In the midst of this awful suspense, an apparition, glorious and bright, appeared in our presence. It was my brother. He had left Madison a few days before, where he had been allowed to spend a part of his furlough, instead of remaining at the Augusta hospital, and where he received the tender ministrations of his estimable cousin, Mrs. Tom Hillsman, and her pretty young daughters, and the loving care of his sister Missouri, who was also at this time an inmate of her cousin’s household. How I wished he could have remained there until restored to health. One less patriotic and conscientious would have done so. His mother’s joy at meeting her beloved son, and under such circumstances, was pathetic indeed, and I shall never forget the effort she made to repress the tears and steady the voice as she sought to nerve him for the arduous and perilous duties before him. Much of his conversation, though hurried, was regarding his Mary, in Texas, and the dear little boy dropped down from heaven, whom he had never seen. The shades of night came on, and darker grew until complete blackness enveloped the face of the earth, and still the low subdued tones of conversation between mother, son and daughter, mingled with unabated interest. Hark! Hark! An explosion! An earthquake? The angry bellowing sound rises in deafening grandeur, and reverberates along the far-off valleys and distant hilltops. What is it? This mighty thunder that never ceases? The earth is ablaze – what can it be? This illumination that reveals minutest objects? With blanched face and tearful eye, the soldier said:
“Atlanta has surrendered to the enemy. The mighty reports are occasioned by the blowing up of the magazines and arsenals.”
Dumbfounded we stood, trying to realize the crushing fact. Woman’s heart could bear no more in silence, and a wail over departed hopes mingled with the angry sounds without.
Impelled by a stern resolve, and a spirit like to that of martyred saints, our brother said:
“This is no place for me. I must go.”
And then he put an arm around each of us, and kissed us with a fervor of love that knew no bounds, and was quenching itself in unfathomable hopeless tenderness. The quiet fortitude and patriotism of his mother gave way in that dread hour, and she cried aloud in agonizing apprehension of never again clasping to her bosom her greatest earthly joy. No pen can describe the scene of that last parting between mother and son, and in sheer impotency I drop the curtain.
As he walked away from his sobbing mother, through the war-illuminated village, I never beheld mortal man so handsome, so heroically grand. His great tender heart, which I had seen heave and sway under less trying circumstances, seemed to have ossified, and not an emotion was apparent.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE TEN DAYS’ ARMISTICE
Going out with the Confederate clothes – Scenes at Atlanta and at Lovejoy’s Station – The visit to Granbury’s Brigade – The last interview with Thomie
After every morsel of food had been taken from the people, and every vestige of nutrition extracted from the earth, the following order, in substance, was proclaimed throughout the land held by the right of conquest:
“All who cannot support themselves without applying to the United States Commissary for assistance, must go outside of our lines, either north or south, within the period of time mentioned in this order, etc., etc.”
And by this order, and by others even more oppressive and diabolical, the Nero of the nineteenth century, alias William Tecumseh Sherman, was put upon record as the born leader of the most ruthless, Godless band of men ever organized in the name of patriotism – a band which, but for a few noble spirits who, by the power of mind over matter, exerted a restraining influence, would not have left a Southerner to tell the tale of fiendishness on its route to the sea.
And now, like Bill Nye, after one of his sententious and doubtless truthful introductions to a Western sketch, I feel easier in my mind, and will proceed with my reminiscences of that unholy period of this country, and tell the truth about it, without favor or prejudice, if it kills me. After this pronunciamento had been issued, all was bustle and rapid movement in every household within the boundaries of usurpation. Under the strong arm of military power, delay was not permitted. Homes were to be abandoned, and household goods and household gods to be left for the enemy, or destroyed; and liberty under our own vine and fig tree was to be a thing of the past, and dependence upon strangers a thing of the future. In preparation for this enforced change, much that should have been done was left undone, but there was no time to correct mistakes – the armistice was only for ten days.
What were we to do, my mother and myself, was a question which presented itself with startling seriousness, and had to be answered without delay. Our farm in Gordon county had already been devastated by the invading army, and every improvement destroyed, and if we should lose our home in Decatur we would be poor indeed. But what were we to do? If we left our home, we knew it would share the fate of all other “abandoned” property, and furnish material for a bonfire for Nero to fiddle by; and if we remained, by grace of better men than he, what assurance had we that by any means within our grasp we could obtain even a scanty subsistence, or be protected from personal abuse and insult by an alien army whose gentlemen were vastly in the minority.
