508 HOSPITALITIES OF A LOYAL PATRIARCH. [1865. “Union men-Yankees, escaped from the Salisbury prison." "Why didn't you say so before? Of course I can give you supper! Come in, all of you!" The old lady prepared us the most palatable meal we had yet found, and told us the usual stories of the war. For hours, by the log fire, we talked with the aged couple, who had three sons carrying muskets in the Union army, and who loved the Cause with earnest, enthusiastic devotion. We were no longer apprehensive; for they assured us that the Rebels had never yet searched their premises. In this respect they had been singularly fortunate. Theirs was the only one among the hundreds of Union houses we entered, which had not been despoiled by Rebel marauders. More than once the Confederates had taken from them grain and hay to the value of hundreds of dollars; but their dwelling had always been respected. XXVII. Friday, January 13. My poor steed gave signs of approaching dissolution ; and I asked the first man I saw by the roadside: "Would you like a horse?" "Very well, take this one." I handed him the bridle, and he led the animal away with a look of wonder; but it could not have taken him long to comprehend the nature of my generosity. Several other horses in the party had died or were left behind as worthless. Our journey- originally estimated at two hundred miles had now grown into two hundred and ninetyfive by the roads. In view of our devious windings, 1865.] "OUT OF THE MOUTH OF HELL." 509 we deemed three hundred and forty miles a very moderate estimate of the distance we had traveled. At ten o'clock on the morning of this twenty-seventh day, came our great deliverance. It was at Strawberry Plains, fifteen miles east of Knoxville. Here-after a final march of seven miles, in which our heavy feet and aching limbs grew wonderfully light and agile — in silence, with bowed heads, with full hearts and with wet eyes, we saluted the Old Flag.* * KNOXVILLE, TENNESSEE, January 13, 1865. "Out of the jaws of Death; out of the mouth of Hell." Tribune, January 14, 1865. ALBERT D. RICHARDSON. A SONG FOR THE "NAMELESS HEROINE" WHO AIDED THE ESCAPING PRISONERS. "Benisons on her dear head forever." Words and Music composed by B. R. HANBY. (Published by JOHN CHURCH, JR., 66 West Fourth Street, Cincinnati, Ohio.) THE NAMELESS HEROINE. 511 Fiends at the back of them, Fiends all around but an an-gel be-fore. Daring the tyrant's hate, Heart of a lion, though form of a maid; Wave, maiden, over thee: Then, noble girl, thou'lt be nameless no more. 508 HOSPITALITIES OF A LOYAL PATRIARCH. [1865. "Union men-Yankees, escaped from the Salisbury prison." "Why didn't you say so before? Of course I can give you supper! Come in, all of you!" The old lady prepared us the most palatable meal we had yet found, and told us the usual stories of the war. For hours, by the log fire, we talked with the aged couple, who had three sons carrying muskets in the Union army, and who loved the Cause with earnest, enthusiastic devotion. We were no longer apprehensive; for they assured us that the Rebels had never yet searched their premises. In this respect they had been singularly fortunate. Theirs was the only one among the hundreds of Union houses we entered, which had not been despoiled by Rebel marauders. More than once the Confederates had taken from them grain and hay to the value of hundreds of dollars; but their dwelling had always been respected. XXVII. Friday, January 13. My poor steed gave signs of approaching dissolution; and I asked the first man I saw by the roadside: "Would you like a horse?" I handed him the bridle, and he led the animal away with a look of wonder; but it could not have taken him long to comprehend the nature of my generosity. Several other horses in the party had died or were left behind as worthless. Our journey- originally estimated at two hundred miles had now grown into two hundred and ninetyfive by the roads. In view of our devious windings, |