Having formerly boarded with a Mrs. E——, she took her way first to her house, and made known her anxious errand. She was told of the riot and massacre, and at once feared the worst. Several young men who boarded at the house volunteered to search for Mr. Horton. They returned late in the evening, but could give her no news, save that he had been badly wounded. They dared not communicate their own convictions of his fate.
Only the darkness of the dangerous streets and the restraint of friends prevented the almost distracted woman from going forth that night to continue the search herself. As it was, the night brought no sleep to her eyes, and as soon as it was morning she started on her sad errand.
Information had been received through the city papers that Gen. Baird, the military commandant, had released all who had been arrested and confined by the police, giving the name of her husband among the rest, and stating that he had returned home. Acting on this representation, she went alone to Carrolton, but only to return by the next train. He was not there. Without waiting for breakfast she set off for Gen. Baird's headquarters; a young Methodist clergyman, Mr. Henry, one of Mrs. E——'s boarders, insisting on being her company.
No sooner did Gen. Baird see Mrs. Horton and knew who she was, than he expressed much surprise that her husband had not been seen, and told her he had ordered his release. Perhaps she would find him at the City Hall. To this place she immediately went, but she searched in vain. He had not been there. She then hurried to the First Police Station, determined to wring from the brutal officers a confession of what they had done with her husband. Entering the office, she forced her way within the rails, and asked of the clerk what had been done with her husband. The man declared that "Preacher Horton" had been sent by him to Charity Hospital, and she at once hurried thither. Again she was disappointed. He had not been seen there! (The truth was, the cart which carried Mr. Horton's body had stopped there, and been sent away, as it appeared to be occupied only by blacks.) The horrible idea now suggested itself to the afflicted woman that her husband had been conveyed away with a load of dead bodies, and had been buried alive, but, as a last resort, she determined to visit the Marine Hospital. This was in a low and distant part of the city, and devoted entirely to negroes, and she could not have believed he would be carried there by his worst enemies, but at a friend's suggestion she sought the place, still accompanied by Mr. Henry.
Arrived at the gate, she was refused entrance, but catching a glimpse of Dr. Harris, the head surgeon, whom she knew, she called to him, and asked him if her husband was there. Dr. Harris could give her no positive assurance, but immediately ordered the servant to admit her. Forgetting her weariness in her joy that her long quest had at last succeeded, the faithful woman bounded up the steps, and without waiting to be directed, rushed in among the patients, found out her husband, and sank exhausted upon his bosom. What a spectacle! The form she loved a bruised and helpless mass of flesh and blood, his head swollen to the size of two, his left arm useless, and his right shattered and mangled. He moved perpetually about with the restless, nervous gestures of a dreaming infant. So badly trampled and beaten was his head and face that his eyes were blinded, and a painful retching, produced by the injuries to his stomach, obstructed his breath and speech. But through all the anguish and darkness of his wreck he knew his wife. That she should have recognized him is a miracle to all who do not understand the inspired sagacity of a wife's affection.
"Wipe my face, Emma," he gasped, as if she had been bending over him ever since he fell.
Worn and broken-hearted, the poor woman sat down by her husband's side, and tried to strengthen herself for the task of soothing and comforting his last hours, for she knew too well that he could not live. Nineteen long hours she had searched for him, and now to find him thus!
Few comforts were to be found in that hospital, though the attendants, seeing her distress, evidently meant to treat her kindly. Up to this time the wounded man had lain in the warden's room, but on the next morning, which was Wednesday, he was removed to a more airy apartment. The operation of trepanning was then performed on his head, though with little hope of permanent benefit. When this was over, and the burden upon his brain was thus relieved, the sufferer looked up and repeated,
"When I can read my title clear
To mansions in the skies,