CHAPTER THIRTY-FIRST.
CONCLUSION.
The dead was buried. The hearse was followed by a large concourse ofDr. Humphries' friends, who were brought there by the sad tale of thetrials of the Soldier's Wife. The funeral service was read, and afterthe grave was closed many grouped around Alfred and offered theircondolence. He only bowed but made no reply. The body of Ella had beenpreviously disinterred and placed in the same grave which afterwardcontained her mother, and on the coffins of his wife and child AlfredWentworth took a last look. When the service was over he turned away,and accompanied by Harry returned to the dwelling of the doctor,where, with his boy on his knees, he conversed.
"My furlough does not expire for forty days," he observed, "but Ishall rejoin my regiment in a week from this time. The object forwhich it was obtained being no longer there, it is only just that Ishall report for duty."
"You must do no such thing," answered Harry, "I wish you to remainuntil your leave expires."
"Why?" asked Alfred, in a tone of surprise.
"Well, the fact is," said Harry, "I will be married in thirty days,and it is my urgent desire that you shall be with me on my marriageday, as a guest, if not as a friend."
"I can make but a poor guest," he replied. "My heart is too full ofgrief to willingly join in the mirth and happiness such festivitiesbring with them. You must therefore excuse me. I should indeed startat once did I not desire to find a place to leave this child."
"You need not trouble yourself about him," remarked Harry, "the doctorassured your wife that he should take care of the boy, and I feelcertain he will be a father to him during your absence. Nor will Iexcuse your absence at my wedding, for I do not see why you shouldobject if I desire it, and Emma, I know, will be very much pleased atyour presence. So offer no excuses, but prepare yourself to remain."
"As you appear so much to desire it," he answered. "I will remain, butI assure you I feel but little inclined for such pleasure at thepresent time, particularly a wedding, which cannot fail to bring upreminiscences of a happy day, not so long gone but that it stillremains in my memory, as fresh and vivid as when I was an actor in asimilar occasion."
"Let not such thoughts disturb you," said Harry, "let the Past burythe Past. Look forward only to the Future, and there you will findobjects worthy of your ambition, and if you will pursue them, theywill serve to eradicate from your mind the harrowing scene you havejust passed through. Believe me, Alfred," he continued, "it will neverdo to pass your days in vain regrets at what is passed and vanished.It serves to irritate and keep open the wounds in our lives, while itnever soothes the afflicted, nor gives us a moment of peace. Let thepresent and future alone occupy your thoughts. They will give you foodfor reflection, sufficient to bury all former unhappiness, and toentail upon you a return of that earthly joy you once possessed."
"Your remarks are correct in theory, my friend," replied Alfred, "butthey cannot be put into practice. Sooner can the Mississippi river bedrained of its waters than the inexorable Past be obliterated from themind of man. It must ever remain in his memory, and though at times itmay lie dormant, the slightest event will be all that is necessary toawake it into life. The cares of the present may deprive it of activeparticipation in the mind; anxiety for the future may prevent the mindof man from actively recurring to it, but it still remains indeliblyimprinted on the memory, and though a century of years should pass,and the changes of Time render the Present opposite to the Past, thelatter can never be forgotten. Think not that coming years can renderme oblivious to my present affliction. They may make dull the agony Inow feel, and perchance I will then wear as bright a smile as I did inyears ago, but the remembrance of my wife and child will never beblunted; no, nor shall a shade cross over my heart, and dim theaffection I had for them, while living, and for their memory now thatthey are in the grave."
Alfred was right. The words of Harry were a theory which sounds wellenough for advice, but which can never be placed into practice. ThePast! who can forget it? The Present, with its load of cares; with itshours of happiness and prosperity; with its doubts and anxieties, isnot sufficiently powerful to extinguish remembrance of the Past. TheFuture, to which we all look for the accomplishment of ourdesigns--the achievement of our ambitious purposes--cannot remove thePast. Both combined are unequal to the task, and the daily life of manproves it so.
The Past! what a train of thought does it suggest! Aye, the Past, withits pleasures and misfortunes. It haunts our consciences, and is everbefore our eyes. The murderer, though safely concealed from the world,and who may have escaped punishment by man for years, still has thePast to confront and harass his mind. Penitence and prayer maylighten, but can never remove it. Surrounded though he be with healthand happiness, the demon of the Past will confront him ever, and makehis life wretched. Oh, what a fearful thing is that same Past, we hearspoken of lightly by those whose lives have been along a smooth andflowery track over the same, and unmarked by a single adversity orcrime. A single deviation from the path of honor, integrity andvirtue, and as years roll on the memory of those past hours will causebitter self-reproach, for it will be irremovable. So with pasthappiness as it is with misery and crime. The beggar can never forgethis past joys in contemplating the present or hoping for the future,but it must ever remain a source of never-failing regret and thefountain of unhealable wounds.
The Past!--but no more of it, as we write the recollection of pasthappiness and prosperity, of past follies and errors rise up withvividness, and though it is never forgotten, burns with a brighterlight than before.
Several days after his conversation with Harry, Alfred received amessage from Dr. Humphries requesting him to meet that gentleman atten o'clock the same morning at his residence. Accordingly, at theappointed hour, he presented himself to the Doctor, by whom he wasreceived with great cordiality and kindness.
"I have sent for you, Mr. Wentworth," began the doctor, as soon asAlfred was seated, "to speak with you on a subject which interests youas well as myself. As you are aware, I promised your wife when she wasdying that your remaining child should never want a home while Ilived. This promise I now desire you to ratify by gaining your consentto his remaining with me, at least until he is old enough not to needthe care of a lady."
"You have placed me under many obligations already, Dr. Humphries,"replied Alfred, "and you will pardon me if I feel loath to add anotherto the already long list. I have already formed a plan to place mychild in the hands of the Sisters of Charity at Charleston, by whom hewill be treated with the greatest kindness, and with but small expenseto myself. You must be aware that as a soldier my pay is very small,while I have no opportunity of increasing my salary by engaging in anymercantile pursuit. Such being the case, and as I could not consent toyour defraying the expenses of the child, I think it better for him tobe where I shall need only a small sum of money to pay all neededcharges. At the same time let me assure you of my sincere gratitudefor your generous offer."
"I will not hear of your objections, my good friend," said the doctor;"it is my desire that you allow me to adopt the boy, if only in part.My daughter will shortly be married, as you are aware, and then Ishall be left alone. I possess ample means, and would not accept adollar in return for the expenses incurred for the child, while hispresence will be a source of happiness to me. Already I have formed anattachment for him, and it will only be gratifying my sincere wish ifyou will give your consent. Believe me, I do not ask it for thepurpose of laying you under any obligations, or from any charitablemotive, but from an earnest desire for him to remain with me. Let mehope that you will give your consent."
"I scarcely know what to say," answered Alfred, "for while I feel anatural delicacy in giving my consent, my heart tells me that thechild will be far more comfortable than if he were at the convent."
"Why then do you not give your consent in the same spirit the offer ismade," observed the doctor. "My dear sir," he continued, "let no falseidea of delicacy prevent you from giving your conse
nt to that, whichcannot fail to render your child happy and comfortable."
"I cannot give a decided answer to-day" said Alfred. "You will give metime to consider your offer--say a week. In the meantime I have noobjection to my child remaining with you until my mind is decided uponwhat course I shall pursue."
"I suppose I must be satisfied to wait" answered doctor Humphries,"but let me trust your decision will be a favorable one." As Iremarked before, I desire you consent, from none but the purestmotives, and I hope you will grant it.
* * * * *
The sad tale with which we have endeavored to entertain the reader isover. To the writer it has been no pleasant task, but the hope that itmay prove of some service, and of some interest to the public hascheered us in our work, and disposed us to endure its unpleasantness.Apart from the dearth of literary productions in the South, we havebelieved that a necessity existed for a work of this nature, and withsuch belief we have given the foregoing pages to the people, in thehope that it may prove, not merely a novel to be read, criticised andlaid aside, but to be thought over, and its truth examined, in thedaily lives of hundreds in our midst. It is true, that with thelicense of all writers we may have embellished misery _as a whole_ toa greater extent than reality, but if it is taken to pieces noexaggeration will be discovered, and each picture drawn herein will befound as truthful as our pen has depicted.
As the reader may desire to know what become of the principalcharacters remaining, we anticipated their desire, by making enquiry,and learned the following facts, which we give to make this work ascomplete as possible.
Thirty days after the burial of Mrs. Wentworth, a large assemblage ofgaily dressed ladies and gentlemen assembled at the residence ofdoctor Humphries to witness the marriage of Emma. The party was abrilliant one; the impressive ceremony of the Episcopal church wasread, and Harry Shackleford was the husband of Emma Humphries. Theusual amount of embracing and congratulation occurred on the occasion,after which the party adjourned to the dining room, where a sumptuoussupper had been prepared, and which was partaken of by the guests withmany compliments to the fair bride and bridegroom, while many toastswere offered and drank, wishing long life, health and prosperity tothe young couple. The party lasted to a late hour in the night, whenthe guests dispersed, all present having spent their hours in gaietyand happiness.
No, not all, for apart from the throng, while the marriage ceremonywas being read, was one who looked on the scene with a sad heart. Cladin deep mourning, and holding his child, by the hand, Alfred Wentworthstanding aloof from the crowd saw Emma and his friend united as manand wife with deep emotion. It had been only a few years before, thathe led his wife to the altar and the reminiscences of the presentawoke, and stirred his grief, and brought back upon him, with thegreatest force, his sad bereavement. A tear started to his eyes, as hethought of his present unhappiness, and he turned aside, to hide hisemotion from the crowd. Dashing the tear away, he offered hiscongratulation and good wishes to the newly married couple, as hethought, with calmness, but the quiver of his lips as he spoke, didnot pass unperceived by Harry, and as he clasped the extended hand ofhis friend, a feeling of sympathy, which he could afford even in hishappiness, crept over him.
Shortly after his marriage, Harry returned to his command, and is nowthe Lieutenant Colonel of his regiment, having been promoted to thathonorable position for gallantry exhibited on many battle fields. Whenlast we heard of him he was on furlough, and with his wife in Alabama,where they now reside, he having removed to that State a short timeprevious to the fall of Vicksburg. So far, his wedded life has beenone of unalloyed happiness, and we can only wish that it may continueso, through many long years. To his wife, though she has not been avery prominent character in this book, we tender our best wishes forthe continuance of that happiness she now enjoys, and trust the daywill soon arrive when her husband will have no farther need to perilhis life in defence of his country, but turning his sword into aplough, be enabled to live always with her, and to require no more"furloughs."
Shortly after his daughter's marriage and removal to Alabama, DoctorHumphries found Jackson too lonely for him to reside at. He therefore,removed into the same State, where he possessed a plantation, and isnow residing there, beloved and respected by all who know him. Theunfortunate life of Mrs. Wentworth, and the sad fate of herself andthe little Ella, did not fail to make him actively alive to the dutiesof the wealthy towards those who were driven from their homes by theenemy, and compelled to seek refuge in the States held by theConfederate government. Every time a refugee arrived at his localityhe visits the unfortunate family with a view to finding out the stateof their circumstances. If he discovers they are in need, relief isimmediately granted, and the parties placed above want. By his energyand perseverance he has succeeded in forming a society for the reliefof all refugees coming into the country, and as President of the same,has infused a spirit of benevolence in the members, which promises tobecome a blessing to themselves as well as to the wretched exiles whoare in their midst.
