden said nothing about the two colored people, and did not seem tonotice them, so I called his attention to them. He looked at me ratherquizzically and remarked:
"'Why, I did not observe any colored people. You did not bring anythrough the lines, did you?'
"I took the hint, and said:
"'O, Colonel, what did I say? I was a little absent-minded being up withCol. Anderson; and loss of sleep has bothered me."
"So, you see, I got out of the scrape. Orders then existed againstbringing colored people through the ines, as I learned afterwards.He (Col. Harden) always said that he was color-blind, and could notdistinguish between the color of people. I remained several days, andCol. Anderson continued to improve. I, however, felt that I ought togo home and look after the family. So old Ham and I got ready, and badegood-by to all, after returning thanks for the kindness shown us. Wetook the two horses that Mary and I rode to Dolinsburg and made our waythrough in several days to Allentown. I preferred to go all the way onhorseback, to save, perhaps, some trouble about Ham. He claimed to befreeborn and from Ohio, where I formerly lived. This went as sound, andno trouble ensued. Ham lived at our house and did chores for us and madehimself generally useful. I related the whole story to the family andmade all happy, especially little Mary Col. Anderson's child, who hadthe impression fixed on her mind that her papa had been killed, like herUncle Harvey. We received letters from David and James, in the Easternarmy; also, from Stephen, who had marched with the regiment to whichhe belonged to the Army of the Center, then in the western part ofKentucky, and on the way to Pittskill Landing, where the Union forceswere now concentrating. Henry wrote that his regiment of cavalry hadbeen ordered to the East to report to Gen. Kilpatterson. Having heardfrom all our family, except Jackson, we were again happy. We all longedfor the day to come when Col. Anderson and his wife would return home,and were anxious also to see the good old colored woman who had been amother to him during his illness. The children especially asked me everyday about Aunt Martha; how she looked? if she was as black as Uncle Ham?and why Mr. George sold her children? and in any other questions thatcould not well be answered."
"Uncle Daniel, I knew Col. Harden, of whom you spoke," said Maj. Clymer."He was a good soldier, went all through the war, and died in 1868. Hewas rather an old man for the service, and was never well after the warclosed."
"Yes; I heard of his death; I kept track of him up to that time; he wasa good man."
"Uncle Daniel," said Dr. Adams, "the implicit faith of those two oldcolored people was an example that might well be followed by the mastersnow."
"Yes; the colored people are the most faithful on the face of the earth,and deserve better treatment than they are getting in the South."
"Why is it that they are deprived of their political rights in theSouthern States?"
"My dear sir, that is easily answered. As I have heretofore repeated inthe discussion of other points, the controlling element in the South isnow, as it ever has been, an aristocracy of and for power. They do notintend that in any way or by any means, lawful or otherwise, the controlof their States shall pass out of their hands; by this means they willcontrol the General Government. It would be the same were these coloredpeople white; if they were poor and not of the ruling class, they wouldbe deprived of their rights in the same way. They believe that theywere born to control, and control they will, unless we shall find menhereafter in charge of this Government with nerve enough to see that therights of the people are protected and enforced."
"Yes," said Col. Bush, "another war will come some day, and it willcommence at the ballot-box. People will suffer just so long and nolonger. The idea that I gave my right arm away for a Government thatallows its citizens to be bulldozed and murdered merely for desiringto participate in the affairs of the Republic. No, sir! I fight no moreuntil I know what I am fighting for and also that we will sustain theprinciples for which we contended."
"This is a curious people. They are nearly ready for any kind ofgovernment to-day, when only a few years ago they expended billions ofmoney and rivers of human blood for liberty, and now care nothing forit. They made the gift of franchise to millions at a great sacrifice,and now quietly smile at its surrender. O, yes; but how can you expectanything else. Are we not apologizing every day for what we did? Do wenot avoid speaking of the war in the North? Are not some of our greatleaders to-day men who aided and sympathized with treason, while weteach kindness to our erring brethren and forgive all? Do we not findour flag despised nearly everywhere in th
e South? Do they not marchunder their State flags instead of the Stars and Stripes? Are not alltheir monuments to rebel leaders and Generals? Are not their schoolbooks full of Secession sentiments? Do they not teach the children thatwe conquered them with hired Hessians? While this is so in the South,and any allusion to the war in the North is regarded as stirring up badblood, is it not submissive, cowardly and unworthy of any brave people,and will it not result finally in their dominating over us? These arethe reflections that annoy me in my old and lonely days."
Here he stopped, was silent for a moment, then said in a low tone:
"Why should I have lived to tremble now for the future of my country."
The tears stood like crystals in his eyes, and he ceased to speak forthe present.
