A True Virginia Boy and a Bit of Romance.
While this writer was located on the canal, boating wood for the men in the trenches at Petersburg, winter of 1865, he became acquainted with a widow lady, Mrs. Dean, and family of three children; a grown daughter, Miss Jennie, and a younger daughter, Miss Lucy, aged about twelve, and a little son, aged about ten years. They occupied a neat cottage near his quarters. They were a nice, intelligent family, then in deep mourning for a son and brother, the hope and mainstay of the family, who had fallen in battle a few months before. Young Dean had proved so good a soldier and had so distinguished himself for personal bravery from all the battles through the Wilderness on down to Petersburg, that his officers had given him a sixty day furlough to stay with his mother. When he had been at home a few weeks, keeping in touch with his regiment, which was on the lines of defense near by, in August, when the Federals seized the Weldon Railroad and a desperate battle was expected, he kissed his mother and sisters and hastened to join his regiment, and went into battle that day and shed his life’s blood that day in defense of his native city, his home and loved ones, proving himself one of the greatest heroes in Lee’s invincible army of battle-scarred veterans. What nobler deed! What greater sacrifice can any people show? Our relations with this good family became reciprocal. They would do some cooking for us, and we would bring them some wood. I guessed Miss Jennie was about my age, nineteen, medium in size, blue eyes, dark hair, most lovely form and features, of an honest, sincere expression. For all that is good and lovely in woman, she filled my ideal; but pleasant associations are soon broken in war, and I was ordered to report to my regiment. I had a supply of rations from home and Miss Jennie made me some cakes of sorghum molasses, and we parted, hoping to meet again soon and to correspond sure. My command moved ten miles to the right on Hatches’ Run for ten days; then back past Miss Jennie’s home in the night, and on into the battle in front of Petersburg on the 25th of March. Here I threw up the “sponge” and went to Point Lookout and stayed there until the 12th June; then came back by Richmond, and on home. We had no mails for a year after the war, before I wrote Miss Jennie that I had got through in good shape. Then she wrote me a nice letter, informing me that she had married a young Confederate soldier—a Mr. Jones—and giving a cordial invitation to visit them if I ever came to Petersburg. Well, as time pulled on, I, too, was married in 1872, and was as happy as any one could be. Forty years after parting with Miss Jennie I concluded to visit Petersburg and the old battlefields. I was now a grandpap and a widower, and I thought of my old friend, Mrs. Jones, and I wondered what had become of them. If she and her husband were living, I would certainly give them a call. Then, if I should find her a widow, there might be a little bit of new romance started in the Old Dominion. I could think of her only as the lovely girl of nineteen; but I had to reflect that she, too, might now be a withered grandmother. I went on the Seaboard Road and landed right in our old wagon yard. The beautiful oak grove was all gone, streets and hundreds of houses covered our old stamping ground. I soon located the old canal, like unto a sunken road, and could recognize only the old brick mill house at the lower end of the canal basin or boat landing. Seeing some old veterans around I inquired if they knew Mrs. Dean, and they said they did, and Jennie too. That she married Ned Jones; that Jones had been dead a couple of years. Then I enquired, “How is Mrs. Jones?” “She is an invalid—not able to get out. A son and a daughter live with her.” “What sort of a man was Jones?” “He was a good man, a local preacher. She lives second block—third house on the right.” Starting out to see my poor invalid lady friend, I stepped in where beer was sold and got a glass. I then interrogated the proprietor, Mr. Quarles. He said he was raised there, was about sixteen at close of the war; had served with the old men and boys; had stood in the breastworks and helped repel several attacks upon Petersburg. Yes, he knew Mrs. Dean and her family well. Then he told the pathetic story of the death of young Dean, and said he came very near going with him into that battle. That Miss Jennie married Lewellyn Jones, a brother of Ned Jones; that they moved to Crews, Va. Then I learned from him and others that Miss Jennie had been dead thirty years, leaving no children, and her husband had remarried and had a family of grown children; and that Miss Jennie’s little brother lived in the city, the last of the family living. Then I took a street car for the Crater, where I had labored and fought forty years before, and after taking in the museum of war relics, went out where I had thrown some lead, and in an oat stubble picked up some battered bullets. A pine tree large enough for a saw log is growing in the bottom of the Crater, since the 1,500 skeletons had been removed to national cemeteries.