We learned that our neighbors and friends, Mrs. Ammi Williams and her estimable son, Mr. Frederick Williams, (an invalid from paralysis) – whose influence over General Schofield prevented my banishment from Decatur the very first night of its occupancy by the Federal army – and the venerable Mr. and Mrs. Buchanan (the latter a Bostonian and educated in Emerson’s celebrated school for young ladies), and other families as true to the South as the needle to the pole, were going to remain and take their chances within the enemy’s lines, and we determined to do so too.
The officers in command of the post, especially the provost marshal, interrogated us very closely regarding our plans and expectations during the occupancy of the place by Federal forces. Having satisfied them that our only remaining servant would do washing and ironing at reasonable prices, and that we would do darning and repairing, we were given a written permit to remain within the lines.
I, however, had a work to do, a feat to perform, which for audacity and courage, has seldom been surpassed, which would not admit of my staying at home until I had made a little trip to Dixie.
Knowing the value of his influence, I again went to Mr. Frederick Williams, and confiding my plans to him, asked his assistance in getting permission to go out and return during the armistice. I never knew what argument he employed for the accomplishment of this object. I only know by inference. But I received a letter from General Schofield, adjutant-general, of which the subjoined is an exact transcript:
“Decatur, Ga., Sept. 1, 1864.
“Miss Gay – It was hard for me to reconcile my conscience to giving the enclosed recommendation to one whose sentiments I cannot approve, but if I have committed an error it has been on the side of mercy, and I hope I’ll be forgiven. Hereafter I hope you will not think of Yankees as all being bad, and beyond the pale of redemption.
“To-morrow I leave for my own home in the ‘frozen North,’ and when I return it will be to fight for my country, and against your friends, so that I suppose I shall not have the pleasure of again meeting you.
Very respectfully,
J. W. Campbell.”
And that Major Campbell’s gallant act may be fully appreciated, I will add the letter which secured for me the great favor which I had the temerity to ask.
“Headquarters, Army of Ohio,Decatur, Ga., Sept. 14, 1864.
“My Dear Colonel – I have the honor to introduce Miss Mary A. H. Gay, of this village, and I recommend her case to your favorable consideration. I do not know exactly what orders are now in force, but if you think you can grant her desires without detriment to the public service, I am confident the indulgence will not be abused.
Very respectfully your obedient servant,
J. W. Campbell.
“To Colonel J. C. Parkhurst, Pro. Mar. Gen., Army of the Cumberland.”
Thus recommended by one high in army ranks, Colonel Parkhurst granted me the privilege of going to see my young sister, then in Augusta, and carrying anything I might have saved from the ravages of the war, “unmolested.” Fortified by these letters I went to the Provost Marshal in Decatur and told him I would be ready to go to Atlanta to-morrow morning at 8 o’clock, and I wanted to carry some old bed-clothing and other things to my sister, and would be grateful for an ambulance, or an army wagon all to myself, and an Irish driver. He promised that both should be at my service at the time indicated – not, however, without the sarcastic remark that “if the Yankees had been as bad as I had said they were, they would not have left anything for me to carry.”
I ran to my mother and imparted to her the glad tidings of success, and in a whispered conversation we soon had definite plans arranged for the consummation of the perilous duty before me. I went to the Federal camp and asked for some crocus sacks such as are used in the transportation of grain, and quite a number were given to me. I shook them thoroughly inside and out, and put them by. A ball of twine and some large needles had found their way into the house. The needles were threaded and placed in convenient proximity to the sacks. Telitha watched every movement with interest and intuitively divined its import. The wardrobe was empty and my very first touch moved it at least one inch in the desired direction, and a helping hand from her soon placed it in favorable position. This much being accomplished, I took a seat by my mother on the front door-steps and engaged in a pleasant conversation with a group of young Federal soldiers, who seemed much attached to us, and with whom I conversed with unreserved candor, and often expressed regret that they were in hostile array towards a people who had been goaded to desperation by infringement upon constitutional rights by those who had pronounced the only ligament that bound the two sections of the country together, “a league with hell, and a covenant with the devil.” This I proved to them by documents published at the North, and by many other things of which they were ignorant.
While thus engaged, Captain Woodbury approached and said: “I learn that you are going out into Dixie, Miss Gay.”
“Yes, for a few days,” I replied.
“I am prepared to furnish a more pleasant conveyance to Atlanta than the one you have secured,” said he, and continued, “I have a handsome new buggy and a fine trotter, and it will take only a few minutes to reach there. Will you accept a seat with me?”
If all the blood within me had overflowed its proper channels, and rushed to the surface, I could not have flushed more. I felt it in the commotion of my hair, and in the nervous twitching of my feet. The indignation and contempt that I felt for the man! That one who was aiding and abetting in the devastation of my country and the spoliation of my home, should ask me to take a seat with him in a buggy which he doubtless had taken, without leave or license, from my countrymen, was presumptuous indeed, and deserved a severe rebuke. But “prudence being the better part of valor,” I repressed all that would have been offensive in word and act, and replied with suavity, “Thank you, Captain Woodbury, for the honor you would have conferred upon me, but I cannot accept it.” Receiving no reply, I added:
“Let me in candor make a statement to you, and I think you will approve the motive that prompts my decision. I have not sought to conceal the fact that my only brother is in the Confederate army; he is there from motives purely patriotic, and not as a mercenary hireling. He is fighting for the rights guaranteed by the Constitution of the United States, a constitution so sacred that our people have never violated it in any particular, and of which we have shown our highest appreciation by adopting it verbatim, as the guiding star of the Southern Confederacy. You are in an army claiming to be fighting for the Union, and yet the government that sent you out on this glorious mission ignores every principle of fraternal relation between the North and the South, and would subvert every fundamental principle of self-government and establish upon the wreck a centralized despotism. Could I, while you and I are so antagonistic, accept your offer and retain your good opinion? I think not, and I prefer to go in the conveyance already stipulated.”
Silence, without the slightest manifestation of anger, assured me that my argument against taking a buggy drive with him to Atlanta had not been lost on Captain Woodbury, of Ohio, a member of Garrard’s Cavalry.
After this episode we bade our callers “good-evening,” went into the house and busied ourselves with the important work before us – a work which probably would not attract attention because of the darkness that would surround the scene of its execution. The table and chair had been placed, as once before, by the wardrobe already mentioned, and a little respite was employed in viewing the situation. The door connecting our room and this dining-room was generally kept shut. At length night came on with its friendly, helpful darkness. The shutters of the windows had been closed for weeks, and secured by nails, and the house had been too often searched and plundered to be suspected of containing valuables. Therefore, we felt that if no unusual sound attracted notice we would accomplish our object unsuspected. But I was anxious and nervous in view of what was before me, and wanted the perilous work over with. So when the darkness of night fully enshrouded the earth, with no other light than that which found its way from the camp-fires of the enemy through the latticed shutters, I stepped into the chair and thence upon the table, and Telitha followed and drew the chair up after her. Then with her strong dusky hands she seized the wardrobe as if it had been a toy in her hands. I steadied the chair by the wardrobe and stepped into it, and another step landed me on top of the wardrobe. My fingers penetrated the crevice between the slats which I wanted to pull off, and to a slight effort they yielded. Lest the noise occasioned by dropping them might attract notice, I stooped and laid each piece down as I drew it off the joist. When the aperture thus made was sufficient, I began to draw from their hiding place the precious Confederate overcoats and other winter apparel confided to my keeping (as already related), by soldiers of General Joseph E. Johnston’s army, when they were at Dalton. One by one each piece was taken out and dropped down upon the floor. But by a lamentable oversight we afterwards found that one article had been left – a woolen scarf for the neck, knitted for my brother by his loving young wife in Texas.
Carefully I descended, and, with the aid of the girl, placed the chair, the table, and the dear old wardrobe (which deserves to be immortalized in song and story), in less suspicious positions, and then proceeded to pack in the sacks, already mentioned, the precious articles. The thought occurred to me that my mother would like to have a hand in this labor of love, and I opened the door between us. I shall never forget her appearance as she stood as if riveted to the spot, near a window, watching the moving figures without. I approached her and in a cheerful whisper told her that I was now putting the things in the sacks, and I knew she would like to have an interest in the job. She tried to respond, but she was too nervous to do so. Slowly but surely she was yielding to the pressure upon nerve and brain. As each sack was filled, a threaded needle securely closed the mouth. In a short while a number of these sacks stood in a group, as erect as if on parade, and I verily believe that if the host of profane, godless braggarts (with but few exceptions) who surrounded the house could have seen them at that time and known their contents, they would have evacuated Decatur in mortal fear of the ghosts of “Johnnie Rebs.”
