"I would rather he be killed than be a prisoner in your hands," she said.
The Colonel went to Gen. Potter's headquarters and returned without finding the missing husband. But while eating supper the subject was renewed and then the incident which discovered the preacher behind the fence, occurred to the colonel.
"Oh, yes, madam," said he, "I know him. I found him down by the woods. I didn't consider him worth taking."
Then the fire flew from the eyes of the offended woman. The more she scolded, the more the colonel was amused. He learned later (the fight occurring on Sunday) that when the alarm was given the people were at church. And this preacher, after invoking assistance from the God of battles, went forth with other home-guards to meet the bad yankees. The idea was not a bad one if he felt that way, but what could he have found interesting behind the fence? Perhaps he had dropped the thread of his discourse and was searching for his "fifteenthly, my brethren." An entertaining sight it must have been when the godly man reached his home and learned that his valor had preceded him.
Co. G did not believe in killing parsons especially if they were armed with Samson's favorite weapon. And while the subject is still warm, it will be well to speak of prayer as a military arm.
All through the North the good people were praying—Lord, Thou knowest? All over the South equally as good people prayed—Thou knowest, oh Lord? At the front Gen. Howard prayed—Send us victory, oh Lord? On the other side of the line, "Stonewall" Jackson prayed—Strengthen our arms with Thy might and bless our cause, oh Lord. And all of the invocations closed, usually, adding parenthetically—(If it be consistent with Thy Holy Will.)
Both Generals, Howard and Jackson, were exemplary Christian gentlemen. Both prayed with equal fervor, to the same God. But the Lord seemed to be on the rebel side at Chancellorsville and Howard escaped, with barely his reputation as a Christian, untarnished. Jackson was killed and the South mourned for him and their pastors proclaimed him a martyr.
Up in the North, down in the South, heart-broken mothers and widowed wives raised their tear-swept eyes in supplication for mercy. And the clock in the corner, alone replied—time! time!—so the sorrows were left to the healer, Time. And angels looked in and pitied them all. But the war went on—for it was a holy war?
The cause of the South rested on human slavery. The cause of the North was for freedom. When the war was ended it was seen that to free every eighth slave, one white man had given his life, and the lives of thousands of broken-hearted parents, wives and neglected children were not counted—there was little glory in it for them. But Charon's boat was floated on the depths of briny tears.
Co. G have been resting at Sumterville. They have enjoyed for the first time an issue of confiscated cigars, as an army ration, also raw peanuts. When the troops entered the town they found news of their approach already in type at the village newspaper office, and the yankee printers unlocked the forms and completed the report to date, issuing a number of the sheets as souvenirs.