“'Well, alright, Marfa; 'spec' me not know bery much; but, sho's you is born, dat boy all right; you see, you jes' wait. I say no mo', but I see what is de matter. You jes' wait, dat's all you got to do.'
“The next morning I went down to the depot with a carriage, and there found Seraine and Henry waiting for me. I embraced my poor boy, overcome with grateful emotion. My joy was complete in finding him alive. He was a living skeleton. We were not long in driving to the house. All were out on the portico to see Seraine, no one but Ham expecting Henry with her. As they all saw Henry the family leaped with joy, and rushing out to meet us, but seeing Henry's ghastly appearance a sudden sadness came over all. We helped him out of the carriage. He was completely overcome when he saw his mother. She clasped him in her arms and cried piteously. He was assisted into the house and laid upon the sofa. All seemed to have overlooked Seraine in their great joy over Henry's return. I introduced her to each one of the family including old Ham and Aunt Martha.
“'Didn't I see dem in my glass, Marfa; didn't I? What you got to say now?'
“'I 'spects you did, Ham; dey is heah, sho.' Bress de Laud; he bring dis boy home. I not see him afore dem pizen Sesh fix him dat way! Dey starve him. What did dey do to him to make him look like dat?'
“Soon we all got settled, and after breakfast we heard Seraine's story. She was our heroine, and no mistake. No one of us could do too much for her. My good wife wanted to have her for a daughter at once. She could not let her go out of her sight for a moment. She hugged her, kissed her, seemed almost to want to take her in her lap as a child; in fact, we all loved her. She had gone through great perils to save our dear boy, and why not love her I For some days we did nothing but talk over her journey-ings and what she saw and did. She was the idol of our household. When Henry had gained strength enough to bear up under the double shock, we told him of the death of David and James, which painful news he had not heard before. It took him many days to rally after this melancholy intelligence of the fate of his dear brothers. After Henry was strong enough to walk about without help Seraine thought she must leave us for a time and return home. This saddened our hearts, as we had grown much attached to her. But she and Henry talked the matter over, making their own arrangements, and the next day Jackson escorted her to her home in Michigan. When she left, no family ever wept more in sorrow at the departure of any one than did ours.
“There was a mystery connected with her periling her life in the way she did that I could not then solve, but I made no inquiry into her secret.
“Of the few left to us they were now once more nearly all together, and further plans were in order.”
At this point Dr. Adams said, “The horrors of those rebel prisons have ever been like a specter before me whenever I hear them mentioned.”
Judge Reed here interrupted, saying: “I indorse every word of Miss Whitcomb's description of these prisons. I endured their horrors and inhumanity for nine months, and she does not tell the half that might be told. To show that Seraine's statement is not in the least exaggerated, I have saved an article from the Sumter (S. C.) Watchman, published in reference to the Florence Prison at that time, which seems to have equaled the Pine Forest.”.
Being asked to do so, Dr. Adams read as follows: