Truly those past heroic days should be kept in remembrance, and every faithful record of them should be welcome to us. So I hope your little literary enterprise may be successful.
Truly yours,
GRACE GREENWOOD.
THE BOYS IN WHITE.
CHAPTER I.
RETROSPECT—HOME-LEAVING—LAKE ERIE—ALLEGHANIES—ACCIDENT—WASHINGTON—PROVOST MARSHAL—THE PRESENTIMENT—BLIGHTED HOPES—ORVILLE WHEELOCK—MY BROTHER’S GRAVE.
Alexandria, Va., Oct. 1, 1862.
Well, here I am, strange as it seems, in the rebellious city of Alexandria! Alone, among strangers, hundreds of miles from home and kindred, surrounded by scenes new and strange; scenes of sadness, of suffering, of death.
As I look over the past, it does not seem possible that only three weeks have elapsed since leaving home. Oh! what a lifetime one may live in a very short period, when it is measured by heart-throbs instead of years. While retrospecting, memory goes back to the morning of the 10th of the month just closed. Its dawn is calm and beautiful. Nine o’clock finds me in the old red school-house in the township of Ionia, Michigan, where are assembled the rural children and youth for instruction. All are joyous and happy. Three days more and the term will close. This day promises to end as it began, full of joy and gladness—yet, knowing that the fearful battles of Bull Run and Chantilly had recently been fought, we were anxiously waiting for tidings from the loved one who had gone to battle for the “dear old flag,” and, if need be, die to maintain its honor. But the interval that had elapsed since the occurrence of those bloody conflicts gave us reason to hope that our soldier brother was safe. Nor voice, nor spirit, nor sighing wind, nor playful breeze, told of the future. But time on rapid wing approached with tidings the most heart-crushing. A child is made the bearer of the sad message.
About three o’clock, while engaged in hearing a recitation, there is a gentle tap at the door—a little girl steps upon the threshold; her eyes are red with weeping, and, in great agitation, she says: “Orville is wounded; his limb is amputated. He has sent for Anna, and she starts for Washington to-morrow!” My womanly heart said, that “Orville Wheelock, my brother, must not suffer alone. I will accompany Anna to Washington.”