“Well, I have asked myself heretofore the question, why did I give my right arm for such a Government? That such a man, who had served his country as faithfully as he, could be thus brutally murdered, with his family, and no one punished for it, is a marvel to me; and no doubt some of his murderers are now holding high official position!”
“Yes,” said Uncle Daniel, “one of the instigators of this crime has held office ever since, as a Southern patriot who nobly assisted in ridding the South of one of those Northern Yankees.”
“Uncle Daniel, what became of Aunt Martha?” inquired Maj. Clymer.
“Poor old woman, she lived with Seraine and me for about three years after her return, when she sickened and died. When she spoke on any subject she would finally get to those murders. They preyed upon her mind constantly, and I think hastened her death.”
“How strange that all who were connected with your household during the war should have had such a fate!”
“Yes, my friends, it has been the one unaccountable mystery in my life. Poor old Joseph Dent died in the same year, and I was left almost alone. My dear Jennie, a few years ago, married Mr. Wilson, and I came to live with them in Oakland. Seraine went to her father and mother in Michigan. They are both alive and she remains with them. Her son Harvey—named for his uncle, my youngest son, who was murdered at the battle of the Gaps, if you remember—is now in Chicago working as one of the cash-boys in a dry-goods store. I thought, as he was the last link in our family, that the Government owed it to us to send him to the West Point Military Academy, but I could not get him into the school. The member from here was not favorable, inasmuch as he was an anti-war Democrat during the rebellion. Harvey is making his own living now and I hope he may have a bright future. He often comes to see us. Poor Seraine; when the boy could not get into West Point, it almost broke her heart. She said to me:
“'Father, how shallow is this world. You, his grandfather, lost seven sons, six in the army. This boy's father was starved near unto death in Pine Forest Prison. I, his mother, risked my life in going through the rebel lines to obtain his release. He was murdered by one of the conspirators; and now we are forgotten. No one cares what we suffered during and since the war. My son cannot even have the poor privilege of being educated by the Government, when the sons of nearly every rebel General who tried to destroy the Union are now under the guardianship of the Government, being educated either at West Point for the army, or at Annapolis for the navy.'”
Dr. Adams said: “This is hard; it is uncharitable, and shows a great want of the proper gratitude that should be due under the circumstances.”
Col. Bush said: “What does the Government or people care for those who made the sacrifices? We are so far away from the war now in space of time, that we are not only forgotten, but regarded as pests in society. Are the people not grumbling about what has been done for the soldiers? Do they not complain about our pensions? A few years more, however, and all of us cripples, one-armed and one-legged and those who are wholly armless and legless, will have passed away out of sight. The recognition now is not to the victors, but to the vanquished. If you wish to be respected by a certain class, North or South, only make it appear that you headed a band of marauders during the war, dealing death to Union men and destroying their property, and you will be invited to agricultural shows, to the lecture halls, and upon the stump; and if still living in the South, you will either be sent to the United States Senate, made Governor, or sent on some foreign mission.”
“Uncle Daniel, what became of Thomlinson and Carey, the Canadian conspirators,” inquired Inglesby.