On Sunday, the 21st of May, I officiated in the Central Presbyterian Church, Atlanta. There was an immense congregation present. It was made up of about an equal number of Federals and Confederates. Before beginning the service, I made a brief address in which I expressed my views as to the duties of all true men in the then present condition of the country. I said that every man should do his utmost to heal the wounds and to hide the seams and scars of the fratricidal war that had just closed. I told the congregation that I would not use the prayer for the President of the United States at that service, simply because it had not yet been authorized by the Bishop of the Diocese whose ecclesiastical jurisdiction in the matter I recognized. I then proceeded with the service.
A few evenings later, Major E. B. Beaumont, Adjutant-General on Major-General Wilson's staff, took tea with us. He was from Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania, and an intimate friend of Mr. Peters' relatives in that state. As soon as he reached Macon, he wrote to Mr. Peters requesting him to call on him for any assistance he might be able to render. He was then on his way home on thirty days' leave.
He was a graduate of West Point, and,—like all from that institution with whom I was ever brought in contact,—a gentleman. From him I heard the Federal side of the story of the Columbus fight. I appreciated more than ever how utterly absurd was the attempt on the part of the Confederates to defend the place! We had but a handful of untrained militia and a squad of veterans from the hospitals, against 13,000 of the best disciplined and best equipped troops of the Federal army!
From Atlanta I started for Nashville, accompanied by my family and my friend Mr. Peters, who was most anxious to get to Philadelphia. The railroad between Atlanta and Chattanooga had been destroyed but had been re-built as far south as Kingston, Georgia. I found an old friend, the engineer in charge of the work of construction, who gladly received us into his coach and provided us with abounding hospitality.
As there was considerable difficulty in getting through Chattanooga, I called upon the Federal Commander at Kingston, and asked him if he would kindly facilitate my movements. I handed him my passport upon which he endorsed his name and asked me to hand it to an officer in an adjoining room. The latter, to my surprise, provided me with free passes to Nashville. Arrived at Nashville, I was very cordially received at the residence of my friend, Colonel Harry Yeatman. This was on a Friday. The next day, the Rev. W. D. Harlow, then in charge of Christ Church, called upon me. I said to him in the course of our conversation: "I shall be glad to take part with you in the services tomorrow." For the hall, used by my congregation previous to the war, had been taken by the military, in 1862, and converted into barracks, and my congregation was scattered.
"Perhaps you had better not," he said.
"And pray, why not?" I asked.
"The authorities might not like it," he replied.
"Very well," I rejoined, "if they do not like it, let them come and arrest me. I shall not object in the least."
I learned subsequently that he had called upon General Parkhurst of Michigan, then Provost Marshal of Nashville, informed him of my arrival and asked him if I would be permitted to officiate.