Memories | Page 4

and various plans discussed. At last, one day a note was
received inviting me to spend a social evening at the house of "one of
the faithful." A casual observer would have discovered nothing more
than a few lines of invitation, still the paper bore a private mark which
made my heart beat with hope.
Arrived at the house indicated, where seemed to be only an ordinary
gathering of friends, I found it difficult to appear at ease, and watched
eagerly for developments. Not a sign or a word was given, however,
until after supper, when the ladies repaired (as usual) to the
dressing-room up-stairs to rearrange their toilets. Instead of entering
with the rest, the hostess, by a slight pressure of the hand, indicated to
me that I was desired to pass on and up a second flight of stairs.
We did so unnoticed, and soon entered a small room in the third story,
where were found waiting a few friends, among them a captain and
clerk of a steamboat which was expected to leave in three days for
Newport News with United States troops to reinforce Colonel Phelps at
that point. Here appeared to be a chance, but a hazardous one, since the
officers of the boat must not evince any interest in their passenger, and
could afford no assistance or protection among the rough soldiers who
would crowd every available foot of room. They must appear as good
Union men, engaged in transporting troops to assist in quelling "the
rebellion." In case of any rough treatment of the "rebel woman," they
could only appeal to the officers in charge of the troops, and the result
of such an appeal, in the present state of feeling, would be doubtful.
The boat was not a passenger steamer, and had only two or three small
staterooms, occupied by its officers. These might be required by the
military commanders. Instantly, and unhesitatingly, I decided to make

the trial. We ladies then descended to the parlor, while one by one our
friends were conveyed out of the house.
A new difficulty at once arose; a friend had applied to General Scott for
a pass--unsuccessfully. The precious hours were passing, and failure
seemed imminent. This difficulty was increased by the fact that I had
undertaken the charge of Jemmy Little, a boy of ten, who, having
lingered too long at school in Baltimore, had been cut off from his
family in Norfolk, and being desperately unhappy, had implored to be
included in the plans formed for me. He was to pass as my brother, and,
having once promised, I could not disappoint him, especially as his
waking hours were spent by my side, his hand often nestling into my
own, his large wistful eyes questioning my face, as if dreading to find
there some evidence of hesitation or change of purpose.
One day passed. At evening, as I was anxiously pacing my room, my
hostess hurriedly entered, exclaiming, in agitation, "Your brother
awaits you in the drawing-room. I could not welcome him. I will not
see him. Only for your sake would I allow a Federal soldier to cross my
threshold; but he is your brother; go to him."
Trembling with excitement, I descended to the parlor, where I found
my brother,--a mere boy yet,--wearing the uniform of a Federal officer.
"Sister!" "Charles!" each cried, and no further greeting passed between
us. The boy stood with folded arms, looking proudly, yet tenderly, at
me, his only sister, all the brave ardor of a soldier who believes in the
cause he serves revealed in his handsome young face. I sank into a
chair and covered my face, that I might shut out the sight which so
pained me. The interview that followed was long. Finding that my
brother not only approved the determination to join my husband, but
was able and willing to assist in obtaining the necessary pass, I told him
of my wish to have it in possession by the next day, and received his
promise to send it, if possible. He was going to "the front," and
overcome by the thought that I might never see him again, I threw my
arms around his neck, while tears fell fast upon the blue uniform, and
so, with a last embrace, we parted.
The pass, embracing "Mrs. Beers, brother, and child," was forthcoming
next day, and the same afternoon I, with my boys, set forth unattended
for the boat. No sign of recognition passed between the captain and
ourselves as we were conducted to the upper deck, and seated under the

awning. Soon the sound of drum and fife announced the approach of
the troops. A regiment of blue-coated soldiers appeared on the wharf,
and directly they marched on board. Witnessing their embarkation, I
could