This important work having been accomplished without discovery or even a shadow of suspicion, I felt vastly relieved, and thanked the Lord with all my heart for the health, strength, and ingenuity which had enabled me to consummate it. My mother and I lay down upon the same bed, and were soon blessed with the invigorating influence of “tired nature’s sweet restorer.”
The song of the lark had ceased to be heard in this war-stricken locality; chanticleer had long since furnished a savory meal for camp followers, and the time-pieces had either been spoiled or stolen; but there was a silent, unerring chronometer within that never deviated, and needed no alarm attachment to arouse me from slumber, and the dawn found me up and preparing for the duties and perhaps the dangers of the day.
Telitha had become quite an attraction to a bevy of men who occupied soldiers’ quarters, and wore soldiers’ uniforms, and drew pay for doing so, from Uncle Sam’s coffers; and as she had been trained to ideas of virtue and morality she often came in frowning and much ruffled in temper by their deportment towards her. Being almost entirely deaf and dumb, her limited vocabulary was inadequate to supply epithets expressive of the righteous indignation and contempt which she evidently felt – she could only say, “Devil Yank, devil,” and these words she used with telling effect both to the amusement and chagrin of the Yankees. This state of affairs convinced me that for her protection she would have to be kept within doors, and I therefore assumed the task of drawing the water, and a few other jobs indispensable even in life’s rudest state. On this occasion, when I went to the well for a bucket of water, before preparing our frugal breakfast, I was asked by early marauders why I did not let “that young colored lady draw the water.” I candidly answered them, and told them I was going to ask the officers of the encampment to protect her while I was gone, and I also would ask them to report any misdemeanor toward her, that they might witness, at headquarters.
After a good night’s rest my mother’s nerves seemed all right again, and by 7 o’clock we had finished our breakfast, which consisted of bread and butter and coffee – the latter luxurious beverage being furnished by one whose heart was in touch with humanity. That the aperture in the ceiling of the dining room might not be discovered until I got the contraband goods out of the house, I had brought the sacks containing them into the adjoining room, and it was therefore the work of a very few minutes to convey them to the wagon, when that vehicle, drawn by a span of fine horses, under the guidance of the Irish driver, drove up to the front door. “Put those sacks into the wagon,” I said, pointing to them. When the last one of them was stored away safely in that moving repository, one of those feelings of relief and security came over me that had more than once given me courage to brave successfully impending danger – and I donned my hat, and bade my mother and the faithful girl an almost cheerful “Good-bye,” and took my seat by the driver, en route for Dixie. Would I get there? Ah! that was the question that had blanched my mother’s cheek when I said “Good-bye.” But hope, etc., “eternal in the human breast,” whispered “yes,” and thus encouraged, I spoke grateful words to the Irish driver, and asked him many questions about the land of the shamrock and sunny blue skies. He was evidently flattered by my favorable knowledge of the Emerald Isle, and would have done anything within his power for me. God bless the Irish forever!
I asked him to drive under my direction to the residence of my estimable friends, Mr. and Mrs. Posey Maddox, the parents of the accomplished and erudite Charles K. Maddox, of Atlanta. To my great joy I saw wagons in the yard, already laden with their household goods, to be carried to the depot and turned over to the Federal authorities, who assumed the transportation of them to Jonesboro and the safe delivery of them to the Confederate authorities, who in turn assumed the transportation and delivery of them to the nearest Confederate station. Mr. Maddox had secured the use of an entire freight car, and gladly consented to take me and my baggage in with theirs. Mrs. Maddox was particularly glad to have me go with them, and to her I confided the character of my baggage, and received in return many words of sympathy and approbation. Those who have studied mythical lore, and dwelt in imagination upon the attributes of mythical characters, especially those of an evil nature, can perhaps form some idea of the confusion and disquiet of an entire city yielding its possession to an alien army, which now, that success had been achieved by brute force, was bent upon the utter impoverishment of the people, and their extreme humiliation. Curses and imprecations too vile to repeat, and boisterous laughter, and vulgar jests resounded through the streets of Atlanta. Federal wagons followed in the tracks of Confederate wagons, and after a few light articles were placed in the latter for Southern destination, the former unblushingly moved up to receive pianos and other expensive furniture which found its way into every section of the North. And this highway robbery was permitted by William Tecumseh Sherman, the Grand Mogul of the Army of the Republic. Truly had the city of Atlanta been turned into a veritable pandemonium.
