She thus describes some of the incidents of this visit:
"The long and weary siege of Vicksburg, had continued many months previous to the terrific assaults of our brave army on the fortifications in the rear of that rebel stronghold. On the 19th and 22d of May, were made those furious attacks, up steep acclivities, in the teeth of bristling fortifications, long lines of rifle-pits, and sharp-shooters who fringed the hill-tops, and poured their murderous fire into our advancing ranks. It would seem impossible that men could stand, much less advance, under such a galling fire. They were mowed down as wheat before the sickle, but they faltered not. The vacant places of the fallen were instantly filled, and inch by inch they gained the heights of Vicksburg. When the precipice was too steep for the horses to draw up the artillery, our brave boys did the work themselves, and then fought and conquered. When they had gained the topmost line of rifle-pits, they entered in and took possession; and when I made my last visit to the Army of the Mississippi, there they were ensconced as conies in the rock, enduring the heat of a vertical sun, and crouching, like beasts of prey, to escape the rebel bullets from the earthworks, almost within touching distance. The fierce and bloody struggle had filled long lines of field-hospitals with mangled victims, whose sufferings were soothed and relieved beyond what I could have conceived possible, and it rejoiced my heart to see there the comforts and luxuries of the Sanitary Commission. The main body of the army lay encamped in the valleys, at the foot of the rifle-pits, and spread its lines in a semi-circle to a distance of fourteen miles. The health of the army was perfect, its spirit jubilant. They talked of the rebels as prisoners, as though they were guarding them, and answered questions implying doubt of success, with a scornful laugh, saying, 'Why, the boys in the rear could whip Johnston, and we not know it; and we could take Vicksburg if we chose, and not disturb them.' Each regiment, if not each man, felt competent for the work. One glorious day in June, accompanied by an officer of the 8th Missouri, I set out for the rifle-pits. When I reached them, I found the heat stifling; and as I bent to avoid the whizzing minies, and the falling branches of the trees, cut off by an occasional shell, I felt that war was a terrible reality. The intense excitement of the scene, the manly, cheerful bearing of the veterans, the booming of the cannon from the battlements, and the heavy mortars that were ever and anon throwing their huge iron balls into Vicksburg, and the picturesque panorama of the army encamped below, obliterated all sense of personal danger or fatigue. After a friendly talk with the men in the extreme front, and a peep again and again through the loop-holes, watched and fired upon continually, by the wary foe, I descended to the second ledge, where the sound of music reached us. We followed it quickly, and in a few moments stood behind a rude litter of boughs, on which lay a gray-haired soldier, face downward, with a comrade on either side. They did not perceive us, but sang on the closing line of the verse:
'Come humble sinner in whose breast
A thousand thoughts revolve;
Come with thy sins and fears oppressed,
And make this last resolve,'
I joined in the second verse;
'I'll go to Jesus, though my sins
Have like a mountain rose,
I know His courts, I'll enter in,
Whatever may oppose.'
In an instant, each man turned and would have stopped, but I sang on with moistened eyes, and they continued. At the close, one burst out, 'Why, ma'am, where did you come from? Did you drop from heaven into these rifle-pits? You are the first lady we have seen here,' and then the voice was choked with tears. I said, 'I have come from your friends at home to see you, and bring messages of love and honor. I have come to bring you the comforts that we owe you, and love to give. I've come to see if you receive what they send you.' 'Do they think so much of us as that? Why, boys, we can fight another year on that, can't we?' 'Yes! yes!' they cried, and almost every hand was raised to brush away the tears. 'Why, boys,' said I, 'the women at home don't think of much else but the soldiers. If they meet to sew, 'tis for you; if they have a good time, 'tis to gather money for the Sanitary Commission; if they meet to pray, 'tis for the soldiers; and even the little children, as they kneel at their mother's knees to lisp their good-night prayers, say, God bless the soldiers.' A crowd of eager listeners had gathered from their hiding-places, as birds from the rocks. Instead of cheers as usual, I could only hear an occasional sob and feel solemn silence. The gray-haired veteran drew from his breast-pocket a daguerreotype, and said, 'Here are my wife and daughters. I think any man might be proud of them, and they all work for the soldiers.' And then each man drew forth the inevitable daguerreotype, and held it for me to look at, with pride and affection. There were aged mothers and sober matrons, bright-eyed maidens and laughing cherubs, all carried next these brave hearts, and cherished as life itself. Blessed art! It seems as though it were part of God's preparation work, for this long, cruel war. These mute memorials of home and its loved ones have proved the talisman of many a tempted heart, and the solace of thousands of suffering, weary veterans. I had much to do, and prepared to leave. I said, 'Brave men, farewell! When I go home, I'll tell them that men that never flinch before a foe, sing hymns of praise in the rifle-pits of Vicksburg. I'll tell them that eyes that never weep for their own suffering, overflow at the name of home and the sight of the pictures of their wives and children. They'll feel more than ever that such men cannot be conquered, and that enough cannot be done for them.' Three cheers for the women at home, and a grasp of multitudes of hard, honest hands, and I turned away to visit other regiments. The officer who was with me, grasped my hand; 'Madam,' said he, 'promise me you'll visit my regiment to-morrow—'twould be worth a victory to them. You don't know what good a lady's visit to the army does. These men whom you have seen to-day, will talk of your visit for six months to come. Around the camp fires, in the rifle-pits, in the dark nights or on the march, they will repeat your words, describe your looks, your voice, your size, your dress, and all agree in one respect, that you look like an angel, and exactly like each man's wife or mother. Such reverence have our soldiers for upright, tender-hearted women. In the valley beneath, just having exchanged the front line of rifle-pits, with the regiment now occupying it, encamped my son's regiment. Its ranks had been fearfully thinned by the terrible assaults of the 19th and 21st of May, as they had formed the right wing of the line of battle on that fearful day. I knew most of them personally, and as they gathered round me and inquired after home and friends, I could but look in sadness for many familiar faces, to be seen no more on earth. I said, 'Boys, I was present when your colors were presented to you by the Board of Trade. I heard your colonel pledge himself that you would bring those colors home or cover them with your blood, as well as glory. I want to see them, if you have them still, after your many battles.' With great alacrity, the man in charge of them ran into an adjoining tent, and brought them forth, carefully wrapped in an oil-silk covering. He drew it off and flung the folds to the breeze. 