The little Alfred is still with the Doctor, and is a source of muchpleasure to the old gentleman. It was only after the greatestpersuasions possible that his father consented to his remaining, butbeing overcome by the argument of the Doctor and Harry as well as thesolicitations of Emma, he at last gave his consent, feeling at thesame time that his boy would be happier and fare more comfortable thanwith the Sisters of Mercy, who, from their austere and religious life,are ill suited to rear an infant of such tender years. The boy ishappy and can every evening be seen setting on the knees of DoctorHumphries, who he calls "grandfather" and indulging in innocentprattle. He has not yet forgotten his mother and sister, and veryoften he enquires of the Doctor if they will not come back to him atsome future time. On these occasions the old gentleman shakes hishead, and tells him that they are gone to heaven where he will meetthem at some future time, if he behaves like a good boy. Enjoying goodhealth and perfectly happy, although anxious for the termination ofthe war, and the achievement of our independence, we leave this worthygentleman, with the hope that he may long live to receive theblessings and thanks of those who are daily benefited by hisphilanthropic benevolence.
The good old negro and Elsie accompanied the Doctor to Alabama, andare now residing on the Doctor's plantation. The old woman stillresides in a cabin by herself, for no amount of persuasion couldinduce her to stay at the residence, but every day she may be seenhobbling to the house with some present for the little Alfred. Theclothes which little Ella died in, and the remainder of the weddinggown, are kept sacredly by her, and often she narrates, to a group ofopen-mouthed negro children, the sad tale of the soldier's wife,embellishing, as a matter of course, the part she had in the eventfuldrama. Her kindness to Mrs. Wentworth and Ella, was not forgotten bythe soldier, and before he left for the army, she received asubstantial reward as a token of his gratitude. She often speaks ofElla as the little angel who "was not feared to die, case she was aangel on earf."
Notwithstanding he had yielded to so many offers of the Doctor, Alfredwould not consent to receive Elsa from him, unless he paid back thesum of money given for the girl. This he could not do at the time, andit was decided that she should remain as the slave of DoctorHumphries, until he could refund the amount. She is now servingexclusively as the nurse of the little boy, and is as happy andcontented as any slave in the South. Her attachment to the childincreases daily, and nothing in the world could induce her to foregothe pleasure of attending to her wants. The old negro and herself areoften together, conversing of the unfortunate family of her formermaster, and their remarks teem with sympathy and abound with theaffection felt by every slave for a kind and indulgent owner. Althoughof a servile race, we leave these negroes, regretting that in thehearts of many of our white people the same generous feelings do notexist. It is sad to think that, with all the advantages of birth,education, and position, there should be found men of Caucasianorigin, who are below the negro in all the nobl
e attributes ofmankind. But there are many such, and while they do not elevate theservile race, they lower, to a considerable degree, the free born andeducated.
Vicksburg fell on the fourth day of July, 1863, and the anniversary ofAmerican independence was celebrated by the Yankees in a Southern citywhich had cost them thousands of lives to capture. A few days afterthe surrender, the enemy advanced on Jackson, and compelled GeneralJohnston to evacuate that city, to save his army. These are matters ofhistory, and are doubtless well known to the reader. After retainingpossession a short time, the Yankees retreated from the place, but notbefore they had given another proof of the vandalism for which theyhave been rendered infamous throughout the civilized world, by settingthe city on fire. Luckily only a portion of the town was destroyed,and we could almost rejoice at being able to write that among the manybuildings burnt were those belonging to Mr. Elder. Did not the homesof many good and worthy men share the same fate, we would almostattribute the destruction of his property to the righteous indignationof God. He lost every residence he possessed, and as the insurancecompanies refused to renew, from the aspect of affairs, on theexpiration of his policies, the loss was a total one, and reduced himto almost beggary. With a few negroes he reached Mobile and is nowliving on the income their labor yields. His brutal conduct hadreached the Bay city, before the fall of Jackson, and on his arrivalthere, instead of receiving the sympathy and aid of the generoushearted people, he was coldly met and all rejoiced at his downfall.Those, in that city, who in heart were like him, might have offeredassistance, did they not fear that such conduct would lead tosuspicion and eventuate the exposition of their enormities. Hispunishment is the just reward for his iniquities, and we record almostwith regret that he is not reduced to abject beggary. Though we aretold to "return good for evil" and to "forgive our enemies," we cannotin the case of Mr. Elder do either, but would like very much to seethe Mosaic law of "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" put inforce, and in this wish those who are even more charitable thanourselves will coincide.