At length our time came to move in the worse than death-like processions going southward, and in a short while we were at Jonesboro, our destination, so far as Federal aid extended. As soon as I stepped from the car I wended my way to the Confederate officer of the day, whom I recognized by his regalia, and told him of my success in concealing and bringing out of Federal lines the winter clothing of our soldiers. He listened with polite attention and said it was a wonderfully interesting story, but altogether improbable.
“Go with me and I will prove to you the truthfulness of it,” I eagerly said.
As it was a bleak equinoctial day, and drizzling rain, Mr. and Mrs. Maddox had not yet left their car (by way of parenthesis, I would say that the favors shown to these excellent people was in consideration of Mr. Maddox being a very prudent minister of the gospel), and, when we reached it, I asked Mr. Maddox to roll one of my sacks to the door. He did so, and I then asked the officer to examine its contents. A blade of a pen-knife severed the twine with which the edges of the mouth had been sewed together, and the loved familiar gray and brass buttons, and other articles, verified the truth of my statement. He looked amazed, and exhausted his vocabulary of flattering encomiums upon me, and, what was more desirable and to the point, he asked what he could do in the matter, and assured me that there was nothing within the range of his jurisdiction that he would not do. I told him that the object of my coming to him was to ask that he send me and my precious charge to General Granbury’s headquarters, as, among other overcoats, I had one of his in charge, as well as many other things belonging to his staff officers. He told me the finest span of Confederate horses and the best ambulance on the ground should be at my service as soon as possible.
During the interim, I opened wide my eyes and took in the situation in all its horrible details. The entire Southern population of Atlanta, with but an occasional exception, and that of many miles in its vicinity, were dumped out upon the cold ground without shelter and without any of the comforts of home, and an autumnal mist or drizzle slowly but surely saturating every article of clothing upon them; and pulmonary diseases in all stages admonishing them of the danger of such exposure. Aged grandmothers tottering upon the verge of the grave, and tender maidens in the first bloom of young womanhood, and little babes not three days old in the arms of sick mothers, driven from their homes, were all out upon the cold charity of the world.
Apropos, I will relate an incident that came under my observation during my brief stay at this station: When one of the long trains from Atlanta rolled in with its living freight and stopped at the terminus, a queenly girl, tall and lithe in figure and willowy in motion, emerged from one of the cars, and stood, the embodiment of feminine grace, for a moment upon the platform. In less time than it takes to chronicle the impression, her Grecian beauty, classic expression and nobility of manner, had daguerreotyped themselves upon the tablets of my memory never to be effaced by mortal alchemy. The pretty plain debeige dress, trimmed with Confederate buttons and corresponding ribbon, all conspired to make her appear, even to a casual observer, just what she was – a typical Southern girl who gloried in that honor. She stood only a moment, and then, as if moved by some divine inspiration, she stepped from the car, and falling upon her knees, bent forward and kissed the ground. This silent demonstration of affection for the land of Dixie touched a vibrating chord, and a score or more of beautiful girlish voices blended in sweetest harmony while they told in song their love for Dixie. I listened spellbound, and was not the only one thus enchanted. A United States officer listened and was touched to tears. Approaching me, he asked if I would do him the favor to tell him the name of the young lady who kissed the ground.
“I do not think she would approve of my telling you her name, and I decline to do so,” I said in reply. Not in the least daunted by this rebuff he responded: “I shall learn it; and if she has not already become the wife or the affianced of another, I shall offer her the devotion of my life.”
The Confederate officer of the day, God forever bless him! came for me. The army wagon was ready and standing by Mr. Posey Maddox’s car, waiting to receive its precious freight, and a few minutes sufficed to transfer it from car to wagon, and, after waiting to see the last sack securely placed in the wagon, I, too, got in and took my seat by the driver. A long cold drive was before us, but I was so robust I had no fear of the result.
The driver was a veritable young Jehu, and we got over the ground rapidly; but, owing to a mistake in following directions, it was a long time before we reached our destination, the course of which must have been due west from Jonesboro, and through a dense forest. And oh, the beauty of that forest! It will remain a living, vivid memory, as long as life endures. Its rich and heavy foliage had been but lightly tinged by the frosts of autumn, and it was rendered more beautiful by the constant dripping of rain drops from every leaf and blossom. As the evening came on, dense, impenetrable clouds canopied the earth, and shut out every ray of sunlight, and almost every ray of hope. At length night came on, dark and weird, and silent, and we were still in the woods, without compass or star.
