A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD SOLDIER.
Forty-two years and over have not dimmed the recollections of the day when the start was made for the war. The boy got up bright and early and went all around among his neighboring playmates and bade them good-bye. Didn’t he feel important, though?
The party rode to Watertown in wagons, and after a supper at the old American hotel, boarded a train for New York. It was the first ride on the cars for our young volunteer.
The boy might live to be one thousand years old, but he could scarcely forget Broadway as it appeared to him that spring day in 1862.
He remembers that the next day when they were on a train passing through New Jersey, a party of boys from a military school boarded the car. They were dressed in natty new uniforms, of which they were evidently very proud. Sergt. Powell wore the regulation artillery uniform of that period, which was quite stunning with the red facings and brass epaulets, and a hat of black felt caught up at the side and ornamented with a black plume. Powell got into conversation with the school boys and finally brought them over to where his party was seated and said: “I want to have you meet a little boy who, although he is not in uniform, is going to be a real soldier.”
If there are any old veterans reading this, they will have most pleasant recollections and ever feel grateful to the good people of Philadelphia for the treatment they received whenever they passed through the city going to or from the war. No boy in blue was ever allowed to pass through the city without being well fed and comfortably cared for, if he remained there over night. Our party passed the night there and took an early train for Washington.
Baltimore had earned an unenviable reputation by its hostility to the northern soldiers and there was always apprehension that a train bearing any soldiers might be stoned or fired upon. Sergt. Powell was quite a joker and he had worked upon the fears of the party in his charge so much that two or three were badly frightened when the train pulled into the city. The reception was in marked contrast with that in Philadelphia, but the passage through Baltimore was without incident.
From Baltimore to Washington there was abundant evidence that the field of operations was not far distant. The railroad was heavily guarded, and camps of soldiers were frequently seen. The boy who two days before had left a quiet country town had to pinch himself occasionally to see if he were really awake and that it was not all a dream.
Washington swarmed with soldiers. Troops were camped right in the heart of the city. Heavily laden wagons with the wheels in mud and ruts clear up to the hubs were pulled through Pennsylvania avenue by six and eight mule teams. The capitol and the Washington monument were then unfinished.
Our party made a short stay in the city and took boat for Alexandria, an old-time southern town with hordes of negroes, slave pens and other reminders of the ante-bellum days.