Swartz is now in Augusta, Georgia, living in ease and affluence, likethe majority of Southern speculators. The lesson he received from hisuncharitableness, has not benefited him in the slightest degree. Hestill speculates on the wants of the poor, and is as niggardly to theneedy. Though loyal to the Confederacy, we believe his loyalty onlycaused from his being the possessor of a large amount of Confederatefunds, but perhaps we judge him wrongfully. At any rate, he has neverdone any act, either for the government or for individuals to meritpraise or approbation. In justice to the Germans of the South, wewould state that when his conduct towards Mrs. Wentworth became known,they generally condemned him.--As we observed in a former chapter,kindness and benevolence is the general trait of the Germans, and wewould not have it supposed that Swartz is a representative of thatpeople. The loss sustained by Mr. Swartz, by the fall of Jackson, wascomparatively insignificant, and therefore he has felt no change offortune. The punishment that he merits, is not yet meted to him, butwe feel certain that it will be dealt to him at the proper time.
Further investigation and search resulted in the discovery ofsufficient evidence to convict Awtry of being a spy. When broughtbefore the court martial convened to try him, he displayedconsiderable arrogance, and obstinately persisted in declaring himselfa British subject. With such plausibility did he defend himself, thatthe court was at first very much puzzled to decide whether or not hewas a spy, for every evidence brought against the prisoner wasexplained and made insignificant by his consummate skill in argument,and it was only by the opportune arrival of a detective with the mostdecided proof of his guilt, that he was condemned to death. Awtryreceived the sentence of the court with haughty indifference, and wasled back to prison, to await death by hanging. On the morning of hisexecution, the courage and obstinacy which had sustained him from theday of his arrest, gave way, and to the minister who edited upon him,he made a full confession of his having been sent to Mississippi as aspy for Sherman, and that he had already supplied that yankee Generalwith valuable information of the strength and capacity of Vicksburgfor resistance. He was very much humiliated at being condemned todeath by hanging and made application for the sentence to be changedto shooting, but the military authorities declined acceding to hisdemand, and he was accordingly hanged on the branches of a tree nearJackson. A small mound of earth in an obscure portion of theConfederacy is all that is left to mark the remains of Horace Awtry.The libertine and prosecutor of Mrs. Wentworth is no more, and to Godwe leave him. In His hands the soul of the dead will be treated as itdeserves, and the many sins which stain and blacken it will bepunished by the Almighty as they deserve. Black as was his guilt, wehave no word of reproach for the dead. Our maledictions are for theliving alone, and then we give them only when stern necessity demandsit, and when we do, our work of duty is blended with regret, and wouldbe recalled were it possible, and did not the outraged imperativelydemand it. To our Savior, we leave Awtry Before the Judge of mankindhe will be arraigned for his guilty acts on earth, and the just voiceof the Father, will pronounce on him the punishment he merits.
But one more character remains for us to notice. Three or four timesin the last twelve months a man dressed in the uniform of a Lieutenantof the Staff, and wearing a black crape around his arm, may have beenseen with a little boy kneeling by the side of a grave in the cemeteryof Jackson, Mississippi. The grave contains two remains, but iscovered over with one large brick foundation from which ascends a pureand stainless shaft of marble, with the following inscription on itssnowy front:
SACRED
TO THE MEMORY OF
MY WIFE AND CHILD,
EVA AND ELLA WENTWORTH.
"Their troubles o'er, they rest in peace."
1863.
A.W.
As our readers must perceive, the stranger and child, are AlfredWentworth and his little boy. About four months after the death of hiswife, he was appointed Inspector General of a Louisiana brigade withthe rank of first Lieutenant, and being stationed for awhile nearJackson, paid frequent visits to the city, and never failed on suchoccasions to take his son to the grave of his wife and child. There,kneeling before the grave, the broken hearted soldier would offer up aprayer to God for the repose of the souls of those beneath the sod.The tears which fell on the grave on such visits, and watered the lastresting place of the loved ones were the holiest that ever flowed fromthe eyes of man--they were the homage of a bereaved husband to thememory of a pure and spotless wife, and an angel daughter. Alfred isstill alive, and has passed unharmed through many a hard foughtbattle. Those who know not the tale of his family's sufferings andunhappy fate, think him moody and unfriendly, but those who areacquainted with the trials of the soldiers wife, regard his reservedand silent manners with respect, for though the same sorrows may notdarken the sunshine of their lives, their instinct penetrates therecess of the soldiers heart, and the sight of its shattered andwrecked remains often cause a sigh of sorrow, and a tear ofcommiseration. Let us trust that a merciful God in His divine wisdom,may alleviate the poignant grief of the soldier, and restore him tothat happiness he once possessed.
And now kind reader, we bid you a last farewell; but ere the pages ofthis book are closed, let us speak a word to you, for thoseunfortunates who abandon their homes on the approach of the enemy toseek refuge in the Confederate lines. Many--alas! too many of itscitizens consider the term "refugee" synonymous with that of"_beggar_." In this idea we err. It is true they are in manyinstances, reduced to penury, but in their poverty are as differentfrom the mendicant as the good are from the bad. Many of theserefugees have lost their homes, their wealth--their everything toretain their patriotism and honor. Some of them adorned the mostpolished circles in their midst, and many held an enviable position inthe State of their nativity or residence. For their country, for ourcountry, for your country, the brave abandoned all they possessed,preferring to live in want among the people of the South, than torevel in luxuries in the midst of our enemies. S
eek these exiles. Lookupon them as suffering Confederates, and extend the hand of friendshipand assistance to all who are in need. Let the soldier know that hiswife and children are provided for by you. It will cheer him while incamp, it will inspire him in battle, and if he falls by the hand ofthe enemy, the knowledge that those he loves will be cared for, willlighten the pangs of Death, and he will die, happy in the thought offalling for his country. Oh! kind reader, turn your ear to the moaningof the soldier's wife--the cries of his children, and let your heartthrob with kindness and sympathy for their sufferings. Relieve theirwants, alleviate their pains, and earn for yourself a brighter rewardthan gold or influence can purchase--the eternal gratitude of thedefenders of our liberties.
Farewell! if a single tear of sorrow, steals unhidden down your cheekat the perusal of this sad tale--if in your heart a single chord ofpity is touched at its recital--we shall have been fully rewarded forthe time and labor expended by us. And if at some future day you hearof some soldier's family suffering; sympathise with their afflictionsand cheerfully aid in ameliorating their condition, by giving a singlethought of "THE TRIALS OF THE SOLDIER'S WIFE."
FINIS.
APPENDIX
In presenting a work of this nature to the reader, the Author takesthe opportunity of making an apology for the errors, typographical andotherwise, which may be found therein. The difficulties under which helabored in procuring the publication of the book at this time, whenthe principal publishers of the South are so busily engaged inpublishing works written in foreign parts, and which cost them nothingbut the expense of publication, and the procuring of them through ourblockaded ports. The book which our readers have just completedperusing, is filled with many errors; too many, in fact, for anyliterary work to contain. The excuse of the Author for these, is, thatat the time the book was in press he was with the Army of Tennesseeperforming his duties, which prevented him from reading the proofsheets and correcting all mistakes which crept in during composition.The party on whom devolved the duty of reading the proof performed hiswork as well as could be expected, for, in some instances, the errorswere the fault of the Author, and not that of the printer, who laboredunder many disadvantages in deciphering the manuscript copy of thebook; the greater part of which was written on the battle-field, andunder fire of the enemy. It is thus that in the first page we find anerror of the most glaring character possible, but which might havebeen the Author's, as well as the printer's omission. Thus, the Authoris made to say that the "aristocracy" of New Orleans were "well knownby that elegance and etiquette which distinguish the _parvenu_ ofsociety." Now the intention, as well as the words of the author,represented the "aristocracy" in quite a different light. That lineshould have read "that elegance and etiquette which distinguish _thewell-bred_ from the _parvenu_ of society, etc." Nevertheless, thewhole sense of the sentence is destroyed by the omission of the_italicised_ words, and the reader is left to infer that thearistocracy of New Orleans are the _parvenu_ of society; rather, wemust admit, a doubtful compliment, and quite in accordance with thefollowing words, which go on to speak of "the vulgar but wealthy classof citizens with which this country is infested." Now we do notpretend for a moment to believe that our readers would imagine that wemeant the sentence quoted in the sense it appears, and they may,perhaps, pass it over without noticing the errors complained of; butwhen such errors should not exist they become a source of muchannoyance to the author, and could they have been rectified before itwas too late, they should never have appeared in print. In fact, afterdiscovering that an error of so gross a nature existed in the firstpages of the book, the author would have had the entire "form"reprinted, had not the extravagant price of paper, and its greatscarcity, precluded the possibility of such an idea being carried intoeffect. The errors, therefore, remain, and for them we would claimindulgence, although readily admitting that none is deserved.
And now we desire to say a few words relative to the work you havejust completed reading. It may appear to you a wild and extravaganttale of hardships and privations which existed only in the imaginationof the author. Were your supposition correct, we should rejoice, butunfortunately, every day brings us scenes of poverty that this worklacks in ability to portray, in sufficient force, the terriblesufferings borne by thousands of our people. In the plenitude of ourwealth, we think not of poor, and thus we cannot tell or find out thehundreds of poverty stricken wretches who cover the country. Ournatures may be charitable even, but we only give charity where it isasked for, and await the coming of the mendicant before our purses areopened. By these means alone do we judge the extent of suffering inthe land, and, not hearing of many cases of penury, or receiving manyapplications for assistance, we believe that the assertions of greatwant being among the people are untrue, and we purposely avoidsearching for the truth of such assertions. The design of the author,in this little book, has been to open the eyes of the people to thetruth. If he has painted the trials of the soldiers wife more highlycolored than reality could permit, it has been because he desired topresent his argument with greater force than he could otherwise havedone; and yet, if we examine well the picture he presents; take it inits every part, and look on each one, we will find that it does notexaggerate a single woe. We have seen far greater scenes ofwretchedness than those narrated herein; scenes which defydescription; for their character has been so horrible that to depictit, a pen mightier than a Bulwer's or a Scott's would be necessary.
The tale which the reader has just finished perusing is taken fromscenes that _actually occurred_ during the present war--except,perhaps, that part which relates the tearing of the mother from thebedside of her dead child. In every other respect all that is narratedin the foregoing pages are strictly true, and there are parties now inthe South, who, when they read this work, will recognize inthemselves, some of the characters represented herein. The Authorwould rejoice, for the sake of humanity and civilization if the talehe has written was only a fiction of his own imagining; but did it notcontain truths the work would never have been written. No other objectthan that of calling attention to the vast misery and wretchednesswhich at the present time of writing abounds in the South, promptedthe Author to pen the pages which you have perused. He has witnessedthem himself; he has seen the soldiers wife absolutely starving, andfrom a slender purse has himself endeavored to relieve theirnecessities. To present before the world the fact that there arethousands in our midst