EXPECTATION OF CAPTURE. 51 and had taken my horse, supposing that I had been taken prisoner. I The village of Centerville was not yet occupied by the rebels, so that I might have made my escape without any further trouble; but how could go and leave those hospitals full of dying men, without a soul to give them a drink of water? I must go into that Stone Church once more, even at the risk of being taken prisoner. I did so-and the cry of "Water," "water," was heard above the groans of the dying. Chaplain B. had told them before leaving that they would soon be in the hands of the enemy-that the army had retreated to Washington, and that there was no possibility of removing the wounded. There they lay, calmly awaiting the approach of their cruel captors, and apparently prepared to accept with resignation any fate which their cruelty might suggest. Oh, how brave those men were! What moral courage they possessed! Nothing but the grace of God and a right appreciation of the great cause in which they had nobly fought, and bled, could reconcile them to such suffering and humiliation. They all urged me to leave them, and not subject myself to the barbarous treatment which I would be likely to receive if I should be taken prisoner, adding "If you do stay the rebels will not let you do anything for us." One of the men said: "Dr. E. has only been gone a little while→ 52 ESCAPE FROM THE REBELS. he extracted three balls from my leg and arm, and that, too, with his pen-knife. I saw twenty-one balls which he had taken from the limbs of men in this hospital. He was determined to remain with us, but we would not consent, for we knew he would not be allowed to do any more for us after the rebels came; and you must go too, and go very soon or they will be here." After placing water within the reach of as many as could use their arms, and giving some to those who could not-I turned to leave them, with feelings that I cannot describe; but ere I reached the door a feeble voice called me back-it was that of a young officer from Massachusetts; he held in his hand a gold locket, and as he handed it to me he said "Will you please to open it?" I did so, and then held it for him to take a last look at the picture which it contained. He grasped it eagerly and pressed it to his lips again and again. The picture was that of a lady of rare beauty, with an infant in her arms. She seemed scarcely more than a child herself; on the opposite side was printed her name and address. While he still gazed upon it with quivering lip, and I stood there waiting for some tender message for the loved ones, the unmistakable tramp of cavalry was heard in the street-a moment more, and I had snatched the locket from the hands of the dying man and was gone. The streets were full of cavalry, but not near ARRIVAL IN WASHINGTON. 53 enough to discover me, as the night was exceedingly dark and the rain came down in torrents. One glance was sufficient to convince me that I could not escape by either street. The only way was to climb a fence and go across lots, which I immediately did, and came out on the Fairfax road about a mile from the village, and then started for Washington on the "double quick." I did not reach Alexandria until noon the next day-almost exhausted, and my shoes literally worn off my feet. Having walked all the way from Centerville in the rain, without food, together with want of sleep and the fatigue of the past week, caused me to present rather an interesting appearance. I remained there two days before I could persuade my limbs to bear the weight of my body. I then made my way to Washington, where I found my friends quite anxious lest I had fallen into the hands of the enemy. A number of men from whom I had received packages, money, etc., before going into battle, and who reached Washington two days before I did, had come to the conclusion that they had taken a pretty sure way of sending those precious things to Richmond, and therefore my arrival was rather an important event, and I was greeted with a hearty welcome. My first duty was to attend to those dying soldiers' requests, which I did immediately by writing to their friends and inclosing the articles which I had received from the hands of those loved ones + 54 GRATEFUL RETURNS. who were now cold in death. The answers to many of those letters lie before me while I write, and are full of gratitude and kind wishes. One in particular I cannot read without weeping. It is from Willie's Mother. The following are a few extracts: "Oh, can it be that my Willie will return to me no more? Shall I never see my darling boy again, until I see him clothed in the righteousness of Christ-thank God I shall see him then-I shall see him then.' แ Now with all the mother's heart Oh, how I want to kiss those hands that closed my darling's eyes, and those lips which spoke words of comfort to him in a dying hour. The love and prayers of a bereaved mother will follow you all through the journey of life." Yes, he is gone to return to her no more on earth, but her loss is his eternal gain. Servant of God well done! Rest from thy loved employ; The battle fought, the victory won, Enter thy Master's joy. He at least had won a victory-notwithstanding the defeat of the federal army. Yes, a glorious victory. CHAPTER IV. WASHINGTON AFTER BULL RUN-DEMORALIZATION OF THE ARMY MONROE-THE CROWDED MONITOR-HER ENGINES. BUILD AND ASHINGTON at that time presented a pic WA ture strikingly illustrative of military life in its most depressing form. To use the words of Captain Noyes-"There were stragglers sneaking along through the mud inquiring for their regiments, wanderers driven in by the pickets, some with guns and some without, while every one you met had a sleepy, downcast appearance, and looked as if he would like to hide his head from all the world." Every bar-room and groggery seemed filled to overflowing with officers and men, and military discipline was nearly, or quite, forgotten for a time in the army of the Potomac. While Washington was in this chaotic condition, the rebel flag was floating over Munson's Hill, in plain sight of the Federal Capital. |