Produced by Curtis Weyant, Sankar Viswanathan, and theOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net(This file was produced from images produced by the WrightAmerican Fiction Project.)
Transcriber's Note:
The author states in the Appendix "The book which our readers have just completed perusing, is filled with many errors; too many, in fact, for any literary work to contain."
Only the very obvious errors have been corrected.
THE TRIALS
OF
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE:
A TALE OF THE
SECOND AMERICAN REVOLUTION.
BY ALEX. ST. CLAIR ABRAMS.
ATLANTA, GEORGIA:
1864.
Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1864,
BY THE AUTHOR,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Confederate States for the Northern District of Georgia.
DEDICATION
TO
COLONEL JOHN H. JOSSEY.
Of Macon, Georgia.
MY DEAR SIR--
Accept from me the dedication of this little work as a token ofappreciation for the kind friendship you have ever displayed towardsme. Wishing you all the happiness and prosperity that can fall tomortal man, believe me.
Your Friend,
THE AUTHOR.
PREFACE.
The plot of this little work was first thought of by the writer in themonth of December, 1862, on hearing the story of a soldier from NewOrleans, who arrived from Camp Douglas just in time to see his wifedie at Jackson, Mississippi. Although the Press of that city made nonotice of it, the case presented itself as a fit subject for aliterary work. If the picture drawn in the following pages appearsexaggerated to our readers, they will at least recognize the moral itcontains as truthful.
Trusting that the public will overlook its many defects, the Authoryet hopes there will be found in this little book, matter ofsufficient interest to while away the idle hour of the reader.
ATLANTA, April 20th, 1864.
THE TRIALS
OF
THE SOLDIER'S WIFE.
CHAPTER FIRST.
THE "CRESCENT CITY"--THE HUSBAND'S DEPARTURE.
Kind reader, have you ever been to New Orleans? If not, we willattempt to describe the metropolis of the Confederate States ofAmerica.
New Orleans is situated on the Mississippi river, and is built in theshape of a crescent, from which it derives the appellation of"Crescent City." The inhabitants--that is, the educated class--areuniversally considered as the most refined and aristocratic members ofsociety on the continent. When we say aristocratic, we do not mean apretension of superiority above others, but that elegance andetiquette which distinguish the _parvenu_ of society, and the vulgar,but wealthy class of citizens with which this country is infested. Theladies of New Orleans are noted for their beauty and refinement, andare certainly, as a general thing, the most accomplished class offemales in the South, except the fair reader into whose hands thiswork may fall.
It was in the month of May, 1861, that our story commences. Secessionhad been resorted to as the last chance left the South for apreservation of her rights. Fort Sumter, had fallen, and from allparts of the land troops were pouring to meet the threatened invasionof their homes. As history will record, New Orleans was not idle inthose days of excitement. Thousands of her sons came forward at thefirst call, and offered their services for the good of the commoncause, and for weeks the city was one scene of excitement from thedeparture of the different companies to Virginia.
Among the thousands who replied to the first call of their country,was Alfred Wentworth, the confidential clerk of one of the largestcommission houses in the city. He was of respectable family, and helda high position in society, both on account of his respectability andthe elevated talent he had displayed during his career in the world.He had been married for about five years, and two little children--onea light-eyed girl of four summers, and the other an infant of twoyears--were the small family with which heaven had blessed him.
After joining a company of infantry, and signing the muster roll,Alfred returned home to his wife and informed her of what he had done,expecting that she would regret it. But the patriotic heart of hiswife would not reproach him for having performed his duty; so heavinga sigh as she looked at the child in her arms, and the little girl onher fathers knee, a tear trickled down her flushed cheek as she badehim God-speed. The time that elapsed between his enlistment anddeparture for the seat of war, was spent by Alfred Wentworth inproviding a home for his family, so that in the event of his beingkilled in battle, they should not want. Purchasing a small residenceon Prytania street, he removed his family into it and concluded hisbusiness in time for his departure.
The morning of the twenty-second of May broke brightly over thefar-famed "Crescent City." Crowds of citizens were seen congregatingon Canal street to witness the departure of two more regiments ofOrleanians. The two regiments were drawn up in line between Camp andCarondelet streets, and their fine uniforms, glistening muskets andsoldierly appearance created a feeling of pride among the people. Theywere composed principally of Creoles and Americans, proper. Thehandsome, though dark complexions of the Creoles could be seen lit upwith enthusiasm, in conversation with the dark-eyed Creole beauties ofthe city, while the light-haired and fair-faced sons of the CrescentCity were seen mingling among the crowd of anxious relatives whothronged to bid them farewell.
Apart from the mass of volunteers--who had previously stacked theirarms--Alfred Wentworth and his wife were bidding that agonizingfarewell, which only those who have parted from loved one can feel.His little bright-eyed daughter was clasped in his arms, and everyminute he would stoop over his infant and kiss its tiny cheeks. Marksof tears were on the eyelids of his wife, but she strove to hide them,and smiled at every remark made by her daughter. They were alone fromthe eyes of a curious crowd. Each person present had too much of hisown acquaintances to bid farewell, to notice the speechless farewellwhich the soldier gave his wife. With one arm clasped around her, andthe other holding his daughter, Alfred Wentworth gazed long andearnestly at the features of his wife and children, as if to impressthe features of those loved ones still firmer in his mind.
"Attention, battalion!" rang along the line in stentorian tones, andthe voices of the company officers calling "fall in, boys, fall in!"were heard in the streets. Clasping his wife to his heart, andimprinting a fond, fond kiss of love upon her cheeks, and embracinghis children, the soldier took his place in the ranks, and after thenecessary commands, the volunteers moved forward. A crowd of theirrelatives followed them to the depot of the New Orleans, Jackson andGreat Northern Railroad, and remained until the cars were out ofsight. After the troops had entered, and the train was slowly movingoff, one of the soldiers jumped from the platform, and, embracing alady who stood near, exclaimed:
"Farewell, dearest Eva! God bless you and the children--we shall meetagain." As soon as he spoke, Alfred Wentworth sprang into the carsagain and was soon swiftly borne from the city.
Mrs. Wentworth remained standing where her husband had left her, untilthe vast crowd had dispersed, and nothing could be seen of the trainbut a thin wreath of smoke emerging from the tree-tops in thedistance. Calling the colored nurse, who had followed with thechildren, she bade her return home, and accompanied her ba
ck to hernow lonely residence.
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