who are in _absolute beggary_, has been theobject of the writer, and to call on those who are able to do so, toaid these unfortunates, is his purpose. This book is an appeal to theRich in favor of the Poor. It is the voice of Humanity calling uponWealth to rise from her sluggish torpor and wrest the hungry andthreadbare victim from the grasp of Famine, and drive desolation fromour midst. If this call is answered; if the wealthy awake to theirduty and save the wretched beings who are in our midst, then theAuthor will have gained a richer reward than all the profits accruingfrom this work. He will have been more than rewarded by the knowledgethat he has been the instrument, through which charity has once morevisited the South, and swept oppression and want from our land. Suchscenes as those we daily witness were never seen, even in the mildestform a few short years ago. Prior to the war there was scarcely abeggar in the South, and from one end of the country to the othercould we walk without hearing the voice of the mendicant appealing toour benevolence. How changed now! In every city of the South thestreets are filled with ragged boys and girls stopping each passer byand asking aid. It is a disgrace to humanity and to God, and that suchthings should be in our land, whose sons have exhibited such heroismand devotion.--Many of these beggary are the sons and daughters of oursoldiers--of our honored dead and heroic living. To the soldier wholies beneath the sod a martyr to his country's cause, their sufferingsare unknown; but if in Heaven he can witness their penury, his soulmust rest ill at peace and weep for those on earth. To the soldier,who is still alive and struggling for our independence, the letterthat brings him news of his wife's and children's poverty m
ust bringhim discontent, and render him unwilling to longer remain in the armyand struggle for liberty while they are starving. How many times havenot desertion taken place through this very cause. In Mississippi wewitnessed the execution of a soldier for the crime of desertion. Onthe morning of his execution he informed the minister that he neverdeserted until repeated letters from his wife informed him of herwretched condition; informed him that herself and her children wereabsolutely starving. He could no longer remain in the army; thedictates of his own heart; the promptings of his affection triumphedand in an evil hour he deserted and returned home to find her tale,alas! too true. He was arrested, courtmartialed and _shot_. He hadforfeited his life by his desertion and bore his fate manfully; hisonly fear being for the future welfare of that wife and her childrenfor whom he had lost his life. When he fell, pierced by the bullets ofhis comrades, was there not a murder committed? There was, but not bythe men who sentenced him to death. They but performed duty, and, weare charitable enough to suppose, performed it with regret. Themurderers were the heartless men who are scattered over the land like,locusts, speculating on the necessities of the people, and theiraiders and abettors are those who calmly sat with folded arms, andessayed not to aid his family. Rise, O my readers and aid the poor ofour land. Let your hearts be filled with mercy to the unfortunate.Remember that
"The quality of mercy is not strain'd It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed, It blesseth him that gives and him that takes: 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes The crowned monarch better than his crown:"
and in performing an act of charity you bless yourself as well as theone who is benefited by such charity.
We shall now close our remarks with the hope that the reader willappreciate the motive which prompted the writing of this book. As willbe seen, it has no plot--it never was intended to have any. The Authorintended merely to write a simple narrative when he commenced thiswork, and to place before the public in the most agreeable form ofreading, a subject of vital importance to the Confederacy, and toimpress upon the minds of the wealthy their duty to the poor. He knowsnot whether he has succeeded in the latter hope, and he could havewished that some other pen had taken up the subject and woven it intoa tale that could have had a better and more lasting effect than theforegoing is likely to have. Nevertheless he trusts that all his laboris not lost, but that some attention will be paid to his words and akinder feeling be manifested towards refugees and the poor than hashitherto been shown. If this be done then nothing but the happiestresults can follow, and the blessings of thousands, the heartfeltblessings of thousands on earth, will follow those who aid in the workof charity, called for by the present emergency, and from thecelestial realms the voice of God will be heard thanking His childrenon earth for their kindness to their fellow mortals.
* * * * *
For the publication of this work the Author has to thank the kindproprietor of the "Atlanta Intelligencer," Col. Jared I. Whitaker. Tothis gentleman is he indebted for being able to present the work tothe public, and to him does the Author extend his sincere thanks. InCol. Whitaker the Confederacy has one son who, uncontaminated by thevile weeds of mortality which infest us, still remains pure andundefiled, and, not only the obligations due from the author arehereby acknowledged, but as one who has witnessed the whole souledcharity of this gentleman, we can record of him the possession of aheart, unswayed by a sordid motive. To this gentleman are the thanksof the author tendered, with the wish that he may live many long yearsto reap the reward due to those, who, like himself, are ever foremostin deeds of charity and benevolence.
END OF APPENDIX
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends