Memories | Page 5

not repress a feeling of extreme uneasiness, which increased as
officers and men appeared on every side. They were so many: I was the
only woman on the boat. Sitting motionless, with veil closely drawn,
holding my boy on my lap, while poor Jemmy nestled close to my side
(valiant in feeling, but of boyish appearance, and looking even smaller
beside the tall soldiers), I hoped to pass unobserved, but soon after the
boat left the wharf found myself subjected to rude stares and ruder
remarks, and at last was forced to seek the clerk to beg that I might find
shelter in one of the little state-rooms. All were taken by the officers,
who seemed utterly indifferent to the forlorn condition of "Madam
Reb." At last the clerk (after a short consultation with one
kindly-looking officer, who, however, seemed half ashamed of the
kindness of heart which contrasted so finely with the rudeness of his
comrades) led the way to a room below,--small, and close, but a shelter.
Here he placed us, having locked us in to prevent intrusion. The boys
soon fell asleep, but I passed the night in listening to the ceaseless
noises outside.
Morning found the boat at Fortress Monroe, whence, after a short delay,
she proceeded to Newport News.
Under pretence of guarding well the "female rebel," the good clerk
escorted us to the officers' quarters. Here my pass was examined
closely; many questions were asked and answered. Still, the result
seemed doubtful; means of transportation were wanting. The colonel in
command was inclined to be suspicious and sternly unsympathetic.
While standing tremblingly before those whose adverse decision would,
I knew, crush all my hopes, one of the officers espied around my neck a
slender black chain, and demanded to know what it held. Instantly hope
returned: I drew from my bosom a small case enclosing the Masonic
document before mentioned. As at my mother's house, it was examined
and returned without comment. An hour later, however, a plentiful
repast was set before us, after which a covered ambulance appeared, in
which was placed for my comfort the only arm-chair the camp
contained. Soon, attended by an officer and a guard of Federal soldiers,
our little party entered upon the last stage of our journey to the

Confederate lines.
The route lay amid scenes of desolation sadder than anything I had ever
dreamed of. Fields, which a few short weeks before had given promise
of a rich harvest, were laid waste. Here and there tiny columns of
smoke arose from the smouldering ruins of once happy homes. The
heat and dust were almost insufferable, but as the sun declined a cool
breeze sprang up, and later a flood of moonlight clothed the landscape
with a mystical beauty. It shone coldly on the few deserted homes
which the hand of the destroyer had spared, and to me it seemed that its
silvery rays were like the pale fingers of a mourner who places white
wreaths upon the grave of love. In the soft wind I heard only moans and
sighs.
The children slept soundly in the straw at the bottom of the ambulance,
and soon the steady, monotonous tramp of the guard lulled me also to
rest. We approached the Confederate lines just at sunrise. A flag of
truce was unfurled, and at once answered by an officer on picket-duty.
A short parley ensued. At a word of command the Federal guard fell
back and were replaced by Confederates. A moment later, I, with my
charges, descended, to be greeted with enthusiasm, tempered with the
most chivalrous respect, by the "boys in gray," who proved to be
members of the battalion to which my husband was attached, and who
at once relieved my fears by assurances of his safety. It was a supreme
moment, such as comes seldom in a lifetime, and yet a time for stern
self-repression.
The emotions of a heart at rest, after trials so sore, were too sacred to
find expression.
I gazed around me in silent ecstasy. It seemed to me that the sun had
never shone so brightly, or on a scene so lovely. Noting the manly
faces and noble bearing of those who wore the gray, I felt that the
purple and ermine of kings could not have clothed them half so
magnificently. And, oh I how delicious and appetizing seemed "the
rations," which, though simple, were served under those green trees
with the earnest, genuine hospitality which is so well described by the
term "Southern."
The camp being several miles distant, nothing remained but to wait
patiently for some means of transportation. It was near sunset when the
loud singing of a negro driver was heard. Soon he appeared upon a

novel conveyance,--a rough, unplaned board or two on wheels