The captain came to me a few days after and inquired if I found it in the way of my duty to relieve the wants of those two ladies? I told him I asked them a few questions and did not think it worth the money demanded. He said they had sent for him, and a number of other officers, making the same demand, and as they had not succeeded they sent for me, and he was not disappointed at the result.
As I was passing their news depot, I saw blazoned in red letters, "No New Nation sold here" I stepped in and inquired for their best paper. The Examiner was handed me, edited by Pollard, the whilom son-in-law of Judge James, one of the most rabid Confederate sheets in Richmond. I inquired where the New Nation was sold. They said nowhere, unless a few "niggers" might be found selling it on, the street. One of them poured forth a long catalogue of epithets: "Arrant liar," "reckless villain," and finally a "crazy scamp."
As I was passing the street one day, and saw "New Nation," I thought I would call on the "insane editor," Mr. Hunnicutt. I ascended to the third story, where I found the busy editor and his son. They were surprised to see a lady of sufficient moral courage to call on them. The editor exhibited a pile of anonymous letters, threatening his life. He was an outspoken Union man, and had received over one hundred of these nameless letters within three months. He was a native of Virginia, and said:
"The Union of the States is a fixed fact, and I will advocate it squarely, though it cost me my life, but Union principles must and will prevail."
I left a dollar for a subscription to the New Nation for six months.
As I was about to leave, said he, with tearful eye:
"A select few in this city meet once a week for a prayer-meeting, but I can not attend it in the evening, as it is unsafe for me to be out after dark."
I told him I had received a secret invitation, and had attended each meeting since my first knowledge of this praying band. I told him it was one of the most solemn meetings I had ever attended. As in the days of the apostles, we met in an upper room at the hour of prayer, where I had heard the editor of the New Nation remembered.
"I know," he said, "that I have friends in this city, and some I know are secretly friends for fear of this bitter spirit that reigns to a fearful extent. Don't forget to pray for me and my family. I dare not bring my wife and daughter to this city."
My work kept me here many days. November 25th I spent mostly at the sanitary rooms in Libby Prison, with Miss Morris, a French lady, who served as a spy for the Union generals. Report had it that she was writing a book of her exploits. A soldier told me he saw her a prisoner in Southern hands before the fall of New Orleans. But she managed to make her escape from that city, and in disguise revisited it, and reported to our generals. She could speak French and German better than our own language. She often disguised herself most effectually. Her French politeness would have been quite annoying to me had it not been for the faithful assistance she rendered in seeking out the sick and dying, not hesitating to enter filthy alleys, dark, cold cellars, or with me to climb rickety flights of stairs into dark attics. I have found in almost every place one or more Christian women who kindly offered to assist me, but few would dare visit those filthy places, fearing contagious diseases. Having had the small pox, and all other common contagious diseases, with my very plain habits of living, I dared to visit the sick and dying in any of these loathsome places, many of which I found in Richmond.
The next day, being Sunday, was spent as usual in attending Sabbath-schools. I spoke in two of them, and in one meeting. At night I was at Camp Lee Orphanage with Annie Gibbons, the matron, who had an interesting group of little folks. As they gathered around the table, at the tap of the bell, with clasped hands and closed eyes, they repeated the verse: