CHAPTER VI
Visits Virginia Relatives
Soon after the close of the Civil War I went to Washington, D.C., for the purpose of arguing a case then pending in the supreme court of the United States. The court made an order advancing some important cases in which I think the government was interested, and this necessarily delayed the hearing of the cause in which I was engaged and left on my hands a week or more of leisure. I determined to improve the opportunity by going to Harper's Ferry and to Shepherdstown, West Virginia, for the purpose of finding and visiting some of my mother's relatives. I had an uncle, Charles Cameron, who had lived at Harper's Ferry when we left Maryland in 1841. I took the train to Harper's Ferry, and upon my arrival there ascertained from the hotel clerk that my uncle Charles had died a short time before the Civil War and that his family had removed to Washington. I asked the clerk if he could point out to me some old resident of the place from whom I could obtain information. Whilst talking with him a man entered the office to whom he recommended me as a person that could tell me all about Harper's Ferry before the war. From this gentleman I learned that my uncle, John Cameron, was living with a married daughter several miles over on the Maryland side, just under Maryland Heights. I walked out to the place and had a most delightful visit with him and his daughter, and son-in-law and family. My uncle was a tall, splendidly framed man, a fine specimen of the old Virginia gentleman, over six feet in height, with his faculties unimpared, a fine physique, and was then ninety-three years of age. He went with me the next day over to Shepherdstown, West Virginia, where we found still living and in fine health my uncle, Daniel Cameron, and wife, their daughter, their granddaughter, and their great-granddaughter, all living under the same roof. When Sunday came I went with my cousin to church and she took me to the Methodist Church South. At dinner that day I asked my uncle John if he had been to church. He said, "Certainly, sir." I asked him what church he attended. He answered, "The Methodist church." I turned to my cousin Susan and asked her if we had been to the Methodist church. She said, "Yes, the Methodist Church South." I said to my uncle, "Then you were at the Methodist Church North?" "I attended, sir, the Methodist church of the United States of America." My cousin stepped upon my toes about this time under the table, from which I took the hint that the question of church north and the Methodist church was rather a delicate subject to discuss in the family. I was pleased to find that my relatives had all been true to the cause of the United States and were earnest Union people, except the sons-in-law, who, being young men, were compelled to go into the rebel army.
I visited some of the old places where my father had formerly resided and where he had taught school, and I also visited the grave of my mother and grandmother Cameron in the village churchyard adjacent to the old brick building where I had attended Sunday school when a child. I had arranged with a gentleman who had married my cousin, Ann Cameron, to go with him the next day by way of Sharpsburg, over to Boonesboro, Maryland, but that evening I received a telegram from the clerk of the supreme court advising me that my case would probably be called Monday or Tuesday, and I hastened back to Washington. After disposing of my business in Washington I made a visit to my brothers at Rushville, Ohio. Whilst here we received news of the nomination of General George B. McClelland as democratic candidate for the presidency in opposition to Mr. Lincoln, who had been nominated for his second term. An old acquaintance, Charles Wiseman, who was postmaster at Lancaster, came to see me at Rushville and told me they had posted me for a political speech that night, and he compelled me to go with him and fill the appointment. I found in Lancaster many old friends and acquaintances, boys who had been with me at school, and they gave me a hearty greeting. The old court house was filled to overflowing that night and I dispensed to them for over two hours the gospel of true Republicanism and loyalty to the country. We had a very enthusiastic meeting, and my old friend, John D. Martin, especially gave me a very hearty commendation.
Before my return home I also visited Millersburg, Kentucky, to see my sister Susan and her family. Her husband, William Vimont, had suffered some during the war. His negro cook and her grown boy had been emancipated by their own will, the fugitive slave law being then practically inoperative. Morgan, in his raid through the country, had also stolen Vimont's fine horse, which served somewhat as an antidote for the wrong that he felt had been visited upon him by the Union people. In passing over from his house to the village of Millersburg two incidents occurred which served to illustrate the state of affairs at that time in Kentucky. Upon reaching the turnpike near Mr. Vimont's house we met one of his uncles riding in a buggy, just coming out of the gate which led to his residence, and he informed us with much feeling and passion that when he woke up that morning he discovered that there was not a nigger on his place, that he had no nigger at home to cook his breakfast for him, and that he had to "hitch up his own horse, sah." This last item appeared to be the culmination of his grief. A few hundred yards further we passed a blacksmith shop, and upon the large door that constituted the entrance to the shop we found in red chalk the image of a man drawn, and the door within the lines of this image was full of bullet holes. Mr. Vimont informed me that the blacksmith, who was a violent secessionist, had been accustomed to amuse himself by drawing upon the door of the shop the outline of a person, calling it Lincoln, and then standing a short distance away, revolver in hand, gratifying his rebel heart by filling the image full of bullet holes.
It was during this visit to my brother-in-law that I urged upon him the propriety of selling his little farm and purchasing land in some western state and removing his family thither, which he finally did a few years later, when he removed to Tuscola, Illinois.
I attended religious services in the village on the Sabbath, and was much interested in hearing a sermon from the text, "Be not deceived, God is not mocked, for whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap." The sermon that the minister preached was by no means the same as my thoughts framed from this text when I thought of the desolation that I had witnessed through this state, and the effects of the dark shadow that was just then lifting from one of the fairest lands that a benevolent Creator had ever prepared for a people, but which the stupidity and cupidity of man had cursed with human slavery. The preacher appeared to be perfectly blind as to the crop that his audience had reaped from the fearful sowing of their fathers, or dared not mention even had he thought of it.
CHAPTER VII