A SAD HOME-COMING.
Sixteen miles away, embowered in a grove of oak and elm, lay the home I had left, holding within the sacred shadow of its walls all that I loved best on earth. For nearly two months no tidings had come to me from them. We had been so constantly on the move that the letters written had never reached me. The latest message received had told me of my father's illness, but its tone gave me hope of his early recovery. Our passage through Augusta gave me the privilege of revisiting the old homestead, but it was a sad home-coming. Twice since I had left it last the family circle had been broken and the shadow of death had fallen on its hearthstone. A few short months before in the autumnal haze of a September day, as sweet a sister as brother ever owned had breathed out her young life just as she was budding into womanhood. And now only a week before I entered its portals again my father, worn out by the added burdens imposed by the absorption of younger physicians in the military service, had been laid away beneath the shadow of the trees in the city of the dead. The reader will pardon, I trust, the filial tribute to his worth that comes unbidden from my heart today. Beyond and above any partial judgment born of the love I bore him, I have always thought him the best and purest man I have ever known. It may be that no human life can claim perfection and yet if his knew aught of fault or blemish in all the years from boyhood to the grave, no human eye could see it. In lofty purpose and in lowly, unremitting faithfulness to duty he lived above the common plane of men, serving his generation by the will of God, doing justly, loving mercy, walking humbly in all the paths his Master's feet had trod and dying in the noontide of his usefulness, he left to those who loved him, a name as pure and stainless as the snows that winter's breath have heaped upon his grave.
After ten days' rest at home, in company with eight comrades of the Oglethorpes, I left Augusta Feb. 20 to rejoin my command in upper South Carolina, reaching it after six days' tramp, near Pomaria. I recall only two or three incidents of that trip, that are seemingly worthy of record in these pages. The night of Feb. 21 was spent near the residence of Mr. Johnson Bland, who kindly sent to our bivouac an ample supply of edibles for our evening meal. After they had been disposed of, the negro messenger, who had brought the supplies, entertained us with a learned disquisition on a species of ghosts, which he termed "hanks." Harrison Foster, with his usual taste for scientific research, wanted to know how the presence of these hanks could be detected and was informed that if in traveling at night he felt the sudden touch of a warm breath of air on his face he might rest assured that it was a "hank." Possibly to test the sincerity of his conviction on the subject or to guard our slumbers from the disturbing influence of an inroad of these restless spirits of the night, Harrison gave the negro a gun and posted him as a lone sentry in an adjacent graveyard.
The next night was spent at the residence of Major Dearing. The family were all away and Mr. Smith, who had charge of the plantation, kindly gave us the use of the dwelling for the night. It was very handsomely furnished and to the credit of our squad I desire to record the fact that while silver forks and spoons were lying loosely around the dining room, not one of them disappeared when we took our departure. There were no Ben Butlers among us. Two nights later we slept in a Universalist church, said to be haunted, not by "hanks," but by the ghost of its former pastor, Mr. Stitch. My journal records the further fact that on the evening before we rejoined our command the entire squad suffered from an aggravated attack of the "blues." In whatever way the fact may be accounted for, there is but one other similar entry for the four years' service. An hour or two after reaching the camp of our regiment we began the march for Chester, reaching that place March 5th. Remaining there until the 10th we left by rail for Charlotte, but by reason of an accident, failed to arrive at our destination until the evening of the 11th. On the 12th we moved on to Salisbury, remained there until the 17th, when the train took us to Smithfield. A march of 16 miles on the 18th enabled us to rejoin our corps near Bentonville.