III.
In the midst of all my soldiering, I wooed and won my wife. She is the principal legacy left me of those old campaigning days of mine, as bonny a wife and as sympathetic and valuable a helpmate as ever husband was blessed with in this world. Many years have gone by since we first met away in Tennessee, where she, a bright-eyed daring horsewoman, and I, a happy-go-lucky cavalry officer, scampered the plains together in pleasant company. Little thought either of us then what the future years held in store. Yet when these years came, and with them the anxious moments, the uncertain intervals, and the perilous hours, none was more brave, more sympathetic than she. Carrying the secret of my life close locked up in that courageous heart of hers, helping me when need be, silent when nought could be done, she proved as faithful an ally and as perfect a foil as ever man placed like me could have been given by Heaven. A look, a gasp, a frightened movement, an uncertain turn might have betrayed me, and all would have been lost; a jealous action, a curious impulse, and she might have wrecked my life; a letter misplaced, a drawer left open, a communication miscarried, and my end was certain. But those things were not to be. Brave, affectionate, and fearless, frequently beseeching me to end this terrible career in which each moment of the coming hours was charged with danger if not death, she tended her family lovingly, and faced the world with a countenance which gave no sign, but a caution which never slumbered.
I had not to wait for these later years, however, to prove her readiness and resource. These had been shown me long ere marriage was dreamt of by either of us, and when, in one of the most exciting episodes of my military career, she gave me my freedom and my life. For our wooing was not without its romance. Our first meeting was quite a casual one. An officer in charge of a party of thirty, engaged in scouting duty, I stopped my little troop one night, in the winter of 1862, at a house some fifteen miles from Nashville, Tennessee, in order to rest our horses and prepare our supper. We selected the house, and stopped there without any prearrangement. This, however, was in no way extraordinary. It was quite the common practice to stop en route and buy hospitality from the residents. The house was the property of my wife’s uncle, and here she lived. While our supper was being prepared, we chatted agreeably together, and the time swept pleasantly along, We were in fancied security, and gave no thought to immediate danger. In a moment, however, all was confusion. The house was suddenly surrounded by a band of irregular troops, calling themselves Confederates, but in reality nothing more or less than marauders, and soon the fortunes of war were turned against us.
Half my little command, fortunately, escaped, owing to their being with the horses at the time of the enemy’s approach, and so enabled to take to flight. The other half, however, with myself, were not so fortunate. We were in the house, surprised, and immediately taken prisoners. A large log smoke-house was improvised for a prison, and in this my comrades and myself were placed, tortured with indignation and hunger, as the riotous sounds which followed proclaimed to us that our captors were partaking of the supper which had been originally intended for ourselves. Our position altogether was anything but a happy one. Death was very near. Irregular troops like those with whom we had to deal seldom gave quarter. If we escaped immediate death, it would be only to be brought within the Southern line to be condemned to a living death in prison.
We sat and pondered; and as the probabilities of the future loomed heavily and darkly before us, the sounds of revelry in the adjoining house gradually died away. Our captors, filled with the good things provided for us, gradually dropped to sleep, and soon nothing was heard but the measured movement and breathing of the guard stationed at our door. In a little time, however, there was perfect silence, and our watchful ears detected the absence of our sentry’s person. Curious but silent we anxiously waited, and soon heard the withdrawal of the bolt by some unknown hand. Opening the door, we found the pathway clear. My brave Tennessee girl, finding the gang of irregulars all steeped in heavy slumber, had decoyed our guard away on pretence of his obtaining supper, and returning, had unbolted our prison-house, prepared to face the consequences when the sleeping ruffians awoke. Through her action our safety was assured, and after walking fifteen miles, we reached camp in the morning to join our comrades, who had given us up for lost.
This happened on Christmas Eve 1862; and it was not until April 1864—sixteen months afterwards—that I again met the girl who had done so much for me, and who was subsequently to become my wife.
The house in which these exciting events had taken place had meantime been totally destroyed by the ravages of war, and she was now living with her aunt in Nashville itself. I was stationed in camp, there awaiting my examination before a board of officers for further promotion, and here occurred the most eventful engagement in which I ever took part, where, conquering yet conquered, I ignored all the articles of war and subscribed to those of marriage, entering into a treaty of peace freighted with the happiest of results.