Our party having for some time consisted of Mr. H., myself, and friend, we stayed until the town was deserted; the few that were left being taken to “Smoketown” and “Locust Spring.” Our services no longer required, we went home the last of November; staying there only long enough to arrange about the forwarding of supplies to us, as we should need them in the hospitals.
Another trip to Antietam and Harper’s Ferry, and Mr. H. returned, ill with the fever; fortunately, it was not a serious attack. We remained there only long enough to nurse him through it, when our trips to the hospitals at Antietam and Frederick City were resumed. While in the latter place, our home was the house of a well-known loyal family. They felt, what we at the North knew nothing of, that loyalty meant life was at stake, homes deserted, property destroyed, and the friends of early, happier years, all given up,—for what? devotion to the country, and the flag!
As “Stonewall’s” men marched through the town, they manifested their contempt for the “Starry Flag” by trailing it in the dust, at their horses’ feet, as they rode along. Our friends, pained to know of their ill deeds, and unwilling to look upon the disgraceful act they were powerless to prevent, closed their doors and windows, that they might be out of sight. Their old neighbors pointed them out to the rebels, as they passed exultingly through their streets, as hated Unionists. But their joy was of short duration; soon driven out by our forces, and many prisoners taken, a long line of the captured were marched by their door. Now was their hour of triumph; the flag which had been so cautiously concealed, and sacredly guarded, was brought from its hiding-place, and secured to the staff. Mrs. J...., an elderly lady, a Virginian by birth, determined they should again pass under the flag they had dishonored.
“In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.
She leaned far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.”
The rebels could only threaten, as they moved on, that if again in possession of the city, they and their home were doomed. Some months after this had occurred, I stood by that attic window as she related the story, and pointed out how defiantly she had waved it over them. Its weight was as much as I could raise, and yet, in the excitement, my friend was all unconscious of it. It was long after, before I saw or heard of Whittier’s “Barbara Frietchie,”—that charming story, so told that it will live for ages to come; and have often wondered whether his original and my friend were the same. In visits to the hospitals, collecting and distributing articles needed among the wounded, the time was occupied until the battle of Fredericksburg.
Soon after as possible, we went to Virginia, and remained in the Second Corps Hospital, near Falmouth. Army life taught, perhaps, all who were in it many useful lessons. I never knew before how much could be done, in the way of cooking, with so few utensils. We thought we had some experience in that line at Sharpsburg, but here the conveniences were still fewer. When we commenced, a little “camp-stove,” very little larger than a lady’s band-box, fell to our lot, upon which to prepare the “light diet,” as it is termed. Three articles—a coffee-pot, a half-gallon tin-cup, and a small iron-boiler—were the sum total of kitchen furnishing: we soon learned to manage nicely; by beginning in time, were always ready at the tap of the drum. For several weeks, seventy men were daily supplied with all the “light diet” they required, prepared upon it; our soldier assistants worked admirably with it;—and gradually, from the Sanitary Commission and friends at home, this department was fitted for work; an abundance of delicacies could be made with the condensed milk and fresh eggs, which were regularly forwarded to us; bread and biscuit were also sent, with farina, wines, butter, dried fruits, etc., so that the men fared well. Penn Relief, Reading, Pottstown, Danville, and some portions of Montgomery County, were the sources from which our supplies, at this time, principally came. From the commencement until the close of the war, they never wearied in well-doing; but worked on devotedly, as only those could whose hearts were in it. The memory of them, and their good deeds, will ever be lovingly cherished by those whose hands were made the channel through which this stream of life-sustaining gifts flowed.
We still depended entirely upon home-supplies for our own use; frequently, during that winter, our bread was four or five weeks old; we never called it stale even then, though at home we would think it unfit for the table in as many days. Several trips were made to Washington, to purchase bread for us; at length, at the request of the surgeon in charge, we drew army rations, and were spared much trouble. Our dwelling was a little “Sibley” tent, whose only floor was the fragrant branches of the pines—giving additional care to our attentive “orderly,” in its frequent renewing; there, while fully occupied, the winter slowly wore away. The deep mud, and impassable roads, cut by the army, precluded travel; no chaplain, that I ever saw, came to our camp until the roads were in good order: men sickened and died, with no other religious services, save the simple Scripture reading, and prayers, which I was in the daily practice of using for them; and which invariably were received with a pleasant “thank you,” and adding: “We are always glad to see you, and have you read to us.”