Just as my brave heart was about to succumb to despair, a vision of delight burst upon me – a beacon light, yea, hundreds of beacon lights, appeared before me, and filled my soul with joy. The camp-fires of General Cleburne’s brave men beckoned us onward, and gave us friendly greeting. Every revolution of the wagon wheels brought us perceptibly nearer the haven of rest. Sabbath-like quiet reigned throughout the encampment. No boisterous sounds nor profane imprecations broke the stillness. But there was a sound that reached my ear, filling my soul with joy unspeakable. A human voice it was. I had heard it before in the slight wail of infancy; in the merry prattle of childhood; in the melodious songs of youth; in the tender, well-modulated tones of manhood; and now – there was no mistaking it – in the solemn, earnest invocation to the Lord of Hosts for the salvation of the world, for the millenial dawn, and that “peace on earth, and good will to men,” which would never again be broken by the clarion of war, or earth’s rude alarms. No sweeter voice ever entered the courts of Heaven.
My obliging young driver stopped the horses at a favorable distance, and I heard the greater part of that grand prayer, and wept for joy. When it was finished, we moved on, and were hailed by a sentinel who demanded the countersign, I believe it is called. The driver satisfied him, and calling to a soldier, I asked him if he knew Lieutenant Stokes. “Like a book,” he answered. “Please tell him his sister Mary is here,” I said. In a moment I was clasped in his arms with the holy pressure of a brother’s love. His first thought on seeing me was that some calamity must have occurred, and he said, “Sister, is Ma or Missouri dead?” “No, Thomie, but Toby is.”
His brave head bowed low and he wept – sobbed audibly. I told him of Toby’s loving mention of him, and of the boy’s hope of Heaven. After his natural paroxysm of grief had subsided, he looked up, and with an ineffable smile, said:
“Sister, I know you have a secret to tell – what is it?”
“It is this; I have saved all those precious things that were sent to me from Dalton, and I have brought them to deliver to their rightful owners. Help me to do so as quickly as possible, that I may go back to Jonesboro to-night.”
Had a bombshell exploded at his feet, the effect could not have been more electrical. He bounded to General Granbury’s tent with the agility of a deer; he told the news to him and the others assembled there; and he came back, and they all came with him; and had I been a magician, I could not have been an object of greater interest. General Granbury protested against my return to Jonesboro through the darkness of the night, and offered his tent for my occupancy, saying he would go in with some of the other officers. Colonel Robert Young, a friend of years’ standing, was also earnest in his efforts to keep me from carrying out my purpose to go back, and I gave it up. I knew that I was with friends, and permitted myself to be lifted out of the wagon and conducted to the General’s tent. I took a seat upon a camp stool which was placed for me about the center of the tent. The General and his staff officers sat around, and my dear brother was very near me. Thus arranged, a conversation was commenced which continued with slight interruptions into the “wee sma’ hours” of the night. Colonel Young seemed to have something upon his mind which rendered him indifferent to society, or some duty to perform which required his attention outside the tent. At length, however, he came to the door and asked my brother to come out awhile. In a short time both of them came in together, and Colonel Young, after asking us to excuse the interruption of the conversation, remarked that there was something outside that he would like for us to see. My brother took me by the hand and led me out in front of the tent, and all the officers stood in a group around. Imagine my surprise when I perceived a long line of soldiers before us, and an officer on horseback galloping from one end of the line to the other. I ventured to ask my brother if they were going to have a moonlight drill without the moon? He smiled, and a faint pressure of the hand indicated that there was something on the tapis that would please me, but I must wait until it was revealed to others as well. In much less time than it has taken to record this episode a signal was given, and one of the grandest cheers ever heard by mortal man resounded through the midnight darkness and the dense forest, and was echoed over hill and dale. Another signal and another cheer, and yet another of each, and I broke down completely and cried heartily. What had I done that my name should thus be honored by men enduring all the hardships of warfare and fighting for my principles; and yet to me it was the most acceptable compliment ever paid to living woman. I often fancy I hear those voices now blending in one grand harmonious shout of praise to the great God of Heaven and earth, who has doubtless given rest to many of those weary ones.