Gentlemen—I return you sincere thanks for the honour intended myself and family. In the language of the last tune played by your band, I truly feel at “home again,” and it fills my soul with joy to meet my friends once more. What a vast difference a few miles makes! Tupelo is about forty miles south of Rienzi, on an air-line. There I was regarded as a base ingrate, as a despicable traitor, as an enemy to the country, chained as a felon, doomed to die, and before the execution of the sentence, subjected to every species of insult and contumely. Here I meet with the kindest expressions of sympathy from officers of all ranks, from the subaltern to the general, and there is not a private soldier who has heard my tale of woe, who does not manifest a kindly sympathy.
I hope that you will soon pass south of Tupelo; but in your march to the Gulf, may you fare better than I did in my journey to this place. Green corn eaten raw, berries, and stagnant water, would soon cause you to present the emaciated appearance that I do. On your route, call upon the secession sympathizers, and compel them to furnish you with better and more substantial food. My horse I left at Tupelo. He is a valuable animal. The rebel General Hardee, in the true spirit of secession, appropriated—that is, stole—him. However, I did not call to demand him when I left. Being in haste, I did not choose to spare the time, and leaving in the night, I did not wish to disturb the slumbers of the Tupelonians. He is a bright bay. If you meet with him, you may have him for nothing. I would much prefer that he serve the Federal army.
If you take General Jordan prisoner, send me word, and I will furnish you with the iron bands that he put on me, by which you may secure him till he meets the just award of his crimes, which would be death, for destroying the lives of so many Union men.
I hope that you may soon plant the stars and stripes on the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, and play the “Star-spangled Banner” within hearing of its vertiginous billows, after having conquered every foe to the permanence of the glorious Union. I close with the sentiment of the immortal Jackson, which I wish you to bear constantly in mind, in your victorious progress—“The Federal Union—it must and shall be preserved!” Relying upon the God of battles, rest assured that the right cause will triumph, and that after having secured the great object of your warfare, the preservation of the Union, your children and your children’s children will rise up and call you blessed, rejoicing in the enjoyment of a free, united, and happy country.
Wishing you abundant success, I beg leave to retire.
On Saturday, the 2d of August, 1862, we left Rienzi, en route for the North, in company with William H. Hubbard, Esq., and family, who were also refugees. From the moment I reached the Federal lines I experienced nothing but kindness. I could not mention all who are deserving of thanks from myself and family. I am under special obligations to Generals Nelson, Rosecrans, Granger, Davis, and Asboth; also to Colonel Bryner and Lieutenant Colonel Thrush, of the Forty-seventh Illinois, and Surgeon Lucas, of same regiment, and to Dr. Holley, of the Thirty-sixth Illinois Volunteers; to Josiah King, Esq., of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania; and Dr. McCook, of Steubenville, Ohio; also Mrs. Ann Wheelwright, of Newburyport, Massachusetts, whose kind letter will ever be remembered, and whose “material aid” entitles her to lasting gratitude; and to Rev. George Potts, D. D., of New York; and Mr. William E. Dubois, of Philadelphia; Rev. Dr. Sprole, Newburgh, New York; Rev. N. Hewitt, D. D., Bridgeport, Connecticut; and Rev. F. N. Ewing, Chicago, Illinois; Rev. J. M. Krebs, D. D., New York; Rev. A. D. Smith, D. D., New York; and Rev. F. Reck Harbaugh, Philadelphia, and many others.
Before closing this chapter I would mention the following incident:
On Wednesday evening, November 19th, I addressed the citizens of Philadelphia at the Sixth Presbyterian Church, (Rev. F. Reck Harbaugh’s.) A report of this address found its way into the city papers. Two days afterwards, while in conversation with Mr. Martien, at his book-store, two soldiers entered, one of whom approached, and thus addressed me:
“Do you know me, sir?”
I replied: “Your face is familiar, but I do not remember your name. It is my misfortune not to be able to remember proper names.”