'What does this mean?' I said. 'How soiled and tattered, and rent and faded they look—I should not know them.' The man who held them said, 'Why, ma'am, 'twas the smoke and balls did that.' 'Ah! so it must have been,' I said. 'Well, you have covered them with glory, but how about the blood!' A silence of a minute followed, and then a low voice said, 'Four were shot down holding them—two are dead, and two in the hospital.' 'Verily, you have redeemed your pledge,' I said solemnly. 'Now, boys, sing Rally round the Flag, Boys!'—and they did sing it. As it echoed through the valley, as we stood within sight of the green sward that had been reddened with the blood of those that had fought for and upheld it, methought the angels might pause to hear it, for it was a sacred song—the song of freedom to the captive, of hope to the oppressed of all nations. Since then, it seems almost profane to sing it with thoughtlessness or frivolity. After a touching farewell, I stepped into the ambulance, surrounded by a crowd of the brave fellows. The last sound that reached my ears was cheers for the Sanitary Commission, and the women at home. I soon reached the regimental hospital, where lay the wounded color-bearers. As I entered the tent, the surgeon met me and said, 'I'm so glad you've come, for R—— has been calling for you all day,' As I took his parched, feverish hand, he said, 'Oh! take me home to my wife and little ones to die,' There he lay, as noble a specimen of vigorous manhood as I had ever looked upon. His great, broad chest heaved with emotion, his dark eyes were brilliant with fever, his cheeks flushed with almost the hue of health, his rich brown hair clustering in soft curls over his massive forehead, it was difficult to realize that he was entering the portals of eternity. I walked across the tent to the doctor, and asked if he could go with me. He shook his head, and said before midnight he would be at rest. I shrank from his eager gaze as I approached him. 'What does he say?' he asked quickly. 'You can't be moved.' The broad chest rose and fell, his whole frame quivered. There was a pause of a few minutes. He spoke first, and said, 'Will you take my message to her?' 'I will,' I said, 'if I go five hundred miles to do it,' 'Take her picture from under my pillow, and my children's also. Let me see it once more.' As I held them for him, he looked earnestly, and then said, 'Tell her not to fret about me, for we shall meet in heaven. Tell her 'twas all right that I came. I don't regret it, and she must not. Tell her to train these two little boys, that we loved so well, to go to heaven to us, and tell her to bear my loss like a soldier's wife and a Christian.' He was exhausted by the effort. I sat beside him till his consciousness was gone, repeating God's precious promises. As the sun went to rest that night, he slept in his Father's bosom."
Early in January, 1864, another Council of women connected with the Branch Commissions, Aid Societies, and general work of Supply, assembled in Washington, and was in session three days. Mrs. Hoge, was again a Delegate, and in relating the results of her now very large experience, helped greatly the beneficial results of the Council, and harmonized all the views and action of the various branches. As before, she was listened to with deference and attention, and we find her name mentioned in the most appreciative manner in the Reports of the meeting. Her remarks in regard to the value of free use of the Press, and of advertising, in the collection of supplies for the Army, stimulated the Commission to renewed effort in this direction, which they had partially abandoned under the censorious criticism of some portion of the public, who believed the money thus expended to be literally thrown away. The result was, instead, a very large increase of supplies.
In the two great Sanitary Fairs, which were held in Chicago, the efforts of Mrs. Hoge were unwearied from the inception of the idea until the close of the successful realization. Much of this success may be directly traced to her—her practical talent, great experience in influencing the minds and action of others, and sound judgment, as well as good taste, producing thus their natural results. The admirable conduct of these fairs, and the large amounts raised by them, are matters of history.
In an address delivered at a meeting of ladies in Brooklyn, New York, in March, 1865, Mrs. Hoge thus spoke of her work and that of the women, who like her, had given themselves to the duty of endeavoring to provide for the sick and suffering soldier:
"The women of the land, with swelling hearts and uplifted eyes asked 'Lord, what wilt thou have us to do?' The marvellous organization of the United States Sanitary Commission, with its various modes of heavenly activity, pointed out the way, saying 'The men must fight, the women must work, this is the way, follow me.' In accepting this call, there has been no reservation. Duty has been taken up, in whatever shape presented, nothing refused that would soothe a sorrow, staunch a wound, or heal the sickness of the humblest soldier in the ranks. Some have drifted into positions entirely new and heretofore avoided. They have gone forth from the bosom of their families, to visit hospitals, camps, and battle-fields; some even to appear as we do before you to-day, to plead for aid for our sick and wounded soldiers suffering and dying that we may live. The memory of their heroism is inspiring—the recollection of their patience and long-suffering is overwhelming. They form the most striking human exemplification of divine meekness and submission, the world has ever seen, and bring to mind continually the passage, 'He is brought as a lamb to the slaughter, and as a sheep before her shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.'"