“'My dear child, it shall be done. My old friend Lyon is making more sacrifices than should be demanded of any one. I hope you will see him soon, and when you do, tell him that I often think of him and his family, as well as what they are doing for their country.'
“The President was a man of generous impulses. He had a very kind heart, full of sympathy for humanity.
“She left the President with feelings of the deepest affection and gratitude, having every assurance that her wishes would be complied with. As she left, he bade her good-by, calling her his 'little heroine.' From Washington she went to Baltimore, learning that some prisoners who had been exchanged were to be landed there. She remained at the Burnett House, most of the time in her room, not wishing to make any acquaintances, but watching the papers closely to ascertain the time for the arrival of the prisoners. One evening she learned that a vessel had come into port with 200 prisoners. She hastened to the dock; arriving all out of breath, and seeing the large crowd that was waiting she became very much excited, and observing an officer in uniform she ventured to speak to him. It was Gen. Shunk, of Ohio. She told him who she was, and also for whom she was looking. He answered her very cordially, and said he knew Mr. Daniel Lyon, formerly of Ohio, and inquired if the person in question was one of his sons. She said he was, and he told her to wait and he would see, as he was then in command at Baltimore. In a few moments he came back with the glad tidings that Henry Lyon was among the prisoners. She was going to rush on board the vessel, but the General detained her, informing her that it was not allowable under the orders, but he would bring Henry to her as soon as possible. Soon she saw Henry coming from the vessel, leaning upon the arm of a comrade. He seemed to be very weak, and still looked like a mere shadow. He was brought where she stood, trembling and almost fearing to meet him lest his mind might have given way somewhat under the trying ordeal through which he had just passed. She threw her arms around his neck and wept aloud. A carriage was procured, and she accompanied him, by permission, to the hospital where he was ordered to go. Reaching there, he was placed in a nice clean ward. There they talked matters over, and Henry agreed to the discharge from the service. Seraine left him with the nurses, saying that she would return as soon as possible; at the same time he was not to let his people know anything of his whereabouts. She left that night for Washington.
“The next morning at the earliest hour that she could see the Secretary of War, she made her appearance. On meeting the Secretary he recognized her, and asked if she was after the discharge about which she agreed to write to him. She replied that Henry was now at Baltimore, having been exchanged. Then she told him of his condition. The Secretary at once ordered the discharge made out, and as soon as it had passed through the proper officers' hands and was returned to him he handed it to her, saying:
“'You deserve this yourself, without any other consideration.'
“She again thanked the Secretary, and at once repaired to the President's Mansion. When she was admitted, on seeing her the President guessed from her bright countenance the whole story, and congratulated her most heartily. She told him all, and showed him Henry's discharge and thanked him for his kindness. He said:
“'May God bless you, my child, and give you both a safe journey home!'
“Returning to Baltimore, she made arrangements to have Henry placed in a clean car and taken to Allentown. After they were under way she told him about the discharge, and he was delighted. She telegraphed me to mee her at the depot, but did not say one word about Henry. I read the dispatch to the family, and many were the conjectures. Peter said she had not found Henry, and a great variety of opinions were expressed. My wife burst into tears, fell down on the sofa, and cried, saying she felt that Henry was dead. Ham, hearing what was being said, concluded it was his turn to guess; so he began:
“'You's all off de track. Ham sees it all frough de glass in he head, he do.'
“'Go 'long wid you, you ole fool: since you's free you 'spec' you is big and knows a heap. You doesn't know nuffin, you don't,' said Aunt Martha.