An unknown heroine; an historical episode of the war between the states

.3?

4

*\»

({NUNKNOU^l^\

^ .£ • CHITTENDEN-

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.

r^ r^-g —

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

') y'

MRS. VAN METRE.

AN UNKNOWN HEROINE

AN HISTORICAL EPISODE OF THE WAR
BETWEEN THE STATES

BY

L. E. CHITTEI^DEI^

Author of " Personal Recollections, 1840-1S90, " etc.

NEW YORK
GEORGE H. RICHMOND & CO.,

1894.

\

£5-33

GOPTKIGHT, 1894, BY

GEORGE H. RICHMOND & CO-

AS A SLIGHT

RECOGNITION OF HIS HOSPITALITY

AND OF

HIS ASSIST \NCE IN VERIFYING THE NOBLE EXAMPLE OF
ONE OF HIS NEIGHBORS,

1F BeOicate tbis Dolumc

TO

MAJi^R DAINQERFIELD LEWIS,

OF AUDLEY,
NEAR BERRYVILLE, VIRGINIA.

THE AUTHOR.

COISTTEITTS.

CHAPTER PAGE

I.— Introductory, '7

II.— The Valley of Virginia, 11

III.— A Home in Vermont before the War, . . 25
IV.— The Trumpet-Call of War in the Green Moun-
tains, , 32

v.— The Call to Arms in the Valley, . . .38
VI.— How A Brave Man Met the Heavy Stroke of

Merciless War, 42

VII.— Deserted, 52

VIII.— The Unconscious Heroine, 65

IX.— The Consultation— The Country Doctor— Th^^

Decision of the Heroine, . . . .76
X.— The First Expedition to Harper's Ferry, . 85
XI.— The Peculiarities of the Country Doctor— The
Bemoval and Concealment under Difficul-
ties OF A Stalwart Enemy, . . . .96
XII.— The Dream which was Not all a Dream, . 105
XIII.— The Battle of Opequan or Winchester— The
Progress of the Wounded Officer — The
Skill and Enterprise of His Hostess, . . 116
XIV.— The Battle -Fields of Winchester— The Search
FOR A Forgotten Grave — An Act to be Hon-
ored BY Brave Soldiers and Emulated by

True Women, 126

3

4 CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAGE

XV,— A Side View of the Battle of Cedar Creek,

WITH "Sheridan Twenty Miles Away," . 134
XVI.— The Terrible Harvest of War— The Prep-
aration FOR THE Escape of the Wounded

Officer, 153

XVII.— The Escape, 165

XVIII. — Rest and Preparation for the Search, . 181
XIX.— A Time of New Trouble and Anxiety, . 195
XX. — The'Afflictions of the Mule- Owner — Prep-
arations FOR THE Search for a Prisoner
OF War — The Separation of the Friends, 210
XXI. —In the Den of the Ogre, the Terrible Sec-
retary, 223

XXII.— The First Failure in the Search, . . 233
XXIII.— The Bloody Angle— The Prisoner and His

Betrayer, 241

XXIV.— "What I did for Him I Thought Some
Northern Woman Might do for my Hus-
band," 253

XXV.— And the Recompense of a Man's Hands

SHALL BE Rendered unto Him, . . .263
XXVI. — " I HAVE NOT Found so Great Faith ; no, not

IN Israel," 272

XXVIL— The Hard Lot of a Prisoner of War— One
OF Them Touches the End of His Suffer-
ings, 28G

XXVIII.— "Weeping may Endure for a Night, but Joy

Cometh in the Morning," . . . .301

ILLUSTRATIONS.

Portrait of Mrs. Van Metre, . . . Frontispiece

Portrait op Major Bedell, Page 129

Map of Shenandoah Valley, , . . . " 147

AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCTORY

While this volume does not aspire to the dig-
nity of history, the somewhat hackneyed title
of a story founded on fact cannot properly be ap-
plied to it. It is substantially a true story. Every
character in it existed, the essential facts stated,
occurred in the order here given. Truth has spun
from her own materials the entire warp and
much of the woof which has been woven into
this fabric. It is only when some of the less
important of the materials seemed to be wanting
that the author has felt at liberty to supply them,
always adhering as closely as possible to the
probabilities and to what he supposed the fact
to be.

The author was not present at the numerous
interviews between the leading persons and no
records exist of their conversations. We know
from subsequent events that such conversations

7

8 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

were held — they are necessary to the relation.
Instead of omitting the language of these inter-
views and leaving his work imperfect, the author
has attemj)ted to supply it. And there were re-
sults which must have been preceded by unre-
corded causes. Those causes have in a few in-
stances been given as the writer supposes they
must have existed. Such is the whole extent to
which he has departed from the record. This
being understood, it is not believed that the
charm which truth gives to every book will be
materially diminished, while on the other hand
the volume will be rendered more interesting and
attractive.

A brief recapitulation will show that the author
was under no necessity which called for the in-
vention of facts, and afford another proof that
truth is sometimes stranger than fiction.

The Union officer enlisted, served, was desper-
ately wounded, left when the army retired, all as
herein stated. In his desolate solitude, when
very near to death, he was discovered by the
heroine, a young woman who had not completed
her nineteenth year, whose husband and brothers
were Confederate soldiers ; her husband a prisoner.
She removed the Union officer to her own dwell-
ing, and with the assistance of the country doctor
nursed him back to life. She made journeys to
Harper's Ferry for supplies, to Cedar Creek for
his clothing. She experienced all the vicissitudes :

INTRODUCTORY. 9

aided in his escape and accompanied him to Har-
per's Ferry and Washington, procured an order
for the release of her husband, found him and
went to Vermont with the Union officer, all as
herein written. Such a plot needs no additions.
It is so extraordinary that the author would hesi-
tate to indorse its truth if he had not visited the
localities, conversed with the parties, and found
it confirmed in so many particulars that to doubt
it further would be affectation.

When, through the assistance of Mrs. Van
Metre, the Union officer reached Harper's Ferry
and was safe within the Union lines, he found
that the story of his abandonment and the efficient
conduct of his nurse, to which he owed the pres-
ervation of his life, was already well known to
General Stevenson, then in command at that
post. Of his own accord General Stevenson im-
mediately communicated the substance of the
story to Secretary Stanton by letter. The
answer of the Secretary was an order for the
immediate release of Mrs. Van Metre's husband,
then supposed to be confined in Fort Delaware.
The next day Mrs. Van Metre received by mail
the following letter, the original of which has
been in the hands of the author of this book. It
proves that her conduct was highly appreciated
by Secretary Stanton at the time, and is one of
the numerous evidences which have been fur-
nished of the truth of the narrative here given.

10 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

The letter referred to reads as follows :

"Washington City, D. C,

"Nov. 4th, 1864.
"Mrs. Van Metre, Harper's Ferry.

''^ Madam: — It is with unfeigned pleasure that
I comply with the instructions of the Secretary
of War and inform you that he has ordered the
unconditional discharge of your husband, now at
Fort Delaware.

"Mr. Stanton has been sensibly touched by
the report received through General Stevenson
of your noble and humane conduct toward a
wounded Federal officer and soldier, and without
a moment's delay has acted upon the suggestion
of General Stevenson and ordered the discharge
of your husband, as some acknowledgment of the
feminine goodness and nobleness manifested in
your person.

"If such an example could but extensively find
imitations, it would do infinite honor to your sex
and greatly relieve war of some of its most bar-
barous tendencies.

"Very respectfully your obedient servant,
"E. A. Hitchcock,
"Maj.-Gen. Vols."

CHAPTER II.

THE VALLEY OF VIRGINIA.

There are localities in our favored land which
nature has made as beautiful as a poet's dream.
In a country which comprises every kind of
natural scenery; where mountain, valley, lake,
river, and plain are found in every possible com-
bination, no one spot can be selected as the most
attractive. Opinions vary. Standing upon the
brink of a canon, looking down along its perpen-
dicular walls to the river bounding over its rocky
bed six thousand feet below, then looking upward
above the glaciers and eternal snows two miles
into the blue ether, one may well say, " This is
indeed grand !" The domes of the Yosemite, the
geysers of the National Park, the thunders of
Niagara, and the sublime scenes where once rolled
the Oregon and "heard no sound save his own
dashings," fill every beholder with wonder and
admiration. To the w^riter, the great forest
which clothes the western slope of the Sierra
Nevada is one of the mightiest works of nature.
We are now interested in a less imposing but
more beautiful picture.

11

12 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

The Shenandoah Valley, otherwise known as
the Garden of Virginia, is flanked by two noble
mountain ranges extending southward from the
Potomac Eiver. Its width varies from twelve to
thirty miles. About one-third of its extent from
the river another mountain range rises abruptly,
converting the one into two valleys. The foot-
hills on either side slope gradually away, forming
a succession of moderate elevations, between
which silvery streams from the mountains drain
the region. The valley of the Shenandoah, the
Luray, and the other valleys, originally settled
by an industrious class of emigrants, have been
divided into farms and brought under a high
state of cultivation. The primitive forest of oak,
chestnut, magnolia, and tulij) trees once covered
the entire valley and the surrounding mountain
slopes. This forest has been largely cleared
away, but many noble trees still remain to shade
the highways and the grounds about the resi-
dences. Broad turnpikes traverse the whole
section. There are many passes through the
mountains, called, "gaps," and in each of these is
a highway which bisects the turnpikes. A large
river flows through the valley in a very crooked
course, furnishing abundant water to the farms,
which are also well watered by the streams and
creeks from the " gaps " on either side. The main,
or Shenandoah valley was the theatre of the prin-
cipal events which it is our purpose to describe.

THE VALLEY OF VIRGINIA. 13

In the later clays of November, 1860, a geolo-
gist and mining engineer just returned from
Heidelberg, where he had graduated with hon-
ors, was employed to make some explorations in
the county of Eockbridge. He had heard such
accounts of the region that, being in no esjDecial
haste, he determined to approach it from Harper's
Ferry on horseback. At that place he hired a
horse which proved to be a very fine animal, and
sending his trunks and geological tools forward
by stage, was ready to begin his journey. But
first, from such maps and information as he
could collect, he arranged an itinerary which
gave him a daily ride of twenty or twenty-five
miles, and brought him at evening to some ham-
let or village where there was a hotel. He had
not yet learned what he soon ascertained, that
country hotels were not a necessity, the traveller
being welcome at almost any dwelhng along the
road he was travelling.

He had passed through the quiet town of
Charlestown, the capital of Jefferson County,
where John Brown attempted his crazy enterprise
and met his fate, iuto the adjoining county of
Clarke. Here he was upon the territory originally
owned by Lord Fairfax, which was surveyed by
Washington before he became eminent as a sol-
dier. The practiced eye of the general appreci-
ated the fertility of the soil, and he became, by
purchase from the lord of the manor, the owner

14 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

of many large tracts of land in this vicinity.
Many of his descendants settled upon these lands
and some of them occupy them at the present
time. From the fine, large, rambling buildings
always provided with broad lawns and shaded by
noble trees they still dispense that liberal, kindly
hospitality which m.akes a visit to one of these
families an oasis in the life of a resident of the
city — an event long to be remembered in the
journal of the traveller.

Where the turnpike entered the county of
Clarke it brought the engineer in view of a
scene as beautiful as his eyes had ever beheld.
The mountains on either side were covered to
their tops with a forest of deciduous trees. Their
foliage, now in its ripened maturity, painted the
landscape with an exquisite combination of neu-
tral tints and rich colors. Lower down, the foot-
hills gave the country a rolling surface, and
among them nestled many a picturesque rural
homestead. From the mountains rapid streams
dashed over their rocky beds down to the lower
lands and then wound their crooked ways between
fringes of alder and willow. Around many of
the dwellings large trees of primitive growth had
been left, to shade the avenues and approaches.
Orchards laden with golden fruit were common.
The lovely landscape, the pure atmosphere, the
blue sky, filled the horseman with new strength
and vigor and had a similar effect upon the

THE VALLEY OF VIRGINIA. 15

animal he rode. "This view is worth all the
time and cost of my journey," said the horseman
to himself, "if I never see the boundary line of
Rockbridge Ccunty."

He was most impressed, however, by the amaz-
ing fertility of the soil. It seemed to be a reddish
loam which everywhere produced an abundant
harvest. There were few outbuildings, for the
climate did not render a warm shelter for the
animals in winter a necessity. But in every
farm-yard there were many great stacks of hay,
grain, corn, and wheat. In the pastures the
grass was still abundant for the many horses,
cattle, and sheep. Even the swine were permitted
to gorge themselves upon the apples which had
fallen from the trees. In many fields the laborers
were loading great farm wagons with turnips,
beets, and potatoes. It was literally a land of
abundance.

As he was approaching the town of Berryville,
the capital of Clarke County, he noticed a lane
leading westward, nearly at right angles to the
turnpike, which apparently led to a farm of large
size. He was within sight of Berryville, where
he intended to pass his first night, and had
abundant time. He dismounted, opened the
swinging gate, and mounting again, allowed his
horse to walk slowly along the lane.

Passing between hedges of the Osage orange,
not very well trimmed, where broad fields of

16 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

wheat and corn had been recently harvested, on
either hand, he soon came within view of the
residence. It was upon a sHght elevation, sloping
gently in every direction. The house was only
one story high, but it made up in length and
breadth what it lacked in height. On the south
or front of the house was a velvety lawn, skirted
on all sides with grand old oaks, chestnuts, and
magnolias. On the north or in the rear were
the slaves' quarters and the kitchen, separated
from the house. A fine vegetable and fruit gar-
den extended farther in the rear.

The traveller halted under the shade of a
grand old chestnut and permitted the beauty of
the picture to grow upon his mind. It increased
with his inspection. The residence and its sur-
roundings seemed built for that old-time Virginia
hospitality of which he had read, but which he
had never experienced. He led his horse to a
spring which ran across the lane or private road,
and while he drank, his rider began to inspect and
admire his fine limbs and action. As he patted
him gently on the shoulders the animal responded
by a gentle whinny, which was immediately an-
swered from a paddock which had been partially
hidden from him by the stacks of corn and grain
and their protecting thatch of straw. Farther
beyond he saw another and a larger field in which
there was a herd of cattle.

Himself a farmer's son, the horseman was

THE VALLEY OF VIRGINIA. 17

skilled in breeds of cattle and horses. Leading
his horse, he approached as nearly as possible the
first field, in which he saw a picture which at the
3ame time surprised and delighted him. There
were ten or a dozen brood-mares and their foals.
The action of these colts, so graceful, so quick, so
powerful, showed to his practiced eye that while
the mares were of the best native breeds, the
colts had an infusion of that wonderful Percheron
blood which France owed to the first Napoleon,
as it did many other of its most profitable ad-
vances in the arts, in manufactures, and other
departments of human activity as well as in the
breeding of horses and cattle.

He had stood for some time witnessing with
delight the gambols of the colts and wondering
how he could get access to the field beyond, in
which he had discovered some fine blooded Ayr-
shire cows, when looking behind him he found
himself very near the rear entrance to the house
and grounds. He was immediately surrounded
by a flock of woolly-headed, barefooted young
darkies, all clamorously proposing to hold his
horse, while two or three of the largest actually
seized upon his bridle. They were not uncivil;
they were decently but not over liberally clothed ;
their white eye-balls shining in their black faces
interested and their antics amused him. He
was considering how he could make use of the
entire flock without exciting the jealousy of any

18 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

individual of it, when a stately old colored person
came out of the house with an innocent switch in
his hand and proceeded to drive away the young-
sters.

" Whar you' manners, you sassy imps? Into de
quarters, ebery one o' ye. If ye don't I'll thrash
ye till the blood runs!" a threat which seemed to
amuse the crowd. Then turning to the horse-
man he said: "I hope you plees scuse de young
uns! Dey means well but dey's had no bringin'
up. Plees walk into de house. I will care for
your animal, sah. De colonel an missus are out
in de pike on de saddle-horses. Dey will re-
turn berry soon. As soon as I stable you' horse
I will show you to your 'partment."

The traveller was so impressed with the un-
affected civility of this venerable person of seventy
years, whose woolly head was perfectly white,
that he did not interrupt him until he was about
to take the bridle from his hand. Then he ex-
plained that he was a stranger, a traveller
through the country who had been attracted by
the beauty of the place and wished to have a
nearer view of the colts and their dams and the
cattle. He was unacquainted with their owner
and had no thought of becoming a burden upon
his hospitality. If he might be permitted to
enter the yard and have a closer view of the colts
for a few minutes he would proceed on his
journey.

THE VALLEY OF VIRGINIA. 19

This arrangement was not at all satisfactory to
the temporary representative of the house. He
insisted that the horse must have his feed — his
rider must he weary after his ride of twenty miles
from " de Ferry." Lunch was almost ready ; " de
fambly" would feel hurt if he did not remain
until they returned from their ride. He was
sincerely grieved when the traveller assured him
that his engagements would not permit of a
longer delay.

Fastening his bridle to a hitching-post, the old
servant led the way to the fields. The closer his
inspection the greater was the traveller's pleasure
at the sight of the horses and cattle. The field
inclosing the Ayrshires comprised the most ele-
vated portion of the farm. Looking north-
westward, he saw a smaller farm through which
ran a stream of considerable size. At one point
where there seemed to be a fall there was a
large stone structure surrounded by shade -trees.
Beyond it there was a broad, level farm, and be-
yond this again another farm somewhat broken
by hills and apparently pasturing a large number
of horses. Upon further inquiry of the venerable
servant, he learned that the mill farm, as it was
called, was the property of a young bachelor
named Van Metre, who resided in a part of the
mill finished for a dwelling, to which it was
rumored the owner would soon bring its new
mistress. The next place was Clifton, and still

20 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

farther beyond was Claremont, which as he
learned from the same informant was a fine farm
upon which its proprietor, Colonel Luke, raised
some of the finest horses of Virginia.

"And what is the name of this beautiful place
where we are standing?" asked the young en-
gineer.

''This is Audley, sah. It is owned by my
massa Colonel Lewis, who belongs to de Wash-
ington family. He is a grandson of the beau-
tiful Nelly Custis, the grandchile of Missus
Washington. We has many tings in de house
dat b'longed to her." And pointing to a win-
dow he added, " In that room she died. I wish
you would stay and meet de colonel and Missus
Lewis. You would like de colonel and missus,
sir. Everybody likes de colonel and Missus
Lewis."

"I have no doubt of that whatever," said the
traveller, now rather mortified that he had at-
tempted to seek information of the region from a
servant instead of his master. Warmly express-
ing his thanks for the particulars he had gained,
he mounted his horse and rode away in the direc-
tion of Berryville.

His bridle-path across the country brought him
to a spring, at the head of which he noticed a
building of squared timbers about twelve feet in
length, dove-tailed at the corners and presenting
evidences of great age. The timbers v/ere of

THE VALLEY OF VIRGINIA. 21

chestnut oak, a most durable wood, but into
them furrows an inch in depth had been worn by
exposure to the winds and weather. Inside, a
rude flight of stairs led to the upper room. A
trap-door in the floor being raised was directly
over the source of the spring. A noble oak
shaded the building, and under it a large boulder
furnished a convenient seat to the horseman after
his horse had drunk his fill at the cool spring.

While he was curious to know for what use
such a building could have been constructed, a
farmer approached him, who announced himself
as the owner of the premises. '' It is the current
belief in the neighborhood," he said, "that this
hut was built by General Washington before his
expeditions against the Indians and while he
was engaged in surveying these lands for Lord
Fairfax, their owner. It is well known that this
end of the valley was surveyed by Washington
and that he purchased large tracts of these lands
from Lord Fairfax, and some of the best farms
still remain in the possession of branches of his
family. It is said that the upper room was the
sleeping-room of his chain-men and that the
lower room was occupied by himself. This was
one of the farms in the Washington purchase,"
he continued, "and yonder," pointing to a knoll
of moderate height, " is the highest point in the
valley between the foot-hills."

The traveller ascended the elevation to which

22 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

the farmer pointed and was charmed with the
view in every direction. The boundaries of the
valley, the gaps in the mountains, and the rivers
have already been mentioned. As far as the eye
could reach to the southward and limited only
by the mountain ranges east and west, he saw
farms similar to the one he had left, houses
shaded by large trees and almost hidden by the
huge stacks of hay and grain that surrounded
them. In many of the fields white men and
black were contentedly working side by side
digging beets, turnips, and potatoes and loading
them into huge farm wagons. The farms ap-
peared to be well fenced. In some of the fields
horses and in others cows and young cattle were
grazing, and all this stock, so far as he could
judge, was of the most desirable races and breeds.
There was an air of abundance, of plenty, per-
vading the region which led him to say to him-
self, " Here is a section of our favored land to
which want and hunger, war and its miseries
can never come!"

And yet he remembered with a shudder that
only twelve months before this whole region had
been thrown into the fiercest excitement by the
invasion of John Brown and twenty-two other
equally insane fanatics. True, the party had been
defeated, some shot, others hung, and others had
run away, so that none remained to disturb the
peace of the valley. He knew, too, that there

THE VALLEY OF VIRGINIA. 23

had recently been an election, that many intem-
perate threats had been made of the dire results
which would follow the election of one or another
of the candidates. Surely, he thought, those
threats will not be carried into execution. And
if war should come it will be restricted to a few
armed conflicts in the cities or along the Atlantic
coast, and then better counsels will prevail and
peace will return. It cannot be that these moun-
tains will ever echo the roar of artillery, that
these peaceful farms will become the theatres
of bloody battles, or that this lovely landscape
will ever be illuminated by the lurid torch of
war!

Passing the night in Berryville, our traveller
next day pursued his journey. The valley seemed
to grow in beauty as it narrowed in extent.
Leaving Masanutten like a grand sentinel on
his right, he passed down the lovely vale of Luray,
halting only long enough to inspect its mighty
caverns with their magical effects in the lime-
stone rocks ; past the Natural Bridge, Harrison-
burg, Staunton, and on to the locality of his
investigations in Roclcbridge County. The result
of his scientific work there was not encouraging
to the promoters of the enterprise he was expected
to forward. That enterprise received his honest,
emphatic condemnation. But he reported to his
employers that on his way to Eockbridge County
he had traversed, as he believed, the most fertile

24 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

as it was unquestionably the most exquisitely
beautiful valley on the continent of America.

His report to his employers made, he turned
his face westward, supposing that he had seen
this valley for the last time. But great events
were even then maturing in the near future.
Had they been disclosed to him, he would within
a little more than two years have seen him-
self returning hither as a general of brigade,
now sending the enemy whirling up the valley,
again himself sent whirling by the foe down
the valley in his turn. He would have seen him-
self leaving it for the last time as the commander
of a division in an army, driving all the horses,
cattle, sheep, and swine in their advance, their
march illuminated by the conflagration of every
outbuilding, of all the stacks of hay and grain,
of everything capable of supporting human life.
Instead of the pasture of abundance which he
saw on his first visit, there would have been a
smoking, barren desert, until another season's
crop incapable of supporting human life.

The miseries of war force themselves upon a
nation in defiance of all resistance. We shall see
enough of them in this valley as the incidents of
our story are developed without attempting to
anticipate them. We will hereafter deal with
them as they arise.

CHAPTER III.

A HOME IN VERMONT BEFORE THE WAR.

Under the shadow of one of the loftiest peaks
of the Green Mountains, well toward the north-
ern boundary of Vermont, is situated the town-
ship which I shall call Westfield. There are
many such towns on the flanks of the Green
Mountains. They are formed by a combination
of hill and valley, too much of the first and too
little of the second. The rugged shoulders of the
mountains extend at right angles to the principal
range, and the rivers between them, which spread
below into broad, rich intervals, are here only
trout -brooks dashing along their rocky beds.
There are here and there small areas capable of
cultivation, but the greater part of the lands
when cleared are fit only for pasturage.

These are literally mountain towns. The
primitive forest which originally covered the
country, in the valleys where there was some
depth of soil, comprised the soft and the sugar
maple, the beech, and two or three birches of
average size. These upon the hillsides were
gradually replaced by the hemlock and spruce,

25

26 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

which became less in diameter with the ascent
until on the mountain- tops they were dwarfed
into impenetrable thickets. The first to attack
these forests were the lumbermen, who felled and
carried away the trees large enough for sawing,
and then usually permitted the lands to revert to
the State upon sales for unpaid taxes. Later
these lands became of some value on account of
the scarcity and increased price of charcoal, and
still later they were farther increased by the de-
mand for wood pulp. In 1860 they were not
worth more than three or four dollars per acre.

In one of the poorest of these mountain towns
lived Farmer Bedell, a lineal descendant of an
ancestor who came over in the Mayflower^ and
who, if he had not inherited the persistence, the
industry, and the religion of his ancestor, could
never have raised a family and maintained a
decent respectability upon the barren soil which
he had cleared from the forest and called his
farm. I shall not attempt to explain why Bedell
and others like him, when the rich prairies of the
West and even of the Genesee Country were open
to the emigrant, located here, where the soil was
so unproductive and the climate so cold that their
stock must be sheltered and fed for one-half the
year; fortunate if they could glean their living
for the other half from the stony hillsides. Per-
haps the correct explanation was given by one of
them to a traveller who asked him what they

A HOME IN VERMONT BEFORE THE WAR. 27

raised in such a barren country. "We raise
men," was his reply, and it was a true answer.
There are hundreds of men who in enterprise,
energy, and learning have honored the American
name, distancing their competitors in all the
departments of human industry and usefulness,
who were born and reared in just such mountain
towns.

Bedell married, and sons and daughters were
born to him. Our story concerns only Henry,
a son who was born in 183i. He began to be
useful to his father at the age of seven years, and
his usefulness increased until he left the home-
stead. During the three winter months he went
to the district school. The nine remaining
months of the year he labored for his father, who
was the lawful owner of his time and services
until he had completed his twenty-first 3^ear. At
the age of eighteen, like many other Vermont
boys, he purchased the remainder of his minority
from his father, agreeing to give him three hun-
dred dollars for it. He was six feet tall, strong
and vigorous, for he had never abused his health.
Except to watch by a sick friend he had never
been awake at midnight in his life. He could
now cut a broader swath in the hay-field, he
could cradle more acres of wheat, he could cut
more cord -wood in a day, than any other man in
his town. His labor was in demand, for he was
as faithful as he was strong. For the greater

28 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

part of the year he earned and his employers paid
him as much as a dollar a day for his work from
sunrise to sunset. He never complained, never
struck or even agitated for higher wages, hut
went straight on. At the age of twenty-one he
had paid his father for his time and was the
owner of one hundred acres of as good land as
there was in the township of Westfield.

Then the forest hegan to fall before the strokes
of his powerful axe, the trees were cut into even
lengths, made into log-heaps and burned. The
ashes were collected and sold to the maker of
potash. In the fall he sowed a small field of
winter wheat, and the next spring he planted
his first crop of corn, potatoes, turni^DS, etc. He
could afford to hire a carpenter, and in his leisure
hours between planting and hoeing he built a
good, warm, substantial log-house. To this house
one morning in June he brought his wife and her
dowry. That of such a Vermont bride was
neither costly nor comprehensive. It usually
comprised a chest of drawers, a bedstead, a few
chairs, a wooden clock, some cheap crockery,
and other necessaries given by her father. The
family jewels, consisting of a string of gold
beads, and a Bible, were the gifts of the mother.
Linen sheets and pillow-cases spun and woven
with her own hands, blankets made with the
assistance of her mother, her own wardrobe for a
year purchased with her wages as the teacher of

A HOME IN VERMONT BEFORE THE WAR. 29

a district school, together with the contributions
of her husband, made a very fair outfit for the
young couple. She was a good, wholesome Ver-
mont girl, wholesome in her heart and soul as
well as in her person, fitted by training and an
education almost self-won to be the wife of a true
man and the mother of his children.

As we shall see much of Bedell in the course of
our story, we shall leave his character as it is
developed to the judgment of the reader. But a
word or two must be written about his personal
appearance. In height and strength he was
gigantic. He now measured six feet two inches
in his stockings, and he was in every limb and
muscle well proportioned. His face always wore
a kind and genial expression, intensified possibly
by his gentle blue eyes and light brown hair.
His hands and feet were well formed, his move-
ments so easy that he seemed to do everything
without exertion.

Of necessity the young couple prospered. They
were both attentive and helpful to all their neigh-
bors, especially to those who were in distress
or want. We will not follow the details of their
lives. They were not unusual or extraordinary.
There have been hundreds of such lives in New
England, where they are too common to attract
notice.

In that November when the mining engineer
is travelling through the valley of Virginia, the

30 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

Bedells of our story have been married six or
seven years. Three children have been born to
them, of whom both father and mother are just
a little proud. The youngest of these is only five
months old. They have adopted an orphan, son
of a deceased Bedell, who has reached the age of
ten years and is as dear to them as if he was
their own son. He is a bright lad, competent to
look after the farm while his adopted father is
away. In these seven years the world has gone
well with them. He has brought as much of
his farm under cultivation as he thinks profit-
able, and has added another to it which pro-
duces an unusually large crop of hay. Both
farms now constitute one, which is well stocked
with cattle, sheep, and horses. He has barn
room for his entire crop of hay and grain and
a warm shelter in the long, cold winter for
every animal he owns. The log-house has dis-
appeared. In its place stands a neat farm-house,
one and a half stories high, with its ''square
room," bedrooms, and kitchen well furnished
and provided with all approved modern conven-
iences. He has no dairy, for his milk is sent to
the creamery, that greatest boon to the New
England wife. There is a bookcase well stocked
— he takes an agricultural as well as the county
paper. While he devotes himself to his farm, his
wife, besides being a most excellent housekeeper,
is a faithful mother to her children and is their

A HOME IN VERMONT BEFORE THE WAR. 31

daily teacher. Henry Bedell is not only a select-
man, but he is the leading citizen and his farm is
one of the best in the township. He would have
represented his town in the State legislature this
year if his neighbors could have had their choice.
But he is a man of firmness who has a singular
habit of considering the claims of other men be-
fore his own. There was a neighbor who was
entitled to the place, he said, and he could afford
to wait. The neighbor is the representative, but
he is also a friend who would go through fire to
serve Bedell. And so it happens that husband
and household, are a credit to the State and their
town. The husband is an industrious, charitable,
benevolent citizen. His wife is a pattern for
other wives, affectionate and useful. There are
none better in the Republic than these farmers of
the mountain towns of Vermont, of whom it is
not claimed that the Bedells are more than aver-
age examples.

CHAPTER IV.

THE TRUMPET-CALL OF WAR IN THE GREEN
MOUNTAINS.

The red tongue of war licked the walls of
Sumter and his brazen throat belched out a roar
which rolled up every New England valley, out
over every Western prairie. There followed it
the call for men. Henry E. Bedell scarcely
noted the sound of the guns, but the call for men
touched every nerve in his giant frame. It was
in the spring-time, when he was ploughing and
sowing and planting. While he reflected upon
his duty, the call was filled by prompter men and
the demand had passed him by. Then there
came disaster and defeat — another call, sharper,
more peremptory, not to be disregarded by one
who loved his country. Once more the Vermont
farmer looked upon his wife and home, and while
he hesitated other and apparently more patriotic
men had responded, and again he felt that he
had failed of his duty. "But in the sultry
summer-time, as war's red records show," of
1862, came that memorable appeal to which no
loyal ear was deaf, no loyal heart failed to re-

32

CALL OF WAR IN THE GREEN MOUNTAINS. 33

spend. It was the call for '^ three hundred thou-
sand more. " '' From Mississippi's winding stream
to far New England's shore," no ear was quicker
to hear, no heart more prompt to answer than
the ear and heart of the Westfield farmer. It
came to him in his county paper early one morn-
ing. Instantly he decided that this call was for
him and he would answer it, not by any cheap
substitute, but in person. Then his mind was at
rest. He went out into the morning air. Never
did his eye rest more longingly upon his farm,
his animals, his home. He entered his dwelling.
His children clamorously demanded their daily
privilege of climbing upon his shoulders. They
performed the feat and proclaimed their achieve-
ment with shouts of joy and kisses of love. His
wife saw upon his face a look which she had never
witnessed before. She followed him into another
apartment. Without a word he drew her to him
with one arm, holding in his other hand the open
paper. With a woman's intuition she understood
it all. " I cannot hold you back, Henry ! I would
not if I could," she said. "The country needs
you and you must go. But, 0 God, preserve my
husband !" she cried, struggling to keep down the
wave of fear which threatened to overwhelm her
when she most wished for strength.

"Heaven bless you, my brave wife," he said,
controlling his own emotion with a mighty effort.
" I knew you would not fail me in this crisis.
3

34 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

And now, dear, let us sit down and talk it all over
calmly. I have been expecting this call, and the
devil has been very busy in devising ways for me
to avoid it. He suggests that I can hire a sub-
stitute who has no wife and children to suffer if
he loses his life. It is my first duty, he urges,
to stay at home and take care of my family. I
need not repeat his arguments or my replies.
The country is in danger. It wants strong,
earnest, healthy men, and not cheap substitutes
who will desert or run away at the first opportu-
nity. I am strong and healthy, and at least I
ought to be big enough to be of some use to my
country,'' he continued, casting a glance over
his gigantic frame and forcing himself to smile.
" These misguided men at the South must be de-
feated if they persist in their efforts to break up
the Government, and I must help to do it. I
should despise myself, earn the contempt of all
honest men, and dishonor my native State if I
did not obey this call !"

"You are right, Henry," she replied. ''If I
were a man I should feel as you do, and I almost
wish I were one, so that I might go with you
and fight by your side. But my place is here, to
care for our children and to pray for you. God
will watch over us and reunite us. I feel it, and
I will not make the parting harder by a single
tear."

Afraid to trust herself to say more, the brave

CALL OF WAR IN THE GREEN MOUNTAINS. 35

wife hurried from the room and threw herself
heart and soul into the preparations for her hus-
band's departure. Whatever may have been
her secret anguish, not a trace of it appeared up-
on her calm, serene brow when her dear ones were
by. An atmosphere of somewhat forced cheer-
fulness pervaded the household, even the little
ones taking an active part in the work of prepa-
ration. Imitating their mother's example, they
endeavored to appear happy and unconcerned as
they went about the work of cleaning, brushing,
and polishing which fell to their share. But,
young as they were, they felt the sad undercur-
rent beneath the assumed cheerfulness about
them, and often the merry laugh would cease
and a silent tear fall at the thought that "father
was going to the war."

On the 4th day of August, 1862, Bedell with
dry eyes and a strong heart took leave of his
family and his Westfield home, and enlisted
in Company D, Eleventh Vermont Volunteers.
He was such a magnificent specimen of man-
hood that on the day of his enlistment his
captain insisted upon promoting him, and he
was borne on the roster as Corporal Bedell. On
the first day of September his regiment was
mustered into the service of the United States.
James M. Warner, a lieutenant in the regular
army and an educated soldier, was its colonel.
The regiment was ordered first to Washington,

36 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

where it became a regiment of heavy artillery,
and being separated into batteries of one hundred
and fifty men was distributed into the forts which
protected the capital. There it served for eighteen
long months and until April, 1864.

This may have been a useful service, but it
was not liked by officers or men. They seemed
to be wasting time in idleness which should have
been in some way made profitable to the cause.

But Corporal Bedell was a true soldier, content
to obey his superior officers and to perform the
duty which they assigned to him. He had one
privilege of which l:e availed himself almost
daily. Everything known to the corporal was
promptly communicated to his wife and neigh-
bors in their Vermont homes.

Then on the 11th of August, all unconscious
that he had done anything but his daily duty, he
was informed that he had been again promoted
and that he was now Sergeant Bedell. His sur-
prise was greater v/hen, on the 28th of Decem-
ber, 1863, while the regiment was still in the de-
fences of Washington, he was deemed worthy of
a commission. On the 12th of January, 1861,
he received his commission as lieutenant. About
the same time Aldace Walker, who had joined the
regiment as a lieutenant, was made its lieutenant-
colonel. This story cannot turn aside to do jus-
tice to Colonel Walker. I may, however, take
this occasion to say that the subsequent very

CALL OF WAR IN THE GREEN MOUNTAINS. 37

lively and magnificent fighting of the regiment
was under Colonel Walker's command, that he
was deservedly hreveted as colonel for his per-
sonal bravery, and that he is now the chairman
of the Interstate Railway Association of the
United States.

The record of the regiment covers gallant
service at Spottsylvania, May 15th to 18th; Cold
Harbor, June 1st to 12th; Petersburg, June
18th; Weldon Railroad, June 23d; Fort Stevens,
in front of Washington, July 12th, 1 864. Then it
went into the Shenandoah Valley and fought in
all the battles there under Sheridan. Its history
has been written by Colonel Walker, and we
shall follow it so far as it is connected with the
heroine of our story and Lieutenant Bedell.

CHAPTER Y.

THE CALL TO ARMS IN THE VALLEY.

No man of Northern birth or sympathies should
undertake to describe from a Southern stand-
point the war in the valley of Virginia. It
may be permitted to the writer to say that a
strong sentiment in favor of the Union was sup-
posed to exist in the State and was loyally
entertained by a large majority of the people
of the valley, including all citizens of the better
class. But the guns of Sumter struck the note
of separation. When General Lee resigned from
the army of the United States and consented to
take command of the Confederate army of Vir-
ginia, the Union sentiment immediately and com-
pletely disappeared. Nowhere did the Confederate
call for recruits meet with a more general and
cordial response than in the Shenandoah Valley.
One of the earliest to volunteer had been J. L. E.
Van Metre, the owner of the estate of which we
have already attempted a slight description.

He had enlisted in the Confederate army in the
summer of 1861, when there was supposed to be
little danger that the wave of war would reach

38

THE CALL TO ARMS IN THE VALLEY. 39

the valley. His horses, cattle, and other animals
had been purchased by the Confederate Govern-
ment and paid for in money and bonds. There
was supposed to be little left worth the trouble
of capture. The homestead was therefore left in
charge of Peter Dennis, a faithful colored slave,
with Mrs. Betty Van Metre and her young niece
as its tenants.

But the valley of Virginia proved to be one of
the great highways of civil war. From its pro-
ductive capacity the Confederacy was to derive a
large proportion of its provisions. Its people
could temporarily leave the service in the spring,
raise and harvest a crop, and return to active
service in the autumn. Therefore the tidal v- ave
of war annually and sometimes quarterly rolled
up and down the valley, every time engulfing
the Van Metre homestead, until nearly every
useful animal, every wheeled vehicle, all the hay,
straw, in short, almost everything portable had
been swept away. Even the able-bodied slaves
had been sent as laborers to the Confederate front.
The mill and outbuildings had so far escaped de-
struction or much injury. As "single misfor-
tunes do not come alone," in the summer of ISO-i
Van Metre was captured and became a prisoner
to the Union forces.

We will not undertake to follow the Northern
army, which under the command of Sheridan
"went into" the valley early in August, 1S(U.

40 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

On the 10th of that month his whole command
moved out of Harper's Ferry and went into camp
at CHfton, a large plantation near Berryville.
Here and hereabout the Vermont brigade re-
mained for several days. It came to the knowl-
edge of some of the officers of that brigade that
in the stone mill and dwelling already mentioned,
Mrs. Van Metre, the wife of the owner, with her
young niece and an old colored servant, was living
alone and unprotected. Over this homestead they
stationed and maintained a guard which secured
it against further intrusion. To show her grati-
tude for such protection, Mrs. Van Metre sug-
gested that while she had no provisions of her
own, she might prepare their army rations in a
manner which would remind them of the cooking
of their wives and daughters at home. The offi-
cers accordingly sent her their beef, bacon, and
hard -tack, and adding a few vegetables from her
own garden she prepared for them several dinners.
These dinners so spread her reputation as a cook
that until the brigade moved away her table
was filled daily with as many guests as she
could accommodate. The officers were all gen-
tlemen, who treated her with the respect they
would have demanded for their mothers or their
wives, and the dinners became memorable.
When they went to the field, many of them to
their deaths, there was not one who did not
carry with him a profound respect for Mistress

THE CALL TO ARMS IN THE VALLEY. 41

Betty Van Metre. How far she remembered
them we shall learn hereafter.

The time of his or her introduction into a story
is usually the occasion for the description of the
principal character. In the course of this nar-
rative the reader will form a very intimate ac-
quaintance with Mrs. Betty Van Metre. I prefer
to leave him to form his own opinion of her with-
out any influence of mine. I shall give a very
brief sketch of her origin and her life uj) to her
nineteenth year, when she becomes more actively
connected with this history. Beyond that I shall
leave her to be known and judged by her own
conduct — her own construction of the duty of a
true woman.

CHAPTER VI.

HOW . BK.V. M^K HK. .H. H.^VV SXKOK. O.
^ MERCILESS WAR.

, tnnched by the bloody hand

0.R story .s -;;°;j^^l^^^^ to which

of active War. ^he ve ^^ ^1^^

Bedell's -gi--* "Xty that^-- andpopu-
divisionthencommandecioy ^^^^^.^^ ^^^ ^^

lar officer General G^f/" j^^^.^t, about three
,,^p on the farm ^^f^^^ ab^.t two ..iles
miles north fi°i^,^''f^^ ■rT^-,„er's Ferry through

..est of the turnpike ft^«- ^.^^ valley. Win-
Charlestown and thence up ^ ^.^^

ehester, the l-^'S'^^.^^^fJ^'t^elt from Berryville
ten and a half m.les due we ^^^^^

on another turnpike. Abou ^ ^^^^

Berryville to ^^-f .^^^^.^ee^ Op^^^^^^^^^^

erossesthe Ope.- P^— ^ ^^^^^^ '^^^
^hich runs BO^therly ^^ ^^^.^

S-rhtld, !nl in high water the ford .

frequently i«^P=^^^^^^'- ^^^temher 13th, 1864, the

^^. *^ 'TS^Slt yCv.d out toward the

t^:nlo'::eti-heV^^^

A BRAVE MAN IN THE WAR. 43

General Early, then known to be on the west
bank of that river. The Vermont brigade had
the advance, the third and fourth regiments being
deployed as skirmishers. There were no fences,
and the force moved directly across the country
about five miles to the creek. Sheridan and
Wright accompanied the column.

The skirmishers reached and forded the creek,
meeting the Confederate pickets a short distance
up and beyond the west bank. Captain Cowan's
battery went into position on the east side of the
creek and opened fire, hoping thus to discover the
enemy's camps in that vicinity and their numer-
ical strength. This battery was in plain view
from the opposite side. There was an occasional
shot from the rifles of the skirmishers in advance
of Cowan's battery on the west bank of the
creek, and the rest of the division was massed
in a wood a quarter of a mile behind the battery.
This wood was free from underbrush ; it afforded
an excellent shade; the men were scattered in
groups among the stacked rifles, conversing or
otherwise amusing themselves.

It is now known from Major More, the officer
upon the staff of General Early who carried the
order, that the fire from Cowan's battery having
become annoying. General Early ordered up a
heavier battery on the west side of the creek, to
silence Cowan's guns or compel him to retire.
The first shells from the Confederate guns were

44 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

fired at too high an elevation, passed over the
guns at which they were aimed, and exploded
among the tree -tops, doing no further injury.
But this error was soon corrected, and the shells
hegan to plough through and explode among the
ranks of the division concealed in the timber.
Several were wounded; the lines were formed
for removal to some safer position. But as the
enemy's missiles began to fall short of the Union-
ists, they became satisfied that their exact posi-
tion was unknown to the enemy, and in a few
minutes the firing ceased and danger was over.

Bedell always set a good example before his
men when under fire. As an officer he deemed
it his duty to take good care of his men and not
to attempt concealment of his own person. His
great height, his muscular activity, and splendid
physique made him an attractive target, of which
the enemy did not fail to avail themselves. He
was bravely holding his men in line, when the
guns in the Confederate battery were concen-
trated upon him ; one shell exploded, tearing his
right hand, leaving three fingers each hanging
by its tendons, and he fell. A second shell had
crashed through his left thigh, leaving a portion
of the muscle on either side, and a horrible mass
of crushed bones, mangled flesh, and gushing
arteries in its pathway.

As he fell and saw the bright red blood spurt-
ing from the severed arteries, he made a brave

A BRAVE MAN IN THE WAR. 45

attempt to compress his thigh with his uninjured
and his mangled hand, for he knew that a brief
delay involved his death. It was ineffectual, for
there was but little strength in that fragment of
a hand. " Cord it, boys !" he exclaimed as he lay
upon the ground. "Don't let me bleed to death!
Cord it! with a handkerchief or anything, quick!
A ramrod and a handkerchief will do it!"

Willing hands tied the handkerchief, but they
were nervous and the rude substitute gave way
under the too sudden twist, and again the scar-
let torrent burst out, impelled by the power-
ful pulsations of his vigorous heart. "Try it
once more, boys!" he exclaimed. "Try a bay-
onet the next time — it's my only chance!" A
young officer tore his sash from his own shoulders,
passed it twice around the limb, tied it, another
inserted a bayonet, and with a single powerful
twist the success of the improvised torniquet was
complete — the bleeding was arrested and for the
moment his life was saved.

He was more than five miles from the camp to
which the division was about to return. They
bore him on a stretcher to a temporary field hos-
pital, where the surgeons began to debate whether
there was anything to be gained by an amputa-
tion. It was a most difficult operation at the
best. Weakened by his other v/ounds, they
feared he might die under the surgeon's knife.

The brave man promptly settled the question.

46 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

"Is it not certain that this wound will be fatal if
the leg is not amputated?" he asked. The^
agreed it was. "Then lose not a moment's
time," he said. "There is a chance of recovery
if the leg is amputated — there is none if it is
not. In such a case I take the chance!"

They laid him upon the table and the skilled
hands of the surgeons of the Vermont brigade
performed the amputation. Everything was
done for him that could be suggested by science
and skill, and the sufferer was made as comforta-
ble as the rude conditions of war permitted.
"Still," said the account of Colonel Walker,
"there was very little hope. Though his native
vigor was in his favor, his very size and the
muscular strength ujjon which he had prided
himself were against him, for it was computed
that over sixty-four square inches of flesh were
severed and laid bare by the surgeon's knife.
And it was also found that his right hand had
been terribly injured, the bones of three fingers
and of the middle hand having been crushed and
comminuted. The operation already performed
had been so severe that it was thought best not
to attempt the treatment of the hand until it was
seen whether or not he would rally from the
shock of the wounds and the amputation."

About dusk the army returned to their camp
at Claremont. That journey was a terrible ordeal
to the wounded man. It would have been severe

A BRAVE MAN IN THE WAR. 47

enough if his ambulance had moved over an
ordinary turnpike road for that distance imme-
diately after he had undergone such a fearful
trial. But there were no fences left and few
cross-roads. The army moved as the crow flies,
straight across the country, over stone walls
half torn down, across ditches half filled with
broken timbers. Thus jolted and shaken, an
ordinary life would have inevitably been de-
stroyed. But Bedell's was not an ordinary life.
He determined to live if he could. Sustained by
stimulants and his indomitable courage, at last
in the darkness he reached the camp of the divi-
sion alive.

A short distance eastward from the camp, on
another farm, was a house which had been
deserted by the owner and his family. The
basement was occupied by an old man and his
wife, both apparently destitute of human hearts
and sympathies. Tempted by the promise of re-
wards, they consented that Bedell should be
placed in one of the unoccupied rooms of the
second story of the house, and then, having made
him as comfortable as they could, his companions
left him for the night, scarcely expecting that the
morning sun would see him alive.

The next morning the surgeon of his regiment
found him not only alive, but stronger than he
was the evening before. After an examination
and the statement that he was delighted to see

48 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

him feeling better, he was about to leave, when
Bedell said to him :

"Surgeon, you doctors think I have got my
fatal wound — that I cannot live. You propose
to make my short journey to the grave as easy
as possible. I know perfectly well that the
chances are against me. But I have got a wife
and children up in Vermont who want me. I
want to live on my own account — much more
on theirs. I am going to make the hardest fight
for life of which I am capable. I want you to
help me. I want you to bring the surgeons of
the Fourth and Fifth Vermont right here as soon
as you. can. I want to talk the matter over and
see what can be done to save me."

'' I will do it. God knows if you die it shall
not be for want of anything that I can do for
you," said the surgeon.

By nine o'clock the surgeon of his own regiment
and three others were in consultation over him.
He insisted that they should discuss the case in
his presence. The surgeon of his own regiment,
the youngest of the four, alone expressed any
hope. The three others said that such an am-
putation, almost at the very hip, was fatal in the
majority of cases without other complications.
In this case it was complicated with the wounded
hand and the want of hospital accommodations;
and there were other reasons why they considered
his case hopeless.

A BRAVE MAN IN THE WAR. 49

The younger man said but little. Bedell waited
until none of the surgeons had anything to add.
Then, as coolly as if he were speaking of another,
he said :

''Gentlemen, my life is not my own property.
For another year it belongs to the United States.
After that my wife and children own it. I shall
save it if I can. I shall not throw away one
chance to save it. I decide to place myself in
the hands of the surgeon of my own regiment.
I know he will do all he can for me. I want one
of you to write for me a letter to my wife. Then
I will put myself under his direction."

'' I will write for you — I will do anything that
man can do for you," said the elder of the sur-
geons, "for you deserve to live." He drew a
table to the side of the wounded man and wrote
to his wife from his dictation what might prove
to be his last letter. It told her the simple truth.
He had been desperately wounded — his right leg
had been amputated — he was about to undergo
another operation, which might terminate his life.
Still he had some hope. He gave her plain di-
rections about closing his estate and the educa-
tion of the children. Its closing words were so
touching that he alone of those present was able
to control his emotions. There ran through it a
single ray of hope, so faint at times that it v/as
scarcely visible. It was just possible that he
might survive the operation about to be per-
4

50 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

formed. It was a model letter of a fearless sol-
dier and a loving husband writing to his wife
for the last time. With his left hand, assisted
by the surgeon, he wrote what bore some resem-
blance to his name, saw the letter sealed and
directed. The older surgeon promised to mail it,
and then, turning to the surgeon of the Eleventh
Vermont, Bedell said, "Doctor, I am ready."

The young surgeon did not flinch. They
brought in a table and laid the wounded man
upon it. Bedell watched the preparations with
the coolness of a disinterested spectator. But
when the}^ offered him the anaesthetic, he de-
clined to take it. He preferred to retain his con-
sciousness.

'' The amputation and dressing of your wounded
hand and the dressing of your amputated thigh
will be tedious and exhausting," said the sur-
geon. " We must husband every ounce of your
strength. You will require it all, and whether
it will prove sufficient God only knows."

To this argument Bedell promjDtly yielded.
The blessed boon, which has spared humanity
such a vast amount of pain, was administered
and the wounded man became unconscious.

The v/riter is not a surgeon, and if he were he
does not know that the description of the long
and careful process of amputating the fingers,
repairing the stump of the hand, and dressing the
thigh would be interesting to his readers. The

i

A BRAVE MAN IN THE WAR. 51

hand proved to have been reduced to a shapeless
mass of fractured bone, crushed muscle, veins
and arteries, and severed nerves. The surgeon
was skilful and worked with rapidity. But it
v/as a full hoar after the patient was laid upon
the table before the operation was completed.

A narrow bed filled with straw and laid upon
the floor, in a room from which everything even
to the window-shades had been removed, was the
only couch they could procure for the wounded
man. His covering was an army blanket. To
this bed they returned him in the bloody clothing
worn when he fell. Had Bedell been in his
mountain home, or in a hospital where he could
have had proper care and a comfortable bed, his
subsequent experience showed that he would have
had an uninterrupted progress toward recovery.
Even here the surgeon hoped that he might
secure the constant attendance of a nurse, the
dressing of his wounds as often as was necessary,
and the regular administration of stimulants and
of strengthening food. After a few days' rest he
could be removed to Harper's Ferry, where he
could be supplied with every necessity. He then
explained to Bedell the treatment he intended
should be pursued, provided him with refreshing
food, placed him in charge of a soldier nurse,
and left him for the night.

CHAPTEK VII.

DESERTED.

When at sunrise the next morning the surgeon
made an early call, he was delighted to find his
patient's condition greatly improved. He had
had a fair night's rest. His appetite was good
and he was free from pain. He complimented
Bedell upon his vigorous constitution, which with
proper assistance he believed would carry him
through to perfect recovery. He informed him
that he had made a requisition upon the agency
of the Sanitary Commission at Harper's Ferry for
a cot bedstead and other conveniences, which
would be received in the course of three or four
days. Until then the same course of treatment
already adopted was to be pursued.

Both the surgeon and Bedell were conscious
that his struggle for hfe had only just begun.
In cases of severe wounds like his, nature merci-
fully provides a torpidity of the nerves which
renders them for a short time almost insensible
to pain. But when the parts become inflamed
there is an increased sensitiveness and the pain
is sometimes almost intolerable. This inflamma-

DESERTED. 53

tion in Bedell's case was certain to occur, though
it was hoped to keep it under control by careful
treatment and constant attention.

For two or three days the case progressed as
well as the surgeon expected. There w^as con-
siderable inflammation, but the patient remained
perfectly quiet, and by constant bathing and other
applications the pain was kept under control.
He was growing stronger and progressing steadily
toward recovery.

But there were several incidents of Bedell's sit-
uation which were very unsatisfactory. The No-
vember storms were commencing; the room he
occupied was open in many places to the weather
and there was no way of heating it. The old
couple named Asbury, who were probably tres-
passers in the basement, but who claimed to have
been left in possession by the owner, proved to
be human only in form and apparently destitute
of all human sympathy. They promised when
paid in advance to attend upon Bedell's wants
and to prepare his food, but as soon as the sur-
geon's nurse withdrew they appropriated his sup-
plies and then gave him no farther attention.
The house was far enough away from the camp
at Claremont to make it an attraction to the
guerillas then roving over the country, and no
ordinary guard was an adequate security against
them.

Finding that the Asburys were more likely to

54 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

betray Bedell to some of their friends who were
marauding the country than they were to do
anything to assist him, the surgeon determined
to rely upon a guard from the camp to nurse and
protect his patient. But it was not many days
before even this precarious protection had to be
withdrawn. An advance movement of the Union
army was about to take place, and by way of
preparation for it, peremptory orders were issued
that all the sick and wounded should be at once
removed to the hospital at Harper's Ferry, more
than twenty miles away.

The heart of the young surgeon sank at the
prospect for poor Bedell. He did not believe
that he could, endure the pain of transportation
even for a mile, and to leave him was to abandon
him to certain death. Mosby, a daring partisan
leader, was always close upon the rear of a re-
treating Federal army, ready to dash upon it at
the first opening. He had captured officers in
towns when they were surrounded by their own
men. Under the claim that Custer had executed
some of his men on the ground that they were
not regularly enlisted in the Confederate army,
Mosby by way of retaliation had just hung five
Union soldiers on the same tree. A Federal
officer captured by Mosby, -well or wounded,
would probably have short shrift. Nor were
Mosby 's men the worst of the marauders. The
caves in the mountains were literally swarming

DESERTED. 55

with the most abandoned species of wretches ever
created in the human form. They comprised all
the criminals of the region, with recruits of men
who had fled from the draft, bounty-jumpers,
deserters, and vagabonds of all kinds. Some
were counterfeiters, some illicit distillers — all
thieves and robbers and, upon any prospect of
gain, murderers. They were impartial — they
robbed both sides ; no one who had anything to
lose was safe from their bloody knives. There
wxre other wretches in the towns who gave them
notice of any possible victim and with whom they
divided their spoils. They promptly appeared on
every battle-field and murdered the wounded ; it
was unsafe to travel any road after nightfall,
for to encounter them was death. Compared
with the operations of these outlaws, bushwhack-
ing was Christian warfare.

It would be more merciful to shoot the wounded
officer upon his pallet of straw than to leave him
to the mercy of these miscreants. Every effort
for his safe removal must be exhausted before
that alternative could be considered.

These sudden and unexpected movements are
among the most cruel incidents of war. They
always cost many lives. The wounded are taken
from comfortable beds when their cases are fa-
vorably progressing, crowded into army wagons
and ambulances and hurried away over the rough
and broken roads, too many of them to their

56 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

deaths. On this occasion the procession that
moved northward was not large, for as yet there
had heen no great hattle since this army entered
the valley.

An earnest and careful attempt was made to
remove Bedell. The ambulance was cushioned,
he was carried very gently and laid on a bed on
the floor of the vehicle. But now all his wounds
had become inflamed and every injured nerve
and severed muscle was in angry rebellion. The
ambulance moved very slowly, but the shaking
and jolting as the wheels fell into well-worn ruts
or over obstructions were unavoidable. For a
time he bore the j)ain without a murmur. He
uttered no complaint — not a groan escaped him.
But tlie tax. was more than he could bear. There
was a shiver — his face turned an ashen color,
and he fainted. So far as his own suffering was
concerned he was dead.

The ambulance was moved out of the proces-
sion into a field; the officers of his regiment and
his friends gathered about him. What was to
be done? To persist in the attempt to remove
him would be fatal. He would die before he
had made one mile of the twenty. To leave him
would expose him to a death almost equally cer-
tain. The horizon of his fate seemed closing in
on every side.

During the conference Bedell recovered hifi
consciousness. Again his clear judgment con-

DESERTED. 57

sidered the situation and decided v/hat should be
done. He could not be removed, for he had not
the strength to survive the journey. One man
like himself must not obstruct the movement of
an army. There was only one thing to be done.
They must return him to his pallet of straw,
arrange whatever they could for his protection,
and leave him to take his chance of life, however
small it might seem to be.

They replaced him upon his straw mattrass,
nearer to death than he had been at any time
before. But he had brother-officers who would
not abandon him. His desertion might be ex-
cused as a cruel necessity, they said, but it would
be none the less the act of cowards. As soon
as our army retired the scavengers of the camp
and field would spread over the country. They
took no prisoners, left no living witnesses of their
atrocities. If Bedell was left alone they would
murder him. But they would not attack two or
three determined men.

Bedell calmly told them that after that day's
experience he had little hope of recovery; that
obviously there was only one possible course, they
must leave him ; a soldier might remain with him
if they thought best ; they could give him some
supplies, and that was all they could do. When
they got to Harper's Ferry, if he lived, they could
consult about his further removal.

Bedell so calmly took upon himself as his obvi-

58. AN UNKNOWN HEROI^^E.

ous duty as a soldier all the risks of the situation
that his brother-officers yielded, although one of
them said that in so doing he felt as if he deserved
to be kicked out of camp by a mule. They selected
as his nurse a man not in uniform, arranged a box
of crackers so that it raised the head of his bed,
and placed within his reach vessels of water and
cooked food enough to sustain life for several da3's.
The surgeon determined to make one more effort
to secure the services of the Asburys. He knew
they were faithless, but he hoped to secure their
services by partial payment and the promise of
future rewards. They promised; they accepted
his money ; they agreed to visit Bedell hourly — to
prepare his food and to do everything he required.

Having made these arrangements, the best
that the circumstances admitted, the surgeon
and his brother-officers bade the wounded man
farewell and took their unwilling leave. A
short distance from the house they passed the
small dwelling of a colored man who stood at his
open door. "What is your name, uncle?" asked
the surgeon.

"My name is Dick Eunner, suh," he civilly
answered.

"What is your work, and is this your house?"
pursued the inquirer.

"I work for Missus Van Metre in the mill.
Me and Ginny, my wife, have lived here all our
lives, suh."

DESERTED. 59

"Uncle," said the surgeon, holding up two
bright, new greenbacks, "these are for you.
In that room" (pointing to one he had just left)
"is a wounded Union officer. I want you to
go and see him every morning and see that he
wants for nothing. Will you do so?"

" I will see de Union officer ebery day, suh, but
I cannot take pay for it. I know what for he
come here. He is one of Lincoln's men. Me an'
Ginny will do all we can for him, but not for
money — no, not for money."

"Then take the money and buy medicines for
him," said the surgeon. "We have to leave him
to go with the army. The Asburys have prom-
ised to care for him, but we do not like to trust
them. We think if you promised you would
keep your word."

" Dem Asburys is no good, suh. Dey're squat-
ters. Dey've got no business in dat house. You
can't trust 'em. But me an' Ginny will do what
we can for de wounded officer. But we don'
want no pay. What for you didn't see Missus
Van Metre? She's a woman an' a lady, is Mis-
sus Van Metre. She will help anybody dat's
in trouble."

"We cannot wait now to see anybody. Our
regiment is already miles away, uncle!" said the
surgeon, much impressed by the simple honesty
of the colored man. "We wish you would take
some money, and look after our brother -officer.

60 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

You would relieve our minds if you would, for
it cuts us to the heart to leave him, and we fear
he is near his end."

But Uncle Dick was obstinate. He would do
all he could for the wounded man, but he would
not take money. As the surgeon shook his honest
hand and with the other grasped that of Ginny,
he left in hers a roll of paper covering a small
sum in greenbacks, and before she could recover
from her surprise enough to protest, he had hur-
ried away.

With the retirement of the army began a
time of physical and mental anxiety and distress
for Bedell which no pen can adequately describe.
The army retired to Harper's Ferry. When it
again advanced, Martinsburg, farther west, be-
came its base of supplies, and the region around
Berryville, instead of being traversed every few
days by army trains, was not again visited for
many weeks by Union troops. This part of Clarke
County became the hunting-ground for guerillas,
camp-followers, tramps, and deserters. Bush-
whacking, robbing, and murder were too common
to attract attention. The tramps expected no
quarter and gave none. Two or three times
Custer's cavalry swept over the county, and left
the murderers they captured hanging from the
trees along the turnpike. Every Union soldier
who fell into the hands of the roving murder-
ers was hung or shot as soon as he had been

DESERTED. 61

robbed. For the first few days the house where
Bedell lay escaped their visitations. It was some
distance away from the turnpike and was sup-
posed to have been deserted. Several of these
parties were turned away by the apparent stu-
pidity of Uncle Dick Eunner, who always con-
trived to intercept and show them that there was
no spoil here, but that there were fresh fields and
pastures new in some other direction.

When the officers of Bedell's regiment parted
from him they had almost no hope that he would
survive. The strain of his attempted removal
had been very injurious. They were not much
surprised, therefore, when the nurse left with him,
two or three days afterward, came into the camp
at Harper's Ferry and announced that Bedell had
died and he had seen him buried that morning!

This is what had in fact taken place: The
nurse had been very brave before the army left.
Immediately after its departure he began to show
his cowardice. He had heard that an attack was
to be made that night — one man could make no
defence against guerillas ! In short, his cowardly
fear so wrought upon Bedell in his nervous con-
dition that he begged the fellow to clear out and
leave him. His absence he might survive — his
presence he could not endure. The coward left
immediately, and to excuse his own conduct circu-
lated the report that Bedell was dead.

The wounded man's next ill- fortune was with

62 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

the Asburys, who lived in the basement and
claimed to be the landlords of the deserted house.
He knew that they had been paid for taking care
of him and had promised his friends to attend to
his wants. When, therefore, the male Asbury
came for his supplies, promising to cook him a
meal, he did not object to their being taken away,
leaving only the box of crackers, his substitute
for a pillow, which did not attract Mr. Asbury's
notice. The patient's provisions being thus se-
cured, the inhuman wretch left him to his fate,
and Bedell never saw either of the Asburys again.

All through the darkness of that last long and
gloomy night the sufferer tossed upon his bed
of straw. Hope had not wholly deserted him.
"Surely, "he thought, "they will at least bring
me my breakfast." But the hours passed; they
did not come, and then the helpless invalid knew
that he was deserted.

Two days and two very long nights had passed
since he said farewell to his friends — it was now
late in the evening of the third day. I shall not
shock the sensibility of my readers by a descrip-
tion of Bedell's sufferings during this time. It
will suffice to simply outline his situation. He
was helpless from desperate wounds ; he was not
only in the country of a political enemy, but in a
region controlled by the enemies of the human
race. He was lying on a straw bed, on the floor
of an unfurnished room, through the walls of

DESERTED. 63

which the rains beat and the winds whistled. He
could not move without a deathly spasm of pain.
He had been robbed of his supplies. By an effort
which almost exhausted his remaining strength,
his single hand had got access to the box of
crackers under his head, or he would have already
starved. The guerillas would soon be upon him,
for those who would steal his food would betray
him to the enemy. If they did not, his wounds
were every hour becoming more inflamed and
more painful, and their pain could not be much
longer endured.

Then his thoughts went to his mountain home
— to the wife and children who were this night re-
membering him in their prayers, but, alas ! whom
he should never see again. What would he not
give for the strength to write them one last
word, the power to give them one last counsel!

So much as that he would try to do. In the
pocket of his vest there was a lead -pencil. With
this, on the cover of his cracker-box, he would
write his name, his regiment, and a message to
his family. They should not bury him, ignorant
of his name, in an unidentified grave !

He strove to reach that pencil until his arm
fell from exhaustion. No, he could not even
write his name and a last message to the loved
ones at home !

Then he began to wonder when he would die.
Would it be at sunrise to-morrow? Most men

64 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

did die at sunrise. Would he see the sun rise in
another and a better world where there was no
suffering, or would he die to-morrow night or
the next morning? Then he prayed that, weak
and helpless and stranded as he was, the Lord
would show him whether there was any way
that he could yet he of service to his country.

There was an answer to his prayer. It made
every nerve in his body thrill with hope. His
door gently opened and out of the darkness came
a whisper. "Kunnel!" it said, "I's got nuffin
but a jug of cold water for ye ! May I come in?"

CHAPTER VIII.

THE UNCONSCIOUS HEROINE.

The mining engineer of 18G0 is the colonel of
a Federal regiment in 1864. In a single cam-
paign he has left half his regiment on the plains
of Virginia, and now in the early autumn he has
led its thinned ranks into the valley of Virginia.
He has marched his men from Harper's Ferry,
by the Charlestown turnpike, over the same route
that he rode in 1860, and with the brigade to
which his regiment is attached is now in camp
at Claremont, one of the farms formerly pointed
out to him as the property of Colonel Luke, cele-
brated for its production of fine horses.

Early one morning he rode out to find the
beautiful estate of Audley, which had so im-
pressed him on his first visit. He had some diffi-
culty in recognizing it, although it had fared
somewhat better than its neighbors. Its owner
was in the service in a distant part of the Con-
federacy. He found the old servant who had
been so polite and hospitable, but who did not
now recognize him. He had changed with the
estate. His hair could not have been whiter or
5 65

66 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

his aspect more venerable ; but his countenance
was sorrowful, his clothing worn and rusty.
From him the colonel learned that the fine horses
and cattle had been exchanged for Confederate
securities early in 1861. The wave of invasion
and retreat which had so many times rolled up
and down the valley had' injured Audley less
than its neighbors, but it had levelled the fences
and destroyed many of its attractions. There
was no colored flock of ''sassy imps" to greet
the traveller. The mistress and the family had
left the valley and a general air of sadness
pervaded the estate.

The colonel extended his inquiries to the Van
Metre farm and mill. Here greater changes had
taken place. Its proprietor had brought from
the Luray Valley Miss Elizabeth, better known
as Miss Betty Keyser, to become its mistress and
to bear his name. Then he had enlisted in the
Confederate cavalry ; her two brothers in other
branches of the service. She must have been a
young bride, for now in 1864 she had not com-
pleted her nineteenth year. Like another Penel-
ope, she was keeping the mill and farm to await
her husband's return. There, with Peter, a for-
mer slave, Dick Eunner, a colored man in the mill,
Ginny, his wife, and her young niece of nine
years, she still lived, though battles had raged
and the unloosed dogs of war with bloody mouths
had howled around her for more than three

THE UNCONSCIOUS HEROINE. 67

years. The mill farm had suffered with the
others. The horses, cattle, all the live-stock, all
the wagons and other vehicles, everything v/hich
could subsist men or animals had been swept
away. The mill was no longer a source of in-
come, for there was no more wheat or corn to be
ground. The fences had been levelled ; the thrift
and prosperity which the traveller witnessed only
four years before had melted away in the lurid
atmosphere of three years of relentless war.

The brave young wife, with a colored man
once a slave but, although now free, faithful to
his mistress, had kept the mill and farm through
all the disturbances of war. Her husband, after
long immunity from wounds and calamities, had
been captured, and on his way to Harper's Ferry
had been permitted by his captors to call at his
home, procure a change of clothing, and take
leave of his wife. Then he had been carried
North to encounter vicissitudes, of which more
will be written in the course of the story. In
one respect the reports which the colonel had
from his colored informant and other sources
agreed. The young wife from the Luray Valley
was a woman of strong character who had secured
the respect of all who had been brought into con-
tact with her by the fortunes of war ; her prop-
erty had been to some extent protected by Con-
federates and Unionists, and up to this time even
the camp-followers had not raided her home.

68 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

When the colonel returned to his camp at
Claremont he ordered a guard for the protection
of the Van Metre homestead, and directed that
it should be maintained until the army moved.
Afterward he with other officers of his brigade
called at the door and made the young wife's ac-
quaintance. They were all impressed with the
brave attempt at cheerfulness which she main-
tained in her loneliness, and all treated her with
deference and. kindness ; for they knew that as
yet she was only a Southern girl, living in the
midst of war, at the mercy of those she had been
taught to look upon as the deadly enemies of
herself and her people, and who were even then
holding her husband as a prisoner. She was
living, with no companion but her little niece,
like so many other sorrowful women North and
South, patient in their anxiety and desolation,
waiting and praying for peace.

These officers speedily made the discovery that
this young Virginia matron was a lady both by
nature and education. She expressed her grati-
tude for their protection of her property, and in
every other respect conducted herself with marked
propriety and dignity. As already mentioned,
it was one of these officers, weary of the eternal
sameness of the army ration, who with a tender
memory of the superiority of his mother's cook-
ing, one day ventured to ask Mrs. Van Metre
whether she would not prepare a meal or two

THE UNCONSCIOUS HEROINE. 69

from their supplies. She readily promised to do
so, and with some vegetables from her own
garden cooked for them a few meals which were
long remembered. Thus it happened that upon
four or five occasions half a dozen officers of
the Vermont brigade and of General Getty's
staff broke bread at Mrs. Van Metre's table.

With this sketch in mind we may return to
the deserted officer. Early one morning Uncle
Dick Eunner came to Mrs. Van Metre, with his
finger on his lips and an earnest expression of
secrecy on his face. " 'Fore de Lord, Missus
Betty," he whispered, "a Union officer is a-dyin'
in dat house ober dar whar de Asburys are. I's
jes' come from dar and I tink he is dyin' now."

'' Why did you not tell me of this before, Dick?"
asked his mistress with some severity.

''Why — why — you see, 'twas dis way," he
stammered. "Dem Asburys is no good. Dey
promis de kunnel's friends to take care of de
kunnel. Dey get pay for it. I promis I'd go
see when he wanted something. I go dere tree,
four times; dem Asburys won't lef me in. Dey
say it's none o' my business. Dey goin' to take
care ob de kunnel ! Early dis morning I steal in
de house. I went upstair. De poor man had
no water. He can't move. I tink dem As-
burys steal his food. I ran got some water.
Dat room was an awful place. I clar it up a
little, den I come for you."

70 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

'' Come with me, Dick !•' exclaimed the energetic
woman, and in a moment she was Hterally flying
over the ground to the house where Bedell
lay. Dick followed as fast as his ancient legs
would carry him. She walked into the base-
ment without ceremony. "Where is the soldier
you are suffering to die in solitude?" she de-
manded of the miserable couple, who were still
living in that part of the house.

"Oh! he's a Lincoln hireling," said the female
Asbury. "We don't care for him. We haven't
been near him. Who cares if he does die? He's
upstairs somewhere!"

"I am ashamed that you are a woman!" ex-
claimed Mrs. Van Metre. "You promised to
take care of him and were paid for it. You stole
his food and left him and would not let Dick see
him ! If he dies 3'ou are murderers and ought to
be hung!" With this greeting she rushed up to
the room where Bedell lay.

"I cannot tell you what I saw or what I said,"
she afterward explained to the writer. "It was
something like this. He lay upon the floor on
a straw bed — his eyes sunken and hollow, his
great wound where the leg seemed taken off near
the hip all exposed, the matter dripping from it.
One hand was wrapped in a handkerchief; with
the other he was vainly trying to cover himself
with an army blanket.

" I was overcome, and instead of going to work

THE UNCONSCIOUS HEROINE. 71

I foolishly asked whether I could do anything
for him. The poor fellow hurst into tears. 'I
hope you will excuse me,' he said. 'I am very
weak — I have lost some blood, and it has been
lonely here ; and when I saw you I thought of

my wife — and — and '

"^Stop!' I said. 'Speaking only weakens you.
I see just how it is!' By this time I was quite
myself. There was a pail of fresh water which
Dick had brought. I gave him a cupful, which
he drank, and a second and a third. I said to
Dick, 'Take the horse and go for Dr. Osborne.
Tell him I want him just as quick as he can
come. ' Then I dropped on the floor by the poor
fellow's side, and with a handkerchief dipped in
the cool water washed his face, his hands, his
exposed wound. He kept crying and begging
my pardon and telling how weak he was. 'Cry !'
I said. 'I would cry if I were in your place. Why
shouldn't you cry? But you must remember one
thing — you are not going to be alone any more.
I shall see to that. ' So I kept talkingand bath-
ing and he crying and thanking me until he
seemed quite refreshed. Then I said, 'I do not
like to leave you, but I ought to have some
things ready when the doctor comes. Are you
willing that I should run over to my house and
get them?' He said yes quite cheerfully, and I
was glad to see that his mind was as clear as
mine.

72 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

" I went to my house very quickly. Some intui-
tion the day before had led me to boil a chicken,
and I set about making a dish of strong broth
before the doctor came. Before it was quite
ready Dick rode up to my door. He had brought
the doctor in half the time I expected. Dick
had been sent to see if I had a syringe; if not he
was to go to Gaylord for the doctor's. I gave
him mine and he took it to Dr. Osborne."

She paused; her animated face became very
grave. "I quite forgot myself," she said, "in
thinking of what happened almost thirty years
ago. You must get the rest of tlie story from
some one else. For me to tell it is too much
like blowing my own trumpet."

"Madam," I said, "you ought not to decline
to give me the rest of this story. I intend to
give it to the world, and I would like to have it
from your own lips."

"I am afraid you will not understand me, sir,"
she said. "I am not entitled to the least credit.
Any other woman would have done what I did.
Wh}^, the poor man's condition was horrible —
horrible !" she exclaimed with a shudder.

"I will assent to anything — I will say that
black is white if you wish ; but the story — pray
go on with the story. You were at the point
where the doctor sent for the syringe. Go on
and do not stop again!"

" I sent Dick with the syringe. I poured the

THE UNCONSCIOUS HEROINE. 73

broth into a bottle, corked it, and gave it to my
niece. I gathered up pieces of linen, two linen
sheets, a blanket and a thick comforter, and we
both returned to the room where the poor man
lay. Dr. Osborne had already removed the offi-
cer's coat and vest. He waited while I gave him
a cup of the chicken broth. It delighted me to
see him drink it and call for more until he had
taken the whole. It seemed to put life in him.

" Then the doctor resumed his work, with the
assistance of Dick and myself. The details will
not interest you. We got him fairly well bathed
— his wounds cleansed and in clean bandages.
The thick comforter over his straw tick made a
softer bed ; we placed him between clean sheets
with a blanket over him, and before we had quite
finished he was asleep."

So much of the story of her first interview with
Bedell after he was wounded I had from Mrs. Van
Metre's own lips. It was interrupted by the en-
trance of her husband, whom I then saw for the
first time. I was not able afterward to induce
her to continue the relation. She could not, she
said, talk about herself. I continue the story as
I gathered it from other sources.

Bedell continued to sleep so soundly that ordi-
nary conversation did not disturb him. Then the
doctor called Mrs. Van Metre to account.

"You are a fine Confederate woman," began
the doctor. "Here is a Northern invader, a Lin-

74 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

coin hireling, who has come here to roh us of our
property and to conquer us, and you are trying
to save his life! Why don't you do your duty
and leave him to die?"

"Because a good Confederate — Dr. Osborne — is
just as much interested as I am in saving his
life ; because no true woman could do otherwise
than as I am doing. Doctor, let us not have any
false pretences between us. When I first came
and offered to help him he tried to make me go
away ; his condition was unfit to be seen, he said.
He was thankful, he said, God alone knew how
thankfvil; but he was past all hope. Would I
not kindly go away and leave him to die?

"Look at him now," she said as she turned
her earnest face toward the man now sleeping so
restfully who had been so hopeless only a few
hours before. "Are you not repaid already?
Can you refuse to help me save his life?"

" Mother Eve was too much for Adam in the
first discussion in the garden and you carry too
many guns for a country doctor. No! no! God
bless your kindly heart, Betty Van Metre ! I can
refuse you nothing. Friend or enemy, we will
save this man if we can!"

"What do you think are his chances, doctor?"

" I can tell much better when he wakes and I
can have some conversation with him. I think
he has had great distress of mind. But the
manner in which he yielded to your influence

THE UNCONSCIOUS HEROINE, 75

and his present sleep are very hopeful. He may
sleep for hours. Let Uncle Dick go for Ginny.
She is an excellent nurse and will watch him as
well as you can. Then you go home and we
will meet here at four o'clock to-day."

Ginny was sent for and placed in charge.
Uncle Dick decided to stay with her, "to keep
dem misabul Asburys outen de room." Mrs.
Van Metre returned to her own dwelling.

Her restricted larder could still provide a
roasted chicken and corn bread made with her
own hands for her patient's dinner. She came
before the hour. The wounded man was awake,
much refreshed by his sleep. But he was still
very weak, and when, knowing that he had but
one hand, she seated herself on the floor by his
bed, carved the chicken, and gave him the deli-
cious and tender meat, he was profuse in his
apologies for his nervousness, which still found
expression in his moistened eyes. He had made
an excellent dinner when the doctor arrived.

Mrs. Van Metre left the room during the doc-
tor's long examination of the patient. At the
end of it the doctor said he preferred to talk
with her at her own house. Arrangements were
made for Ginny to stay with Bedell during the
night, and the doctor and Mrs. Van Metre re-
turned to her home.

CHAPTER IX.

THE CONSULTATION — THE COUNTRY DOCTOR — THE
DECISION OF THE HEROINE.

" I HAVE had a very satisfactory interview with
Lieutenant Bedell, " began the doctor. '' His mind
is clear and I think I can make a good estimate
of his chances."

" When can I remove him to my own house,
where he can have proper care?" earnestly asked
Mrs. Van Metre.

"My dear madam," replied the doctor, ''you
anticipate me. I do not know that that time
will ever come. This man has been very near to
death. But for you he would not be living to-
day. I would say nothing to discourage you.
Heaven knows, but I have studied his condition
thoroughly. I suppose yo.u would like to know
just what I think his chances are?"

''Most certainly, doctor. But he seemed so
much improved to-night that I hoped he was out
of danger."

"Very far from that, I assure you. He has a
splendid constitution, which gives me all the hope
I have. But he has received wounds which in

76

THE CONSULTATION. 77

the majority of cases would have been fatal. He
has been subjected to fearful surgical operations
— then just as nature v/as asserting herself they
tried to move him and he fainted. They carried
him back to that room^ and there for four days
he has lain deserted, the fever and inflammation
increasing by neglect and the consciousness
of his condition wearing his life away. It is a
miracle, almost, that he did not die. Your com-
ing and what you did gave him hope and pro-
duced a powerful reaction. But he is very weak.
The suppuration of his wounds, now unavoid-
able, will make heavy drafts upon his vitality,
which I tell you frankly 1 do not believe he can
endure. As for moving him now, that is out of
the question. He would die before you got him
out of the house!"

''Poor fellow! and he has a wife and children!
And how brave he is ! and how grateful! Must
he die? Don't give him up, doctor! Is there
nothing we can do to save him?"

"My dear madam, I have never felt our pov-
erty and destitution as I do to-day. Yes, some-
thing might be done for him. If we had stimu-
lants and medicines to brace him up and enable
him to meet the drafts which his wounds will
make upon his system, his superb constitution
might pull him through. If we had the quinine
and whiskey left by his friends and wiiich have
been stolen from his bed, they would do much."

78 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

" Cannot we buy these stimulants with money?"

" No. The only stimulant to be had is a quart
or so of cider brandy from an illicit still. It
burns like nitric acid — it is not as good for our
purposes as alcohol. As for quinine, I have not
seen an ounce of it in a year."

"But, doctor, don't tell me that it is impos-
sible to get what will save such a life! There
must be some place where it exists and some
way to get it!"

"There is at Harper's Ferry a depot of the
Sanitary Commission, where there is an abun-
dance of everything we want, but those supplies
are for the Federal army, not for us Confederates.
They are as safe from you and me as if they
were locked behind bolts and bars and guarded
by an angel with a flaming sword !"

" Do you say, doctor, that if you had those med-
icines from Harper's Ferry you believe you could
save the life of that wounded officer?"

"I do most certainly believe I could," said the
doctor with an earnestness that was very grave.

His auditor started from her seat. She walked
quickly to the window and looked at the setting
sun. Then she walked back and stood before
the medical man like a statue. There was a
ring of determination in her voice which thrilled
him.

"Doctor," she said, "prepare me a list of the
things you need, and which you think the Sani-

THE DECISION OF THE HEROINE. 79

tary Commission can furnish. To-morrow I shall
go to Harper's Ferry and get them!"

The doctor's hreath was almost taken away.
After a little he managed to exclaim: "My dear
woman, what are you thinking about? Have
you gone crazy? Don't you know that Harper's
Ferry is in the hands of our enemies? You
could not get within their lines ! If you could,
they would arrest and probably hang you as a
spy. Positively it is the most reckless prop-
osition I ever heard in my life. I cannot let
you do it!"

''But I must do it, doctor! There is no one
else to go. We must have the medicines and I
have no choice."

"Why do you take so much interest in this
Northern man who has been wounded in battle
by our own friends?"

"I am not surprised that you ask, and I do not
know that I can answer your question to your
satisfaction or, indeed, to my own. He is a
wounded, suffering man, with a home far away,
and in it are a wife and children. If any woman
knowing that and seeing him as I have seen him
could do otherwise than I have done, she is not
such a woman as I am. Then weeks ago his
general placed guards upon and protected my
home. From all his brother-officers myself and
my little niece have received the most courte-
ous and considerate treatment. This officer and

W AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

others have eaten at my table. I cannot help
thinking that I should be doing a good deed if
I could help save such a noble man !

"But my strongest reason is yet to be given.
You may laugh at me and think me superstitious
if you like. But when Dick Eunner first told
me that a Union officer was dying in that house,
the thought possessed me that if I could help
that man, some Northern woman might help my
husband. This notion, if you will call it such,
absolutely controls me. When I go forward
something tells me that I am doing right. When
I hold back and ask why I should take any
trouble for him, I can almost hear a voice say-
ing, 'Betty Van Metre, as you deal with that suf-
fering man so shall your husband be dealt with.
Nurse him, cure him, do all in your power for
him, if you wish ever again to see your hus-
band!' I feel, I know that in some way the
fate of my husband is bound up with that of
this Union officer !

"Am I not doing right, doctor? Here I am
alone, inexperienced, and not yet twenty years
old. If I am doing wrong you, who have had
experience, ought to advise me. I am acting ac-
cording to my lights."

" Mrs. Van Metre, you have answered me. I
do solemnly believe you are acting the part of a
true woman. If you were my daughter I would
tell you so. But I cannot advise you to go to

THE DECISION OF THE HEROINE. 81

Harper's Ferry. The turnpike is beset with
tramps and guerillas. The prospect of success is
too remote, and I believe you will fail."

"I might succeed where a man would fail. I
shall go to-morrow morning, so you had better
make all your preparations and give me full
directions! "

"I must at least insist on your postponing it
another day. I ought to consider you an obsti-
nate, wilful child. You will be insulted, morti-
fied, probably imprisoned, and you will fail. Yet
I shall probably let you go, the man will die, and
I shall never see you again !"

"You are not an encouraging adviser, doctor.
But I am in the hands of the Almighty. I must
trust him and do what seems to be necessary.
It will take Peter a day to repair the old wagon,
so we have that time for preparation."

She again visited her patient and prepared him
for the night. He was cheerful, thankful, but
her heart sank when she found how little strength
he had. She arranged with the three colored
servants to see that he was not again left alone.

The next was a busy day. From her own
nearly exhausted larder, the box of crackers,
and the milk of a neighbor's cow she provided
his food for the next day. He saw that prepara-
tions were being made for something and he
wished to know what. She made some excuse,
which satisfied him.
6

82 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

Successive Confederate and Union invasions of
the valley had swept from her farm every horse
save one — an old animal, spavined, foundered,
worthless for almost every purpose. A long-dis-
used wagon had also been left because it would
scarcely hold together to be moved away. Uncle
Peter, who was a skilful cobbler of wheeled vehi-
cles as well as shoes, was directed out of the re-
mains to reconstruct a wagon which should with-
stand the hard usage of a journey to Harper's
Ferry and back, a distance of more than forty
miles, over roads which had not been repaired
since the beginning of the war and which had
been many times furrowed by army wagons
and artillery. This work occupied him for the
day.

As soon as the doctor called in the morning his
patient insisted upon being informed of the prepa-
rations going on and what they signified. "I
will tell you," said the doctor, "and then I must
rely upon your discretion. You must promise
not to attempt to dissuade Mrs. Van Metre from
what she intends to do. She insists upon making
an attempt to procure from Harper's Ferry the
stimulants which you must have if you are to
recover.

"I think the journey a most dangerous one.
I do not think she will be allowed to enter the
town. If she gets to the Sanitary depot I do not
believe she will be given the articles we need.

THE DECISION OF THE HEROINE. 83

But she is so determined tliat I dare not take the
responsibility of preventing her, nor should you.
On the contrary, I think we should encourage and
assist her."

Bedell assented; in fact, he was almost too
feeble to resist. In the evening Mrs. Van Metre
took the control of the sick-room. Ginny, the
colored nurse, was to remain with the officer,
and in her possession was placed the most nour-
ishing food which Mrs. Van Metre's stores could
supply. Then they bathed the hands, face, and
much of the body of the wounded man, with such
a comforting effect that he went to sleep under
their hands.

Our heroine very much wanted something
from Bedell which would serve her for creden-
tials, otherwise the only proof that he was alive
and that she was acting for him was her own
word. But he was too weak to write or even
to give her instructions which would be useful.
The army had moved and he did not know that
he had an acquaintance in the town.

Under these circumstances she felt at liberty
to examine Bedell's clothing to see whether she
could not find something that would prove his
identity. In one of the pockets of his coat she
found a letter ; the stamp of the War Office was
upon the envelope. She removed the letter from
the envelope and found that its folds adhered
together. It had been saturated by his blood.

84 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

Carefully separating one of these folds, she saw
that the letter was the official announcement of
his last promotion, directed with his full name.
She thrust it into her hosom, gave to Grinny her
last directions, breathed a prayer for the safety
of her patient, and about midnight returned to
her own home.

CHAPTER X.

THE FIRST EXPEDITION TO HARPER'S FERRY.

Early the next morning Mistress Betty took
her seat in the rickety vehicle and slowly started
her stiffened Rosinante on his twenty-mile jour-
ney to Harper's Ferry and return. It could
not be said that she handled the ribbons grace-
fully, for in her case the cord of a dismantled
bedstead replaced the reins. She encountered
parties of camp-followers and tramps, but none
of them could discover any reward for robbery in
her empty conveyance. The road was rough and
her progress slow. It was seven long hours
after she started before she reached the pickets
of the Union post.

To the young officer in command of the picket
she told the plain truth. She gave her true
name — said she lived in Berryville, that her
husband and brothers were in the Confederate
army, that she was a Southern woman. She
said that near her home in Berryville, in a vacant
house, there was an officer of the Union army
desperately wounded and about to die for want
of nourishing food and stimulating remedies.

85

86 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

She gave his name and regiment. She had come,
she said, to procure these necessaries from the
Sanitary Commission. She had no other errand.
She asked to be taken before the general in com-
mand of the post without delay, that she might
accomplish her errand and return.

It was about this time that smuggling into the
Confederacy was at its height. The notorious
Belle Boyd had been detected and imprisoned, and
many other agents and spies had not only carried
medicines and mails, but the Union plans to the
Southern leaders. These operations had been
the cause of the loss of many lives and much
Union property. The greatest strictness now
prevailed. No* one was permitted to pass the
lines without orders from the general command-
ing the army in that military department.

The officer of the picket feared that he had one
of these spies in petticoats on his hands, and yet,
being a gentleman, he could not withhold his
confidence from that frank, open face or order a
search of her person, to which she volunteered
to submit. It was the hour for the relief of his
guard, and riding by her side he escorted the
singular conveyance and its driver to the quar-
ters of General Stevenson, to whom, while she
waited without, the young officer told her story.
It elicited many oh's and all's and other ex-
pressions of incredulity from the experienced
veteran.

FIRST EXPEDITION TO HARPER'S FERRY. 87

Then the driver was called into the general's
presence and sharply questioned. She repeated
her story. She had no other, and there was not
a fact or circumstance in it upon which the gen-
eral could hang the shadow of a suspicion.

Her bearing was so unassuming, her story so
absolutely unexceptionable, that the general was
annoyed because he could not take exception to
either. He took refuge in fuming and fault-find-
ing. "Why can't you women stay at home and
attend to your own affairs ?" he growled. " I would
have much preferred to do so," she said, "but if
I had your officer would surely have died."
" There it is again !" he said. " They always have
some reason on their lips that the devil himself
can't answer. Now if this was a man I'd know
what to do with him. Probably I would hang
him as a spy ! It is easier to deal with fifty men
than one soft-spoken woman. Here you, madam!
Don't you know that this yarn of yours is the
d — dest improbable story ever invented? Excuse
me for swearing in the presence of a lady, for
you look like a lady and d — n me if I don't be-
lieve you are a lady. But why didn't you bring
a letter from the officer when you were going on
such a dangerous errand where you would
inevitably risk your life?"

"The lieutenant was too feeble to write, sir,
and his right hand is all shot to pieces. He
would have made the effort if I had asked him.

88 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

but I knew he could not write, and the exertion
would have made him weaker!"

"But a woman as bright as you are might
have brought some credentials — a button from
his coat or something from his pocket. How
can I take your unconfirmed story?-'

"While he was asleep, sir, I confess I did ex-
amine his pockets, and in one of them I found
this." Dexterously opening a seam in her skirt,
she extracted from it the blood-stained letter,
which she handed to the general, who passed it to
a member of his staff and directed him to read it.
The officer removed the letter from its envelope
without glancing at the direction. While sep-
arating the adhering folds he saw its beginning.

" Bedell ! Bedell !" exclaimed the officer. " How
came you by this, madam? Bedell was in our
brigade. He was mortally wounded and died
more than a week ago. We had to leave him,
poor fellow, and it was a shame that we did
so. I know he is dead, for the nurse we left with
him came into camp the next day and reported
that he died during the night. This letter must
have been taken from his body."

"Lieutenant Bedell was not dead this morning
at sunrise," she said, and her voice was very
tender as she continued: "He would have been
in my house, but he was too weak to be moved.
I left him in a deserted house near mine in charge
of a faithful old colored couple. His hand is shot

FIRST EXPEDITION TO HARPER'S FERRY. 89

and useless ; he has not strength to hold a pen.
He will die if I do not get what I came for. I fear
he will die before I get home. My own doctor
has said so. That is why I came, gentl-emen,"
she continued. " Pray think of one of your wives
or daughters on my errand, and for their sakes
give me what I came for and let me go. I do
not ask for myself, but for your brother-officer,
now very near his end. I am trying to save
him for his own wife and children. I am afraid
if I am much longer delayed I shall not find him
alive when I go home."

Her lips and her voice were tremulous as she
closed her pathetic appeal. No one answered
her. There were eyes in the group that were
not dry, and the veteran general seemed to be
trying to divert attention from his own emotions
by vehemently blowing his nose. Just then, un-
announced, another officer entered the room. "I
hear there is a lady here whom I want to see,"
he exclaimed, and rushing forward he strode
up to the timid woman and warmly grasped
both her hands. "God bless you, Mrs. Van
Metre!" he exclaimed. "Why are you here
and what can this camp do for you?" Then she
recognized in his cordial greeting and earnest
look the voice and face of one of the officers who
had sat at her table and partaken of the luxuries
of her cookery. "Tell me," he repeated, "what
any of us can do for you."

90 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

" You can do me a very great favor if you can
convince these gentlemen that I am telling the
truth," she said. "I am not here for myself,
but for one of your brother-officers, Lieutenant
Bedell."

'' Poor Bedell !" he responded. "How shame-
ful it was that we left him to die. I should have
stayed with him at any risk, although he insisted
that we should leave him for our duties with
the army. But he did not suffer long. The
nurse whom we left with him reported that he died
the next morning. But pray what can be done
for him now?"

" Lieutenant Bedell is not dead, as I have as-
sured these gentlemen," said Mrs. Van Metre.
" We still hope, Dr. Osborne and myself, that we
can save him, if I can have the things for which
I have come."

"You can have anything that this camp .can
furnish for such a purpose, but the news is too
good. Bedell alive! I could as readily have be-
lieved he was raised from the dead," warmly
responded the officer. "But what do you want?
What have you come for? You shall have it at
once!"

The general here interposed, and turning to the
messenger asked:

"Are you a Union woman?"

"lam not," she replied. "I am a Southern
woman to the last drop of my blood. My hus-

FIRST EXPEDITION TO HARPER'S FERRY. 91

band and brothers are Confederate soldiers and
my husband is now in the hands of your people
a prisoner of war. I hope and pray that the
South may yet be victorious and your Northern
army defeated."

'' Eebel or not, yon are a brave and I believe
you are a good, true woman !" said the general.
" But about giving you supplies which may be
used to cure some sick Confederate ! we shall have
to think about that. What shall we do with her,
gentlemen? Her conduct violates all the rules
of war. I suppose it is my duty to arrest and
imprison her as a spy. I wish she had not come.
I fear she will prove an elephant on our hands.
How we should be laughed at if we gave her
what she wants and the supplies went straight
to Mosby's camp! Again I ask, what shall we
do with her?"

"I would like to ask the lady why she takes
so much interest in the fate of an enemy?" asked
a young officer.

"Dr. Osborne, my physician, asked me that
question and I have asked it of myself. I do not
know that I can give a satisfactory answer.
Lieutenant Bedell and his brother-officers placed
guards over my little property — they have all
treated me with the courtesy of gentlemen. My
husband is a prisoner. I have thought that if I
could save the life of this man for his wife and
family, the Lord might put it into the heart of

92 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

some Northern woman to be equally kind and
helpful to my husband. If these suggestions do
not answer you, then I say that I suppose it is
because I am a woman and have a woman's
heart, and I cannot — Heaven knows I cannot —
see such a brave man suffer and die without
doing all that I can to save him. If these rea-
sons are not sufficient I am sorry — I can only say
that I have no other."

" If she is not a trustworthy woman there never
was one," said the officer who had previously
made her acquaintance. ^' I would believe her as
I would my mother. Then are we not bound to
take some risk for Bedell? I vote for furnishing
her with everything she wants, and I am ready
to take the whole risk!"

"I think, gentlemen, we are all agreed," said
the general with, the caution of an army officer.
"We believe what this lady says. She is work-
ing for the life of one of our brother-officers.
"We will furnish her with all the materials and
facilities which will promote her good vork. If
any one entertains a different opinion, now is his
time to express it."

There was no dissension. All set about con-
tributing to the work. Every possible attention
was shown to Mrs. Van Metre. Even the old
horse was refreshed with such a feed as he had
not enjoyed since the war began.

Mrs. Van Metre gave them the memorandum

FIRST EXPEDITION TO HARPER'S FERRY. 93

prepared by Dr. Osborne of Bedell's real necessi-
ties. To this the surgeons and agents of the Com-
mission made liberal additions. The Sanitary and
Christian Commissions, the stores and private sup-
plies of the officers were drawn upon, and the load
as made up severely taxed the strength and ca-
pacity of the vehicle. The driver decided that it
would be unsafe to undertake the transportation of
such a load in the day-time through a region so
destitute, infested by so many bands of roving rob-
bers, all following their merciless instincts. The
supplies were closely packed in boxes and the re-
turn postponed until evening, notwithstanding
one of the officers very significantly suggested
that she w^ould run no risk of attack on her
return.

At nightfall she left the camp followed by the
God -speed of officers and men, her heart as full
of gratitude as her wagon was with medicines
and necessaries. The old horse appeared to have
renewed his youth and activity. He picked his
way cautiously over the rough places, and wher-
ever he came to a smoother road, without a word
or touch of the whip he bowled along at a pace
of six or seven miles an hour.

Her heart sank once on the return journey.
She was within two miles of her home when she
heard the sound of horses galloping on the road
behind her. The old horse increased his paces,
but she knew she was being rapidly overtaken.

94 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

They must be her pursuers, she thought — they
were guerillas or robbers. It was too much that
after all her success she should lose her supplies
when so near her home — that her good fortune
should desert her and her enterprise come to
naught !

No ! no ! Thank Heaven ! Separating into two
lines, the party swept past her. The leader spoke.
She recognized the voice of her acquaintance who
had been so kind to her during the day. It was
expressed in different language, but it filled her
agitated breast with the same feeling which gave
strength to the arms and firmness to the hearts
of the disciples when, toiling at the oars, they
heard through storm and tempest the cheering
message, "It is I, be not afraid!" The voice
of this leader said, "No guerillas — no robbers
will harm you. We are your escort to Berry -
ville!"

Her escort waited at the junction of the road
leading to her home with the turnpike, and
watched her until she reached her own door. As
she drove past them they gave her a respectful
fusillade of good wishes and kind messages to
her patient. She found the doctor waiting for
her, much troubled by the delay of her return.
The lieutenant was sleeping under the watchful
eye of Ginny, but he had been growing weaker
during the day. The abundant load of supplies
was transferred to Mrs. Van Metre's store-room,

FIRST EXPEDITION TO HARPER'S FERRY. 95

where it was safe under lock and key. But the
doctor would not defer the administration of a
remedy from which he expected immediate re-
sults. He prepared it, and with the fortunate
messenger went to the patient's bedside, aroused
and administered it to him.

CHAPTER XI.

THE PECULIARITIES OF THE COUNTRY DOCTOR —
THE REMOVAL AND CONCEALMENT UNDER DIF-
FICULTIES OF A STALWART ENEMY.

Upon several occasions in my life it has hap-
pened to me to be brought into contact with the
country doctor. I have met him socially and.
professionally, and in one instance he has been
closely connected with my own family. I have
always found him exhibiting the same specific
characters. As an interesting species of our
race, he deserves some description.

He is, I believe, the most charitable and kind-
hearted expression of our humanity. His life is
laborious — he belongs to the most arduous and
difficult of what are known as the learned profes-
sions. He deals with the complex mechanism of
life, which is never at rest, is in constant opera-
tion, and through our negligence of its demands,
exposed to disarrangement and injury. Unless
he understands all its delicate functions he is
useless, and the knowledge of these functions is
only to be acquired by long and patient study.
He must be able to detect the diseased parts, not

96

PECULIARITIES OF THE COUNTRY DOCTOR. 97

by simple inspection, as in the case of other ma-
chinery, but by symptoms, deductions, or by
what is called diagnosis, and when he has located
the defect he must know how it can be repaired.
To practise at all and to protect himself against
the perils of malpractice, he must attain to a
measure of skill only to be acquired b}" a long and
thorough course of training.

When he has acquired the knowledge necessary
to his being admitted to his profession, he cannot,
like the ordinary mechanic, sit in his shop and
have his work brought to him to be done at his
leisure, where his tools are ready to his hand.
No. Nature cannot wait — pain, her messenger,
is imperative. The country doctor must be ready
to answer her call at any hour of the day or
night. More often than otherwise he will be
aroused from his refreshing sleep at midnight — he
will have to harness his own horse and in storm
and darkness make his way over hill and moun-
tain to seme distant cottage where the patient lies
impatiently awaiting his coming.

Is he always adequately rewarded? Does he
stipulate for and secure his fee in advance? No!
In the majority of cases he performs his service
upon a credit which will only mature in another
world. It is none the less valuable on that
account, for he never stops to inquire whether
the patient is able to pay. The city practitioner
called from his sleep in the night by a stranger
7

98 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

may coolly refer the messenger to his young part-
ner at some number a dozen blocks away and
shut the door in his face. The country doctor is
never guilty of such unfeeling incivility. He
answers the call in person. Wherefore it is that
throughout my professional life I have thought
and said of the country doctor, " He is the true
Samaritan, an honor to his profession and to
mankind."

As Adam Smith once wrote of humanity, these
country doctors are very much alike — very uni-
form. Why did not Dr. Osborne, when he was
sent for in great haste by Mrs. Van Metre, stop
and inquire whether the patient was not "a Lin-
coln hireling"? He was a Confederate, was Dr.
Osborne. Politically, he was more interested in
killing than in curing the officers of the Northern
army. Why at least did he not stop and ascer-
tain whether the patient would promise to com-
pensate him if he recovered and should ever
have the pecuniary ability to do so? Why did
he come at the first summons, take a deep inter-
est in the case, repeat his visits from day to day,
and never omit them until Bedell had no further
need of him, without so much as one word on the
subject of his fees? It was because he was a
country doctor !

Dr. Osborne is dead. The writer has recently
been among the people in the region where he
lived and died. There is no question about the

PECULIARITIES OP THE COUNTRY DOCTOR. 99

esteem in which he was held by that community.
When its members answered the writer's in-
quiries about him their voices were low, their
accents affectionate, their testimony unanimous
that he was a good man.

Although the exigencies of war had for a long
time deprived his patients of their benefits. Dr.
Osborne thoroughly understood the practical use
of all modern surgical instruments and of all the
medical remedies described in the Pharmacopoeia.
He was simply amazed at the success of Mrs. Van
Metre's expedition. The agents of the Sanitary
and Christian Commissions had not only furnished
all the articles mentioned in his written memo-
randum, but having obtained from the faithful
messenger a description of Bedell's condition, they
had added such things as they thought might
prove useful in his case. The doctor left the
coffee and tea, the canned, meats, vegetables, and
other food supplies to the administration of Mrs.
Van Metre. Those which belonged to his own
profession he displayed upon one of her tables.
First of all, from the requisite materials he com-
pounded the strengthening and stimulating mix-
ture which was to be administered every two
hours. The draught of the previous evening had
arrested the weakening process, and the first ap-
plication in the morning appeared to turn the
face of his patient in the direction of recovery.

Then how the good doctor did revel in the

100 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

pleasures of his profession and thank God for the
HberaHty of the Sanitary Commission. For this
mountaineer was a man of experience and learn-
ing, and he knew the uses of all the medicines
and instruments, many of which he had seldom
seen during the recent years of war. With a
touch of affection he proceeded to remove the
coverings and arrange the medicines in order.
His heart leaped in his bosom when he came to
the instruments. For his brother-surgeons had
sent him a very complete assortment of the most
modern and approved manufactures, with a grate-
ful note requesting his acceptance of them after
his patient had been cured. He laid them out,
one by one, upon the table, surveyed and rejoiced
over them, more pleased than a queen by the
presentation of a casket of jewels.

As soon as the patient had begun to feel the
strengthening effects of the new remedies, he
was visited by the doctor, Mrs. Van Metre, and the
colored couple, Dick and Ginny. They trespassed
upon the Asburys' fire enough to heat a quan-
tity of water. The old dressings of his wounds
were softened, removed, and committed to the
flames, and new, clean bandages were applied.
His entire body was thoroughly bathed. Uncle
Dick was a very fair barber. He trimmed the
patient's hair and whiskers and even attempted a
moderate shampoo. Clean linen was put upon
him, the cot bedstead and mattress from the Ferry

REMOVAL AND CONCEALMENT. 101

were set up, and the patient was placed between
clean sheets upon them. Even the naked room was
made a little more attractive and less desolate.

Bedell bore the fatigue of this change fairly
well, and the doctor left him with the hope that
if no set-back occurred his removal might be at-
tempted within the next three or four days.

The house where the officer lay was a good
third of a mile from the Van Metre homestead,
where Peter Dennis and near which Dick and
Ginny lived. It was not safe to leave the lieu-
tenant alone. "Dem Asburys," as Uncle Dick
persisted in calling them, were unsafe neighbors,
almost as dangerous as the guerillas and camp-
followers. Mrs. Van Metre did not wish to leave
her little niece alone in the house, and although
the colored neighbors would stay with the
wounded man during the night, Mrs. Van Metre
experienced considerable difficulty in arranging
matters during the day. She finally compromised
by going to her patient once in three hours,
keeping up his courage by a few minutes of cheer-
ful conversation, and then returning home.

But this plan involved much labor and left
both places exposed during her temporary ab-
sence. She therefore determined as soon as Be-
dell's strength would permit that he should be
removed to her own home, where he could have
cheerful companionship and not be subject to
exposure.

102 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

How was this removal to be effected ? He was
a heavy man, he could not yet stand upon his
single leg, he was in the second story of the
house, and except her colored servants she had no
one to assist her. She called upon Dick Eunner
to devise some means for his transfer.

"Dick," she said, "the wounded soldier must
not be left in that solitary, exposed house any
longer. I want him removed to my house. It
must be done at once — to-day — and you must
find a way to do it."

"Dat's a hard job. Missus Betty! De kunnel
can't walk — he mus' be carried. He's berry
heavy. I don't see how it's to be done."

"But you must see. It's cruel to have him lie
there and suffer when he could be so comfortable
with us. We must move him to-day and you
must find the way!"

"I'll do the best I can, but you mus' give me
time to tink ! You are alius in a drefful hurry.
Miss Betty. You kinder scares me." So say-
ing he seated himself upon a bowlder, clasped his
head with both hands, and was apparently buried
deep in reflection.

He did not keep her waiting long. "Miss
Betty," he exclaimed, "I's got it — I's got it!
But we mus' not move him to-day. Dem As-
burys is a-watchin'. They has been four or five
tramps hazin' round here and dey specks some-
thing. Up in the garret of the mill there is an

REMOVAL AND CONCEALMENT. 103

old stretcher ; dey carried stones and bricks on it.
I knows I kin find it. You wait till night, put
his mattress an' comforter on it, Ginny an' I will
carry one end, Peter an' some other darky will
take the other, an' we'll carry him right over
to your house!"

She recognized the wisdom of waiting until
evening, and Dick was directed to prepare the
stretcher and engage the carriers. The only op-
position came from Bedell. He would not, he
said, helpless hulk that he was, be carried into
her house to turn it into a hospital. He was
grateful enough to her, Heaven knew, but this
was too much. He was beginning to have some
hope — he was getting stronger. She must let
him fight out the battle where he was, alone.

"Lieutenant," said the determined woman,
"you are not going to waste your strength nor
my time. I am stronger than you are and my
three servants will help me. You are going over
to my house to-night, and your objections will
not weigh a feather's weight. You are a sick
man — you don't know what is best for yon. I
do! Here comes Ginny with your coffee and a
ration of canned beef. That is good for you be-
yond any controversy ! Now be good and obedi-
ent and obey your nurse!"

Bedell was silenced. He obeyed. That night
the old stretcher was brought, the heavy man
was laid upon it, and three colored men and

104 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

Ginny carried him gently down the stairs out
under the open sky. It was raining. The Vir-
ginia woman protected the Union officer from the
rain with her umbrella — the procession moved
slowly, though safely, across the fields to her
home.

Mrs. Van Metre had asked him whether he had
not been refreshed by the sponge -bath given him
by Dr. Osborne, and he had responded with great
enthusiasm. She thereupon directed Dick and
Ginny, in spite of his remonstrances, to repeat
the process. After it was completed he was placed
in a broad, soft bed in a pleasantly furnished
apartment, which he afterward learned was the
room of his hostess, which she had surrendered for
his use. Then she gave him a cooling, quieting
draught, prepared by the doctor, which seemed
to take away from him all disposition to resist,
and he slept.

His hostess was as much relieved from anxiety
as himself. He was removed without the knowl-
edge of any one but herself and her trusted ser-
vants. Tramps and guerillas would scarcely
suspect his presence in her own room. She
might reasonably hope that he would be permitted
to travel the road to convalescence and recovery
without interference or interruption. However,
his greatest danger lay in the possibility of dis-
covery, and to prevent that should be the study of
her present life.

CHAPTER XII.

THE DREAM WHICH WAS NOT ALL A DREAM.

The journey to Harper's Ferry, the anxiety
and excitement, which were constant until the
wounded man was safe under her own roof, would
have worn out any one who was not sustained by
a strong sense of duty. Mas. Vsn Metre had de-
termined to nurse him through that first night in
his new quarters and had dismissed her colored
assistants to their homes. When she saw how
peacefully her patient was sleeping, she experi-
enced a strong desire herself for a similar rest.
She extinguished all the lights, dropped upon a
lounge, threw a shawl over herself, and was soon
sleeping as refreshingly as her charge.

Both slept far into the long autumn night. The
lieutenant first awoke. His slight movement
showed him that his nurse was at her post of
duty.

"Do you want anything?" she asked as she
started to relight the lamps.

"Please do not strike a light," he said.
"Leave the room as it is. I wish to tell you
something. If I saw your face I might not have

105

106 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

the courage to tell you what I wish to say. Will
you kindly sit where I can feel your presence?"

She seated herself by his bedside and took his
unwounded hand. She waited some time in si-
lence and then asked :

"What was it that you wished to say?"

''Mrs. Van Metre," he said in a low but very
firm voice, "I have seen your husband to-night."

She was startled. She thought he had sud-
denly been stricken with insanity. "How did
you know that I had a husband?" she asked.

"I do not know unless I dreamed it," he said,
and again relapsed into silence.

"Tell me the story," she said. "There is no
one to hear it but ourselves."

"It was a dream," he said. "I know it was a
dream. There is no truth in dreams. It is absurd
to tell them, yet this one was fearfully real.
You will not think me light-headed or that I
have lost my senses?"

" Indeed I will not. You excite my curiosity.
I should much like to hear it. I am curious to
learn how you came to know about my husband.
These dreams have sometimes proved prophetic."

" If I shall not earn your contempt I will tell
you the whole story. I fear my sleep has weak-
ened me, and I may never be stronger."

"Tell it in 3^our own way. We can discuss it
afterward."

"This was the way of it. I was in that horri-

THE DREAM WHICH WAS NOT A DREAM. 107

ble room where you found me and I was dying
of thirst and starvation. What I wanted more
than anything else was to write my name, regi-
ment, the date of my death, and the place where
I was to be buried. I wanted my wife and friends
to know where I lay. It appeared that I had
already suffered all that mortal man could suffer
and live. With great pains I had found a pencil
and a piece of board upon which I was trying to
write my name. The Asburys had been watch-
ing me with hungry eyes. They seized the board
and tore it from me. In the struggle I lost con-
sciousness.

" Then I was restored far enough to know that
some one gave me a refreshing drink. In an
instant I was another being — all my pains, cares,
anxieties had vanished. I was as light as air.
By a gentle spring with my one limb I could
ascend indefinitely — to the heavens if I wished.
I was supremely happy. I pitied those who were
tied down to this dull, senseless earth. Distance
was nothing to me. A wish transported me any-
where I chose to go. I wanted to see my home.
By a graceful series of ascents and descents, like
travelling over a rolling country, I was there.
My children were hanging on my neck, my wife
was embracing me and saying: 'It was cruel of
you, Henry, not to write us for all these long
weeks when we were mourning you as dead, and
then come upon us so suddenly. Your own colonel

108 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

reported you as mortally wounded and then as
dead, and we never expected to see you again. '

" 'I have been wounded and very near to death, '
I said. 'Do you not see that it is only a part of
your husband who has come back to you? But
for a woman as good and true as yourself I should
have died as awful a death as you could imagine,
and you never wonld have known where I was
buried.' Then I told her all about you — how
energetic and kind you had been, and how you had
saved my life when you were in great trouble
yourself. I told her of your anxiety about your
husband, who was a prisoner if he was aliv^e, and
that you sometimes feared he was not living, and
that lowed you such a debt of gratitude that I
ought to find your husband and get him released
if he was in prison, for you had saved me and
given me back, to her. 'God bless her !' exclaimed
my wife. 'Our children shall be taught to love
her and I will never make a prayer that does not
invoke blessings on her head.' Then we went
into our children's room, and I heard them talk-
ing in their sleep of their father.

"My wife was suddenly startled. I had tried
already to call her attention to my crippled con-
dition, but her mind was so full of joy that she
did not notice what I said. Now she saw my
defect. 'Why, Henry,' she exclaimed, 'you have
lost a part of yourself!'

"'You were too proud of the strength and

THE DREAM WHICH WAS NOT A DREAM. 109

activity of your husband. So was I. It was
necessary that our pride should have a fall. I
have lost my leg, but as I said before I have
gained the friendship of a woman who is as
noble and good and kind as yourself. Could I say
more of any woman?'

"Just here comes in the remarkable part of
my dream, You must think me foolish for re-
lating it to you. But it did seem so real!"

"Indeed, you misjudge me," said his auditor.
"Your strange vision interests me. Perhaps I
will tell you how deeply when you have finished.
I should be sorry if you did not give me the whole
of the story."

"My dear wife whispered in my ear that she
feared I had been ungrateful. 'I am strangely
drawn toward that woman,' she said. 'Think
how great a debt we owe her! What is her
name ? Where did you leave her ? Is she happy ?
She cannot possibly be contented not knowing
the fate of her husband. It would be hard for
us to part with you again, but we would do it
for you to go back to her and help her find her
husband. '

" 'You recall me to my duty,' I said. 'I
do not know why I left her. She is in trouble.
Nothing but the sorrow that strains the heart to
the i^oint of breaking could have impressed the
sadness which was in her face when I last saw it.
I deserve to be punished for leaving her. I have

110 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

been ungrateful. I will go back to her and do
what I can to repair my error. '

"I remember that my wife stood before me,
and I thought I never saw a woman with a more
noble expression upon her face. 'Henry,' she
said, 'I have been very proud, of you. But if you
can rest until you have either aided that woman
to find her husband or to ascertain that he is no
longer living, you are not the man I married —
you are no husband of mine ! '

" Then, as if a curtain had been let down from
the sky before me, I seemed to be shut out from
my wife and my home. Next, by one of those
mysterious changes which I cannot even try to
explain, I was in a camp of many thousand Con-
federate prisoners — soldiers of the Southern army.
There v/as a long building of one story over
which floated a hospital flag. Near it, shaded by
large trees, were tents in which very sick men
lay. In one of them there was only a single
patient. He lay upon a cot, to which he had
just been brought. He was dreadfully emaci-
ated. His head had just been shaved, his body
had been washed, and as he lay upon his back,
his hollow cheeks, sunken eyes, and ashen face
showed that he had been a great sufferer, proba-
bly from a long fever. He could only speak in
whispers. An old gray- haired general with a
benignant face, a lady young enough to be his
daughter, a surgeon, and an old colored man

THE DREAM WHICH WAS NOT A DREAM. Ill

stood around the sick man. The lady had turned
her face away from the sufferer ; her breast was
swelling with emotion and her gentle eyes were
filled with tears.

"In a corner of the tent stood another person.
He had a fawning, treacherous, hang-dog look.
I have no words adequate to describe the villa-
nous meanness of his appearance or expression.
A soldier stood beside him who appeared to be
his guard.

'"What do you make of his case, doctor?' I
heard the general ask.

" ^ It is a case of brain fever complicated with
the most inexcusable negligence and I fear with
violence. Look at his wrists — they carry the
marks of manacles which have worn away the
skin. '

" 'He was very violent, sir. He was dangerous.
He tried to kill me. We had to restrain him or
he would have killed us all, ' whined the wretch
who stood by the soldier.

'' ' Silence, you villain ! Not another word
from your lying lips!' said the general, with a
most righteous ring to his voice. Then I saw
that the man addressed was a rat-mouthed,
ferret-eyed caitiff in the dress of a nurse or hos-
pital attendant. He seemed crushed by the
words of the general.

"'Can you save the poor man's life?' asked
the general of the surgeon.

112 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

'' 'I do not know — I cannot answer now. His
case is very doubtful. The fever is still upon
him. We have been very gentle in our treat-
ment of him. If he does not sink under it I shall
have some hope. It was most fortunate that
your daughter found him this morning. Another
access of his fever would inevitably have been
fatal. '

'"Was it not cruel to shave his head in that
manner? Why was it necessary, doctor?' in-
quired the sweet voice of the lady.

'"The answer is scarcely fitting for a lady's
ear,' replied the surgeon. 'It was not only nec-
essary, it was indispensable. He would other-
wise have been devoured by vermin!'

"'He wouldn't let me do anything. He
wouldn't take anything from me,' began the
wretch.

'"I tell you silence!' thundered the general.
He called in a sergeant and a file of men. 'Take
that man, ' he said, pointing to the miserable crea-
ture who had just spoken, 'to the guard-house.
Put him in irons. Give him bread and water
only. If this poor prisoner dies his life shall
pay the forfeit, if I take it with my own hands. '

"Then the sufferer on the cot made an effort
to speak. We could all hear him, for there was
no sound to break the silence but the sighs of
the compassionate woman. 'Will some one write
to my v/ife in the valley,' he said, 'and tell her

THE DREAM WHICH WAS NOT A DREAM. 113

where I am? I know that my letters have been
suppressed. She has not heard from me for
many weeks. She must think I am dead !'

"'What is the name and post-office address of
your wife?' asked the general.

" ' Her name is Betty Van Metre and she lives
in Berryville, in the valley, ' said the sick man.

" I had hitherto said not a word. But when I
heard your name and knew that the patient was
your husband I could not restrain myself. 'What
is the name of this place?' I asked. 'Gentlemen,
I know this man's wife. Tell me the name of
this place, and she shall be here as quick as
steam and the railroad can bring her. I owe my
hfe to Mrs. Van Metre!'

"All except the lady stared at me as if I was
an impertinent intruder. The general demanded
by what right I thrust myself into their councils
in a matter which did not concern me.

" I tried to remonstrate. I told them that if
they knew how much I owed to you they would
not stand upon ceremony. I said, 'For the sake
of that poor sick man, for mine — as you hope for
blessings here and for mercy hereafter, tell me the
name of this place, and I will thank you on my
knees.' "

"Did you learn the name of the place?"

"Alas! no. The earnestness of my appeal —
my intense anxiety awoke me. The vision passed
and I heard your voice almost at my side."
8

114 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

"Are you quite certain that the man who lay
upon the cot gave my name?"

"As certain as that I now hear your voice."

" Would you recognize the face of the sick man
if you saw it in a picture?"

"I think so — I have no doubt I should."

Mrs. Van Metre controlled her feelings more
perfectly than the wounded officer. "I heard in
May last," she said, "that my husband had been
captured a second time near Spottsylvania Court
House. Up to that time he had been a faithful
correspondent. Since then I have heard nothing
from him. I cannot understand his silence. I
think I should have died of grief if I had not
kept my mind employed. Your vision, as you
call it, at least suggests the chance that he may
be alive. I had almost lost hope in these days of
weary suspense and waiting."

"Your husband is alive. He is in good hands
now, although he has been a sufferer from some
treachery. You will see him again. I wanted
to live before for my country, children, and my
wife. I have now another reason, for if I live I
will find your husband and give him back to you !"

Mrs. Van Metre now drew the curtains, for the
sun was already reddening the crest of the east-
ern Blue Ridge. She took from a drawer a pho-
tograph album containing a number of por-
traits. She held it before his eyes and began to
turn the leaves. At the second portrait he said :

THE DREAM WHICH WAS NOT A DREAM. 115

" Stop ! That is the face of the man I saw last
night on the cot in the hospital tent. He was
not stalwart and vigorous as he appears here, but
it is the same face, worn and wasted by fever
and exposure."

"That picture," said Mrs. Van Metre, "is the
last photograph of my husband."

There was silence in the room during the long
morning twilight while the darkness of the night
was slowly changing to the bright light of day.
"I am sincerely grateful for your interest," she
said, "but you are excited now, and in your
weak condition excitement is dangerous. It is
very singular that the events of the last few days
should have so multiplied your chances of re-
covery and so filled my heart with confidence
and hope. It is said that dreams are only base-
less imaginations. That may be true. Neverthe-
less yours has been very comforting, a healing
balm for at least one wounded heart. A very
great and good man, troubled as we have been,
had his life changed by a supernatural revelation.
Standing before a great king, he declared that 'he
was not disobedient to the heavenly vision. ' It
will make me stronger, a more hopeful wife, and
a more earnest woman to believe that my husband
lives and that through you I may yet see his face. "

CHAPTER XIII.

THE BATTLE OF OPEQUAN OR WINCHESTER — THE
PROGRESS OF THE WOUNDED OFFICER — THE
SKILL AND ENTERPRISE OF HIS HOSTESS.

Hopeless, in his desolate room, waiting for
death. Bedell had heard the guns of Sheridan's
first great battle in the valley. It was fought
on the 19th of September. The Unionists call
it the battle of the Opequan ; the Confederates,
with more propriety, the battle of Winchester.
No part of the battle was fought upon the river ;
the heaviest fighting was within sight of the
spires of Winchester.

Although bedell had no knowledge of it at the
time, Getty's division of the Sixth Corps, to which
the Vermont brigade was attached, with the First
Division under the gallant Russell, on the 18th of
September was again encamped for the night
at Claremont, near the deserted house where he
lay. In the early morning, before the army
moved. General Russell had presented to Colonel
Luke, the owner of Claremont, his favorite mare.
She had been wounded, and her master left her,
under Colonel Luke's promise that she should be
^116

THE BATTLE OF OPEQUAN OR WINCHESTER. 117

cured and cared for. "A few hours afterward,"
said Colonel Luke to the writer, "her brave
owner lay dead upon the field, but the descend-
ants of his favorite mare have ever since been
celebrated as the best-tempered and most admi-
rable horses ever bred in the valley." Had the
officers of the Vermont brigade knov/n that
Bedell was living and where he was, he would
have had many friendly visitors.

The main body of the Union army struck the
road from Berryville to Winchester, followed it
about five miles, and crossed the river at the ford.
They followed the road through a wooded ravine
called Ash Run, the scene of much bloody bush-
whacking, for about two miles, constantly ex-
pecting to meet the enemy. As they filed out of
the ravine into the open country, on a hill to the
northward of the road they saw Sheridan with
his staff and knew that the battle was to be
fought under his eye and command. With a
cheer Getty's division formed its line of battle
across the road, its left, held by the Vermonters,
resting upon Abraham Creek, a stream running
nearly parallel to the road to its mouth just
south of the Opequan ford. Other divisions
formed on their right, extending far north of the
road, the Sixth Vermont being sent forward as
skirmishers. The line being thus formed, the
advance commenced.

The main body of the Confederate army was at

118 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

Stephenson's Depot, on the railroad about five
miles north of Winchester. General Early and
his staff were on a hill north of the Berryville
road and within a mile of Winchester. As soon
as he discovered the Union line, he sent aid after
aid to hasten his army. In order to give the
cavalry under Crook, Averill, and Merritt time to
get into their desired position, the Sixth Corps
was halted for two or three anxious hours and
stood apparently waiting while Early's army was
coming up. Eamseur and Gordon's divisions of
the Confederate army arrived, crossed the road,
and confronted the extreme left of the Union
line. Fitzhugh Lee's artillery took its position
in a wood north of the Berryville road.

The Union advance then commenced. It was
over a rolling country in which there were some
woods and very deep ravines. It is not our pur-
pose to describe this advance. It is enough to
say that it was not only against a fierce fire
directly in front, but Lee's artillery from the
wood north of the road enfiladed the Union line
as it slowly moved forward. The slaughter was
terrible, but nothing could arrest the steady for-
ward movement of the Sixth Corps. They were
fighting under the eye of Sheridan. They knew
that they had not been held back, that they were
not subjected to that murderous fire without a
purpose. So they moved steadily forward down
into the ravines, up their rocky sides, with ranks

THE BATTLE OF OPEQUAN OR WINCHESTER. 119

thinning at every step, until they had forced the
enemy back to within a mile of Winchester.

There had been checks in this advance — once
or twice the line had been broken and a part of
it had been forced back. But it was re-formed
and finally General Wright put all his reserves
into the battle. The Sixth and the Nineteenth
Corps now moved on, driving the enemy, captur-
ing many prisoners, and finally overcoming every-
thing in its front and clearing its part of the
battle-field.

Now the result of Sheridan's combinations be-
gan to be apparent. Crook's cavalry, together
with that of Averill and Merritt, had made a long
detour to the northward and had finally got into
position. Then it was that Sheridan rode along
the whole line of battle of the Sixth Corps, in the
midst of the storm of bullets, shouting as he
passed each brigade, " Crook and Averill are on
their left and rear, and by Heaven we've got them
bagged !"

A member of General Early's staff who stood
with the writer on a slight elevation just north
of the Berry ville road, almost thirty years after-
ward, gave the Confederate view of the closing
moments of the battle. "From the top of this
hill," he said, "General Early had given his
orders during the day. From this hill aid after
aid had been sent to hurry forward the troops
from. Stephenson's Depot, and yonder," pointing

120 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

to an elevation on the east side of the road, "is
where Gordon and Eamseur first formed their
line. From yonder wood Fitz Lee enfiladed the
Union lines with his artillery, inflicting heavy
losses upon them. Farther east in another wood
was a Federal battery. They fired upon us uniil
they got our range, and their shells came so close
that we had to retire to the west side of the hill.
All through the long day our lines had stood firm
and unbroken. We had begun to hope that they
could not be broken by the Federal force. But
suddenly over yonder hill, far beyond our left
and in our rear, came a large body of cavalry.
Before it our lines seemed to melt away and sink
into the earth. It was a heart-sickening specta-
cle to us. The cavalry moved on at a slow gallop,
but the disappearance of our line moved with
greater speed. It was not checked until it reached
Ramseur's division, on our extreme right. That
division retired, without breaking, around the
easterly side of Winchester into the pike beyond.
The remainder of our army, broken and disor-
ganized, fled through the streets of the old town,
pursued and many of them captured by your
cavalry. The pursuit was continued to Kerns-
town, three miles beyond. There, after sunset,
Eamseur made a stand and gave his pursuers a
volley. They inferred that we had been met by
a reinforcement and the pursuit was over."
The result of the battle of Winchester and that

THE BATTLE OF OPEQUAN OR WINCHESTER. 121

of Fisher's Hill, only two days later, turned the
route of the Union army away from Berryville,
and the Confederates being still farther south,
this part of Clarke County was left to the rule
of the strongest. Camp-followers, bounty -jump-
ers, and tramps of the lowest species swarmed
over the region like an Egyptian plague. How
that solitary woman managed to suppress the fact
that a Union soldier was recovering from his
wounds in her house must always remain a mys-
tery. Except that it was very slow, there was
nothing very unusual in BedelPs progress toward
convalescence, but many days elapsed before he
could move about the room with improvised
crutches on his remaining leg. Seldom did a
day pass when Mrs. Van Metre's house was not
visited by one or more of the wandering vaga-
bonds. Bedell was in her own room. She took
good care to let every lawless visitor know that
it was her room, and those who had any decency
kept out of it. But if they insisted upon enter-
ing it, she was not at the end of her resources.
There was a door into a dark room in the mill.
Sometimes the patient was bundled into that
room. Sometimes she boldly threw open the
door and told them to enter and insult the privacy
of an undefended woman if they would. They
had never yet done so, for they were too cowardly
to brave her indignation.

The patient did not suffer now for want of the

122 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

best nursing. Dick and Ginny his wife and
Peter Dennis had faithful hearts under their
black skins, and the attention of Dr. Osborne
was unremitting. He was now supplied with
strengthening food and proper medicines. The
journey to Harper's Ferry was made once every
week. The old horse improved in his strength
and paces, and his appearance on the road had
become so common that it ceased to attract the
attention of those who lived along the turnpike.

But the cautious woman did not relax her
vigilance. She knew that except those who were
exempted from the draft by age, the men who
remained at home were equally destitute of honor
and humanity. It would be a congenial work
for one of these miscreants to inform the criminals
living in their mountain dens of her journey
and of the time of her return with her sui3plies,
and thus furnish them with an opportunity to
rob a woman. Once only was she interfered
with in this manner. It was not unusual for
these wretches to lie in wait for the traveller.
Ash Run and other ravines had become so noto-
rious that no one passed them except under the
protection of a guard. An accomplice in the
town had informed one of these parties of her
journeys to Harper's Ferry and her return with
supplies. The fact that she was a woman, which
would have secured her immunity from every
decent thief, was only an additional inducement

PROGRESS OF THE WOUNDED OFFICER. 123

for these rascals, because they could rob a woman
with less risk than a man. There were four of
them who on one occasion lay in wait for her.
It was in a wood through which the turnpike
passed, nearly a mile from the nearest house.
But they had not counted upon any resistance.
Her escort was a factor neglected in their prepa-
rations. They had halted the old horse. They
had dismounted, left their horses in the wood,
and now two on each side of the wagon were en-
deavoring to persuade the driver to ransom her
horse and wagon by a peaceful surrender of the
contents of the latter. There was a sudden rush-
ing sound like the coming of a furious storm;
there was a gleam of steel in the moonlight — the
sickening sound of cutting edges upon living flesh,
and when the storm had swept past, the four
thieves lay wounded upon the roadside. Their
wounds were not mortal, but they were desper-
ately painful and effectually disabled every one
of the robbers. The old horse jogged onward to
his destination, and the attack upon his driver
was never renewed.

There was only one ground of suspicion, on the
part of the agents of the Sanitary Commission at
Harper's Ferry, of the good faith of Mrs. Van
Metre's weekly requisition. It was the extraor-
dinary quantity of whiskey required for the con-
sumption of the invalid. Her explanation, how-
ever, was very satisfactory. There were a number

124 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

of old men in the neighborhood not included in
the drastic terms of the Confederate draft. It
was impossible to conceal from these patriarchs
the fact that a Confederate woman was nursing
a wounded Union officer who was attended by the
country doctor. But every one of them was
amenable to the seductive influence of good
whiskey, which some of them had not tasted
since the beginning of the war. The promise of
the weekly ration secured the silence of every
one of these venerable gossips, and under the in-
fluence of such a beverage as they had not tasted
since the peaceful ante-bellum days they were
easily convinced that such a shattered wreck
as the lieutenant could not greatly imperil the
Confederacy. The use of old Bourbon for these
diplomatic purposes was recognized as a political
necessity ; the secret was kept, and the draft of
Mrs. Van Metre was good for anything contained
in the Sanitary treasury.

The strength of the wounded officer soon re-
turned to such an extent that he was able to
dictate a letter, which his willing amanuensis
committed to paper; and it was not the less
precious to her who received it because of the
illegible scrawl which stood for his name, the
best he could make with his stump of a hand. It
was duly directed and on one of Mrs. A^an Metre's
journeys posted. In due time she carried back to
her patient a bulky letter in a beloved hand writ-

PROGRESS OF THE WOUNDED OFFICER. 125

ing, postmarked among the Green Mountains.
She opened it, handed its sheets successively to her
patient, and listened while he read. The tender
confidences between husband and wife under
such circumstances are not for the eye of the
public. The letter told of the health, comfort,
and hope of his wife and children — his happiness
was so supreme that for a moment his nurse forgot
her own sorrow and her triumph was complete.

CHAPTEE XIV.

THE BATTLE-FIELDS OF WINCHESTER — THE SEARCH
FOR A FORGOTTEN GRAVE — AN ACT TO BE
HONORED BY BRAVE SOLDIERS AND EMULATED
BY TRUE WOMEN.

The spires of the old town of Winchester have
overlooked some tragic scenes. The visitor of
to-day will find a quiet city of moderate size pre-
senting no features of general interest, in which
men buy and sell and get gain much the same as
in other peaceful communities. But in one of
its shaded suburbs there is a cemetery in which
rest over five thousand Confederate dead. Many
graves have neat white marble slabs upon which
are inscribed the names and regiments of each
silent tenant. And there is one very noble
monument. On its base is recorded the fact that
beneath it are buried over eight hundred and
seventy unidentified soldiers of the Confederacy.
This city of the dead is not neglected. It is in-
closed within an artistic fence of iron, the gift
of Charles Broadway Eouss, a former citizen of
Winchester.

Adjoining it on the north side is the Union
126

THE BATTLE-FIELDS OF WINCHESTER. 127

cemetery with its more than five thousand dead.
Here too is a noble monument to more than
twenty-seven hundred unidentified Union soldiers.
This greater number of the unknown is said to be
due to the fact that the Union forces were stran-
gers from the North, while many of the Confeder-
ates were residents of the valley.

These ten thousand lives were the harvest of
death in the battle-fields of two campaigns in
this immediate vicinity. How sad the story
which these two monuments tell ! Every one of
these soldiers had a home — many of them wives
and children, mourners for their dear ones, long
awaited but never to return. Yet this abundant
harvest of death was from small battle-fields
compared with Antietam, Gettysburg, or the
Wilderness, each of which was more fruitful in
the casualties of war.

How many acts of heroism worthy of historical
record were performed within sight of old Win-
chester! Here, just east of the turnpike which
leads to Martinsburg, was the bloody battle of
July 20th, 1863, when the Union forces coming
from StejDhenson met the Confederate army, and
after a desperate fight forced it back through
the city and then held both city and field. There
was hard and weary work for the Federal sur-
geons, with their own and their enemy's wounded.
When on that moonlit night the women of Win-
chester came out as volunteer nurses, they were

128 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

glad to receive them and gave them enough to
do. It was under yonder great oak that Miss
Tillie Eussell found the frightfully wounded boy,
his chest deluged with his blood, his face pale,
his body writhing in an agony of pain all the
more intense from his constrained position. She
raised his head from the ground into her lap and
supported it by her arm. The movement gave
instant relief to his pain and he fell asleep. But
when she sought to change her position his agony
returned. She called a surgeon and explained the
situation. " His sleep may save his life, " said the
surgeon. "It is the only thing that will." She
made no farther complaint. She was willing to
suffer to save him. Through the long hours of
the dreary night she sat motionless holding the
boy's head in her arms. Her friends had returned
to the town. She was alone among the dead — her
arm was almost broken by the weight upon it.
But there she sat while the boy slept all through
the dreary hours of night until the morning.
And his life was saved — he is to-day an honored
citizen of the valley. The heroine deserves some
better recognition than she has hitherto received.
Fourteen months later, from this hill General
Early hurried up the divisions of Eodes and
Gordon from Stephenson to meet the Union lines
formed from Abraham's Creek across the Berry-
ville road, and on yonder field they faced each
other during that long September day. On our

Lieiit, Bedell

THE BATTLE-FIELDS OF WINCHESTER. 129

left is the wood from which Fitzhugh Lee's ar-
tillery so long enfiladed the Union lines. Far on
the right is Dinkle's barn in front of Eamseur's
division, where the Union General David A.
Eussell led the charge and lost his life. Almost
in our front is Hackwood, where an aid of General
Early was delivering an order to another general,
who fell dead while the order was being read.
But there is neither time nor space here to de-
scribe the heroic deeds witnessed on this battle-
field. It was dotted with Confederate and Union
dead at the close of the battle, and the slain of
both armies were buried where they fell.

" We fought Early from daylight until six or
seven o'clock and drove him from Opequan Creek
to and beyond Winchester." Such was the dis-
patch sent in the evening of September 19th by
General Sheridan to General Stephenson at Har-
per's Ferry. With so much material the tempta-
tion is strong to describe the part of the Vermont
brigade in this fierce conflict ; but such an account
does not fall naturally within our scope, which
is only to give an idea of the area and extent of
the field.

The battle of Winchester was followed by that
of Fisher's Hill, on the 21st of September. A
part of the Union army then passed nearly a
month in traversing other sections of the valley.
It v/ent up the valley as far as Mount Crawford,
a few miles beyond Staunton, and thence down
9

130 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

the valley through Harrisonburg to the vicinity
of Front Eoyal ; then by a rapid march through
Newtown and Middletown it rejoined Sheridan
near Martinsburg, where the whole force re-
mained until shortly before the 19th of October.
During this time the army of General Early was
kept south of the Union forces.

By following these movements on the map, it
will be seen that for a month after the battle of
Winchester there was no Union or Confederate
force in the vicinity of Berryville, if the small
body of irregular cavalry under Mosby is excepted.
Mosby had, as he claimed by way of retaliation,
executed Union soldiers, because he said that
Custer had hung some of his men, claiming that
they were not a part of the Confederate army.
Mosby did not otherwise violate the laws of war.

This month was the harvest of the bush-
whackers and bounty-jumpers in Clarke County.
They came down from the mountains, where they
carried on their single industry of illicit distilla-
tion, and robbed the dwellings of the living and
the graves of the dead. No road was safe from
them. Ash Eun and other ravines were the
scenes of daily assassination.

Notwithstanding these perils of the road, Mrs.
Van Metre did not omit her weekly trips to Har-
per's Ferry. Upon one of them she learned that
one of the Union officers who had protected her
property and eaten at her table had fallen in the

THE BATTLE-FIELDS OF WINCHESTER. 131

battle of Winchester. He had earned her grati-
tude by gentle and courteous treatment, and now
when she heard that he lay in a nameless grave
on the field where he had fallen, she instantly
resolved that his resting-place should no longer
be forgotten and unknown if she could find and
place a stone over it. The search would be diffi-
cult ; no one knew the pit or ditch where he lay,
and there was even a discouraging rumor that
his body had been robbed of his uniform and
buried without any indication of his rank or
name.

Except Dick Eunner and Peter Dennis, whose
color permitted them to be humane, she had no
one to assist her in her care for her patient. She
must therefore take up the search for the officer's
grave alone or aided only by one of these colored
men, while the other was left in charge of the
house. She took Dick Eunner into her confi-
dence. The next day and for several subsequent
days she left her home, with the old horse and
rickety wagon, in the early morning, and did not
return until evening. She was sad and weary,
but not discouraged. What was she doing?
The answer should be inscribed in letters of gold
on a monument more lasting than granite. For
this young Virginia matron, hearing the burden
of her own sorrow, nursing a wounded man back
to life, still found the time and energy to search
all over that broad battle-field, day after day, for

132 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

the grave of a comparative stranger. The search
was long — many would have abandoned it. But
Heaven would not permit such energy to fail of
success. After many days she found the grave
she sought. A board had been driven into the
earth at its head on which she was just able to de-
cipher the name of her casual acquaintance. But
the inscription was almost obliterated. A few
more storms and it would have been illegible, and
the officer would have slept forever among the
unknown dead.

What she saw would have repelled and turned
away any man or woman whose heart was not
brave and true. The thin covering of earth which
had been hastily thrown over the uncoffined body
had been washed away by the rains of autumn ;
the limbs and portions of the brave man's body
were already exposed, for the dogs to gnaw, the
carrion birds to peck at, and the foxes to mangle.
Willingly did Dick Eunner, in tender memory of
"de young gen'l'man," guard his body through
the night and until his watch was relieved next
day. At her own cost, out of her slender purse
she paid for a decent coffin, hired two laborers
to disinter the remains, to place them in the
coffin, remove them to Winchester, and there,
with the silent prayer of at least one mourner, to
inter them in the Union cemetery. She placed a
suitable stone at their head for their permanent
identification.

THE BATTLE-FIELDS OF WINCHESTER. 133

Such conduct cannot fail to receive the com-
mendation of all right-minded men and good
women. The account is imperfect unless the
fxual result or Mrs. Van Metre's reward is given.
I will state it in the words of Colonel Walker in
his " Vermont Brigade in the Shenandoah Valley, "
published in 1869:

''Then she addressed a letter to his friends^
giving them the information which she possessed,
and they subsequently recovered the remains,
thanking God and their unknown benefactor."
It is to be fervently hoped that they did not fail
to acknowledge and reward her heroic conduct as
she deserved.

CHAPTEE XV.

A SIDE VIEW OP THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK,
WITH "SHERIDAN TWENTY MILES AWAY."

The wounded lieutenant by the middle of
October was on the high-road to recovery. The
fa:*thful service of the country doctor, supplies
from Harper's Ferry, and careful nursing were
doing their efficient work. The longest pair of
crutches which the stores of the Sanitary Com-
mission could furnish were ingeniously length-
ened by Peter Dennis, and enabled Bedell to de-
monstrate that the loss of his leg had not deprived
him of the power of locomotion. He was inclined
to test it by more frequent exercise in the open
air than was consistent with his personal safety.
The tramp-thieves were more numerous than
ever. They infested the region and had entered
Mrs. Van Metre's house a dozen times a day.
To exclude them would excite their suspicions
and their cupidity, and they were too powerful
to be resisted. They were given free access to
every room in the house; nothing apparently
was concealed from them, and they were finally
satisfied to desist from despoiling a lonely woman

134

THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 135

who had nothmg useful to them of which she
might be robbed. How she evaded their vigi-
lance and allayed their suspicions is simply in-
explicable.

Bedell now began to suffer from another want.
Almost six weeks had passed since he was
wounded. He had no clothing except that which
was on his person when he fell. His nurse had
managed to provide him with some undergar-
ments much too small for him, and Ginny had dis-
played great ingenuity in washing and changing
them while he slept. But now that he wanted to
dress himself and take more exercise in the open
air, he felt intensely the want of a complete change
of clothing which was not saturated with his
blood. His natural habits of cleanliness intensi-
fied this desire, and made him almost reckless in
his determination to have a new suit of undress
uniform or its substitute.

Again with excellent judgment his preserver
considered the situation, decided that he must
have his change of clothing, and that the duty of
providing it was cast upon herself. About twenty
miles up the valley, where Cedar Creek winds
around the base of "Three Top " and Masanutten
Mountains, was the present camp of Sheridan's
army. With it were supposed to be the baggage-
wagons of the Vermont brigade. In the wagon
of the Eleventh Vermont was the lieutenant's
portmanteau, or, as it was commonly called, his

136 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

"gripsack," which contained a complete change
of clothing and many other articles of which he
felt the want. He was now becoming strong, he
was an adept in the art of concealing himself,
and the three colored persons were perfectly trust-
worthy. There was no reason why she could not
as safely leave him for a trip to Cedar Creek as
for one of her weekly journeys to Harper's Ferry.
The distance was no greater, and she could go
and return with the "gripsack" in a single day.

By practice the lieutenant was able to write
with his left hand a brief letter or order to the
co]o7iel or the quartermaster of his regiment for
the delivery of his clothing to the bearer, and to
sign it with his name. It was his first commu-
nication to his regiment since his fall, and the
letter also explained the change in his handwrit-
ing and the reason of his absence. Provided
with this authority, Mrs. Van Metre again pro-
visioned her patient against her temporary ab-
sence; the old horse was harnessed to the old
wagon, which seemed to grow stronger with use,
and this time accompanied by Nannie Koontz,
her young niece, the brave woman at early dawn
started for the camp at Cedar Creek, not less
than twenty miles away.

She reached the camp without misadventure.
The officer of the picket took her directly to the
headquarters of General Getty, who commanded
the division of the Sixth Corps to which the Ver-

THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 137

mont brigade was attached. To him she de-
livered her letter and explained her errand.
With the speed of the wind the rumor reached
the regiment that a messenger had arrived from
Bedell and that he was still living. Men and
officers of the Eleventh hurried to headquarters
and, when the rumor was confirmed, demanded
to see the bearer of the welcome news. Without
any hesitation she came out from the general's
tent, and to the crowd that gathered around her
modestly told her extraordinary story — how and
where she found Bedell, his neglected condition,
his danger, and his improvement. Then she ex-
plained her errand and invoked their assistance
in procuring the clothing for which she had come.
How she impressed the Vermonters may he gath-
ered from the account written by their Colonel
Walker at the time :

''Our feelings of wonder and admiration were
most intense as we learned from her simple story
that our favorite Vv^ho was dead was alive again,
and felt how much true heroism her modest
words concealed. She had plainly totally aban-
doned herself for weeks to the care of a suffering
enemy, and yet she did not seem to realize that
she deserved any credit for so doing or that every
woman would not have done as much. " In short,
she captured the affectionate interest of the whole
Vermont brigade.

The afternoon was drawing on before they

138 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

would release her from the last of their inquiries.
Then they had to give her the disappointing in-
telligence that the baggage-wagon of the Eleventh
Vermont, of which she was in search, was still at
Winchester. But they would not permit her to
think of returning to her home that day.

They loaded her with the hearty attentions of
the camp and made many preparations for her
return journey. The old horse was well cared
for ; a tent was prepared with two beds for her-
self and niece to occupy, and everything was done
to enable them to pass the night in comfort and
security.

''Here again," she said to the writer long
afterward, with the simplicity of a child, "it
seemed as if the Lord directed me. The beds
were tempting, we were both weary, but I would
not permit my niece to remove her clothing nor
did 1 remove any part of my own. Dressed as
we were, we lay ui3on our cots and fell into a re-
freshing sleep. Just before dawn I was awak-
ened by the incessant howling of a dog. I was
dreadfully annoyed and wondered why some one
did not put a stop to that disagreeable noise. I
am sorry to say that I wished that dog was
dead. But his howling continued, and as we could
neither of us sleep we arose, performed our ablu-
tions, put on our hats, and waited for daylight.

"Suddenly there v/as a shot — another — and
then the irregular dropping fire which I knew

THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 13-9

too well was that of a skirmish-line ! Then the
curtain of the tent was drawn away and a voice
said, 'Dress and get ready as soon as you can!'
At the same moment there was the crash of mus-
ket-firing only a short distance away. 'We are
ready noii\^ I said. The side of the tent was
drawn away and there stood our horse ready
harnessed to our wagon. An officer helped us
into it. He said to an orderly, 'Take this horse
by the bit, go by a road' (which he described) 'as
rapidly as you can. It will bring you into the
Winchester pike. Follow it — stay with these
ladies until you know that they are out of dan-
ger. These are General Getty's orders — there
is an attack along our whole line! Now go!'
Even as he spoke the sound of the shots almost
drowned his voice and the shells from a battery
of artillery began to form their curves over our
heads."

Mrs. Van Metre had heard the opening guns
of the battle of Cedar Creek, of the 19th of Octo-
ber. Defeated at Winchester, crushed again at
Fisher's Hill, the indomitable veterans of Stone-
wall Jackson's corps had retreated up the valley,
gathered in their stragglers, received some rein-
forcement, and now had turned upon and attacked
their pursuers. Sheridan had been summoned to
Washington for consultation, and on this morn-
ing of October 19th was at Winchester. Some
criticism has been expended upon him for leaving

140 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

his army subject to such an attack, especially as
a signal to General Early had been taken from
the Confederate station on Three Top Mountain,
coming from Longstreet, saying, "Be ready to
move as soon as my forces join you, and we will
crush Sheridan." If such a signal was sent,
Sheridan was right in disregarding it, for the
writer is assured by Major More, of Early's staff,
that none of Longstreet 's force joined Early in
the valley, and none of them were present in the
battle of Cedar Creek. It may as well be con-
ceded, for it is certainly true, that this battle
was a remarkable instance of a defeated army
recovering itself and with slight reinforcements
turning upon and surprising its victorious enemy.
No soldier would have anticipated such an at-
tack, which would have been successful had not
the jjlunder of the camp proved too tempting for
the hungry men by whom it was captured.

Mrs. Van Metre had left behind her all the
noise and confusion of a surprise.

" And there was mounting in hot haste ; the steed,
The mustering squadron and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war !"

The sounds of battle were not new to her.
Without obstruction, by a circuitous route which
took her outside all the camps, she reached the
turnpike and was able to plan her future move-
ments.

THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 141

What was she to do? She was on the high-
road to Winchester. From the sound of the
firing over so broad an area in her rear, she in-
ferred that the attack was made along the whole
line of the Union army. If that army was de-
feated, the turnpike would be its line of retreat
and would be crowded with fugitives. She was
familiar with the dangers and terrors of a retreat.
If she became involved in a herd of panic-stricken
fugitives, army wagons, and ambulances, escape
would be almost impossible. If the attack failed
and Early's army was driven up the valley, the
road would be crowded with reinforcements hur-
rying in his pursuit. She could leave the turnpike
and by taking any one of the cross-roads on her
right, get outside the crowd and reach her home.
But then she would not accomplish the object of
her journey. The clothing of her patient was in
the baggage-wagon of his regiment at Winches-
ter, to which the turnpike led. To Winchester
she resolved to go, unless prevented by obstacles
which she could not overcome.

The orderly sent to protect her promptly de-
cided not to neglect the opportunity of escape
afforded by her conveyance. He took the reins
and the driver's seat and forced the old horse
over the rough road at a speed which threatened
at every step to wreck the old wagon. It was
fortunate that he did so, for Eamseur, Gordon,
and Pegram's division of the Confederate army

142 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

had struck a division of Crook's corps and
Kitching's division so heavily that they were
swept away Hke leaves before a storm. The
veterans of these divisions were for the moment
a terror-stricken mob, that filled the turnpike,
carried away the Eighth Vermont under brave
Colonel Thomas, placed across the pike to arrest
their flight, and apparently led the army in a mad
race for Winchester.

As the morning drew on Mrs. Van Metre knew
that the battle had become a defeat. Louder
and louder swelled the roar of cannon, the rattle
of musketry, and the din of the conflict behind
her. Once or twice the pursuit seemed to be
checked for a moment, then to be resumed with
the rush of a furious storm. All over the south-
ern horizon rose the black smoke of battle ; now
it seemed stationary — now to be coming nearer.
Her new driver, in spite of her remonstrances,
lashed the crippled horse into a mad gallop which
could not long endure, in his effort to keep in ad-
vance of the oncoming crowd of fugitives. But
it was useless: the pursuit was too vigorous.
She was overtaken, surrounded, overwhelmed by
horsemen, men on foot, yelling drivers of army
wagons, from which escape now seemed impos-
sible.

Here fortunately she was relieved of the driver.
He had dashed the conveyance over obstructions
which sorely tested its strength, and a repetition

THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 143

of such experience would wreck it. He now saw
some better means of escape and promptly de-
serted the woman he was ordered to protect.
She took up the reins, and by watching her op-
portunity turned out of the road and the crowd
and made her way more slowly across the fields.

About ten o'clock, as she supposed, there was a
change. The sounds of the battle no longer
seemed to advance. The smoke cleared away,
the rattle of musketry was less continuous, the
stream of fugitives diminished, the crowd passed
on and left the turnpike almost clear. Had the
retreat stopped — the pursuit been checked? She
determined to take all the chances. If it had,
she might still reach Winchester and accomplish
the object of her journey. The turnpike was
unobstructed, and she turned into it again.

The moment when she came to this conclusion
was synchronous with another event which de-
serves mention. The Sixth Corps, which at the
first attack had formed in line of battle and, as
other divisions had been overwhelmed, had fallen
back about four miles, preserving its forma-
tion, had now reached the limits of its retreat.
Wright, as brave a soldier as ever fought, was in
command. He threw his corps square across the
pike, and the Nineteenth Corps formed in its
rear. It became a rock against which the waves
of retreat dashed in vain. Early's whole army
from a commanding eminence in front opened

10

144 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

upon it with musketry and artillery. They
pounded Eicketts' division for half an hour, and
finding that they made no impression, turned to
the more agreeable work of plundering the Union
camps. Sheridan had good warrant for saying
in his report in substance that the Sixth Corps
was the "only infantry that confronted the enemy
from the first attack in the morning until the
battle was decided."

The crowd of fugitives had disappeared. The
turnpike was clear. There was not a man, an
army wagon, or a vehicle upon it. Suddenly
coming over the next ascent appeared a moving
body. In the advance was a horse, apparently
without a rider. He was followed by a small
number of mounted men. All were moving with
great speed, but the horse in front seemed to be
gaining on the others. They rushed along the
pike with the speed of the wind. As they came
nearer to her, she discovered that the foremost
horse had a rider, but he lay so close along the
shoulders and neck of the animal that he seemed
a part of him. The head of the horse ^Drojected
in a line with his neck, the rider clinging to it as
if he would reduce the resistance of the air to the
minimum. The uniform rise and fall of the bodies
of horse and rider, as regular as a pendulum, the
effort of both to forereach to the last possible
inch with every bound, was the perfection of
horsemanship, an ideal exhibition of muscular

THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 145

action. The rider was a short and rather a
heavy man who knew that his horse was doing
his best. For his heels, armed with sharp spurs,
were turned outward, as if he scorned to touch
his steed with their points, and his reins lay loose
upon his horse's neck. The nostrils of the ani-
mal expanded with every respiration, and the
white foam from them flecked his flanks or
spotted the uniform of his rider. Never were
horse and his master more thoroughly agreed.
The stride was gigantic. The speed could not
have been increased if the fate of a nation had
depended upon it. Mrs. Van Metre turned her
wagon aside from the travelled part of the road
to allow the cavalcade to pass. With open
mouth and powerful respiration, the steed showed
that he was doing his best. His companions
used every exertion to equal his pace. But he
was rapidly gaining and opening the space be-
tween them. As they swept by the w^oman and
her stationary vehicle and rapidly passed from
her sight, she knew that the battle w^as on and
that Sheridan was not many miles away !

The noble animal with his invaluable burden
had not much farther to go. Only two miles
farther to the south, a brigade of Custer's cavalry
had now been thrown across the pike to intercept
the advance of the enemy. Just in their rear
General Getty's division of the Sixth Corps was
posted across and at right angles to the turnpike.

10

146 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

It was a perfect dam to the current of flee-
ing men. On their right Taylor's battery
opened upon their pursuers. With the check,
confidence returned, and the fugitives again
sought the position of their several commands.
The Sixth Corps, Taylor's battery, and Torbert's
cavalry were already in position — the tide of re-
treat had been turned when the black steed and
his rider came into their view, attended with a
mighty tempest of cheers. He swept along the
line to the position of General Wright. He saw
at a glance that the chief of the fighting Sixth
had already turned the tide of defeat and the
faces of his men in the opposite direction. " I
am glad to see you here, general!" was the
soldierly greeting of General Wright. "By
Heaven ! I am glad to be here !" was the emphatic
reply of the man who was now to pluck victory
from the very jaws of defeat.

The remainder of the battle of Cedar Creek
was upon a field far in the rear of the emissary
of the wounded officer. Her way to Winchester
was now unobstructed. How many men would
have been brave enough to follow it, with one of
the great battles of the centur}^ raging in his rear,
which might at any moment again overwhelm
him in the desperate confusion of a retreat, when
by a simple change of course he might in a short
time be outside the danger-line? This woman
thought only of her errand, which was to re-

THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 149

lieve the discomforts of her patient. If she
turned to the right or left her mission failed.
She therefore kept straight on, and without meet-
ing with any farther actual obstruction, about
one o'clock she reached Winchester.

In some way, never clearly explained to her,
she found that her errand had been anticipated.
Outside the town on the turnpike she was met by
a soldier who wished to know whether she was
not in search of the baggage of the Eleventh
Vermont Eegiment. She admitted the fact.
"Then come with me," he said, and took her at
once to the quartermaster of the Vermont bri-
gade. Here her story was accepted without ob-
jection or question.

They would have kept her at Winchester over
night, for the few Vermont boys whom she found
there admired her simple, unostentatious energy.
But in her quiet way she said that Bedell would be
anxious about her — he would fear that she had
been involved in the great battle which had been
fought, and of which she did not then know the
issue. She thought it would be better if the
boys would assist her in getting the change of
clothing for their brother-officer, and then let her
go to him and relieve his anxiety.

To such good sense and excellent judgment the
boys had no objection to make. They procured the
"gripsack" of the lieutenant, containing his new
uniform. Then they had a caucus, in which the

150 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

agent of the Sanitary Commission took an active
l^art. A committee of this caucus decided upon
the probable necessities of Bedell under the cir-
cumstances. The package was made up (omit-
ting nothing), and after a good feed for the old
horse and an excellent lunch for the driver and
her niece, the cavalcade was ready to start for
Berryville. The conveyance was more liberally
freighted than upon any previous occasion from
Harper's Ferry. She had not only secured the
desired change of clothing, but a liberal supply
of the linen and underclothing which was so nec-
essary to the comfort of the convalescing officer.

To the casual reader of history this exposure
by a young and inexperienced woman to the
actual dangers of battle may appear incredible.
One would suppose that, terror-stricken by the
actual peril to life, she would seek every opportu-
nity to escape and to place herself outside its
dangers. But it is one of the merciful compen-
sations of war that it suppresses personal fear, and
that those who are within the range of its ter-
rible missiles accept the situation as a necessity.

I cannot better illustrate the fearlessness of this
woman in accomplishing her object on the day
when she knew a great battle was being fought,
which might at any moment overwhelm her, than
by an account of an incident which I myself saw,
and for the accuracy of which I am willing to be
held responsible.

THE BATTLE OF CEDAR CREEK. 151

When General Early attempted to capture
Washington by a surprise in July, 1864, it was
necessary to connect the forts by which it was de-
fended by earthworks. Forts Stevens and Eeno,
on either side of the extension of Seventh Street,
were" connected by a ditch and corresponding
earthworks. In their construction it became
necessary to destroy several small dwelHngs and
to remove their occupants with their household
goods. One of these dwellings was occupied by
a colored family, another by an immigrant from
the Emerald Isle, both having large families of
children. Their furniture was removed into the
street or highway on the crest of the hill, just
where it was supposed the attacking force would
attempt to enter the city. The officer in com-
mand, aware that they would be under fire, urged
the heads of these families to retire to a less ex-
posed position under the hill, where he offered to
carry their household goods. They would not
consent. In the afternoon the attack was made.
Shells were sent screaming over the place and the
air was humming with the sound of minie-balls.
Singularly enough the two families appeared
to fraternize. The children were playing, the
mothers attempting to cook their food by an open
fire in the middle of the street, while the masters
of the two households, extended on the ground,
contentedly smoked their pipes as unconcerned as
if the missiles of death which filled the air above

152 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

them had heen the notes of innocent singing-
bu'ds. Neither of these famihes could be induced
to withdrav/ to a place of safety, because if they
did they might become separated from and lose
their little household furniture. There they re-
mained while the fierce cannonading hurled its
missiles above their heads, and I believe ulti-
mately escaped all injury.

Some insensi'bility to danger of this kind must
have protected this brave woman on that fearful
day. From the early morning when she left the
camp at Cedar Creek until nightfall when the
cavalry of Custer had driven the attacking army
up the valley toward Strasburg, there was not
an hour — no, not a moment — when she was not
within ear-shot of the roar and the dangers of a
great battle which might at any moment over-
take and overwhelm her. Yet she kept straight
on, turning neither to the right nor the left, not
for one moment losing sight of the object of her
journey.

At Winchester she accomplished it, and in the
early evening reached her home in Berryville,
where she found her patient delighted with her
success, which so much contributed to his com-
fort, but more disposed to render thanks to the
Almighty for her protection and deliverance from
the perils of the day.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE TERRIBLE HARVEST OF WAR — THE PREPA-
RATION FOR THE ESCAPE OF THE WOUNDED
OFFICER.

The conduct of General Sheridan in destroying
the mihtary value of the region in his last cam-
paign, and his burning of dwelling-houses in
some instances, have been severely criticised and
have presented an interesting subject of inquiry,
some of the results of which will be here given.

General Sheridan was ordered to act under the
instructions given by Lieutenant-General Grant
to General Hunter on the ith of August, 1864,
by which he was directed to "take all provisions,
forage, and stock wanted for the use of your
command. Such as cannot be consumed, destroy.
It is not desirable that dwellings should be de-
stroyed, they should rather be protected, but the
people should be informed that so long as an
enemy can subsist among them, recurrences of
these raids must be expected, and we are deter-
mined to stop them at all hazards."

When Sheridan left the valley for the last
time, he reports that he ''commenced moving
back, stretching the cavalry across the valley,

153

154 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

from the Blue Eidge to the eastern slope of the
Alleghanies, with directions to burn all forage
and drive off all the stock, etc., as they moved
to the rear, fully coinciding in the views and
instructions of the lieutenant-general, that the
valley should be made a barren waste. The most
positive orders were given, however, not to burn
dwellings."

He declares that "the whole country from the
Blue Ridge to the North Mountain has been made
untenantable for a rebel army. I have destroyed
over two thousand barns filled with wheat and
hay and farming implements ; over seventy mills
filled with flour and wheat ; have driven in front
of the army over four thousand head of stock,
and have killed and issued to the troops not less
than three thousand sheep."

He sometimes exceeded his instructions as to
burning dwellings, of which he gives the follow-
ing instance: ''Lieutenant John R. Meigs, my
engineer officer, was murdered beyond Harrison-
burg, near Dayton. For this atrocious act, all
the houses within an area of five miles were
burned. Since I came into the valley from Har-
per's Ferry, every train, every small party, and
every straggler has been bushwhacked by the
people, many of whom have protection papers
from commanders who have been hitherto in the
valley."

It would be extremely satisfactory if all the

THE TERRIBLE HARVEST OF WAR. 155

murders in the valley could be fastened upon the
vagabonds who recognized no lawful authority.
But the evidence is conclusive that Mosby on one
occasion ordered seven Union prisoners to be
hung. One of them escaped by killing his guard,
another got away in the darkness, and five were
executed. Beyond this the evidence fails to affix
the guilt of murder on any Confederate author-
it3\ That the old men who were exemjDts from
the draft should be guilty of such crimes is ex-
tremely improbable. When the outlaws were so
numerous that they infested every ravine and
murdered every straggler, there was certainly no
occasion for attributing such horrible crimes ex-
cept to those who were always ready to commit
them.

It was unquestionably true that every one who
wore the Federal uniform, if separated from his
regiment, carried his life in his hands. Colonel
Toles, chief quartermaster of the Sixth Corps,
and Captain Buchanan, commissary of the Second
Division of that corps, were both murdered near
Berry ville, and such murders were too common
to excite discussion.

Whoever ma}^ have been responsible for the
existing lawlessness, the danger of the convales-
cent officer was constant and very serious. His
wounds were slowly healing and his long confine-
ment became irksome and finally intolerable. He
knew that for him discovery was death, and yet

156 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

his desire for exercise in the open air became
so overpowering that he insisted upon it at any
risk. The weekly trips to Harper's Ferry began
to excite discussion, and the demands of the ven-
erable topers for whiskey became so exorbitant
that the Sanitary Commission threatened to re-
pudiate them altogether.

As his improvement continued and he felt his
former strength returning, Bedell experienced an
attack of another disease to which the sons of
the mountains are peculiarly susceptible. The
doctor said its scientific name was nostalgia, but
he preferred the good old-fashioned name of
homesickness. In some cases it might be ridi-
culed as a disease of the imagination, but cases
had occurred in the Vermont brigade where it
had had a fatal termination. In Bedell's case
the attack was severe. His longing for his home,
his wife, and his family became irresistible.
It deprived him of his sleep by night and of his
comfort by day. There was only one cure for it.
He must be sent home. If not assisted he would
undertake the journey at any risk. Again his
nurse determined to accomplish his cure and to
make it as free as possible from danger.

As the lieutenant lay upon his bed or was bol-
stered up in an easy-chair in her room, which she
had surrendered for his use, and when the whole
household were devoted to his care, he began to
reproach himself for his selfishness and to think

THE TERRIBLE HARVEST OF WAR. 157

that it was high time that he gave some thought
to the troubles of his benefactress. He deter-
mined that in this respect his conduct should be
promptly reformed. Now, as he watched her and
appreciated the sorrowful, far-away look upon her
face, he knew that one who was dear to her was
constantly in her thoughts, and he suspected that
her exertions in his own behalf might be inspired
by the hope that they would in some way benefit
her husband and promote his release. It was
clear to him now that her active mind sought
constant employment, for if it was occujoied by her
own anxieties she would sink under the burden.
She had given some information about her hus-
band when he told her of his dream, but it was
very indefinite. Very gently now he made far-
ther inquiries about him. Then he knew how
true a woman his preserver v>7as, for her emotions
overcame her and she sought relief in giving way
to them. He persisted in his inquiries. He drew
from her that, although not a voluminous corre-
spondent, her husband had not failed to write her
a brief note every week since he entered the army.
But since his reported capture in May she had had
no news of him. Nothing, she feared, but death,
or sickness that was very near to death, could ac-
count for his silence. Her anxieties had increased
with time, and now when she gave her confidence
to the man she had saved, she had to confess
that she sorrowed almost as one without hope.

158 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

Her grateful patient attempted and did not
wholly fail to comfort her. He referred to his
singular dream, and while he again disclaimed
all belief in dreams, he still maintained that it
might be a Providential intimation that her hus-
band was living — that he had been ill, but was
now in good hands, which would account for his
silence.

That same night as he lay upon her bed and
thought of his own wife, his home, his sufferings,
and all that this wife of his enemy had done for
him, he registered in the depths of his soul a
solemn resolution that when once again under
the protection of the national flag, before he went
to his own home, before he did anything for him-
self, he would find her husband and restore him
to her arms. Nor did this resolution ever weaken,
as we shall see in the sequel, until the desired re-
sult had been accomplished.

This point settled, he devoted himself to the
problem of reaching Harper's Ferry. Both
armies having been withdrawn, there was no
longer any protection for property or life. The
lawless element ranged over the country at will.
The wretches who now came out of their dens in.
increased numbers have already been described.
They belonged to neither army — they robbed
Unionist and Confederate with equal impartiality
— they were literally the enemies of the human
race. Any one might shoot one of them with

THE TERRIBLE HARVEST OF WAR. J 59

perfect confidence that he was doing justice to a
murderer. Every man's nand was against them ;
cold-blooded murder was their commonest crime.

They were so numerous that scores of them
ranged through Berryville daily. There was no
day when some of them did not visit the house
where the wounded officer was secreted, for by
some means they had been informed that a Union
soldier was somewhere about the j^remises. On
one occasion they came upon Mrs. Van Metre un-
awares, and the lieutenant was saved only by her
boldness. This time they insisted upon search-
ing her room. "Search it!" she said, "if you
are indecent enough to invade the privacy of a
woman." And she threw the door wide open.
They took a hasty look inside and went away.
" I knew, " she said, "that the lieutenant would
conceal himself as well as he could when he heard
my voice. He was standing behind the door with
a revolver in his hand as it was thrown open."

For a man of his conspicuous size, with only

one leg, to make his way in safety to Harper's

Ferry was a problem very difficult of solution.

While he was revolving it in his mind, one of the

patriarchs whose secrecy had been secured in the

manner already stated, came to him under the

burden of a great sorrow. He had a favorite pair

of mules which were very dear to his acquisitive

soul. They had been in great peril every time

the sharp-toothed rake of war, in Federal or Con-
11

160 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

federate hands, had harrowed the valley. But
with great caution he had always managed to
save them from capture until now. When Sher-
idan decided to leave the valley, he determined
not to leave behind him an animal that could
draw a load or feed a soldier. None so useful as
a mule could escape the quest of his troopers.
The old farmer's mules were discovered, dragged
from the hiding-place which had so many times
effectually secreted them, and their owner's heart
was broken.

He had given up all hope of recovering them,
and was trying to reconcile himself to their loss
by the excessive absorption of sanitary stimu-
lants, when through the mysterious communica-
tions of the colored people with each other the
old farmer learned that his mules were in the
corral at Martinsburg. Clianges in the position
of the Union army had made Martinsburg in-
stead of Harper's Ferry its base of supplies, and
all the animals brought in by the last Sheridan
drag-net had been collected there. With many
sorrowful expressions the old farmer bewailed
the loss of his beloved animals. He repeated the
story so many times that Bedell came to detest
the very name of the species. He could not give
the owner any relief nor could he prevent the
constant repetition of the story. When finally
it became obvious that the stricken mourner
would pay any price within his means or do any-

THE TERRIBLE HARVEST OF WAx.. 161

thing in his power to secure the return of his
mules, the lieutenant began to consider whether
he could not in some way make the situation
available for his own escape. One day when the
owner was bemoaning his loss for the hundredth
time, Bedell ventured the cautious intimation
that if he were safely delivered within the Union
lines at Harper's Ferry, it was just possible that
an exchange might be effected of his own crip-
pled body for the coveted animals. No trout ever
leaped for a fly, no son of Abraham ever pounced
upon a shekel, with greater avidity than the
mule-owner did upon the intimation. Bedell had
no more authority to contract for the surrender
of these animals than Satan had to trade off the
earth from the top of a high mountain. But he
decided to take the risk of making the contract
and of procuring his authority afterward. The
impatience of the other party was too great to be
restrained by a matter so insignificant as want of
authority. He insisted upon closing the bargain
at once — upon commencing the work of prepara-
tion that night, and it was only with great diffi-
culty that Bedell could induce him to postpone
the arrangements for the time indispensable for
careful precautions.

His first necessity was the co-operation of his
hostess and preserver. As the shades of that
evening were beginning to fall, while the active
woman was moving about the room, putting

162 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

everything in its place for the night, he said
abruptly :

" I think I have a plan by which I can reach
Harper's Ferry!"

The announcement disturbed her. When she
spoke after some hesitation, her cheerful voice was
obviously the result of a strong effort to control
herself. "I ought to congratulate you," she re-
plied, " and I am truly glad to hear what you say.
You have been such a sufferer here, you must so
long to see your wife and children, that I am al-
most as glad as you are that you are soon to be
with them. But it will be lonely here when you
are gone. You have given me so much to do and
think about that I must say I shall miss you
very much."

"Mrs. Van Metre," he said, ''when I leave this
place you will leave it with me. Only one thing
could induce me to go without you. I would if I
could leave you with your husband. That we
cannot hope for now. I have been selfish, looking
only to my own troubles, quite long enough. I
wish now to prove that I am not altogether un-
grateful. I will not leave you here, exposed to in-
creasing dangers. I want you to say now that
if I decide to attempt to reach Harper's Ferry
you and your niece will go with me. From
that place we will go and find your husband."

'' I do not think I can say that. A true wife
should never leave her husband's home without

THE TERRIBLE HARVEST OF WAR. 163

his consent. When he returns she should be
there to welcome him."

''But he cannot return. He is a prisoner.
Madam!" he said very earnestly, "in that
dreary room from which you took me I have
suffered fearfully. There have been many hours
when I was near to death. At times I have
feared that I was losing my mind. Once, as you
know, I thought I had seen your husband. That
was unreal, but I cannot resist the conviction
that he lives, that he will only be found after a
long and difficult search. But for you I should
now be in my grave. Shall I now leave you
when I can assist you in the search for your
husband? I can find him. I know I can find
him. I do not know that any one else can. No,
I shall not leave you! And what nobler duty
can there be for a true wife than to go with me
to search for her husband?"

"Heaven forgive me!" she said plaintively,
'•'for I scarcely know what to do. Your words
are very convincing, yet I am not certain where
my duty lies. I must think of matters which you
will not consider. There have been those who
are base enough to say that my care for you
involves disloyalty to my husband and to the
cause in which he has enlisted."

"Do not wound your true heart or sully the
lustre of your noble deed by any reference to
such wretches," he exclaimed. "You know that

164 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

I respect you as I do the memory of my mother.
I know that your heart is as pure as a diamond.
Enemies shall not come between us to destroy
our ability to assist each other. You must let
me decide for you !"

"I cannot, I dare not now! Give me until to-
morrow morning to pray God for his direction."

CHAPTER XVII.

THE ESCAPE.

The plan of the escape matured before the
final decision of Mrs. Van Metre, and was the
combined invention of the officer, the old farmer,
and Uncle Dick. Secrecy was now more impor-
tant than before. The old recipients of the chief
stimulant would not be provided with it when
the patient had left and were rather interested
in his detention. It had been difficult to restrain
their gossip in the past. It would be more diffi-
cult if it involved his departure. The plan must
be kept from their knowledge as completely as
from that of the tramps who infested the valley.

Mysterious sounds during the night now be-
came common in the stable of the Van Metre
homestead. It was kept carefully locked under
Uncle Dick's exclusive control. A second horse,
a good match for the spavined Eosinante, came
to keep him company. Wheels, whiffietrees, and
other parts of a two -horse farm wagon and of
a double harness were collected there. In the
course of two or three days a substantial w^agon
was constructed, strong enough to carry a load
to Harper's Ferry over roads, now in November,

165

166 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

worse than ever. From different contributors a
ton or more of hay, enough for the load, was
secured. A crate over six feet long, in which
crockery had been imported, was procured, open-
ings were made on its four sides for ventilation
and defence, and then Uncle Dick announced that
the ship of the valley was ready to receive
cargo.

The straw mattress was to be laid upon the bot-
tom of the wagon with a Winchester rifle, revol-
ver, and cartridges. On the mattress was to be
jjlaced the officer. The crate was then to be put
over him, and with its contents firmly bound to
the body of the wagon. The lieutenant could lie
extended or sit up, and from the forward end and
two side openings get a view of more than one-
half the horizon. The openings from the crate
were to be loosely covered by the hay and so con-
cealed from observation. In the event of an at-
tack, the obstructions to sight could be readily
removed from the inside.

It was the cautious old colored man who had
insisted upon these defensive preparations. In
one of the mysterious ways known only to those
of his own color, the particulars of which he
would not disclose, he had become satisfied that
an attack would be made by a party of not more
than two or three persons, who were on the
watch and who had kept the opportunity to
themselves in order to secure lararer shares in the

THE ESCAPE. 167

booty. Bedell had tested his fidelity too thor-
oughly now to disregard his counsels.

The arguments of her patient finally prevailed,
and with some misgivings Mrs. Van Metre de-
cided that herself and niece would accompany
Bedell and share the dangers of his attempt to
reach Harper's Ferry. She had few preparations
to make — they could take nothing with them
— the slightest suspicion of their purpose would
be fatal to its success. It was after midnight
when the officer was laid upon the mattress
with his fire-arms and crutches by his side. The
crate was laid over him and its openings were
carefully arranged. The whole load was firmly
secured to the wagon, which was then piled up
with its ton's weight of hay. A binder pole
of hickory over the top, lashed to the axle trees
at either end, held the load firmly in its jDlace.

The old farmer had allowed the rumor to get
abroad that on a certain day he intended to go
with a load of hay by an unfrequented route to
a place of contraband trade not far from Harper's
Ferry, where, if he was favored by fortune, he
would exchange his forage for a goodly quantity
of that liquid comfort now so much prized by
himself and his non-combatant neighbors. In
this manner an interest in the success of his ex-
pedition was excited, so general that the veterans
could not suppress their hopeful anticipations, and
they came very near to wrecking the enteri3rise.

168 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

The preparations were perfected with all the
skill of the united judgment of all the persons
interested; the load made up; the unmatched
horses harnessed and secured to it; and Uncle
Dick by the aid of a ladder assisted his mistress
and her niece to the seat arranged for them on
the top and carefully laid an army blanket over
them.

Then there was a touching separation between
the mistress and her servant. "Dick!" she said
as with her taper fingers she clasped his great
horny hand, ''you and Ginny have been devoted
to me ever since our troubles began. It does not
look now as if I should ever be able to repay
you. If I cannot, I am certain that such fidelity
as yours will be rewarded in heaven."

''Chile!" exclaimed the negro, "now don't
you go on talking dat way, and make yo' old
uncle feel bad jis when he wants all his pluck.
Co'se we done for yo' — yo' was all the friend we
had. But we's no time now to talk about dem
tings. We know massa is in trouble. Dere is
jis one man who can find him an' help him. He
is a good man. I hear him say in his sleep, he
would give his other leg if he could bring Massa
Van Metre back to yo'. Now de last words of
ole Dick is, 'Yo' stick by de Union officer — yo'
take his 'vice, and when yo' come back to Berry-
ville yo' goin' to bring Massa Van Metre wid
yo'.'"

THE ESCAPP]. 169

" I believe you are right, Dick. I will follow
your advice. Good-by! God bless you!"

The driver was now in his place just in front of
his two passengers. The stable-door was opened ;
the team and its load emerged from the stable
and turned into the road leading northward.
The north star out of the depths of the blue sky
shone in her face. Farther east beyond a peak
of the Blue Eidge, a spike of crimson flame shot
up toward the zenith. The solitary surviving
tenant of her poultry-yard greeted her with a
burst from his clarion. Tiny thrushes all along
the wooded road seemed to invite her forward by
their varied morning song. Her heart rose at
the sound. All nature seemed to urge her for-
ward and to say toiler: "As nothing so graces
the true American woman as mercy and relief
for the suffering foe or friend, so nowhere is all
that a true woman holds priceless safer than
under the protection of the gentleman who wears
the American uniform, whether it be blue or
gray."

And now the farmer manages the reins with
a full sense of his responsibility for the safety of
his passengers and freight ; the old horses seem
inspired by a new energy, and all feel that
every step in advance is a step toward safety.
Over every rough piece of road the horses care-
fully pick their way ; when the road is smooth
they strike into a lively trot, and before mid-day

170 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

nearly the whole route is covered and the spires
of Harper's Ferry are just visible in the distance.

But their escape was not yet assured. Out of
the nettle of a great danger they had still to
pluck the flower safety. Within a half-hour of
the end of their journey the road descended into a
ravine nearly a mile in length, darkened by rocks
and trees. In the darkest part of this defile, two
horsemen suddenly descended upon them from
among the rocks by the roadside and ordered the
driver to halt. They were young men, not more
than twenty-five ; they wore no uniform, but a
glance told the brave woman that they were of
the worst class of camp-followers, as cold as any
Indian to whom the torture and murder of his
wounded captive is a pleasure.

And the old farmer knew their faces. Orig-
inally thugs from Baltimore, they had enlisted and
deserted from both armies, and were under sen-
tence of death by a court-martial for murdering
the wounded at the first battle of Winchester.
By the treachery of one of their guards, they had
been able to murder two others and escape to the
mountains. They were the men of whom Dick
had been warned. They had kept close watch,
and mounted on fleet horses had waited until the
team had selected its road, and then by fast rid-
ing over another road had passed them and ar-
ranged this ambush.

"What fer do you want to stop me on the

THE ESCAPE. 171

highway?" asked the old farmer. ''I am going
to sell a load of truck, good for nothing to you,
but might keep my folks from going hungry.
Let me alone to go my way," he said, and with a
cool eye to future proceedings he, as if by acci-
dent, swung his team partially across and in the
line of the road.

^'Not much!" said one of the brutes, who stood
opposite the seat of Mrs. Van Metre, while the
other caught the horses by the head and stopped
them. "We know all about you," he continued.
" We have watched you for a week. You've got
a Union officer under that hay. Maybe he'll live,
if he's got greenbacks enough about his clothes.
You, madam, have got money and things worth
money on your person. We want the money and
the man. Will you give them up without a
fuss?"

" Gentlemen, " said the lady very gently, " you
are Americans, I hope, and gentlemen. I am
going after my husband, w^ho is a prisoner. I
have but a very little money. I am a helpless
woman. Will you not let me pass, wuth the lit-
tle that is left to us?"

She might as well have appealed to cannibals,
pirates, or hungry tigers of the jungle. "Now
dry up an' get off'n that load," said the wretch.
"We don't care shucks for your husband or your
lover under the hay. We want your money an'
your trinkets. Give them to me before I strip

172 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

'em off!" And the wretch seized her by the arm
and was about to tear her to the ground.

There was the crack of a revolver. The grasp
of the brute relaxed; he staggered a few steps
and fell upon his face. A brief pause, and the
louder report of a rifle, and brute number two at
the heads of the horses slowly settled upon the
neck and shoulders of his own horse, shivered, and
fell on the turf at the roadside. Well did the
women and the driver know whence these shots
came, and that the foresight of Uncle Dick had
saved them from capture or a worse fate.

''Drive! drive to the town as fast as ever you
can, before others come !" said the anxious wo-
man. " Let us get to the town before we are
overtaken."

"Oh, yes, missus, we'll get over to the Ferry
all right before very long," said the unexcited
driver. "But don't you scare. I know these
fellers. They meant to do this job alone — they
hain't got no friends, an' they won't do anymore
damage till somebody sews up the holes in their
clothes. But them horses of theirs have got the
U. S. brand. I think we'll take 'em along. May-
be the general at the Ferry would rather swap
my mules for these horses than for the sick
kunnel."

With this monologue he proceeded to attach
the bridles of the two horses to the rear of his
wagon, while Mrs. Van Metre was begging him

THE ESCAPE. 173

to hasten. But he persisted that there was no
farther danger, and succeeded m inspiring her
with a httle of his own confidence. He then ex-
amined the men. Both were shot through the
chest. One begged for water. ''Well, well! I
thought so when I see you two sarpents come out
of the hush : you ain't no Union men nor yet Con-
federates. You're just black-hearted thieves an'
murderers. You're one of the fellers I seen after
the battle of Winchester. I was coming from
Winchester way ; two boys, one blue, one gray,
both hard hit, was helpin' each other off the field.
You an' another chap like you was stealin' after
them with a big knife in your hand. 'Look out
for that black devil, boys!' I yelled. One of the
boys pulled his gun and one of the murderers
ran. It was you, you black devil. You ain't dead
now. You can't kill them sarpents no more'n
pole-cats," he observed as he rolled him out of
the travelled part of the road.

The delay while these reflections were going on
had been almost intolerable to the pooi: woman,
and little less so to the officer in his confined
quarters. But it was over at last, and the driver
was content to resume his seat, deliberately take
up the reins, and tell his horses to "git." Within
a half-hour afterward the conveyance was hailed
and stopped by the picket on the Union hues.

To the questions of the officer in command of
the picket, who demanded to know where he was

174 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

going and what were the contents of his load,
the farmer dedined to make any answer. If he
would not give any account of himself, the officer
said he would be compelled to take him before
the general in command of the post.

This threat did not appear to alarm him. On
the contrary he said: "Young feller! you look
bright and smart. If I was in your place that
is just what I'd do. We're onfortnit prisoners
of war. Take us befo' your onmarciless gen-
eral!"

The clumsy wagon with its load of hay, drawn
by the unmatched, half-starved horses, and its
trembling female passengers were taken, under
the direction of the officer of the picket, to the
Union headquarters. Very deliberately did the
ancient Jehu descend from his perch, throw his
reins over his horses' necks, call for a ladder, and
with its help and much courtly grace assist his
lady passengers to descend to the ground.

The officer of the day directed the horses to be
unharnessed, taken to the stables and fed. This
done, the driver called his attention to the other
pair. " Don't you think Uncle Samwell has some
claim onto these bosses?" he asked. The officer
had no doubt of it, and wanted to know whence
they came and how he got them. "I will tell
you the whole story when you take me to your
general. I ain't a-goin' to make two bites of
one cherry. You better take care of them

THE ESCAPE. 175

bosses," he continued. "The fellers what had
them won't come for them in a hurry."

"I will," said the officer, "and now come with
me to General Stevenson."

" But I haven't got unloaded yet," he protested.
" I 'spicions there's some other goods in that load
you might like to see. Maybe some of you fellers
will help unload the bay. Maybe there's sutbin
under it, I dun know!"

The hint of the old farmer fell upon listening
ears. Stalwart arms, some with pitchforks,
others with unaided hands, made short work of
unloading the wagon. When the bay was re-
moved there remained exposed the crate, cover-
ing the mattress upon which lay extended an
officer in uniform, with bis rifle, revolver, and
crutches by bis side. He was somewhat ex-
hausted by his long ride and deprivation of air.
They tore away the crate and aided him to rise.
Willing bands banded him his crutches and raised
him to an upright position upon his remaining
leg. They brushed the dust and straw from his
clothing, and scores of kind soldiers tendered
him their good offices. He was almost destitute
of strength, his face was very pale, the perspira-
tion stood in great beads upon bis forehead.
Eough men turned away their" faces in silence as
they witnessed his heroic effects to control bis
emotions.

What a flood of thoughts must have crowded

12

176 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

his memory at that moment ! The thunder and
crash of battle, his fall, his amputations, his
pains and weakness, his friends forced to leave
liim, his abandonment to death by the faithless
ones who had promised to nurse him, his bitter
loneliness when he was watching for death ; the
coming of his preserver, her bravery and her de-
votion, his long sojourn in the country of his
enemies, with never an hour that was not one
of anxiety and peril! It was all-over now. He
stood upon loyal ground, surrounded by his fel-
low°soldiers, with no barrier but distance, and
that so easily overcome, between himself, his
family and his home. Even his faithful nurse
was with him. Was it strange that he was silent
— that he was so overv/helmed as to be nearly
unconscious of his other surroundings?

Almost in a whisper he asked for water. It
was given to him ; he raised his hand to his brow,
and his face brightened as some thought came to
him. Then his eyes anxiously wandered around
the broad plaza, as if something was absent
which he longed to see. They rested upon the
foot of the tall staff at the top of which he knew
the Stars and Stripes were grandly floating upon
the autumn air. A look of profoundest gratitude
covered his pallid face as he removed his cap,
raised his eyes to it, and reverently saluted the
flag of his country. The effort was too great for
his weak condition. He trembled and would

THE ESCAPE. 177

have fallen had not strong arms borne him to a
chair.

Save for his whispered request for water he
had not yet spoken. The crowd around him,
which every moment increased in numbers, was
as silent as himself. Brave men who would not
have minded the thunder of cannon were so im-
pressed by the pathetic interest of the situation
and sympathy for the sufferer that they seemed
to fear the sound of their own voices. After a
few more minutes he appeared to summon all
his faculties, turned to the officer of the day,
saluted him, and sairl : "Colonel, I have a report
to make to the general in command of this post!"

"I was about to offer to conduct you to him,"
said the officer. "I am certain that he will be
as much pleased as we are to welcome your re-
turn among us. Would you like to have your
companions see the general with you?"

"Certainly!" said the lieutenant. "They con-
stitute very material portions of my report."

That was a memorable procession which the
officer of the day now conducted to the quarters
of the veteran General Stevenson, then in com-
mand at Harper's Ferry.

Arm in arm with the officer went the lieuten-
ant, his once vigorous body emaciated, his face
pale, his eyes sunken, his strength almost ex-
hausted, his step uncertain as he strove to walk
upon his single leg by the assistance of his unac-

178 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

customed crutches. He was followed by the wo-
man who had been so heroic and energetic in the
presence of real danger, but who was now so
timid that she wished she could shrink into abso-
lute obscurity, concealed from the sight of men.
Her hand held that of her little niece, who was
trembling like a frightened fawn as she looked
to her aunt for protection. Next came the griz-
zled farmer. But his assurance had all left him,
and now when for the first time he realized that
he was actually in the power of his enemies, he
appeared not to be quite certain whether he would
not be ordered to be shot without trial or prepa-
ration. Officers and privates from the Vermont
brigade and many other regiments followed, all
anxious to testify their welcome back to life of
the comrade long supposed to have been in his
grave. They moved as slowly as a funeral cor-
tege— they were admitted without any delay,
and filled the quarters of the general in command
to the overflow.

"General Stevenson," said the officer of the
day, " it is my duty and my privilege to present
to you a brave soldier. Lieutenant Bedell, of the
Eleventh Eegiment Vermont Volunteers ! Lieu-
tenant, I beg to make you acquainted with Gen-
eral Stevenson, in command of this post."

The veteran general would have taken his hand
without a shadow of formality. The lieutenant
retired a single step, saluted, and said :

THE ESCAPE. 179

" General, I have to report that I have been for
some weeks absent from my regiment and within
the enemy's Hnes, because disabled by wounds
and unable to endure transportation. I have
been concealed, nursed, saved from death, by the
wife of a Confederate soldier, a brave and noble
woman, whom I have induced to come with me
to secure the release of her husband, a prisoner
of war in our hands. I have been brought into
our lines, secreted under a load of forage, by this
farmer, who agreed to deliver me in safety at this
post, in exchange for a pair of his mules appro-
priated to the use of the United States by order
of General Sheridan, now supposed to be in Mar-
tinsburg. He has faithfully performed his part
of the contract. I know I had no authority to
make a contract to bind the Government, and yet
if not inconsistent with the regulations I respect-
fully ask that the farmer may have his mules!"

^'I confirm your contract!" said the general
with great cordiality. ''He may select the best
pair of mules in the corral and take them home
with him."

This arrangement did not satisfy the veteran
agriculturist. He hesitated to interpose his ob-
jection. Standing with his battered hat in one
hand, with the other he swept the few bristly
hairs that stood upright on the top of his head,
in imitation of the lieutenant's salute, and uttered
his protest.

180 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

"General," he said, ''it was my mules that I
was to git. I wouldn't swap my mules for no
two pair of the best mules in the valley. I raised
them mules; I broke 'em. They're brothers, one
ten, the other 'leven year old. They're wonted
to every inch of my farm. Them's the mules I
want; they're up to Martin sburg. Missus Van
Metre's nigger seen 'em thar."

" If that is the case, you shall have your own
mules," said the general. "I will see that the
matter is looked into soon. Just now other af-
fairs are of more pressing importance."

The mule-owner was preparing an elaborate
statement of his objections to this arrangement,
when the general turned him over to his quar-
termaster, with directions to see that he was well
cared for, to hear his story, and if it was reason-
able to give him satisfaction. One of his aids
was directed to provide a room and all necessary
accommodations for Lieutenant Bedell at the
general's quarters. Mrs. Van Metre and her
niece, he said, would be taken in charge by the
ladies of his own famil}'. As soon as Bedell was
rested and refreshed, he wished to hear the par-
ticulars of his story.

CHAPTER XVIII.

REST AND PREPARATION FOR THE SEARCH.

General Stevenson had with him the ladies
of his family, who were then occupying a private
residence in the town. The tide of war had
rolled far up the valley, and they were living
almost in the quiet surroundings of peace. To
their care he com.mitted Mrs. Van Metre and her
niece. Our heroine was greatly changed. Now
that the demands upon her energy were with-
drawn, she became a retiring, sensitive young
woman, unwilling to accept favors which she
could never hope to return, yet determined not
to seem insensible to the kindness of her new
friends. They were equally cautious not to
wound her pride or to force their favors upon
her. With great caution, and largely by fem-
inine instinct, they ascertained and, almost un-
known to her, supplied the deficiencies in her
wardrobe and that of her niece, and furnished
her apartment with all those articles so neces-
sary to the comfort of woman. She thought she
ought not to avail herself of them; but she had
so long suffered from their lack, they were so
tempting, that she yielded, although she could

181

182 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

make no present payment except by her thanks.
These conveniences wrought a complete change
in her ap23earance. She was now a refined, culti-
vated lady, very modest in her bearing, dignified
in her carriage, and attractive in her whole ap-
pearance. But even the cheering looks and words
of her new friends could not banish from her
face that infinite sadness, that far-away look of
anxious waiting for something or some one whom
she feared might never come.

Nor was the crippled officer less fortunate in
his experiences. Long accustomed to compliance
with all the demands of a healthy regimen, his
chief source of discomfort had been his depriva-
tion of the luxury of the bath. He was now
taken in hand by the valet of the general and
the barber of the post. They were much more
skilful, though they could not have been more
willing or kind-hearted than Uncle Dick. When,
after a liberal use of warm water, with his head
properly tonsured, and what the new darky
called a '' fust-class shampoo," he left their hands,
he was renewed in the outer man almost beyond
recognition. Supplied by the general's orders
with the missing articles of his uniform, he was
once more and in fact Lieutenant Bedell, of the
Vermont brigade, the pride of the fighting Sixth
Corps, in all but the loss of his limb, to which he
was nov/ gradually becoming accustomed.

Then when, farther strengthened by a good

PREPARATION FOR THE SEARCH. 183

dinner, he was in a physical condition to do the
subject justice, the big-hearted Stevenson de-
manded that he should give an account of him-
self during the long time when his brother-officers
supposed he was in the other world. Many others
were impatient to hear it, and he consented to
relate it to as many of the boys as the room pro-
vided by the general would contain.

As a chronicler of events in which he had
been conspicuous, the officer was not a success.
Of those which concerned others he spoke elo-
quently— so eloquently that he excited the indig-
nation of his auditors or touched their sympathies
at his will. Commencing at the time when his
friends unwillingly left him, with his supplies, in
the promised care of the soldier and the wretches
who had been paid to nurse him, he admitted
that he sent away the nurse before he was robbed
and deserted by the Asburys. He described how
they took his supplies, promising to prepare and
return with his meal ; how long and hopefully he
waited; how the conviction gradually became
absolute that he was now abandoned by all ; how
the wind and rain whirled through the crevices
during that long and dreadful night and the
next long and dreadful day; then he knew he
was growing colder, weaker, and his pain was
increasing. He thought of his distant home, of
those he would never see again. AVould they
ever know when and how he died? How long

184 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

would he retain consciousness? Would any one
find and bury him, or recognize him when he
was dead? Was it wrong to wish to die soon —
to have an end of his pain and grief in the sleep
of death?

And now a thought came into his mind which
led him to fight with a fierce determination.
He would furnish the means of his own identifica-
tion. They should not bury him with the un-.
known. At least his body should be returned after
the war to the little church^^ard under the Green
Mountains !

In a pocket on his right side there was a pencil.
If he could reach that! He would not sleep
again, for he might die in his sleep ; he could keep
awake, and as soon as it was light enough in the
morning, with his left hand he would print his
name upon the whitest thing within reach ! Now
summoning all his strength, he tried to reach the
pencil. Alas ! he could not. He tried again and
again, and each time he was weaker than before !
Then he described his sickening sensation of fail-
ure: he must give up, he could do nothing. He
began to long for unconsciousness and death. He
brought the ghastly picture so vividly before
their eyes that the hearts of his auditors were
shocked and they hoped he would hasten to the
end, and yet there was an attraction about it
that led them to cry out when he proposed to
omit an incident of the story.

PREPARATION FOR IHE SEARCH. 185

"Comrades!" he exclaimed, ''before my Maker
I declare that at the very moment when I was
giving up, when I knew my strength was sinking
and I believed I was actually dying, I thought an
angel burst into that dreadful room. I suppose
she carried a lamp of some kind. It seemed like
a great wave of sunlight, bringing vrarmth and
hope into that place of darkness and desolation !
I was glad ; how glad God alone knows, and yet
my mortification was intense. The colored man
could do but little to make that room a fit place
for any woman. I tried to tell her so, for I knew
and I recognized her noble face. Then she
silenced me as if I had been a child. 'Don't you
speak, sir! not a word!' she said. The light
showed a beautiful face looking down into mine,
and a gentle hand and a soft handkerchief dipped
in cold water were moving over my parched lips
and clammy face. I tell you, friends, the drop of
cold water from the hand of Lazarus would not
have been so delicious to the fevered tongue of
the rich man in torment as the touch of that
moist hand was to me.".

Then he told them how he was nursed into
strength and then moved to Mrs. Van Metre's
house ; of the faithful services and discretion of
Uncle Dick, his wife, and Peter Dennis. In short,
he told them all that we have attempted to set
before the reader. He omitted as much as his
auditors would permit of that which concerned

186 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

only himself — he was a helpless hulk, incapable
of action, only to be acted upon. But when he
spoke of his preserver, language was too weak
for the expression of his gratitude and admira-
tion. " Think of her, comrades !" he passionately
exclaimed; "she is only a girl, even now. But
did you ever hear of such courage, charity, en-
ergy, of such unselfish generosity? such untiring
devotion of a woman to her wounded, helpless,
suffering enemy? It was of little importance to
mankind that she saved my crippled life, but her
example ought to be preserved as a model for
true women to imitate as long as there are wars
among nations or virtues among men!"

"As he v/ent on with the story," said one of
his hearers, "officers and privates packed them-
selves in a circle around him. Every one leaned
and crowded forward, with his hand to his ear,
as if he feared to lose one word of the thrilling
narration. It was a late hour at night when it
ceased, not because our interest flagged or he had
reached its conclusion, but because it was evident
that he could not continue it except at the cost
of physical exhaustion. The general with a very
gentle voice said: 'We will hear the rest another
time.' A brave, true chaplain raised his voice
and exclaimed: 'And in the mean time let us all
thank God for this woman — this noble woman,
who enables us to say, this our brother was dead
and is alive again — was lost, and is found!' "

PREPARATION FOR THE SEARCH. 187

That night, for the first time since he was
wounded, the heutenant slept without watchful-
ness or anxiety. He had much to do, and he
wished to set about it without delay. He in-
tended to take the early morning train for Wash-
ington, where he proposed to consult influential
Vermonters and arrange for the release of the hus-
band of his preserver. But when he awoke the
sun was streaming into his windows, and the
train for Washington had been on its way long
enough to have already arrived at the capital.

A servant who had watched for his awakening
brought him his breakfast, which he took in bed,
luxuriously. He was then informed that the
general wished to see him before he made any
plans for the future.

General Stevenson received him with much
cordiality. " Your system needs toning up, lieu-
tenant," he said when he met him. "I have an
excellent prescription for you. Be seated and
take it at once." And he handed him a thick
letter, only three days old, which bore a post-
mark in the Green Mountain State.

It proved to be just such a letter as a sensible,
affectionate Vermont wife might have been ex-
pected to write under similar circumstances. It
informed him of the health and comfort of his
family, of their undying love, of their anxiety
and sorrow when they heard of his wounds and
his being left behind when the army retired, of

188 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

their joy and that of all their neighbors when
they learned from his last letter of his almost
certain recovery through the nursing of a good
woman. Would he carry to that dear woman
the gratitude and love of his own wife? The
writer had only one apprehension now. Her
husband was still in danger in the enemy's
country. She wanted him home !

"We have had a bad fright, dear," continued
the letter. "But it is happily over now, and I
can write you all about it. After we had read
over your last letter so many times that we
could repeat it from memory, Henry brought me
his school atlas, and wanted me to show him
where you were and the ways I would take to go
to you. I took great pains to show him, for I
like to know that the children are thinking about
you. For two or three days the little fellow was
very sober. Two or three times he said to me
that you must be very lonely, and as you could
walk only by the help of crutches, you must need
some one all the time to get things for you. One
morning very early I found that he had disap-
peared. I hunted for him, and as I did not find
him I aroused the neighbors to assist me in the
search. When I returned to the house I dis-
covered that the map we had been looking over
was torn out of Henry's atlas. It then flashed
over me that the little fellow had started to go
to you ! At my request, our neighbor N bar-

PREPARATION FOR THE SEARCH. 189

nessed his horse and drove immediately to the
raih'oad station, which he reached before the ar-
rival of the train for the South. There he found
Henry half-concealed in a dark corner of the
station. He asked him where he was going. 'I
am going to bring my father home, sir," he said.
^ It is a long way, and he is lame and cannot get
away alone. ' 'But,' said our neighbor, 'it is a
long and expensive journey to your father, and
you have no money.' 'I have some money in my
bank,' he said; 'I will give all that, and when I
tell them that I am going after my father who
was wounded, fighting for his country, and has
had his leg cut off and is lame, and we want him
home, and there was no one to go after him but
me, and I will work and get the money, I think
everybody will help me ! Don't you? Anyway,
I must try ! ' He consented to come home, and
he did not shed a tear until his arms were about
my neck and his head lay on my shoulder. Then
— but I think I will not tell how he grieved. So
you see, dear Henry, that you need not mind
the loss of your leg. Very soon you will have
all the assistance you want from your own
son."

"General, I must go home at once. I cannot
wait," said the officer as he finished reading the
letter.

"That may be best," said the general. "But
I have some information to give you, and before

190 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

giving it I would like to know all the facts. Is
there anything unpleasant in that letter?"

"No, I cannot say that there is. Would you
like to read it?" he asked as he extended his
hand.

" I think I would," responded the general. He
took the sheets, and while reading them slowly
turned his back toward the officer. There was a
spasmodic twitching of his gray mustache. Once
he removed and polished his spectacles after first
wiping his eyes. Then he cleared his throat and
faced the lieutenant again.

"It is not singular that you should feel drawn
to your home, lieutenant," he said. " You ought
to be proud of your son ! Yes, and of his mother.
If he lives and I live, and the country remembers
the services of a battered old soldier, that boy
shall go to West Point. He gets his sand from
both father and mother, I see. It's the mothers,
though, that make the boys. God knows what
reason I have to say that!" he said with deep
reverence.

" But I have tidings for you not quite so agree-
able," he continued. " Mrs. Van Metre is ill — de-
lirious. My family and the doctor don't quite
understand it yet, but it seems that she has suf-
fered so much that kindness overwhelms her.
We fear she will have brain fever. It will be a
sad, sad case if she does. I thought you should
know her condition at once. She shall have the

PREPARATION FOR THE SEARCH. 191

best of care, for I solemnly believe, Bedell, that
she is the noblest woman I ever saw."

"General, yon alarm me!" said the officer,
" but you have settled one matter. I had thought
I would go home for a few days, then return here
and go with her to find her husband. But I
should be a cur to leave her now. Heaven forgive
me for thinking of it."

"You are a trump, my boy!" said the general,
laying his hand upon Bedell's shoulder with a
force that made his single leg quiver. "No man
was ever the loser by doing the square thing by
a woman, and certainly not by such a woman as
she who saved your life. Now, if that brain of
yours, which has been considerably stirred up re-
cently, is settled so that you know, tell us what
we can do for you. Mrs. Van Metre is in the
hands of good nurses, who, for some reason which
I do not know, say that it would not be wise for
you to see her now."

"I know of one thing that I want now, "said
Bedell. " This stump of a hand of mine cannot
yet do much with a pen. I want some one who
will write a dispatch for me and afterward a
letter."

The general touched a bell. " Bring me some
telegraph blanks," he said to the messenger who
answered his call. In a moment they were before
him. "I will write the dispatch," he continued.
"I know there is a woman who wants it. Here

192 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

I have the direction already written. What do
you wish to say?"

"What is the charge for ten words?" asked
the officer.

"Charge for ten words!" roared the gen-
eral. "Man, are you crazy? Here you are,
just brought back from the edge of the grave, and
you want to count the words in which you shall
tell the mother of your boy that you are safe
under the old flag! No! no! tell me what you
want to say. Give me the idea. I will write
the message for you, for on my v/ord I don't
think you are capable of writing it — nor that I
should be if I were in your place," he said after
some hesitation.

Bedell complied. He would like to inform his
wife, he said, that he had escaped from the en-
emy's country and was safe within the Union
lines ; that except for the loss of his leg he was
almost well; that he would come home very
soon, but there were some matters he must first
attend to which would not detain him many
days.

The general thereupon wrote the following after
showing the direction :

"Your husband is now sitting in my quarters
here, strong and well but for the loss of his leg
and a part of his right hand. He was brought
in by a brave and noble woman, who unquestion-
ably saved his life, kept him concealed for six

PREPARATION FOR THE SEARCH. 193

weeks, and brought him safely here. She, poor
woman, is in deep trouble, for her husband is a
prisoner in our hands, and she has not heard from
him since his capture last May. Her exertions
have overpowered her, and she has been stricken
with fever. Your husband says he would be a
cur if he should leave her in her present sickness
and sorrow. I am no judge if the woman
who wrote him the letter he has just shown me
is not of the same opinion. Take the advice
of an old soldier! Be patient! Stand by the
brave woman who has so nobly stood by your
husband, and, with the blessing of Almighty
God, you and she shall both soon see your hus-
bands."

The general signed his own name to the dispatch
and marked it with the letters D.H. Bedell said
it was admirable, just what he wanted, but the
charges would ruin him.

"Do you see those capitals— D.H. ?" asked the
general. "They mean Deadhead! No charge.
Free passage ! If the telegraph company will not
deadhead such a dispatch to such a woman as
your wife, I have got no use for it and it will
get out of my department double-quick!" He
rang the bell. "Send this!" he said to the mes-
senger who came. Then turning to the officer he
said, " I will commission one of my aids to write
your letter."

But Bedell declared that the dispatch conveyed

194 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

all that at present he desired to say to his wife.
At all events, he would not write until he had
more definitely determined when he would go
home. First of all he wished to see Mrs. Van
Metre.

CHAPTER XIX.

A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY.

In his first interview with them, the officer saw
that the faces of the surgeons wore a very serious
expression. The condition of Mrs. Van Metre,
they said, was very critical. Her danger was in-
creased by their inability to account for her dis-
ease, upon which their prescriptions produced no
effect whatever. Her temperature was very high,
her pulse rapid, her delirium constant. She
seemed to be tortured by her conscience. Her
self-reproaches were pitiable. She said she was
a bad, wicked woman. She had nursed, possibly
saved the life of a Northern invader — of the en-
emy of the South. It was wrong — her country-
women would all think it was wrong. Her
prayers, her appeals for mercy were touching.
She thought she was doing right ; she had done
it for her own husband ! Should not a true wife
do all she could for her husband? She had done
wrong — she saw it all now. She did not ask par-
don for herself, she was willing to die, but she
implored the Lord to save her husband! She
would not see Bedell, she could not hear his name ;

195

190 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

she was a wicked woman because she did not let
him die!

The doctors secured from Bedell a faithful ac-
count of all she had done, of all he knew about
her. Her soul, he said, was as pure as an angel's.
He had never heard but one intimation made
against her conduct; that was by one of the rob-
bers who attacked them on their way into camp ;
he had paid for his slander with his life. It was
finally decided that in her grief for her husband
she had sought occupation for her mind in the
care of the wounded officer. That now he was
out of danger, her grief had returned with greater
intensity, and under it in her weakened vitality
her mind had given way.

While this diagnosis was reasonably accurate,
it did not give effect to their prescriptions nor
lead her into the path of recovery.

Just then, however, something occurred which
but for her delirium would have been more effect-
ive than any medical prescription. General Ste-
venson had been so impressed with her devoted
conduct as described by the lieutenant that he
had communicated the substance of it by tele-
graph, as soon as it came to his knowledge, to
Secretary Edwin M. Stanton. That officer forth-
with ordered the immediate discharge of Mrs.
Van Metre's husband as a prisoner of war, and
directed that well-known and knightly old veteran
General Ethan Allen Hitchcock to write to her

A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 197

the letter which appears in our introduction to
this volume informing her of her husband's re-
lease. This letter ought to have relieved all her
apprehensions. But the assault of the disease
upon the throne of her reason had been very se-
vere. With all the obstinacy of delirium she re-
fused to believe the good news, and even charged
her nurses with kindly intent to deceive her. She
persisted in her conviction that she had committed
a crime for which there was no pardon. Even
the excellent clergyman who, hearing of her
troubles, came to reason and to pray with her,
could make no impression upon her. Her tem-
perature continued to rise, her fever began to
develop more dangerous symptoms, and the skilled
physicians who had her in charge said that unless
it could be arrested, it would consume her remain-
ing vitality and the end would come.

Poor Bedell was well-nigh frantic. From the
very heights of happiness and hope he was
plunged into the lowest depths of despair. He
became almost as unreasonable as his benefactress
in her delirium. He charged himself with her
disease and her destruction. Nor could he for a
time himself bear up against the sea of troubles
which now appeared to roll its resistless waves
over him. His long journey under the load
of forage, deprived of a supply of air, had
weakened him ; his consciousness that her devo-
tion to him was the proximate cause of his pre-

198 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

server's present condition so wrought upon his
mind that he was ready to take to his bed, in-
different whether he ever rose from it again.
Although the influences which wrought upon his
mind were not unlike those with which Mrs. Van
Metre was contending, the administration of rem-
edies by the doctors produced some effect. They
gave him powerful sedatives, and he ultimately
fell into a broken, half -delirious sleep.

The railway station at Harper's Ferry wac in
such close proximity to the quarters of General
Stevenson that from his room Bedell knew of
the arrival and departure of every passenger train.
He was even able to distinguish those to or from
Northern and Southern routes of travel. One
morning, after a restless night in which for the
hundredth time he had reviewed the whole his-
tory of his acquaintance with Mrs. Van Metre,
and was unable to draw from it any justification
for the past or hope for the future, he fell into a
half- waking slumber. The curtains were drawn
to exclude the light from his windows ; faithful
colored nurses had been provided, who were di-
rected to permit no one to enter his room except
in their presence, for the breaking out of a ncAV
suppuration from his amputation was imminent.
Should that occur, his condition might again be-
come as desperate as it was when he was found
in his deserted room.

On this afterward well-remembered morning,

A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 199

as he lay dreaming of his home and of many
things which gave comfort to his heart, he heard
long before daylight the noise of the conveyances
and other preparations for the early morning
trains. Then there was the noise and bustle of
their arrival, the clamorous solicitations of the
cab-drivers for the passengers, the sound of
wheels as the vehicles rolled away. Then all was
still and dark again, for it was in the early days
of winter.

He supposed that he fell asleep again and was
dreaming of those who were so dear to him in his
distant home. He imagined that he was in some
new and deep trouble. Some one had come be-
tween himself and his wife and children and was
intent upon keeping them separated. Weak and
crippled by his wounds, he was powerless to re-
sist. In the confusion of his dream he fancied he
heard voices. One was that of his new colored
nurse: "I ask your pardon, missus, but my or-
ders was de strictest kind. De cappen mus' not
be waked. No one mus' go into his room !" Then
he fancied he heard another voice, strangely dear
to him, entreating, "But I am his wife. I have
the right to see him. Tell him that it is his wife
that wants to see him."

"I cannot do it, missus," said the nurse. "I
should be dismissed if I disobey de surgeon's or-
ders, and if de cappen should die I would be shot.
You mus' wait till daylight and see de doctor."

200 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

Then another dear, famihar voice seemed to
say: "He is my papa! I want to see my papa!
I will see him ! No one shall keep me and my
mother from my own dear father! Is this the
door to his room? Stand aside, I say, and let us
pass!"

" 'Fore de Lord, I was afeard of dat little boy,"
the nurse afterward said. "Seemed like as if he
was in command oh de post, and we had to get
out oh de way. He march straight to de door,
and say to de lady, 'Come!' Well! I did de bes'
I could, but it was no use!"

Now indeed the door did open, and with an
effect which reminded him of the night when his
preserver first came to him in his desolation at
Berryville. Some one ran across the room with
a quick, light step and grasped his neck and
spoke. He heard the voice of a boy exclaiming,
"Papa! my own papa!" Then there was a
slovv'er, softer step, and in the dim twilight he
saw approaching him the form which was dearest
on earth to him. It was his own dear wife — it
was no vision, no dream, all was real. He was
awake, the arms of his wife and his boy were
around him, their voices were in his ears, and,
thank God, he was once more with his loved ones.

The advent upon the scene of a clear-headed,
sensible woman promptly changed the appear-
ance of things. At once, that very morning, be-
fore she attempted to give her husband any ac-

A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 201

count of his home or of herself, she set about
making herself the mistress of the situation. Her
husband was only too ready to tell the whole story
of Mrs. Van Metre and to sound the praises of
the noble woman who had saved his life. His
enthusiastic admiration might have excited the
jealousy of some wives, but in this case it only
filled her heart with love. She had long and re-
peated interviews with the doctors, who assured
her that she must on no account see their patient,
for the excitement would probably increase her
fever and produce a fatal result. The old clergy-
man related his interviews with her, and finally
the guests of General Stevenson took her into
their confidence. From these ladies she secured
much valuable advice and information. In fact,
the conclusion arrived at was rather the result of
their joint judgment than the opinion of any one
of them. With the instincts of good and true
women, they decided that Mrs. Van Metre was
an intensely conscientious, faithful, and most de-
voted wife; that when she had long endured in
silence her grief for the captivity of her husband
and her anxiety for his safety, and when her
nerves were irritated by the incessant sounds and
perils of war, she had heard of this wounded,
deserted, and dying officer. She had followed the
impulses of her emotional nature, and with an
undefined idea that some Northern woman might
do for her imprisoned husband what she could

202 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

do for his wounded adversary, she had devoted
herself to the work of saving Bedell's life. The
work gave her occupation — prevented her own
grief from gnawing at and tearing her heart.
She had succeeded. Now, when her patient was
safe among his own people, when her constant
devotion was no longer necessary, her own sor-
row, her love for her husband, her doubts whether
she had done right, her fears, had simply over-
whelmed her like a flood. All the barriers of
her firmness had given way, and the recent events
in her life, that unselfish devotion which to others
appeared so beautiful, seemed to her inexcusably
selfish and base.

If this diagnosis of the situation was correct,
Mrs. Bedell knew that it was the heart of her
husband's preserver that wanted treatment, in-
stead of her body, and that she could not be ben-
efited by medical prescriptions. She was an
energetic person, this woman of the Green Moun-
tains, and her act swiftly followed her conclu-
sions. As soon as she had decided upon her
course, she went straight to the doctors and in-
sisted upon her right to nurse the patient. They
hesitated, argued ; she v/as a stranger, they said.
An interview with her they feared would increase
the fever and excitement of the patient and might
prove fatal to her life. Then they had no evi-
dence of her skill and experience — in short, if she
had been an ordinary woman they would have

A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 203

refused to permit her to see the patient, who, as
they were constrained to admit, was rapidly grow-
ing worse.

She swept away their objections with a wave
of her hand. " She will die, you say, unless there
is a favorable change," she said ; " your treatment
has produced no good results. Why not, then,
try mine? I think it is my duty to see and to
nurse her. I would much prefer to see her with
your consent. I have a better right to see her
than you have to keep us separated. If I cannot
obtain your consent, I must dispense with it !"

The doctors, who ardently desired to save the
life of their patient, decided not to oi3pose her
vigorous proceedings farther, and consented that
she might see Mrs. Van Metre for five minutes
only. She accepted the compromise with a men-
tal reservation that she would do as she liked
about complying with the condition as to time.

It was evening when she entered the sick-room.
Very soft was her step as she approached the
bedside and very slow the movement of her
strong, cool hand as it stole around that of the
patient, now hot with fever. She seated herself
upon the bed; with her handkerchief saturated
with some perfumed stimulant she bathed the
dry, hot forehead and face ; then her head drooped
and she kissed the fevered hand which lay upon
the coverlet. Then her arm quietly crept around
the restless form and drew it toward her until

204 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

each could feel the beating of the other's heart.
Her face was very near to that of the weary pa-
tient now. Their lips closed in a long kiss, and
the first words which fell in a whisper upon the
ears of the sick woman were : '' You have brought
my husband back to me from the borders of the
grave; we will go together and find yours.''''

There was no need that the new nurse should
tell her that she was Bedell's wife — no need to
thank her for what she offered to do — no need of
any words between them. Their hearts were
close together, speaking a language which both
understood. Then for the first time since her ill-
ness the fountain of the sick wife's tears was
opened. The tears of her gratitude mingled with
those of her sister's affection on the same pillow.

The doctor who was on the watch, alarmed by
the length of the stay of the new, self-appointed
nurse, and really anxious for its consequences,
now gently opened the door to call her away.
By the dim light he could distinguish the forms
of the two persons, but they were so close to-
gether that they seemed but one. The sick wo-
man lay nearest to him ; he saw the movement
of her respiration, not short and feverish as it
had been, but gentle and almost as slow as that
of the strong woman in whose embrace she lay.
As he came nearer he was still more surprised to
find that the patient was sleeping, but the eyes
of her new friend were wide open. He made a

A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 205

motion of his hand as if to invite her to rise and
leave the room. With her hand which was at
liberty she pointed to the woman sleeping in the
clasp of her other arm, and as he declared after-
ward, she also gave him a glance of almost con-
temptuous refusal. " They have no use for me,"
he thought, and discreetly left the room.

An hour passed and then another — still the
patient slept. They called Mrs. Bedell to her
supper — she would not change her position. It
was late in the evening when the patient awoke.
There was a look of profound gratitude in her
eyes, a healthy perspiration upon her forehead,
and although she was not yet strong enough to
be clothed, she was beyond question in her right
mind.

The joyful news of the miraculous change in
one patient was carried to the other and wrought
an improvement in his condition almost equally
extraordinary. His anxiety and loss of sleep on
Mrs. Van Metre's account had so exhausted him
that, as soon as it was removed, wearied nature
reasserted her demands. Even, his curiosity to
hear why his wife and boy had come to him and
of their adventures on their journey temporarily
lost its influence. Just as soon as it was made
clear to him that Mrs. Van Metre's fever had
been arrested and that with proper care she would
recover, his eyelids grew heavy and he was sound
asleep before his wife had finished her story.

206 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

''Gentle sleep, nature's soft nurse, weighed the
eyelids down and steeped the senses in forgetful-
ness" of both the patients who had been so long
and so sorely tried.

There is an end even to the sleep of the labor-
ing man — tired nature's sweet restorer — even to
that which the Lord giveth to his beloved. When
Mrs. Van Metre again awoke, it was to find her
niece had been well cared for, and relieved of that
anxiety, she yielded herself to the direction of her
new friend with the docility of a weary child.
Mrs. Bedell contented her with the promise that
she would come back to her as soon as she had
given her husband some account of his home and
her journey. For this relation her husband was
now impatient. She told it to him substantially
as follows:

''Do you ask me why I came to you, Henry?"
she said. "You should have known that your
telegram would have called me to you from the
borders of the grave. The story went through
our town that you were not dead — that you had
written me a letter while you were lying desper-
ately wounded in the enemy's country — then that
you had reached Harper's Ferry in safety, and
from that place had sent me a telegram. The
neighbors gathered at our house, heard and dis-
cussed your last dispatch. They could not under-
stand why, if you were well enough to travel, you
did not come home. I said that I could read

A TIME OF NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 207

many things between the lines of your telegram.
I knew that the woman mentioned in it had
done you some great service — I did not care to
know what it was ; that you considered yourself
under a great obligation to her ; that you would
not leave her while she was ill and in great anxiety
on account of her husband — for one reason be-
cause you would know that I wanted you to stay
with her until she was well or had received some
news of him. I was satisfied, but they were not.
They said there must be something that kept you
which you could not or would not tell me. You
were either much worse in health than your gen-
eral telegraphed or you were under arrest ! Any-
way they advised me to go to you at once. I said
I had no money. They offered me four times as
much as I needed. You may imagine that I did
not require much urging to set out on a journey
that would bring me to you.

''Next day I received a railroad pass from our
good governor over the railroad to New York
and back. Then the neighbors almost quarrelled
over the children. There were four or five who
wanted them until I returned. I supposed our
boy would go to the father of his inseparable
companion whom you know. He had said noth-
ing, but he had been thinking. When he spoke,
he said something like this: 'If my mamma goes,
I am going with her to my father. He wants to

see me just as much as he does her, and a man
14

208 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

can do him more good than a woman. Then my
mother wants me. I am not willing that she
should start on this long journey alone when I
can go with her and take care of her. You
needn't try to stop me, for I have made up my
mind to go. '

" I suppose the neighbors were rather amused
by it, but I felt proud of the little fellow's manli-
ness. Then some one said that as he was under
ten years he would go for half -fare, and the con-
ductors might pass him free if they knew our
errand. So I consented that he should go. We
started next day. I cannot begin to tell you how
great an assistance he has been to me. He has
made friends with every conductor — he has as-
sured them that he was taking his mother to his
father, who had his leg shot off in the war. No
one asked him for his fare ; he was manly but not
forward with every one, and but for him I should
not have got access to you when we arrived. I
cannot help saying that I am very proud of him.
This is the whole of my story, except to say that
since you left us every one has been kind to us ;
and now, thank Heaven ! you and I are together
once more, and I hope never again to be parted."

Then her husband told his story and gave her
a full account of the heroic conduct of Mrs. Van
Metre. They were both of one mind. It was
their first duty to protect her until they had found
her husband and restored him to her loving arms.

A TIME OP NEW TROUBLE AND ANXIETY. 209

When the physician from the Green Moun-
tains again returned to her patient from the val-
ley, it was to find her fever abated and the light
of a new joy in her eyes. ''I have had such a
lovely dream," she said. ''I dreamed that an
order had been issued for my husband's release
by the Secretary of War. I hope it is one of those
dreams which will prove true."

Mrs. Bedell had the very great joy of assuring
her that it was no dream, but a fact which during
her fever she would not believe. "Your hus-
band's discharge is ordered," she said. "Nor is
that the best part of the news. The conduct of
his wife is commended by the Secretary of War
as an example for the imitation of the good wo-
men of the world."

CHAPTER XX.

THE AFFLICTIONS OF THE MULE -OWNER — PREPA-
RATIONS FOR THE SEARCH FOR A PRISONER
OF WAR — THE SEPARATION OF THE FRIENDS.

The proprietor of the mules had waited pa-
tiently until the sick were convalescent, and Le
now insisted that the contract with him should
be carried out by the delivery of his animals. The
quartermaster rather mischievously insisted that
he did not see why one mule was not just as
good as another, and that if the farmer was per-
mitted to select a pair from the stock at Harper's
Ferry he ought to be satisfied. But that ar-
rangement no amount of bourbon fluid would in-
duce him to accept. He undertook to satisfy the
quartermaster that he ought to have his own ani-
mals. His argument promised to be entertain-
ing, and was delivered in the presence of a large
and amused audience. Inspired by a draught of
stimulating fluid, he began:

"I s'pose them mules ov mine is pretty much
spiled by this time," he sighed; ''no mules could
stan' what they've had to go through, I reckon."

"There is no possible ground for your fears,"
210

THE AFFLICTIONS OF THE MULE-OWNER. 211

said the quartermaster. "The mules from Mar-
tinsburg have not been harnessed since the army
moved. They have been well fed and ought
to be in better condition than when they were
captured."

"It's their morrils I'm afeard on. It's an
awful resk. Look what company them mules
has had to keep. They're soshiated with them
ornary army mules. An army mule will spile
anything not made of cast-iron. I was once got
into a heap ov trouble by an army mule. They're
the dangerousest, deceavinest boss -kind that ever
was foaled. They're artful enuff to cheat old
Nick himself."

" I should think so if they were too sharp for
a valley farmer. But tell me how they cheated
you."

"It was this way. I foun' one ov them mules
a-draggin' ov his halter — a-strayin' onto the
pike. I picked up the halter. Why, he was the
innocentest lookin' creetur — no butter wouldn't
melt into his mouth. I went up an' j)atted him
on the back. He kind ov sidled up to me like he
wanted to be friendly — I scratched him an' he
sidled up some more. His head was a-droopin' —
his long ears slowly floppin' up an' down. His
eyes was mostly shet, but I ort to have known
that a look outen one corner ov his eye meant
deviltry. But I didn't. The rest ov him was so
lamb -like that I never thot ov his eve. I said to

212 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

myself, 'This poor mule has got lost — he ort to
be took care of or he'll starve. I'll lead him
home and give him a feed. ' So I started to lead
him to my stable. But he braced out his four
feet an' wouldn't go — ^jest stood still an' shook
his head as if he meant, 'No go. ' Still he seemed
'fectionate. He kep' movin' round an' kinder
sidlin' up to me. I was pattin' him back of his
hips an' a-sayin' to myself, 'They ain't many men
as knows how to manage a mule — most men
would whale this mule with a black-jack; that
would hurt his feelin's an' make him contr'y;
the way to manage a mule is to treat him softly
— to reason with him. Now a mule is a good
deal like a man — see how easy I can manage this
one. I coax an' pat him an' he rubs up agin'

me jest like a pet dog or a kit '

"Jest then I was struck by suthin' — I thot it
was the butt-end of a telegraph-pole. Suthin'
dropped — it was me. The very stuffin' was
knocked outen me. When I kem to myself I was
a-layin' on my back in the middle of the pike.
Abuv an' round me was a thick cloud of dust,
an' in it, buzzin' an' whizzin' an' cris-crossin'
every way, was about ten thousand mules' hind
legs an' hoofs. It looked scary. I crawled right
out ov that cloud, an' there as I lay on the
ground, that cussed mule winked at me! Yes,
sir, he winked at me ! His latter end was cavort-
in' an' kickin' up all that cloud of dust an' mules'

THE AFFLICTIONS OF THE MULE-OWNER. 213

feet, an' the other end was wavin' his ears an'
munchin' a Canada thistle!

"Jest then along come a nigger. 'Sampson,'
I said, 'tie up that ar mule to a tree — cut a hick-
ory gad an' whale him tell he squeals!'

"'Sense me,' said that nigger, 'that is Uncle
Sam's mule. I wouldn't dar hit him wid a stick.
Don't you see de brand U. S. — Uncle Sam?' An'
then up kem a teamster. ' Here, you cussed
mule !' he said. ' What do you mean by running
away? Who you consortin' with?' An' I'll be
d — d if that cussed mule didn't trot up to that
teamster an' lay his head over the man's shoul-
der an' laff — yes, sir, he fairly snorted! 'Yes,
yes! I see,' said the man. 'Was they tr3dn' to
steal you, Bob? and did you have a little fun
with 'em?' An' then he laffed some more. An'
I made up my mind to have nothin' more to do
with no army mules. I want my ov^n mules
that I raised — that's got some morril principle.
Sooner than take a pa'r of army mules, I'd change
the wounded officer for three fingers of whiskey."

"You shall have your own mules, characters
warranted, and the whiskey besides," said the
quartermaster. "You deserve them for your
story, as well as for bringing in our officer. But
you must be patient until I can arrange for their
delivery."

Although the order of Secretary Stanton im-
plied that there would be no difficulty in finding

214 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

Van Metre, it was the strong conviction of Bedell
that the search for him would be long and weary.
He was decided not to leave his benefactress
until he knew that the search was successful.
There were many arrangements for him to make
while awaiting her recovery. This was progress-
ing favorably under the influence of the nurse
from the Green Mountains. The latter 's good
sense and care gave her popularity among the
officers at Harper's Ferry. She was a modest,
simple, warm-hearted, but an intensely thorough
woman. She was naturally reserved — her activ-
ity only appeared when the necessity arose. Then
her reserve force was immense, and she seldom
undertook anything which she did not accomplish.
It is needless to say that she was esteemed and
honored by all who knew her, and by those of her
own sex beloved.

The universal favorite of the officers of the post
was the Green Mountain boy of ten years, son of
the wounded officer and his efficient wife. The
youngster assumed all the duties and responsibili-
ties of manhood. The attentions of others were
pleasant to him, he said, but really he could not
afford them much time. He had none for mere
pleasure or curiosity. He must look after his
mother ; she wanted his close attention now that
she had taken charge of Mrs. Van Metre. He
could not leave his father to the carelessness of
servants now that his son was on the ground.

PREPARATIONS FOR THE SEARCH. 215

The little time he could save from his father and
mother should he devoted, he said, to military
studies and practical work to qualify him to take
his father's place in the regiment, for he would
never he able to take the field again. He accepted ,
however, an honorary appointment to the Sixth
Corps and his father's regiment, and when, deco-
rated with the Greek cross and the cap and dress
uniform of the corps, he was seen moving about
the camp in the discharge of his duties, no one
could fail to see that he was a born soldier. Gen-
eral Stevenson would have given him the title
of brevet colonel, but he would not consent to
outrank his father. He was known throughout
the camp as the little colonel. He was a credit
to the regiment as well as to himself.

One matter which Bedell felt bound to arrange
was the contract about the mules. Those which
the old farmer identified at Martinsburg were
found to bear the brand of the United States. In-
stead of surrendering them, the officer in charge
threatened to arrest the claimant. He, mean-
while, was faring so well in the camp and enjoy-
ing such an abundant supply of his favorite fluids
that he was in no haste to bring his case to an
issue. But Bedell brought the matter to the at-
tention of General Stevenson, who cut the knot of
the difficulty in a soldierly fashion. He ordered
all the mules from Martinsburg to Harper's
Ferry. When they arrived the farmer selected

216 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

his beloved animals, and the general gave him a
certificate that he held them by virtue of an ex-
change for a Federal officer whom he had de-
livered within the Union lines. He went away
happy, and carried with him several valuable
presents for Dick and his wife Ginny and for
Peter Dennis. These were delighted to know that
they were not forgotten by their mistress nor the
wounded officer.

Then it was necessary to consult the paymaster.
To his credit it should be recorded that he inter-
posed no obstacles. He assisted Bedell to prepare
his accounts, and the liberal supply of new and
crisp greenbacks which he paid him was quite
adequate to the wants of the entire party.

But when the lieutenant's application for leave
of absence, founded upon his crippled condition,
in order that he might accompany Mrs. Van Metre
in the search for her husband, was presented to
Secretary Stanton, instead of being granted it
was marked suspended, and Bedell was ordered to
report himself to the Secretary of War in Wash-
ington, and as soon as she was able to travel to
bring Mrs. Van Metre with him. This check
was very discouraging. It was inexplicable, in-
asmuch as the facts upon which the leave of ab-
sence was asked were certified by the surgeon of
the regiment and by General Stevenson. But
Bedell was a soldier, and notwithstanding the
reputation of the terrible Secretary for inhuman-

PREPARATIONS FOR THE SEARCH. 217

ity and a total want of human sympathy, he re-
solved promptly to comply with the order of his
superior officer.

Under the constant watchfulness of her nurse
and physician the improvement of Mrs. Van Metre
was rapid. Her gentle ways, her cheerful sub-
mission to the directions of her energetic friend,
won the hearts of all the ladies of the post, who
were delighted in spite of her protests to make
provision for all her wants which their sharp
eyes could discover. A consultation with her was
indispensable before the future course of the
friends could be determined. Bedell wanted to
hasten it, but his wife would not permit it to take
place until she knew that all danger of a relapse
had passed.

A bright, crisp November morning came, when
a suitable carriage was found and one of our
heroines took the other for a drive into the
country.

The driver improved the occasion to impress
upon the mind of her companion the fact that she
was still physically weak and that she must sub-
mit without resistance to whatever plans for con-
ducting the search for her husband should be
adopted in the council of her friends.

"It would be idle for me to undertake any op-
position to you," said the gentle convalescent,
"for I am conscious that I could not succeed.
From that first night when you came to me you

218 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

have been able to control me at your will. I do
not regret it, for you have won my entire confi-
dence."

"I am glad to hear you say so," replied Mrs.
Bedell, "for I want something from you."

"What is it, pray? What have I in my pov-
erty which could be useful to you?"

"I want your niece — I want to take her home
with me to the mountains. My husband seems
to have come to believe in dreams. He thinks
he has had a kind of revelation about your hus-
band. He anticipates great difficulty in finding
him. But he declares nevertheless that he will
find him and bring him to our home in Vermont.
Your niece cannot help you in the search. I
will take her with me and love her as though
she were my daughter, and when you come to us
I will give her back to you."

"Perhaps your plan may prove to be the
wisest, " replied Mrs. Van Metre. " I am not shed-
ding tears of sorrow. They come unbidden when
I think what a friend you are in my loneliness.
I will consider your request. I know I shall do
what you ask in the end."

The ride seemed to give strength to the patient,
and it knit these two souls together in the bonds
of an enduring friendship. There was a council
in which Mrs. Van Metre took her full share. It
was decided that the little colonel should take
charge of his mother and the Virginia girl of his

PREPARATIONS FOR THE SEARCH. 219

own age, and escort them to the home under the
shadow of the Green Mountains. The lieutenant
and Mrs. Van Metre would proceed to Washing-
ton, take up the search for her husband, and never
discontinue it until they found him. Then the
three would go to Vermont, where all, reunited,
would remain until this cruel war was over.
They would separate now as soon as the arrange-
ments could be perfected.

Mrs. Bedell now decided that Mrs. Van Metre
was sufficiently strong to begin her quest. She
could not be expected to restrain her impatience
against farther delay. Her niece had become
attached to Mrs. Bedell and was a great favorite
with the little colonel. A re-examination of the
cordial letter of General Hitchcock convinced
them that they had not so much to fear from the
terrible Secretary, and they were ready to leave
Harper's Ferry.

Neither of them could leave a place where they
had received so much kindness without regret.
When on a bright winter's morning they found
at the station the veteran Stevenson, many of
the officers of the post, with the ladies of their
families, and a multitude of private soldiers, as-
sembled to bid them farewell, they knew the re-
gret of the parting was not confined to the casual
visitors. All the officers who had heard the story
of what this woman of the valley had done for
one of their comrades were there to tender her

220 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

their respectful admiration, to bid her God -speed ;
other wives to thank her for the noble example
she had set before the women of the country.
All knew that her own life had been saved by
the active skill of the woman from the Green
Mountains, and energy is admired by the soldier
almost as highly as courage.

The lieutenant was looked upon as one raised
from the dead, and the little colonel was the fa-
vorite of all.

The latter was full of business; but he did
not lose his head for a moment. Coolness was a
special quality of Sedgwick's old Sixth Corps,
and in the presence of these veterans he had the
reputation of the Vermont brigade to sustain,
and he did it well. He declined all assistance.
His father had been provided with transportation.
He had procured seats, and when the veteran
general with moistened eyes and trembling voice
had bidden Mrs. Van Metre farewell with the
courtesy of a brave officer, he had only to escort
her to her place. Lieutenant Bedell followed.
The little colonel shook him by the hand, and as
the train moved slowly out of the station he
swung his cap and called for three cheers for
Mrs. Van Metre. His call was responded to with
a will which m_ade the station ring from its base
to the highest turret above its roof. Nor was
the response less emphatic when some soldier
proposed cheers for the departing officer.

THE SEPARATION OF THE FRIENDS. 221

The boy's work was nearly done. There was
a proud look in the mother's eye and an amused
expression on her face as she took his proffered
arm and was led into the car, to the seat next the
one in which he had already placed the young
Virginian guest. Then when General Stevenson
cordially took her hand and declared that he
would make the future of her son his special
care, and the boy took leave with the grace of a
gentleman of every one who had come to see the
party take their departure, it is not strange that
her bosom swelled with some natural pride.
The boy stood upon the rear platform of the last
car and swung his cap as the train moved out of
the station, and the salute of cheers which fol-
lowed him was loud enough to drown the ringing
of bells and the shrieking of steam -whistles. The
train which moved northward bore a happy,
grateful, affectionate, and proud wife and mother
— grateful for the preservation of her husband,
happy in his return, affectionate toward his pre-
server, and proud of her son. That which moved
southward carried a brave and honorable soldier
and a noble and true wife, who now was com-
forted by the reflection that she had done her
duty, but whose heart was sad and sorrowful
because her future still seemed dark and inscru-
table.

And so they separated, followed by the kindly
wishes of many friends, two of them to search

222 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

after the person indispensable to the happiness of
both famihes, the others to go to Vermont and
wait for the reunion. There in due season they
safely arrived — and there for the present our
story leaves them.

CHAPTER XXI.

THE TERRIBLE
SECRETARY.

Upon their arrival in Washington, Bedell went
to a well-known friend of Vermonters who held
a position in the civil service of the Government,
and asked him to go with them when they called
upon the mnch-dreaded Secretary. The friend,
who had the advantage of a personal acquaintance
with the chief of the War Department, declined
the invitation. He knew something of the offi-
cer's story, and he also knew that the characters
in it would need no other introduction. He
assured the lieutenant that he might lay aside
all his anxiety, as he would probably find the
Secretary one of the most agreeable gentlemen
he had ever encountered.

His friend could not remove Bedell's appre-
hensions. When the time came for them to go
to the War Department, he afterward declared
that he showed the white feather for the first
and only time in his military career. He would
have preferred to lead a charge against a battery
of artillery, but when he reflected that he was

15 223

224 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

performing his duty and obeying an order, his
judgment reasserted itself and to some extent
suppressed his fear.

On their way to the War Office, much to their
surprise, they found themselves attracting gen-
eral attention. They were the observed of all
observers. Those whom they met upon the broad
sidewalk turned to allow them to pass and then
followed them with their eyes. They were quite
unconscious of their unusual appearance. The
lieutenant, six feet and three or four inches in
height, in his new uniform, which fitted his gigan-
tic figure, now filled out almost to its normal
proportions; his head erect, his eyes full of
energy and fire, with one-fourth of his body car-
ried away, compelled to assist his remaining leg
with the awkward wooden supports under his
shoulders — by his side the small, girlish figure of
the woman of the valley, very trim in her neat,
dark travelling suit provided by her many
friends at Harper's Ferry, her face concealed
under the folds of a half-mourning veil, which
she could not be persuaded that she should not
wear — together made a picture which was im-
pressive even in a city not unaccustomed to strik-
ing and remarkable exhibitions.

One of their experiences was long remembered.
There was a French vessel of war at that time in
the Potomac Eiver, and a considerable party of
her sailors were that day enjoying their leave on

THE TERRIBLE SECRETARY. 225

shore. They were in excellent spirits, rollicking
along the avenue, here pausing to look at a pub-
lic building, again inspecting and discussing in
their lively foreign tongue anything peculiar
which attracted their notice. Their eyes fell
upon the singular pair coming toward them, one
of whom they promptly assumed was a recently
wounded officer. There was a sharp word of
command in their foreign speech. It did not
seem an instant when they were formed in two
lines facing each other on the opposite borders of
the footway. Then there was another order.
Each man removed his cap, held it in his hand,
and bowed his head. And there they stood, not
boldly gazing into the faces of the pedestrians,
but with eyes directed to the ground, until the
wounded officer and his companion had passed
between them and were some distance on their
way. Then the Frenchmen broke ranks and re-
sumed their promenade. It was a simple act,
but it was noble in its simplicity. It was the
natural, involuntary tribute of gentlemen wear-
ing the uniform of common sailors to bravery
and virtue. Had they know the history of the
pair, their tribute could not have been more effec-
tive or more touching.

And so they made their way to the reception-
room of the Secretary of War ; that room which
saw so many hopes dashed to destruction, so
many scenes of sorrow and despair. After the

226 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

summer of 1862 there were few mornings when
it was not crowded. There were men and wo-
men there of all kinds and descriptions. There
were speculators, dishonest contractors, thieves,
knaves, bankrupt in money and character, and
alas ! so many with sad faces and weary hearts,
whom the relentless hand of war had sorely
stricken. All these were petitioners for some-
thing forbidden by the stern rules of cruel war.
Our friends were approached by the colored mes-
senger, to whom the lieutenant presented his card
with the request that it be shown to the Secre-
tary. It bore the names of Lieutenant Bedell,
Eleventh Vermont Volunteers, and Mrs. Van
Metre.

A number of applicants had already preceded
them that morning. They expected to wait until
all these had been presented to the Secretary.
To their surprise the messenger immediately re-
turned and said to them in a low voice: ''The
Secretary desires to see you at once. Follow me !"

They were conducted through one room into
another. It was not that small, dark one with a
railing across one corner, behind which the Sec-
retary had stood so many times and dashed so
many hopes to the earth by his curt " No ! it can't
be done!" but another, through the open door
of which they saw a short man with glasses and
a heavy beard seated at a desk, with huge piles
of folded papers around and on every side of him.

THE TERRIBLE SECRETARY. 227

As their names were announced and they were
advancing with a slow and hesitating step, he
sprang to his feet, came quickly forward to meet
them, took the hand of the half -terrified woman
in his warm and cordial grasp, and said in a
voice which rang with its own clear sincerity:

" Madam, you are a noble woman, and it is a
pleasure to meet you. " Still holding her hand he
continued : "You have met with a great misfor-
tune, Heutenant, in the loss of your limb, but that
loss was in some sense a blessing when it brought
you such a friend."

Both were too much surprised to reply. Each
felt that something ought to be said. Mrs. Van
Metre first recovered herself and managed, with
a broken voice scarcely above a whisper, to say :
"But I am a Southern woman, Mr. Stanton."

"I know you are," he said, "and that is why
your kindness to one of our wounded officers is'
such an act of charity — that greatest as it is the
loveliest of all the virtues. I know that your
husband is a Confederate soldier, and I hope he
is as brave and true in his sphere as you are in
yours. It is faint praise of you to say that you
are an honor to your sex. I can and do say most
sincerely that I wish every woman North and
South would emulate your example. I do not
ask you to be seated," he continued, "for here,
in the pressure of business, I cannot converse
with both of you as I wish. Besides, I have

228 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

promised one of your sex, Mrs. Van Metre, for
whom I have a high esteem, that she shall hear
your story from your own lips. Will you both
favor me with a call at my house about eight
o'clock this evening?"

What could they say but yes? A quick move-
ment of his hand indicated that their audience
was over. In another moment this busiest of
men was at his desk, buried beneath his ever-in-
creasing mountain of public duties, and his visitors
were shown to the street by another exit.

The lieutenant felt the hand of his companion
trembling upon his arm, and he knew that behind
her thick veil she was silently weeping tears, not
of sorrow, but of gratitude. He made no obser-
vation until they reached their hotel and were
about to separate. Then he said :

" I have great hopes of Secretary Stanton. I
think he intends to assist us."

" And so have I, " she replied. " God bless him !
How different he is from what 1 supposed," she
added fervently.

They separated, he enjoining her to compose
herself for the evening. The lieutenant was sur-
prised by the number of cards left for him, for
he was yet to learn with what facility the repre-
sentatives of the press may elevate a modest man
to celebrity. Several of these gentlemen were
waiting in the drawing-room to interview him,
and their numbers were increasing. His natural

THE TERRIBLE SECRETARY. 229

good sense showed him, when they first assailed
him with questions, that it would be unwise to
open his lips until he had told his story to the
Secretary and taken his advice. He undertook
to maintain that position and to treat his inquis-
itors with civility. He supposed he had done so
and that he had disclosed nothing about Mrs.
Van Metre or himself, until he saw the evening
journals. Then, to his astonishment, he saw his
own portrait and one of Mrs. Van Metre, which
was wholly imaginary, and under it an equally
imaginary account of his recent experiences,
which purported to have been written from his
own dictation.

This experience was so disagreeable to the
lieutenant and his charge that if so much had
not depended on the friendship of Secretary Stan-
ton, they would have invented some excuse for
breaking their engagement to call upon him in
the evening. But he left them no opportunity
to escape. In the course of the afternoon a mes-
senger brought them a note requesting them to
be in readiness at an hour named, when a carriage
would call to convey them to his residence. Ob-
viously it was useless to contend against all the
resources of the Government, and like sensible
persons who had encountered an irresistible force,
they submitted without farther resistance.

Their evening at the modest residence of Mr.
Stanton on Franklin Square was memorable to

230 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

themselves and a considerable number of ladies
and gentlemen who were invited to meet them.
They did not know until long afterward that
the gathering comprised some of the most conspic-
uous representatives of European powers, as well
as our own Republic. There were few introduc-
tions : there was such an absence of all formality
and such cordiality was manifested by the ladies
that Mrs. Van Metre lost her timidity and felt that
she was among friends who sympathized with her
in her trials. Nor was the experience of the lieu-
tenant very difficult. Almost before he was con-
scious of the situation, he was eloquently relating
the story of her energetic labors which had un-
questionably saved his life. He was a plain man,
this Vermonter, with a limited vocabulary and
unpracticed in speech ; but when he sketched the
picture of that cheerless room where he lay de-
serted, helpless, and almost hoping for death, and
told the story of her entrance, and how bravely
she met the king of terrors, fought with and,
notwithstanding all his advantages, finally de-
feated him in the long, fierce battle for the life of
the wounded, helpless man; how she took him
into her own despoiled home and by her cool
bravery procured the means and by their skilful
use finally saved him, the spell-bound company
listened with breathless interest and their hearts
were moved with the tenderest sympathy. Those
who did not know him were accustomed to say

THE TERRIBLE SECRETARY. 231

that no tale of suffering could soften the flinty
heart of the great war Secretary. Those who
saw him that evening knew better, for at times
it was evident that a considerable effort was
necessary to enable him to suppress his emotions.
A writer of eminence who was present declared
that the pages of English literature held no story
more touching, no clearer proof that truth was
sometimes stranger than fiction. The voice,
manner, and bearing of the narrator were a sat-
isfactory test of the truth of his story.

The modest, brave wife, the preserver of the now
strong and vigorous though crippled officer, was
compelled to listen in silence to her own praises.
The ladies vied with each other in their efforts to
encourage and cheer her. They made her feel that
although she was among the women of the North,
she was surrounded with friends who would spare
no exertions to serve her.

Lieutenant Bedell did not miss the opportunity
to show to the Secretary the immediate and, for
the time, the exclusive object of his life. It was
to find the husband of his benefactress and re-
store him to his home. He related how he had
parted from his own wife, who had willingly
gone to his Vermont home that he might exe-
cute his search without anxiety on her account
or that of his children. How far he succeeded
in interesting those who then listened to his story
the reader may infer from the parting words of

232 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

his host. Holding both the hands of Mrs. Van
Metre, now overcome by kindness and tremulous
with emotion, he said :

'' Madam, I know of nothing in the history of
woman more meritorious than your conduct.
We read in the Book of Books that 'a virtuous
wife is a crown to her husband. ' You are that
and more — you are an honor to your country and
your sex. I hope your trials are nearly over —
that the order for his discharge has already
reached your husband. If it has not, if you have
any difficulty in finding him, the resources of my
department will be prompt to assist you. You
have earned the right to command them. Every
gentleman in the service will, with me, esteem it
an honor to assist you."

So they took their leave of the man she had so
much feared, her heart full of the new hope
which his kindness had inspired — of gratitude to
the Almighty, who had shown her the path of duty
and given her strength to follow it. That night
she rested peacefully and the next morning
awakened with renewed courage for the duty be-
fore her.

CHAPTEE XXII.

THE FIRST FAILURE IN THE SEARCH.

The order for the release of Van Metre as a
prisoner of war had been issued by the Secretary
upon the theory that he was then confined in a
certain camp of Confederate prisoners. His wife
had not been greatly elated by the dispatch of
the Secretary and the letter of General Hitchcock
which had followed it, for if he was confined in
that camp there was no explanation for his long
silence. By the direction of the Secretary, Bedell
prepared a paper giving a description of Van
Metre. This paper was sent to the proper officer
for a report. It came very promptly. It stated
that Van Metre was captured in the valley in
January, 1864, that he had escaped, and that
7101V there was no prisoner of that name ivhose
name ivas borne on the records of the department.

This report was a sore disappointment to the
wife, but it was not unexpected to the lieutenant,
who had constantly maintained that he would
only be found after a long and weary search.
He now proceeded to collect the facts concerning
him, and these facts at once indicated that there

233

234 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

was a good reason for BedelFs apprehension.
Van Metre had enhsted in the regiment of cavaby
raised in the valley, where he had been captured
in January, 1864. On their way to Harper's
Ferry his captors had, at his request, stopped at
his house, permitted him to have an interview
with his wife and to procure a change of clothing.
He might easily have escaped from his guards,
but would not because he had given them his
word to that effect if they would permit him to
call at his home. He had corresponded with his
wife until the following May, since which time
she had not heard from him. His last letter was
from Camp Chase, at Columbus, Ohio, where he
was taken at the time of his capture.

There was another rumor, altogether incon-
sistent with these facts. It was that on the
11th of May he had been among the captured at
Spottsylvania Court-House, where, at the place
afterward known as the "Bloody Angle," the
Federal column swept down upon the division of
General Edward Johnson and captured him with
twenty pieces of artillery and twenty-eight hun-
dred men. An acquaintance who was also cap-
tured and who afterward escaped reported that
Van Metre was one of the prisoners and that he
saw him when he was marched to the rear, ap-
parently unwounded. From this time his wife
had heard nothing of or from him.

When the report came from the veteran Gen-

THE FIRST FAILURE IN THE SEARCH. 235

eral Hitchcock, commissary-general of prisoners,
that there was now no name of Van Metre upon
the roll of Confederate prisoners, a very dif-
ferent effect was produced upon the two persons
engaged in the search. The poor wife again felt
the waves of despair overwhelming her. All her
apprehensions returned, stronger than hefore she
left the valley. Her husband must he dead, she
thought ; nothing but death would have prevented
him from sending some message to her. There
was no other way of accounting for his silence.
She imagined many evils. He was bold, some-
times reckless. Naturally impatient under re-
straint— weary of the life of a prisoner, he had
attempted to escape and had been shot down;
or having made his escape he had sickened and
died ; or he had lost his Hfe in some other way.
These impressions, from which her mind had been
relieved by its diversion to her care for Bedell,
now returned with increased intensity. When
the last report was received there was scarcely a
gleam of hope in the dark horizon of her future.
This temporary obstruction instead of discour-
aging Bedell only inspired him to new exertions.
When he put all the facts together, he promptly
came to the conclusion that Van Metre's silence
was in some way, he could not conceive how,
connected with his escape. In spite of himself
his mind continually recurred to his dream. He
did not believe in dreams, of course. A man who

236 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

did ought not to be suffered to go at large ; he
should be restrained, put out of harm's way like
other lunatics. And yet that dream was curious
and fearfully real. Was it not possible that hav-
ing made his escape, Van Metre had determined
to re-enlist in the Confederate service? Then it
might have occurred to him that an escaped pris-
oner who re-enlisted, if captured again, before
he was exchanged might be treated as a deserter
if detected. He might have enlisted, therefore,
under an assumed name or given a different
name when he was again captured. There were
many ways of accounting for the fact that he
was still a prisoner, still living, and that his name
did not appear upon the roll of prisoners.

Unable to work out a satisfactory conclusion
in his own mind, he wisely decided to carry his
problem to the Secretary of War. Instead of
putting it aside, Mr. Stanton at once proffered
any assistance he could give. " It has frequently
happened," he said, "that captured men would
not give their true names — the records of the
office are not always reliable. It is by no means
impossible that Van Metre is yet a prisoner."
His advice was that before the taper of hope
should be wholly extinguished in the heart of
that sorrowing woman — before the search should
be wholly abandoned, every depot of Confederate
prisoners should be visited and every prisoner
be examined. He would facilitate that search

THE FIRST FAILURE IN THE SEARCH. 237

in every possible way. He would give Bedell
and Mrs. Van Metre free transportation, permis-
sion to examine every prison, and an order on
the officer in command to deliver to her any
person whom she should claim as her husband.

And so it happened that Bedell went from the
discouraged, almost heart-broken woman, with
his own faith somewhat weakened, to the War
Office; was there told that instead of giving up
the search, he ought to regard it as only just be-
gun; that in continuing it he was to have not
only the countenance, but the actual interest of
the War Office and its efficient head. The report
of his consultation confirmed the purpose of Mrs.
Van Metre not to give up while a ray of hope
remained, and it was finally decided to prosecute
the inquiry upon the new lines prescribed by the
Secretary of War.

I suppose there will be readers of this book
who will charge me with taking an unfair ad-
vantage if I here inject into it a little of "what
I knew about Edwin M. Stanton." I am not in-
different to just criticism, but I shall risk even
that to enable me to do an act of justice to this
misjudged, misunderstood man.

I am perfectly aware that it was the prevail-
ing opinion, especially among those who are wise
to do evil but to do good have no knowledge,
that Secretary Stanton was a cold, heartless, ob-
stinate, cruel man, who delighted in inflicting

238 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

pain and in adding insult to his refusals of fa-
vors which another would have granted. I
knew the man better. I concede his brusque,
sometimes rough manner. I neither excuse nor
palliate this great defect. But it should be re-
membered that every day there was in his recep-
tion-room a large and varied crowd, many of
whom were thieves — human vultures who would
prey upon their country. These he detected by
intuition and crushed by a sentence. Others
were wives in search of their husbands, Eachels
weeping for their children, all seeking passes
through our lines or something else prohibited
by the hard necessities of war. In many of their
bosoms the last hope would be extinguished by
his negative. He usually stood beside a desk or
behind a railing upon which his arm rested with
his head supported by his hand. No one who
ever witnessed it could forget that sad procession.
He disposed of the petitioners with rapidity. He
heard enough of each to know that something
was asked that could not be granted, when his
curt refusal fell upon the hopes of the petitioner
like the axe of the guillotine upon the neck of its
victim. Very pitiable and very numerous were
these scenes, and his seemed the only heart un-
moved. There were some who saw him a few
minutes after one of these sad receptions, where,
when he was alone or only a friend was present,
his stoicism gave way to all the emotions of pity

THE FIRST FAILURE IN THE SEARCH. 239

and sympathy which filled his real, genuine heart.
The lieutenant declared that his interviews with
Mr. Stanton were sometimes closed by the cordial
grasp of a hand upon which often a warm tear
would fall after coursing along his thick, dark
beard, even as the precious ointment that ran
down upon the beard of Aaron went down to
the skirts of his garments. Therefore it is that
I do not doubt the statement that as often as the
Secretary saw in the maimed officer the proof of
what this Southern woman had done for a North-
ern soldier and heard the touching tale repeated
he was deeply moved. I am unwilling to lose
the opportunity, and sometimes create the occa-
sion, of saying that I do personally know that Mr.
Stanton was a kind, sympathetic, great-hearted
American, as well as the great War Secretary.

With full authority from the Secretary to in-
spect all records and to prosecute the strictest
search through every depot where there were
any Confederate prisoners and an order to deliver
to Mrs. Van Metre any person whom she should
claim as her husband, the lieutenant next ap-
plied for assistance and advice to the commissary-
general of prisoners. His story touched the gal-
lant and venerable General Hitchcock as it had
his chief, all the more intensely because he was
himself a Vermonter, a descendant of Ethan
Allen, whose name he bore. He was of the

opinion that some one had blundered, and the
16

240 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

available force of his office, with the assistance of
Bedell, set about the work of ascertaining when
and where the blunder was made, and of prepar-
ing a list of the depots of Confederate prisoners
and the places where these prisoners were cap-
tured. Mrs. Van Metre, meanwhile, passed her
time in assisting inquiry and in making new
friends.

CHAPTEE XXIII.

THE BLOODY ANGLE — THE PRISONER AND HIS
BETRAYER.

When in future times an American is tempted
to the performance of an act which may tend to
involve his country in civil war, may his good
judgment counsel him to pause while he reads
and reflects upon the story of the " Bloody Angle."
Not in this book ! Heaven forbid that I should
shock its readers with a history which, after
thirty years, I cannot read in the heat of a sum-
mer evening without a convulsive chill. It is
with considerable hesitation that I give the slight
sketch of it which my story seems to require.

The place which gained this sanguinary title
was an angle of nearly ninety degrees in the line
of the Confederate field defences, extending north-
ward from Spottsylvania Court -House about
one and one-half miles and then abruptly turned
westward. On the 11th and 12th days of
May, 1864, the two great generals of their time,
each at the head of a powerful army of veteran
soldiers, confronted each other on the plains of
Virginia. Accident selected the field for the

241

. 242 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

most terrible fighting of these armies, the most
deadly combat which ever took place upon the
western continent. It was just within and
around the sharp corner in these Confederate
works which projected northward and toward
the Federal advance. Behind this angle was the
division of Major- General Edward Johnson, num-
bering very nearly three thousand men and
comprising twenty pieces of artillery. In front
of it, about a half-mile away, was Hancock's
command of the Union army, which comprised
the divisions of Barlow and Birney.

I am perfectly aware that in the days when
the short-sword of the Eomans conquered the
world, warriors necessarily fought to their death
within its short length of each other ; that there
must have been very brave men who held the
pass of Thermopylae; that from the Assyrian
invasion to the "charge of the light brigade"
there have been hand-to-hand conflicts in many
of the great battles of the world. But if on the
face of this terrestrial globe there is any spot
which has been the theatre of such a fierce,
bloody, long-sustained, continuous contest as the
Bloody Angle, I do not know where it is to be
found nor in what volume its story has been re-
corded. Hand-to-hand fighting, not by scores or
by companies, but by thousands — not by men
accidentally thrown together, but by regiments
and brigades deliberately marching to the shock;

THE PRISONER AND HIS BETRAYER. 243

cannon, their muzzles thrust through the crev-
ices in the breastworks and there discharged,
drawn back, reloaded, thrust forward, and fired
over and over again; oaks of primeval growth
literally gnawed to their fall by minie-balls,
and in their fall crushing the combatants who
were slaying each other beneath their shade;
logs of breastworks splintered and broomed by
swift missiles of death; dry trenches flowing
with human blood; batteries of artillery with
all their officers, men, and horses silent in death
on the ground around the exploded caissons and
disabled guns; the ground not merely covered,
but piled four deep with the dead ; the lines so
close together that as the men fell forward the
blue and the gray lay side by side or were piled
in alternate layers; men dying in the act of
stanching the mortal bayonet wounds only a
moment before inflicted in the mad rage of battle
^such were some of the sights and scenes of the
Bloody Angle. Which, party was the victor?
Neither ! Such men, of the same race, blood, and
courage, fight and die— they may be crushed
by overweight and overpowered by numbers,
but they cannot be conquered. Such scenes may
be imagined, but they cannot be painted nor
described.

We are concerned only with the beginning of
this conflict. Just as the dawn was struggling
through the morning mists. Barlow and Birney,

244 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

at the head of their respective divisions of Han-
cock's right wing of the Union army, in a dense
column with a narrow front, rushed to the
assault. They bounded over the works, and be-
fore the Confederates could recover from the
shock, forced them back from their defences,
encircled the division of General Edward Johnson
as in a net of steel, and bore them to the number
of twenty-eight hundred, with twenty guns,
swiftly back to the Union rear. They were thus
carried outside the storm which for the next
twenty hours raged back and forth, like a hurri-
cane in the waves of hell, over the Bloody Angle.
During those hours the fate of the Confederacy
was hanging in the balance. In a council of war
the previous evening, General Grant had invited
the opinions of his generals on the question
whether the works could be carried and the Con-
federate line be broken at that place. A majority
of the generals were of opinion that it could not.
General Upton said: "I can capture the position
and break their line. Whether the position can
be held is a different question, which must depend
upon the support given to the charging column."
He led the charge successfully. But while charge
after charge of the Confederates was defeated, the
Union advance was checked and the Confederate
line re-established but a short distance in the
rear of the first. Then one body of trained sol-
diers was hurled against another with such force

THE PRISONER AND HIS BETRAYER. 245

that both went down over and over again, until
one of the commanders, it matters little which,
weary of the expenditure of one of his own veter-
ans to destroy a single veteran of his enemy,
retired and left to the other the empty honor of
holding the field. It was at the moment of one
of the many Confederate charges of this day that
General Lee rode up, clearly intending to make
the charge by the side of General Gordon, who
was to lead it. Then it was that the cry was
raised by countless Confederate voices, ^' General
Lee to the rear!" and a private soldier respect-
fully but firmly took the bridle -bit of the horse
of his general and led him to a place of compara-
tive safety.

The first sensations following his capture of a
prisoner of war are seldom agreeable. Among
the twenty-eight hundred of the captured was
Van Metre, the husband of the woman of the
valley. Although confident in his own mind that
he had committed no impropriety, he was not
certain that his captors would take so lenient a
view of his case. He had placed him.self under
no obligation to the authorities at Camp Chase,
it being his purpose to be left free to escape if he
could by any means elude the vigilance of his
guards. After a few weeks' experience there, he,
in company with three others, made his escape,
and after much suffering and danger had reached
the army of Virginia only a few days before his

246 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

second capture. He was a visitor to Johnson's
division, and in fact on his way to his own regi-
ment, which he supposed was in the vicinity of
Staunton. He was therefore not a combatant.
But he feared that if he was proved to have
taken service, without being exchanged, in any
other regiment than his own, he might, if again
captured, be treated as a spy. He was a Con-
federate in every fibre — an intense Virginian,
true to his flag. As no information of the cir-
cumstances of the assault had reached the pris-
oners, he with others supposed that they had
been captured in a disreputable manner by a sur-
prise. Almost without reflection, he determined
that the safest course for him would be to sup-
press his name and regiment. He was, under
the circumstances, naturally thoughtless and
irritable. When it was proposed to the prisoners
that in consideration of liberties to be allowed
them they should promise, for the time, not to
attempt to escape, he peremptorily refused to
give any pledge and declared that he intended to
regain his liberty at the first opportunity. When
they were asked to give their names and regi-
ments he made no answer. Another prisoner
who claimed to know him invented a name and
a regiment for him. He was regarded as con-
tumacious and, with a few others equally uncom-
promising, was separated from the mass of the
prisoners, marched by the shortest route to the

THE PRISONER AND HIS BETRAYER. 247

Potomac, ferried across to Point Lookout, dropped
into the multitude of thousands of Confederate
prisoners as ''John Thompson, First Arkansas
Cavalry," and, except as a prisoner who had
escaped from Camp Chase, his true name no
longer appeared upon any Federal record of Con-
federate prisoners.

From this time misfortunes accumulated upon
the head of the unfortunate prisoner known hy
the name of John Thompson. He was naturally
conscientious and would have recoiled from the
thought of intentional misrepresentation. But
now he was brought to a sense of his true situa-
tion. In a moment of thoughtless irritation he
had forfeited his name and his claim to the rights
of a prisoner of war. He condemned his own
conduct unsparingly, began to look upon his mis-
fortunes as no more than he deserved, but for the
time could discover no way of amending his situ-
ation.

From its commencement, his imprisonment
at Point Lookout was more intolerable than
his previous experience at Camp Chase. The
location of the camp was solitary and depressing,
and one feature of it was especially objectionable
and annoying. The large number of prisoners
were guarded exclusively by colored regimicnts
almost wholly made up of emancipated slaves,
who were held in contempt, as inferiors, by the
Confederates but recently their masters, who in

248 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

turn made use of their temporary authority,
too often in the most offensive manner. The men
sent with Van Metre to Point Lookout proved to
be the most disreputable creatures in the service,
with whom he could have no association. His
remorse and self-condemnation, with the un-
healthy condition of the camp, produced a condi-
tion of physical weakness which increased his
irritability and made him peculiarly susceptible
to annoyances which would not have disturbed a
healthy man.

What was he to do? He now appreciated that
he ought to have given his true name to his cap-
tors and to have announced that he was an
escaped prisoner, on his way to join his own regi-
ment when he was captured ; that he was tem-
porarily with, but not attached to, Johnson's
command. This duty he had neglected at the
proper time when it should have been done. He
could discover no practicable way of repairing his
error. He was surrounded by ignorant guards;
there was no one with whom he could consult;
every day's delay seemed to render it more
and more difficult for him to restore himself to
the position he would have occupied if he had not
suppressed his true name. He deemed it haz-
ardous to attempt to communicate with his wife
or with any one else under his assumed name;
to do so under his true name would involve an
explanation with consequences which, he feared

THE PRISONER AND HIS BETRAYER. 249

might subject him to trial and condemnation by
a court-martial.

In this condition of uncertainty he passed sev-
eral weeks. The number of prisoners at Point
Lookout increased with every great battle, but
none came from the valley — all were from other
sections of the Confederacy and strangers to him.
As the autumn rains came on, a type of fever
began to prevail in the camp, and Van Metre was
one of the first to be attacked. He fought
against it as long and as well as he could, but
toward the end of October he gave up, took to
his bed, and in a few days was ordered to be
transferred to that section of the camp which
was called the hospital.

There was then employed as a nurse in the
fever ward of the hospital one of those creatures
generated only by war or some other diseased
condition of the public mind. He was probably
more despicable than was ever covered by a col-
ored skin, or found elsewhere than in a prison
camp. He would have sold himself for any one,
even the smallest, of the thirty pieces paid to
Judas. A bounty-jumper who had enlisted and
deserted more times than was safe at the North,
he had then enlisted with the Confederates, been
captured, and was now seeking to ingratiate
himself with the officers at Point Lookout by
playing the character of a voluntary pimp and
spy. Taking advantage of Van Metre's weak

250 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

condition ani his strong desire for the counsel
and sympathy of a man of his own color, this
wretch had adroitly wormed himself into his con-
fidence, ascertained his real name and regiment,
his escape from Camp Chase, his success in
reaching the army of Virginia on his way to his
own regiment, then supposed to be near Staun-
ton or Harrisonburg. He had volunteered, for
a compensation, to mail a letter which Van Metre
was extremely desirous of sending to his wife.
Knowing that, unless surreptitiously, no letter
could leave the camp written by him under any
other name than that of Thompson, he had paid
the fellow his last coin to deposit a letter to his
wife in his own name. Such a letter would then
have reached Mrs. Van Metre, for at that time
Clarke County, where she resided, was within the
Union lines. The wretch pocketed the bribe,
carried the letter to the officer in command of
the post, and informed him that the writer was
a Confederate spy whose name was Van Metre.
That officer having ascertained that Van Metre
was too ill at that time to do any harm or to
attempt to escape, contented himself with in-
creased watchfulness over him, and at the same
time extended that watchfulness to the informer,
whose good faith was soon brought under vehe-
ment suspicion.

The prisoner very soon discovered how basely
he had been cheated and betrayed. He was then

THE PRISONER AND HIS BETRAYER. 251

in the delirious stage of the fever, and but for a
fortunate accident would probably never have
recovered the exercise of his reason. With the
singular secretiveness sometimes exhibited by the
insane, he concealed his suspicions, suppressed
his resentment, and even professed to bestow upon
the creature an increased measure of confidence
and friendship. In some way never disclosed,
and which the officers did not exhibit a very irre-
pressible desire to investigate, he possessed him-
self of one of the heavy rawhides wielded by the
army teamsters in the process of disciplining re-
fractory mules. For many days he kept the
weapon concealed in his cot under his body. The
day of retribution came, when Providence deliv-
ered the scoundrel into the hands of his victim.
There was no one to molest or make him afraid.
The guards outside, ordinarily quick to come at
any unaccustomed sound, were that day unac-
countably deaf. It was no part of the duty of
the patients in the ward to interfere. Van Metre
rose from his cot, and as no one sought to prevent
him, so long as his strength held out he scored
his revenge in red, swollen ridges and bloody
welts upon the face, neck, chest, and shoulders
of his betrayer. Then he went back to his cot,
with his strength exhausted, in the frenzy of
brain fever, and for many days was mercifully
unconscious of his surroundings.

Then his naturally vigorous constitution was

252 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

left to fight the battle for life against the com-
bined forces of disease, imprisonment, and negli-
gence without outside interference. One hour
he was burning with fever, the next his lips were
blue and his teeth rattling with convulsive chills.
The carelessness of human life, the gross negli-
gence involved, may be imperfectly comprehended
by the fact that when the stripes of his castiga-
tion were healed, the malicious bounty-jumper
and detective fraud was permitted to return and
have charge of the ward in which Van Metre
suffered. His infamous brain conceived the pro-
ject of destroying the helpless prisoner by neglect
and exposure. Under the lying pretext that he
was dangerous in his madness, iron shackles were
locked upon his wrists and ankles, and his body
became the feeding- ground of parasites and ver-
min. His accursed ingenuity in devising new
methods of torture would have done credit to an
Indian. I will not shock the nerves of the reader
by any further account of his devilish devices.
They operated slowly, but with a certainty and
a keenness of suffering that would have shocked
the sensibilities of the monster who made Ander-
sonville celebrated as the theatre of his crimes
and the scene of his final punishment.

CHAPTER XXIV.

"what I DID FOR HIM I THOUGHT SOME NORTHERN
WOMAN MIGHT DO FOR MY HUSBAND."

Those who were accustomed to visit the hos-
pitals during the battle summer of 1864, among
their memories of pain, suffering, and death will
recall one delightful picture. It was that of
woman, with the crown royal, arrayed like
Vashti the queen to show the people her beauty.
She was met in every ward, in every hospital, in
the early morning, at midday, and at midnight.
She represented every station in life: wealthy
ladies who spent all their time and more than
their income in relieving the pain and torture of
the sick and wounded ; wives of mechanics and
laboring men; colored women, old and young,
very poor in this world's goods, but not so poor
that each one could not bring a basket of delica-
cies to distribute to the patients; the Sisters of
Charity, those efficient Catholic nurses whose
quiet influence pervaded the fever wards and
controlled the delirium of the fever-stricken— all
these and others, many others, were found con-
stantly employed in some work of charity, some
mission of relief to suffering men.

253

254 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

There were a few of these ladies whose influ-
ence was exercised over a broader stage. These
went from camp to camp, from hospital to hos-
pital, searching out and correcting frauds and
abuses. These last were the special favorites of
Secretary Stanton and could always count upon
his co-operation. They were as cordially disliked
by unfaithful managers of these institutions,
who were in many instances brought to justice
through their influence.

There was a veteran general whose fighting
days were ended in the war with Mexico, whose
name had long been on the retired list, but who
still retained some capacity for work, which he
desired to employ in some manner in the service
of his country. He had offered his services to
Secretary Stanton, who, with that excellent judg-
ment which he usually showed in the selection of
men for positions of difficulty, promptly accepted
his offer and requested him to visit, inspect, and
report upon the camps where the Confederate
prisoners of war were confined. The general
was admirably adapted to such a responsible
duty, which required good judgment and a sharp
eye not to be deceived by preparations in antici-
pation of a visit of inspection.

This officer had a daughter who inherited her
father's energy and many other of his excellent
qualities. Her husband, a brave general of divi-
sion, had fallen in the supreme moment of a

"what I DID FOR HIM," ETC. 255

great battle in 1862. Instead of yielding to so
great a sorrow, she had risen above it and deter-
mined to continue, so far as she could, that service
to the country which her brave husband could no
longer render. She had become her father's sec-
retary, his constant attendant on his tours of in-
spection, and had become very efficient in the
discharge of her duties. It was impossible to
conceal from the sharp eyes of this father and
daughter any evidences of negligence or inatten-
tion to duty. They were the terror of unfaithful
superintendents. On the most unexpected occa-
sions they would suddenly make their appearance,
to the great profit and advantage of the prisoners
and the dismay of incompetent officials.

The demonstration of General Early against
the city of Washington and its narrow escape
from capture in July, 1864, had sharply called
public attention to the condition of the prisoners'
camp at Point Lookout. The existence of this
camp had not been regarded as important. But
when General Bradley Johnson, with five thou-
sand cavalrymen, was detached from Early's army
on the Monocacy and sent to cut the railroads
north of Baltimore, and was rapidly approaching
a camp of twenty thousand healthy prisoners,
guarded only by two colored regiments which
had never been in battle, the North was suddenly
aroused to the magnitude of the danger. But

for the arrival of two divisions of the Sixth Corps

17

256 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

at Washington, which compelled General Early
to recall General Johnson and make a hasty re-
treat across the Potomac, the camp at Point
Lookout would almost certainly have been cap-
tured and its twenty thousand recruits have been
furnished to the army of General Lee, free of
the cost of exchange.

Soon after the retreat of General Early many
of the prisoners at Point Lookout were sent to
other camps. The active movements of the army
before Eichmond, followed by Sheridan's cam-
paign in the valley, attracted public attention to
other points, and Point Lookout came to be re-
garded as of no special importance. It thus
became one of the places where the experience of
the veteran inspector had shown that abuses
would rapidly develop which would require his at-
tention.

Toward the middle of November, the general
and his daughter made their unexpected appear-
ance in the camp at Point Lookout. They swept
through all its departments with a rapidity
which gave the officers in charge no time to get
ready. They met even upon their cursory in-
spection with a succession of shocks and sur-
I)rises. Since the distribution of the prisoners to
other camps in July, this depot had received large
additions of prisoners from the field, and the
number was now too large for the force of at-
tendants and guards. But there was no excuse

"what I DID FOR HIM," ETC. 257

for the existing filth, and evidences of neglect of
duty were overwhelming. The guards had ap-
parently used reasonable diligence to prevent the
escape of the prisoners, and had then left them
to take care of themselves. It had never been
the policy of the Government to neglect its pris-
oners. Good food in abundance, clothing, med-
icines, and medical attendance were supposed to
be everywhere j^rovided. Eegulations required
that every part of the camp should be policed
daily, and under all circumstances all the condi-
tions of health were directed to be observed and
secured. The lady continued her investigations
after the first cursory inspection was completed.
She had been disgusted by that inspection. It
was evident that no attention had been given to
the regulations and no attempt made to enforce
them. Her dissatisfaction rose to fever heat
when she entered the hospitals, which her father
had not yet seen. It increased as she passed rap-
idly through the wards. She had not reached
the last one when she decided to suspend her in-
spection until she could have the judgment of
her father and his friend and associate.

For the veteran general had a friend very
much after his own heart who was a veteran
surgeon. He stood at the head of his profession
when he retired from active practice, and had
been pleased to accept the invitation of his old
military friend to accompany him on his inspec-
17

258 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

tions and assist him in relieving the suffering
men whom the chances of war had for the time
being made our prisoners.

The father and his surgical expert were pressed
by the daughter to complete their inspection of
the camp and the hospitals without another
hour's delay. They complied, first insisting
upon the attendance of the surgeon in charge.
He came. They demanded to know whether the
stench, which almost overpowered them as they
entered the first inclosure where prisoners were
confined, was an indispensable necessity. The
surgeon in charge undertook to explain it. He
said it was due to the laziness of the prisoners,
who would not keep their quarters in a cleanly
condition. The prisoners furiously denied this
statement, and offered to clean their quarters
at once, if furnished with the necessary mate-
rials and permitted to procure their own water,
which they had not been allowed to do. The
inspecting party went through the camp, and
within an hour almost every prisoner was en-
gaged in cleaning his person or his quarters.
This reform, so easily instituted, was made perma-
nent by the prompt removal of the surgeon, and
its beneficial effects continued until peace dis-
pensed with the necessity of any camp for pris-
oners of war.

The hour was so late that it was deemed nec-
essary to postpone the visit to the fever wards un-

"what I DID FOR HIM," ETC. 259

til the following day. The delay was vehemently
objected to by the daughter, on the ground that
it would cost the lives of some of the patients she
had already seen. Her associates did not believe
that there was any foundation for her fears : they
were of a different opinion before their inspection
was completed.

When they visited the hospitals next morning
a single glance showed that they were an affront
to the name. They were extensive. Disease
had been prevalent; it had been spread by
neglect and the patients were counted by hun-
dreds. The indignation of the party grew hotter
as they progressed, for each ward seemed filthier
than the last they had passed through. They
entered what were called the fever wards. The
fever was prevalent and almost every patient
was delirious. The fetid atmosphere, the horri-
ble expressions of insanity made the place resem-
ble the incurable wards of a mad-house. It was
a hard trial for the lady to endure ; but she would
not retreat. I shall spare my readers the horrors
of the picture which met their astonished eyes.
She finally led them to a room at which she had
taken a hasty glance the night before.

It was crowded with cots, in every one of which
lay a fever -stricken man. In one of them, upon
a bed of straw, reeking with filth, in undercloth-
ing which had not been changed for months,
were the almost fleshless remains of what had

260 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

once been a healthy man. His hollow, sunken
eyes were wild with the insane fire of fever,
which was burning up the strength and consum-
ing the juices of his body. The grime of his
face could not conceal its ashen pallor ; his beard,
the growth of months, and his matted hair were
alive with unmentionable vermin. His parched
lips, seamed with bloody cracks, opened with diffi-
culty, and as he saw them looking at the name
over his head, his weak voice struggled to say:
"No! no! Not Thompson! My name is Van
Metre!"

The general had to put forth all his energy to
maintain his self-control. Turning to the sur-
geon of the camp, he demanded in a voice which
was piercing in its intensity: "Where is the man
who is responsible for the care of this prisoner?"

A wretch with the mouth of a rat and the
general expression of a hyena, every feature of
whose face was vile, had been chattering in the
rear of the party that the man was insane ; that
he had tried to kill his attendants ; that he would
not obey their directions ; that it had been neces-
sary to restrain him, etc. He was pointed out
to the visitors as the nurse.

The general called for a sergeant and a file of
men. As soon as they came he said : " Put that
man under guard in a safe place. If necessary
put him in irons. Let him escape at your peril !
There — take him away !"

"WHAT I DID FOR HIM," ETC. 261

He was obeyed. By the suggestion of his con-
sulting surgeon he ordered a tent to be prepared
in the only shaded place in the vicinity. Very
tenderly was poor Van Metre placed upon a
stretcher and carried to a bath-room, where by
the administration of stimulants, with great
care the grime and filth were removed from his
body, his head and face were shaved and their
living tenants were extirpated. Then he was
carried to the tent, provided with underclothing,
and placed between clean sheets on a soft mat-
tress. Strengthening restoratives were adminis-
tered and a regimen prescribed which secured
him a repose of several hours.

Notwithstanding his fortunate discovery by the
efficient relief party, the condition of Van Metre
continued to be very precarious. The exertion
of his necessary ablution and of cleansing him
from the grime which coated his person, followed
by the exhaustion of a long and profound sleep,
produced a succession of fainting fits which could
only be arrested by powerful stimulants. The
veteran surgeon advised the employment of an
experienced nurse who would not relax his vigi-
lance for a moment, for the neglect of that mo-
ment might prove fatal. Such a nurse was
found with less difficulty than the surgeon antic-
ipated. The sympathies of the general's daugh-
ter had been powerfully excited by the sufferings
of the prisoner and the brutality of his attend-

262 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

ant. With a firmness not unlike that shown by
Mrs. Van Metre on her first visit to the room of
the wounded and deserted officer, and it may have
been for a hke cause, she announced her purpose
to become the nurse of the maltreated prisoner
and the guide of his trembling steps on the road
to convalescence. Neither the surgeon nor her
father remonstrated, for a human life was in-
volved. The former prepared the remedies which
were to be administered whenever the patient
awoke to consciousness. She took her seat by
his bedside and commenced a vigil of watchful-
ness which was not relaxed until the patient was
declared free from immediate danger.

CHAPTEE XXV.

BE RENDERED UNTO HIM.

In the last year of the war there were deaths
from wounds so slight that they scarcely attracted
attention until their fatal character was estab-
lished. There were other cases of recovery from
wounds so severe that they went far toward es-
tablishing the claims of those who believed in
faith cures and miraculous interpositions. In the
cases first named, the patient was depressed,
hopeless, indifferent whether he lived or died;
in the second, he was either cheered by hope or
encouraged by duty. A wounded soldier among
strangers, suffering an agony of pain, treated as
if he were an animal or a machine, with no one
to care for or sympathize with him, would often
welcome death as a deliverer and a friend, when
the same man upon the appearance in the hos-
pital of a wife, a sister, or even of a stranger who
sympathized with him or took some interest in
his recovery, at once lifted him out of his de-
spondency and placed him in the way to health
and convalescence.

The influence upon Van Metre of the unremit-

263

264 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

ting care of his volunteer nurse, and especially
her avowed purpose to watch him closely, to
secure for him every advantage, and see that he
lost no opportunity of improvement, was most
favorable. And there was another occurrence
about the same time which multiplied his favor-
able chances. His betrayer was brought into his
presence, and there occurred a scene which very
closely resembled the one witnessed by Bedell in
his dream, which it will be remembered was by
him related to Mrs. Van Metre when he was first
taken to her home. The fact that the knavery
of his betrayer had been detected by strangers
without his intervention, and the prospect that
the criminal would be brought to justice and
punished, planted a new hope in his mind that he
might live and v/itness the infliction of that pun-
ishment. But there could have been no substi-
tute for the untiring industry of the general's
daughter. The veteran surgeon had prepared
the stimulating remedies he prescribed with his
own hands. They were to be administered as
often as the patient showed any signs of waking.
The general's daughter then seated herself by
the bedside of the patient; the remedies were
within reach of her hand. A trained nurse was
in the adjoining room within her call. There
she kept her faithful watch, administering as
often as every hour some refreshing or stimulat-
ing remedy, until by the second morning the

THE RECOMPENSE OF A MAN'S HANDS. 265

strength of the patient was unexpectedly in-
creased, his condition was more promising than
the surgeon had anticipated, and he was declared
to be on the high-road to recovery.

The experience of Van Metre bore a close re-
semblance to that of Bedell in another respect.
Bedell was no more confident that he was pre-
served from death by the ministrations of Mrs.
Van Metre during the first night after his discov-
ery by her, than Van Metre was that he owed his
life to the watchful nursing of the general's
daughter during the night following his removal
from the hospital ward to the tent at Point
Lookout. He was in truth reduced to the last
degree of weakness. A few hours more of that
murderous, intentional negligence, and nothing
short of a miracle could have saved him. The
flame of his life was flickering so feebly that a
breath would have extinguished it. The ex-
haustion of his first sleep would have been fatal
but for the judgment and watchful care of his
nurse and her strict observance of the directions
of the veteran surgeon.

He was now moderately certain of recovery if
the danger of a relapse could be avoided. Noth-
ing but incessant care could prevent such a mis-
fortune, but of that care he was now assured.
Although he was no longer tortured by the wild
images of delirium, reason did not immediately
resume her full empire over his mind. His mem-

266 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

cry was more impaired than his other mental
powers; sometimes it seemed wholly lost, and
then his efforts to recall past events were painful
to witness. He seemed to he aware that he had
done some wrong — something for which he was
liable to punishment, hut what it was he could
not recall. He made desperate efforts to remem-
ber it, and failing believed he had become idiotic.
These efforts were a heavy tax upon his vitality,
and his nurse labored diligently to prevent their
recurrence.

At length a morning came when he was able
to remember the past and to comprehend his
present. His nurse, relieved from the necessity
of continuous attendance, was paying him a visit.
Her interest in his recovery was unabated and her
visits sufficiently frequent to secure him against
farther inattention.

"I have a confession to make to you," he said
to her. " I fear you will have no faith in me after
you have heard it. But I have suffered enough
by deception. Now I wish to have every one know
the truth."

" There is an old saying that confession is good
for the soul," she replied. "However, I do not
see how you, a prisoner, could have committed
any offence while you have been sick and in
prison. Of what do you accuse yourself?"

" Of permitting others to misrepresent me and
not correcting them," he said. "My name is not

THE RECOMPENSE OF A MAN's HANDS. 267

Thompson. It is Van Metre, and I am an es-
caped prisoner. But I am not a spy, as that vil-
lain who had control of me falsely stated."

"What of all that? To pass by a false name
may be deception, but it is no crime. What gave
you such an idea?"

" I was a prisoner, confined at Camp Chase in
Columbus, Ohio. With a number of other prison-
ers I escaped, as I suppose I had the right to do.
Those who got away from the prison separated.
After many hardships, almost naked and starved,
I reached the army of General Lee before Eich-
mond, on my way to my own regiment, which I
supposed was somewhere in the upper portion of
the valley. I had not joined any regiment since
my escape. If I had done so without being ex-
changed I suppose I should have been subject to
punishment. I permitted another prisoner to
give a false name for mine because I feared that,
finding me with Johnson's division, I should be
treated and punished as having joined it. Since
my confinement here I have written a letter in
my true name to my wife, which the villain who
had charge of me was hired to mail. Instead of
mailing, he delivered it to the officer in command
of this post, and told him a lot of lies about my
being a Confederate spy. I assure you that I have
done no other wrong."

" I do not believe you are guilty of any offence
whatever," said the spirited woman. ''If you

268 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

are, it cannot be one of much account. You
have done right in disclosing it to me. I will
consult my father, who will advise you wisely and
I am certain will stand your friend. In the
mean time is there anything farther that I can do
for you?"

'' Yes. There is one very great favor which I
fear will not be granted until my miserable de-
ception is cleared up. In all these five months
my poor wife near Berry ville has not heard from
me, nor have I had any message from her. She
must think that I am dead or, what is vforse, that
I have forgotten or abandoned her. If the officer
in command of this station would permit me to
write her a brief letter, telling her that I am liv-
ing and explaining why she has not heard from
me during this long and weary time, I would ask
no other favor. Poor woman ! she is in my mind
every hour and every moment when I am in con-
trol of my senses."

"There is no reason of which I can conceive
why you should not have such a letter written
and forwarded to-day," she said. The assurance
relieved his fears and produced upon his despond-
ent mental condition a better effect than medi-
cine. As soon as the facts were communicated
to him, the officer in command of the camp
promptly consented that the fact of the prisoner's
existence, condition, and place of confinement
should be made known to his wife by letter ad-

THE RECOMPENSE OF A MAN'S HANDS. 269

dressed to her via Harper's Ferry. The letter
was written and mailed. It reached Harper's
Ferry without any delay, but the Union army
had been withdrawn and the region around Berry-
ville was again under Confederate control. The
letter accordingly remained in the post-office at
Harper's Ferry, undelivered. At the time Mrs.
Van Metre and Bedell were arranging to begin
their search, this letter, which would have relieved
their anxieties and informed them where Van
Metre was, lay in the post-office at Harper's Ferry,
where they then were. They had no knowledge
of it, and so far as they were concerned it might
just as well have been at the north pole.

The small but efficient party of inspection, which
might well have been called a relief party, knew
that in such a camp the fatality was largely due
to mental causes, and they devoted themselves to
schemes and plans for the occupation of the minds
of the prisoners. Van Metre had his fall share of
their attention. They encouraged him with the
hope of his own recovery, of again seeing his
home and his wife, who would have her solicitude
relieved by his letter, and would probably within
a few days transmit her reply. The general far-
ther increased his chances of recovery by pointing
out to him that his evidence would be necessary to
convict his villanous guard, whom he proposed to
bring to trial before a court-martial. His duty to
bring that wretch to justice, and the hope which

270 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

these encouragements brought to a heart from
which it had long been absent, gave the mind of
the patient constant and healthful occupation,
until other duties called the general and his skil-
ful associates to other fields of usefulness.

They left the camp before their patient had
gained such a measure of physical strength that
unassisted nature could accomplish his cure. The
surroundings of the place became more depressing
with the approach of winter. The camp was on
a low and narrow peninsula, with a broad marsh
on one side and the river on the other. There
was not a hill, there was scarcely a human dwell-
ing near it. There were a few trees on the slight
elevation where his tent was pitched, but no other
vegetation except that of the marshes in view.
His removal to the tent, of which he was the only
occupant, from the close and crowded wards of
the shed dignified with the name of the hospital,
and the excellent care which he continued to re-
ceive, would have protected him against a relapse
if he had not been previously reduced to a degree
of weakness which was very near to death. The
general's daughter exercised a powerful influence
over him. For some days after her departure he
lived upon her memory and managed to bear
himself fairly well. But as day followed day
and one long night followed another, and no re-
ply came to his letter, no news from his home, no
message from his wife, having no one to lean
upon and left wholly to his own resources, he be-

THE RECOMPENSE OF A MAN'S HANDS. 271

gan to lose the strength he had gained. There
is no depression to which man can be subjected
so disheartening as that which accompanies the
weakness of fever. The dark cloud which ob-
scures the vision shuts out all hope, all light.
It is then that the patient needs all his conscience,
all his moral principle, for the devil never leaves
him — never ceases to whisper in his ear: "Why
do you continue to suffer? You have become
worthless — good for nothing for yourself or
others ! Why not avail yourself of suicide, your
best, your only friend?"

It was a time of great mortality in that crowded
camp. The dense fogs which every morning as-
cended from the broad marsh were laden with
malaria. An active fever became prevalent which
struck down its victims within two or three days
from the first attack. From his cot through the
door of his tent, every morning Van Metre wit-
nessed the long procession moving from the hos-
pital toward the piece of flat marsh which had
been inclosed by a rude fence and called the cem-
etery, where men were laid in ditches without
prayer or other ceremony. Finally he gave up
all hope of recovery and looked forward to the
day, which could not be far distant, when he him-
self would be one of those borne in that long and
dreary procession. Leaving him in this despond-
ing condition, our history returns to those who
were now to test the verity of the promise, " Seek
and ye shall find!"

CHAPTEE XXVI.

"l HAVE NOT FOUND SO GREAT FAITH; NO, NOT
IN ISRAEL."

The fact that according to the records Van
Metre was no longer a prisoner nor under the con-
trol of the Federal authorities might have dis-
couraged a less determined man, but it served to
inspire Bedell with a fiercer resolution. He re-
rsated to himself over and over again that only-
fools and old women believed in dreams. Yet
that dream of his implied that Van Metre was
still a prisoner — that he had been very ill — that
he was then in good hands and recovering. He
counted the dream as worthless rubbish, but at
the same time it led him to adhere to his deter-
mination formed upon all the facts and circum-
stances, as soon as he learned that his name was
not on the list of prisoners, that he would not
abandon the search until he had found Van Metre
or inspected every prisoner of war who then re-
mained under Federal control.

The officers in charge of the Bureau of Prison-
ers at Washington entered upon the subject of
the search with great interest. In fact their zeal,

272

"l HAVE NOT FOUND SO GREAT FAITH." 273

excited by the pathetic face and gentle dignity of
the wife, led them astray and protracted the
search. Had they directed Bedell in the first in-
stance to the camp where the largest number of
prisoners captured by the Army of the Potomac
in the campaign of 1864 had been sent, and where
presumptively the chances of finding his man
would have been best, they would have found
him in the first camp examined, in the tent at
Point Lookout.

He had been sent, as the records showed, to
Camp Chase at the time of his original capture.
Although his escape from that camp was reported,
he might have been recaptured or his pursuers
might have got some trace of him which would
indicate where he was or otherwise assist in the
search. They did not altogether discredit the
indefinite rumor that he had been seen among the
captured of General Johnson's division near Spott-
sylvania. Those prisoners had been distributed
to different camps ; some of them to Camp Chase.
On the whole, it was decided that Camp Chase
was the best point for commencing the search.

Provided with transportation and armed with
all the authority and facilities which the War De-
partment could furnish, Mrs. Van Metre and her
escort set out upon their search. There were
several camps to be examined, some of them
containing as many as twenty thousand captives,
for up to that time no general exchange of pris-
18

274 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

oners had been arranged, and some one was mor-
ally responsible for thousands of lives lost by the
delay. It was no child's play to examine the face
of every individual in one of these multitudes.
For the plan upon which Bedell insisted involved
also the inspection of every cot in the hospitals
and of every name in the records of the dead.
Every facility and assistance was rendered by the
authorities at most of the camps. Commencing
at Camp Chase, a station was provided, the men
were turned out in detachments and in single file
slowly marched past the searchers, who were thus
able to scrutinize every face. This done, they
went through every ward and examined every
patient in the hospital, completing their work by
a close inspection of the records of the dead. This
work occupied several days in each camp, and it
was thoroughly done.

And so they went from camp to camp perform-
ing their sad, monotonous duty. They had per-
formed it in most of them; only two or three
remained to be examined. By the persistent en-
couragement of Bedell, the hope and courage of
the patient wife had been fairly well maintained.
But now her strength was yielding, and as these
many days of patient search produced nothing, her
hope and courage were failing with her strength.
They were just completing a tour in a hospital,
the last thing to be done in one of the large camps,
when she began to hang with her full weight

"l HAVE NOT FOUND SO GREAT FAITH." 275

upon the arm of her escort, and then she sank
wearied and fainting to the floor.

They laid her upon an unoccupied cot; the
attendants gathered about her and endeavored
to restore her by the use of the common remedies
in such cases. All were attracted by the refined
expression of her face, and in answer to an in-
quiry Lieutenant Bedell mentioned her name.
It reached the ear of a sick man in an adjacent
cot.

"Who is that lady?" he abruptly asked of his
attendant.

''She is a lady from the valley of Virginia,"
replied the attendant. " Her husband was a soldier
in the Confederate army who has been captured
and if living is now a prisoner. She has not
heard from him in many months. On account
of some kindness she has shown to a Union officer,
the Secretary of War has given her an order for
the discharge of her husband and authorized her
to search for him through all the camps. She
expected to find him here. She has not found
him and now it is almost certain that he is dead.
We all feel very sorry for her, for she is a very
sweet woman and must be dreadfully disap-
pointed. They say that she saved the life of the
Union officer who is with her."

"Did I not hear some one call her Mrs. Van
Metre?" asked the sick man.

"Yes. Her name is Van Metre," said the

276 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

nurse. ''There is some doubt about the place
where her husband was captured. He was first
captured near Front Eoyal, in the valley : there
is also a rumor that he was taken with Johnson's
division in the great battle near Spottsylvania
Court -House."

" Van Metre? Van Metre?" exclaimed the sick
man. " If I were not so weak and forgetful I am
almost certain that I could tell that lady some-
thing about her husband. Let me think!" he
continued. "Yes! it was after we were taken
at Spottsylvania ; and there was some trouble.
If the lady remains here over night I will try and
think hov/ it was."

To fly to the sorrowing wife and relight the
dying taper of hope in her heart by telling her that
here was one who possibly knew something about
her husband, was the loving mission of the nurse.
For everywhere the gentle woman and her noble
though crippled escort went, they made friends
who wished to enlist in their service. Bedell im-
mediately consulted with the surgeon, who di-
rected them to be very cautious with the sick
man. He had been delirious, was still very weak,
and excitement might cause a return of his fever
with all its dangerous symptoms. The surgeon
took a deep interest in the matter, and offered him-
self not only to get the man into a condition for the
exercise of his memory, but to draw the story
from him in its most authentic form.

"l HAVE NOT FOUND SO GREAT FAITH." 277

Bedell and Mrs. Van Metre, while burning with
impatience to hear the sick man's story, recog-
nized the wisdom of the doctor's advice. Their
solicitude was so great that neither of them slept
during the night, which seemed to both one of
the longest they had ever passed.

In the morning the patient was reported to be
in his right mind. He insisted upon the presence
of Mrs. Yan Metre with the suroreon, and in

^K^K^J-X,

a

very weak voice but with a memory apparently
very clear he made the following communication :
He belonged, he said, to Johnson's division.
He distinctly remembered a man who strongly
resisted capture on the ground that he did not
belong to the division and was a non-combatant
who was present by accident. When the division
was carried to the Union rear, this man was in
or near the centre of the mass of men, and before
he could make his way to the outside they were
a long way within the Union lines. Even then
he made an attempt to burst through the strong
line of the guards — was seized by two or three of
them and threatened with violence if he did not
submit. He gave up when overpowered by main
force, but when required to pledge himself to go
with the others quietly farther to the rear, re-
fused to make any promise, and said he should
endeavor to make his escape at the first opportu-
nity. An officer undertook to reason with him,
and to show him that by farther efforts he might

278 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

compel them to do him some great personal in-
jury. He endeavored to make him promise to
march quietly back with the others until they
were turned over to the commissary.

He would make no promise. He told the offi-
cer that it might he better for him to die then
and there than to lead the life of a prisoner.
When the names and regiments of the others
were taken, he said he did not belong to any regi-
ment and would give no name. Some one of the
prisoners said his name was John Thompson, of
some Arkansas regiment. When asked if that
was his name, he replied, "That name will do as
well as any other." When the body of the pris-
oners moved on, he was left with four or five
others under a special guard. The sick man
heard that his name was Van Metre and that his
home was in the valley. So much he learned from
men who claimed to know him.

This was all the patient personally knew. He
heard afterward that Van Metre was believed to
be insane, and with a small number of others
equally unmanageable had been sent directly
across the river to Point Lookout, to a large camp
of Confederate prisoners.

While this account was rather incoherent and
wholly failed to furnish any information as to
Van Metre's present locality, it nevertheless, if it
were true, proved that he had reached the army
after his escape from Camp Chase, and had been

279

again taken prisoner at Spottsylvania. It thus
gave them a new starting-point in the search.
Bedell was much more hopeful than his associate.
She did not place much confidence in the sick
man's report, though she joyfully accepted it as
the first evidence which she had secured that her
husband was living at so late a period as the bat-
tle of Spottsylvania. They were then nearly four
hundred miles away from Point Lookout, and they
traversed the distance as swiftly as they could be
transported by the power of steam. Bedell was
now confident of success and so sanguine that he
succeeded in imparting some of his confidence to
his dejected travelling companion.

Even this small measure of success was fortu-
nate. In any enterprise of difficulty, vigorous
health and a hopeful temperament are the best
equipment. More than once the discouraged wife
would have given up the search but for Bedell,
and now just when they were approaching success,
one who lacked his push and energy would have
been driven from the track by official incapacity.
For when they reached Camp Lookout, the wife
worn down by her exertions and almost overcome
by depression, they found it the largest they had
encountered, and that the inspection of twenty
thousand men would be a long and fatiguing task.
The officer in charge, unacquainted with the cir-
cumstances, took only a perfunctory interest in
the work. He did not intend to disobey the Sec-

280 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

retary's order, he said. There the prisoners were,
twenty thousand of them. They could examine
them at their pleasure. He did not intend to in-
terfere with or take any responsibility for the
proceeding.

There was a report current at the time that his
indifference raised the indignation of the Green
Mountaineer to concert pitch. He informed the
officer that unless he facilitated the examination
by ordering the prisoners to be brought out in
detachments and marched in single file jjast Mrs.
Van Metre, so that she could plainly see the face
of every one of them, he would go directly to Sec-
retary Stanton and let him know with how little
respect his order was treated. He had an impres-
sion, he said, that the Secretary would find a way
to interest that officer in the search.

The emphasis with which Bedell declared his
purpose and his familiar reference to Secretary
Stanton, who was a special terror to the " how-
not-to-do-it" subordinates of the War Department,
proved effective. The officer in command made
a virtue of necessity and declared that he would
do anything within the bounds of reason that Be-
dell requested. It is due to him to say that no
complaint could have been made of his subsequent
conduct in the premises.

Under the lieutenant's active supervision ar-
rangements were made for a very thorough
search. A tent was pitched in a convenient place

281

in which Mrs. Van Metre could sit and see every
face in succession, without being herself exposed
to the public gaze, while the prisoners in single
file were slowly marching by. The arrangements
occupied the short December day, and the move-
ment of the prisoners was necessarily postponed
until the following morning.

When the morning came it seemed as though
nature was conspiring with the evils of war to
tax this burdened wife beyond her power to en-
dure. She had passed a sleepless, restless night.
The morning was inexpressibly dreary. A thick,
chilling fog covered the camp and its surround-
ings, shutting out the rays and warmth of the sun.
Her strength and her hope were both exhausted.
Bedell knew how to inspire her to the last exer-
tion of which she was capable. It was by an ap-
peal to her sense of duty. He had been long
enough a soldier to know what above all other
remedies would restore strength to the exhausted
body. With his own hands he prepared her
breakfast of coffee and crackers, and pointed out
to her that she must by their use strengthen her-
self for a duty that might have her husband for
its reward. She responded as well as she could.
Under the influence of the benignant draught she
walked to the raised platform just inside the tent
used for the purpose of the review, seated herself
upon it, and the long procession began its move-
ment.

282 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

When the first prisoner appeared she looked
into his face with eager eyes, for then her strength
and her hope were hoth at their highest level.
She knew that her trial would occupy several
hours. She had striven with all her resolution to
qualify herself to endure it. One by one— one
by one, for those long and weary hours, the slow
funereal procession moved on. Like the brave,
true woman she was, she summoned all her
strength to maintain her composure and her hope.
The lieutenant bravely continued to encourage
and sustain her with cheerful suggestions and
hopeful counsels. But the trial was too severe
for poor humanity to sustain. As prisoner after
prisoner passed on and the face of the one she
sought appeared not, the light of hope began to die
out of her eyes, the pallor of weariness to cover her
face, and when some voice of doom called out,
''This is the very last file that is passing," it was
as if the waves of despair were rolling over and
ingulfing her soul beneath their cruel waters, for
she knew that her husband was not there.

No! no! The very last had not yet passed. It
was some stolid creature, careless of the death
pangs of hope in a breaking heart, that raised that
false and cruel cry. The very last file had not
passed. In this camp they had first inspected the
records of the dead, for there the discouraged
wife had feared that the name they sought would
be found. How else than by his death could his

"I HAVE NOT FOUND SO GREAT FAITH." 283

long silence be explained? His name was not
upon the long death-roll. They had next gone
through every ward in the hospital, and as they
supposed had seen every living prisoner whose
name was not upon the general roster. They
had not. The general who had inspected the
camp had found a few tents not in use. He knew
their value to save men who would die in an in-
closed building. He had ordered these tents to
be pitched on some elevated ground, and into them
some thirty very sick men had been removed who
were now convalescent.

These patients were next directed to form a
line. They did so with sullen murmurings and
complaints, for they with recovered health had
lost the will and almost the power of physical
movement. And the wife was almost compelled
by Bedell to again take her place in the reviewing
tent. She did it v/ith the feeling of one com-
pelled to reascend the scaffold because the hang-
man's rope had broken on the first trial. She took
her seat; she awaited their coming, inanimate,
hopeless almost, as themselves. The chance that
her husband was among them was too slender to
sustain a hope. If he was not there, what a life
of desolation lay before her! If he was not there
he was dead. When and where he died she was
never to know. If his bones were not bleaching
upon some field of death, if stranger hands had
covered them with his mother earth — he had been

284 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

buried in an unrecorded grave — where it was or
when he died, she should never know.

She was Ustless and indifferent when they told
her that the line was approaching. Some of those
who formed it were feeble and moved very slowly,
none of them with activity or animation. Bedell
made one more effort to revive her spirits and
rekindle her hope. It was too late. There was
only one thing in the wide world that would
now inspire her with the wish to live. She
thanked Bedell in her heart for his kindness to
her, and then she thought it pitiable that he
should waste his time and energy upon one so
useless as she deemed herself to be. By a last
effort, as she believed it to be, of her will power,
she raised her eyes high enough to scan the pass-
ing faces. One ! two ! three — twenty of them had
passed, and there was no life in her dull eye, no
expression upon her stony face. Only ten re-
main. More listless, cold, and hopeless than be-
fore, she for the last time turns her head and
glances down the short line over its diminished
numbers. But mark! why does she start as if
transfixed by a bolt of lightning launched from
the hand of Jove? Why does the light of life
and love flame out from that weary eye? Why
does that look of devout thanksgiving illuminate
that stony face? See! she starts! Like a mother
leaping to grasp her child saved from sudden
death, she bounds from her seat. Half-way

285

down the line she marks a well-known form.
Like an arrow from the bow she clears the inter-
vening space, she grasps with all her revived
strength the poor, pale, emaciated form of one
who faints in her embrace, and the palpitating
heart of her husband is beating against her own.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR — ONE OF
THEM TOUCHES THE END OF HIS SUFFERINGS.

Of all the miseries of war imprisonment is the
chief. There is no condition of human existence
so destructive to the life of the mind as well as
the body as that of a prisoner of war. In all
other species of confinement the man has some-
thing to which he can look for\Yard. He knows
there is to be an end to it. The term is fixed in
most cases, and when it is not he can determine
it proximately. In our great civil war the only
certainty the prisoner had was that there was to
be no exchange. Escape or the end of the war
alone would give him his freedom. After a brief
experience few of them had the energy for an at-
tempt to escape, and when the end of the war
would come no man could foretell.

Occupation is a necessity of human life. The
mind unemployed always broods over the past.
In the case of a healthy man protracted idleness
inevitably causes despondency, and despondency
too often death. Those who were in civil life saw
the results and heard of the horrors of Anderson -

286

THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR. 287

ville and Belle Isle. But we had no conception
of the dread of the soldiers for those terrible hells.
Many a brave man resisted to his death rather than
to go to one of those prisons and slowly perish.
"Surrender, or we will bayonet you!" shouted
their pursuers to the belated skirmishers leaping
from tie to tie on the railroad bridge across the
Monocacy, when overtaken by an overwhelming
Confederate force which captured only those upon
which they could lay hands. The others crossed
and threw themselves into the bushes, while their
bayoneted companions fell forty feet into the
river, some of them to survive the battle and the
war.

Van Metre had had experience in captivity for
some months before his last capture. Even in
Camp Chase, well known as the healthiest of the
prison camps, he had become so enfeebled that he
believed death was inevitable, and so took the
risk of attempting to escape. At Point Lookout,
confined in an unhealthy locality, guarded by
negroes with whom he could have no conversa-
tion, he was very soon in a favorable condition of
body for an early and a severe attack of the pre-
vailing epidemic. Before describing his experi-
ence more minutely, it may interest the reader to
make a brief reference to the effects of confine-
ment upon the prisoners in some of the other
places of detention.

In the experience of modern wars no place has

19

288 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

ever approached in its horrors or its mortahty the
prison pen of Anderson ville. Its infernal de-
structiveness may have been chargeable to a large
extent to the ferocious brute who had it under
control. But its condition was not altogether un-
known to the Confederate authorities, for several
Southern officers of high rank repeatedly protested
against the cruelty of herding so large a number
of prisoners there, under conditions so fatal to hu-
man life. I am not discussing here the question
of responsibility for it. It fully meets my pur-
pose to make a statement which cannot be con-
troverted, that every individual who was there for
so long a term as three months perished if he
did not make an intelligent fight for his life.

I knew a young private who had wasted over
a year in that horrible den, and who after Appo-
mattox was released in a fairly good condition of
health. I asked him how he managed to preserve
his life when so many stronger men perished.
He appeared to make no effort to control his emo-
tions when he replied.

^'I ought," he said, ''to blush with shame for
my own selfishness when I answer that question.
But I will try to answer it truly. When I was
put inside of that stockade, all those thousands
were living like burrowing animals in holes,
wherever they could make an excavation. The
water was foul and sickening — they could not get
enough of it to wash their feet and hands once in

THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR. 289

ten dsijs ; the food was insufficient in quantity
and unfit for anything living to eat; their
clothes were in rags — they seemed to have lost
all desire for a decent appearance. They all
had that look of hopeless despondency which I
never saw elsewhere. They had no exercise.
You may judge how they wanted it when I assure
you that men fought for the privilege of going
out each morning to bury the dead and to grub
the roots of stumps and dead trees for a little
wood. Their deaths were frequent and often in-
explicable. They died without an effort to live.
Men apparently as well as the average at sunset
were cold in death before the next morning.

" I had read in my boyhood of one prisoner who
tamed a mouse, of another who cultivated a flower
in his captivity. I knew now why they became
so attached to these little objects. I knew that
there was only one way for me to escape the com-
mon fate. I must keep my mind and body both
employed — not an easy thing to be done where
every prisoner was searched and everything taken
from him. I had a plug of tobacco and an old
jack-knife which I managed to secrete when I
was searched upon my arrival. I cut the tobacco
into small cubes, and these were my stock in trade
— my capital. These I traded for bits of candle,
pieces of wood, buttons, a needle and thread — for
anything of which any use could be made. I am
ashamed to tell you how mean and selfish [ was.

290 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

Until then I never knew how contemptible a
wretch I could make of myself. I haggled, lied,
argued, played the tricks of the horse- jockey. I
have spent an hour and got very angry over one
of these trades. I have sometimes traded a poor
fellow out of something useful, and then given it
back to him, for it was occupation and not profit
I was seeking. I soon accumulated stock and
became a capitalist, for I was economical and
gave my whole time to my mercantile business.
What a luxury it was to me to give to some poor
dying man some little delicacy which I was able
to purchase for him !

" Then the villain Wurtz did me a great favor.
He robbed me of all my accumulations. He made
me mad up to the point of recklessness. I told
him to his face that he was a brute — a merciless
wretch — a cold-blooded murderer. I expected
that he would draw his revolver and shoot me
down. Instead of that he cringed like the cow-
ard he was. Then I told him that I should live
to see him hung, and that I would be there at
the entertainment if I had to walk barefooted a
thousand miles. Thank God, I saw him hung!
I was a witness on his trial. It was very wicked,
I know, but when I saw him struggling in the
agonies of death I prayed that they might be
lengthened and drawn out until he paid for every
one of his murders by a good half -hour of dying
torture. I was a willing witness, and some of

THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR. 291

his judges said that my testimony was very con-
vincing.

'' I say he did me a favor, for when he robbed me
I was at first incHned to give up and fight for life
no longer. But the storm cleared my mind and
made me resolve that the brute should not have
the gratification of my death. I went again to
my business, and I continued it until we left that
dreadful place in advance of Sherman marching
through Georgia. In short, by incessant occupa-
tion of body and mind I saved my own life, when
thousands of better and stronger men sank under
the trial and were carried to their graves."

Van Metre, when first taken prisoner, was a
young man in vigorous health. He began to
suffer in Camp Chase, and he was weakened by-
hunger and exposure in making his way on foot
and in the night all that long way from
Central Ohio to the army of Virginia. His expe-
riences from his second capture have already been
described. When he was discovered by the daugh-
ter of the Union general he was very near the end
of his suffering and his life. In some respects
his case was not unlike Bedell's, for his life had
been saved by the ministrations of a woman.
Her kindness and skilful nursing, her personal
interest in him which again kindled hope in his
heart, had literally called him back from the bor-
ders of the grave. But when she left him and
went elsewhere, when day after day passed and

292 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

brought no answer to his letter, no news of his
wife or his home, he again gave up all hope, and
lost with his strength all desire to live. He was
waiting and praying for death when the hour of
his delivery came.

Our heroine's long search was ended now. The
true-hearted woman of the valley brought the
order for his discharge at the moment when she
held him in her loving arms. But her trials were
not all ended. The frail, emaciated being she had
found was but a poor substitute for the strong,
vigorous husband she had given to the Confed-
eracy. He could scarcely stand erect. He fainted
in the joy of recognition and she carried him into
the tent away from the gaze of the crowd. She
laid him on his cot as tenderly as if he were her
child. He soon recovered his consciousness, but
a sharp pang pierced her heart when she saw his
weakness and was by no means certain that he
would ever be stronger.

Possibly he never would have been with ordi-
nary treatment. Upon that treatment he was not
required to depend. The time had come for Be-
dell to exhibit his value as a curative agent. It
was appointed to him to give to the worn and
weary prisoner beauty for ashes, the oil of joy
for mourning, and the garment of praise for the
spirit of heaviness. Minashis limb, Richard was
himself again. He had recovered his splendid
vigor of body and, now that Van Metre was found,

THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR. 293

his overflowing exuberance of spirits. Wherever
he went he carried with him an atmosphere of
invigoration, and every time he came into the sick
man's presence he brought an abundant supply of
courage, health, and hope.

He knew that joy never killed. He had no
fear that any sick man could be made worse by
the presence of Betty Van Metre. He was care-
ful to see that she was provided with remedies
and restoratives, and then he left the long-sepa-
rated to their mutual and natural confidences.

But not for too long a time, for he suspected
that they might devise some plans for their im-
mediate future which would interfere with his
own arrangements. Therefore, early one morn-
ing he entered their tent as he supposed in the
most quiet and noiseless manner, but in fact with
the roar of a small cyclone, and, in a voice ring-
ing with cheerfulness, demanded to know wheth-
er they would be ready to leave for the Green
Mountains next morning.

It was as he half supposed. As soon as Van
Metre was strong enough to converse, their
thoughts had turned toward their home. Van
Metre knew nothing of the obligations of the
Union officer to his v/ife, and in her joy over the
recovery of her husband the arrangement made
at Harper's Ferry had for the moment escaped
her memory. They had agreed that it would be
necessary to remain where they were until Van

294 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

Metre was strong enough to travel, when they
would go to Harper's Ferry, and, as soon as they
could, they would thence make their way to the
homestead in Clarke County.

"I have an objection to that arrangement,"
said Bedell, " which makes it impossible. It ought
not to be done and it cannot be done."

"I do not see why it is impossible," said Van
Metre, "if, as I am informed, an order exists for
my discharge."

"The reasons are so numerous that I have not
counted them," was Bedell's reply. "The natu-
ral justice of your wife should have pointed out
to both of you that your return to the valley, or
your movement in any other direction than to
my home in Vermont, cannot now be considered.
In the first place, she is under contract to go
there, and has already sent forward her niece as
a pledge for its performance. She is too honora-
ble to recede from a fair agreement. Then there
is no place where you. Van Metre, can recover
your health and spirits so quickly and so cer-
tainly as in the pure, crisp air of our Green Moun-
tains. Berry ville is now within the Confederate
lines, and though Secretary Stanton has evinced
his high esteem for Mrs. Van Metre, I doubt
whether he would give her a pass to go there.
Finally, you and I, Van Metre, have done our full
share of the fighting in this war. I have left a
good fourth of my body somewhere on the banks

THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR. 295

of the Opequan; you have indefinitely scattered
your health between Camp Chase in Central Ohio
and the James Eiver. Now suppose we offset our
remaining military value, one against the other,
and let others finish the fighting of which we have
done our share. Then you shall come to Vermont
with me, and when your health and strength are
restored we can lay plans for the future. If you
could now return to the valley, they would again
force you into the service."

"But why should I impose myself upon you in
Vermont?" demanded Van Metre. "What have
I done that you should make me a proposition so
liberal?"

"You, perhaps, have done nothing. Your
wife has saved my life in the hope that her doing
so might benefit you. I shall leave her to give
you that history. I am not the man to disappoint
her hope."

"This is all new to me," protested Van Metre.
"I suppose I ought to remain here for a time. I
am scarcely able now to endure the fatigue of
travel. When I am, I would like to do what
is best and right. What that will be I do not
know, for my judgment has failed with my
health. I will leave the decision to my wife and
to you."

"Then we may as well decide now to comply
with the suggestions of the lieutenant," said Mrs.
Van Metre. " His wife controls me without an

296 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

effort and without resistance. He may establish
a similar control over you."

"Yielding to reason is not control," said Be-
dell. " Men persuade, they do not control each
other."

Two points upon the Potomac Eiver should be
forever noted in history for their association with
the miseries of war. They are Acquia Creek, in
Stafford County, about twenty miles below Wash-
ington, and Point Lookout, the peninsula formed
by the junction of the Potomac Eiver and Chesa-
peake Bay. The first was the place where the
wounded from the terrible battles of the sum-
mer of 1864 were collected for transportation by
steamer to Washington; the second, the camp
where the prisoners from the same battles were
confined. Twenty thousand wounded men have
been collected at Acquia Creek from the conflicts
of a single week. Twenty thousand prisoners
have been confined at Point Lookout at one time.
That number of idle men anywhere would breed
discomfort and disease, but at Point Lookout
there were special facilities for misery. There
were dense, damp winter fogs that pierced to the
very marrow ; there were no facilities for heat-
ing and the sick in the hospitals were among the
chief sufferers. Van Metre insisted upon the con-
stant presence of Bedell in his tent, for he said
his face was a better preventive than quinine for
the chills which followed his fever and were in-

THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR. 297

creased in length and discomfort by the gloomy
weather. Bedell endured this discomfort only
for a few days. A morning came when he took
command of the situation. Entering the tent
where Mrs. Van Metre was vainly endeavoring to
extract the cold and moisture from the atmos-
phere by a liberal combustion of kerosene, he ex-
claimed :

"Come! Make such preparations as you can
to leave this dismal place. I have provided for
the safety and comfort of the patient. As soon
as you can get ready, a steamer will leave this
camp for Washington with no passengers but
ourselves. We are to have the use of the well-
heated ladies' cabin. We will start for a coun-
try where the atmosphere is suited to honest men
and good.wom.en. Here a little air makes one
wish to die ; there, the more of it you breathe
the more you wish to live. Van Metre," he said,
warming with enthusiasm, "if at this moment
you were sitting before my big fireplace, with the
chimney roaring like the escaping steam in a lo-
comotive as the flames go up from the maple
back-log, with the children cracking butternuts
on the hearth, a pitcher of cider on the table, and
your wife with a happy face sewing by your side,
the winds and the weather might rage like the
heathen out-of-doors and they would not disturb
you. That country is white and cold in winter
out-of-doors, but the hearts and the homes of its

298 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

people are warm at all seasons. For that coun-
try we start this morning."

" We cannot ! We have talked the matter over
and it would not be right to burden "

" Not another word ! I am the stronger now
and I am going to take command and charge,
just as you did when I lay helpless in that
desolate room. You, madam, have only your-
self to prepare. The nurses will carry your hus-
band on board. If you make any resistance
they will also carry you. I see they are coming
now."

Mrs. Van Metre surrendered. She had no
power to withstand such impetuosity. Besides,
in her heart she believed that the change and the
company of Bedell would lift her husband out of
his present depression and restore him to health.
Her preparations therefore involved no delay.
Under the Secretary's order she receipted for
the body of her husband ; he was carried on board
with the crippled officer and herself as his only
companions; the lines of the steamer were cast
off, and as she gracefully swept around the first
turn in the river Point Lookout forever disap-
peared from their view.

The condition of Van Metre improved with
every mile left astern by the steamer. By the
time they reached the landing in Washington,
he was moving about the cabin slightly assisted
by his wife. The steamer was to lie at her wharf

THE HARD LOT OF A PRISONER OF WAR. 299

for some repairs to her machinery. The whole
party lived quietly on board, Bedell only leaving
her long enough to arrange for their transporta-
tion to Vermont and to discharge a most agreea-
ble duty. He called upon General Hitchcock and
Secretary Stanton and informed thsm of the suc-
cess of the search for Van Metre. He learned
that justice did not travel with leaden feet in the
War Department. The report of the veteran in-
spector of prisons had produced an order for a
court-martial to try the faithless wretch who had
brought Van Metre so near to the gates of death.
But for a providential favor he would have been
recalled from Vermont as a witness upon the trial.
But the culprit met his deserts in a more speedy
way. He learned of the order for his trial on the
day that the party left the camp. He stole a
small boat and started to cross the river, prefer-
ring to take his chances with the Confederates.
He was discovered and ordered by the sentinel to
return. He disobeyed the order and kept on his
way ; but he could not outspeed the bullet from
the Winchester which sped through his merciless
heart. He plunged overboard and disappeared
beneath the muddy waters of the Potomac. It
was a more merciful death than he deserved, and
it anticipated only by a few days his execution
by the sentence of a court-martial. For just then
the people of the North were beginning to appre-
ciate how great a volume of human suffering

300 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

could be created by one such man in a camp of
prisoners of war, and were demanding, in tones
that struck terror to the hearts of incompetent or
faithless officers, kind and considerate treatment
for the captured.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

From the miseries of the prison camp, the
thunder of battle, and the turmoil of bloody war,
we turn to the peace and quiet of the north coun-
try. Nature has just prepared it for a festival of
thanksgiving. Through the night the snow-
flakes with noiseless wing have been covering the
earth with a garment of s^Dotless purity. Just
when it was finishing, a gentle warmth has
molded these flakes into crystals which have con-
verted every naked branch into a drooping spray,
heavy with jewels which glint and sparkle like
diamonds in the yellow rays of the morning sun.
Nature loves contrasts, and lovely as emeralds in
their silver settings are the dark evergreens above
the snow. The air is cold, but it teems with elec-
tric life. The horses are sportive in harness, the
cattle and the sheep are leaping and racing in
the farm -yards — animal nature is full to the over-
flow of vivacity and exhilaration.

There is no wind. The blue smoke from the
early-lighted hearths of the scattered homes goes
straight upward until it is lost in the air filled

301

302 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

with innumerable scales of frozen moisture. With
ruddy faces and frosted breath, the sturdy farm-
ers turn out with their spirited but well-broken
teams to break out the roads and tread the snow
so that their polished sleigh-runners shall draw
musical sounds from the cold, hard path over
which they swiftly glide. If on the face of the
earth there is a region where man with every
breath draws in a new supply of health and
strength and glorious vigor of body and mind, it
is Vermont on a winter's morning.

There is one household in which unusual ac-
tivity prevails. From early dawn its mistress
with her own family and a young girl visitor
have been busy in preparation and decoration.
In the kitchen she has been the Lady Bountiful,
and now they are making the house beautiful
with wreaths of evergreens. Opposite the front
door, along the walls of the square room, in large
capitals out of the branches of the hemlock and
the cedar are formed the words •' Welcome home. "
Many times during the day a neighbor's team
has dashed up to the door, and an eager face
thrust inside has asked, "Are you certain they
are coming to-night?" And every one has had
the same answer, " Yes ! certain. We have tele-
grams from them ; we know that they are on the
train."

There are hearts in that household whose loving
impatience is too powerful to be suppressed. As

"but joy COMETH IN THE MORNING." 303

often as once every half -hour the temporary mas-
ter of the household, the little colonel, has had to
be assured that the clock has not stopped. When
it has been opened to show him the pendulum still
swinging, he has declared that he had doubted
the statement in the Sunday-school lesson that
"the sun stood still upon Gibeon," but there was
no doubt whatever that to-day it stood still upon
Jay Mountain. The test of his self-restraint was
still more severe when toward evening he saw
the sleighs of the neighbors moving swiftly
toward the railroad station and he knew that
others would welcome his brave father before
he saw the face of his own son. With the ap-
proach of darkness he was given employment.
He had lighted the lamps and placed them in the
windows, so many and so bright that from a
distance the whole house seemed ablaze.

Then, they all waited for the promised signal
from the railway station, doubtful whether it
could, be heard so far. But fortune had suspended
its persecutions for the time, and the hand of the
clock moved never so slowly, but was coming very
near to the time when the train would be due.
One more minute passes. This time the locomo-
tive will not disappoint them. It seems to feel
the strong attraction of loving hearts for each
other and shows its best speed. With a fierce
triumphant scream, it hauls the train into the

station two whole minutes ahead of time.
20

304 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

At the moment of the whistle a torrent of flame
bursts from the muzzle of the borrowed cannon,
spreads outward and upward like a sea wave, and
recoils from the rock faces of the mountain. Do
they hear it in the home of the Bedells? They
could not close their impatient ears against it,
for now every rock that responds to the discharges
in quick succession unites them into a thunder
roll heard through all the region, as if mountain,
forest, and tree were breaking forth into rejoicings
to welcome a brave soldier returning from the
wars.

And now the moment has come for which the
boy and his comrades have waited so impatiently.
They have prepared their own signal of welcome.
It is on an elevation ; away from the buildings
they have set up a huge pile of dry logs on end.
To-day they have swept away every flake of snow
and filled the interstices with splinters of fat pine.
Each boy now seizes his lighted torch and fires
the pile all around the base. The flames creep
swiftly around every log, then leap to the summit,
and a circular pyramid of fire lights up the road
to the station and illuminates the surrounding
country.

The cheers of many voices succeed to the reports
of cannon. Over a distant hill comes a team.
Its four spirited horses scatter music from their
bells as, under the guiding reins of their skilful
driver, they speed along the snowy road as if

305

proud of the burden they draw. Fearless of the
bonfire, never once breaking their swift trotting
step, they dash up to and stand like statues be-
fore an open door. Something large and very
much alive within an army overcoat springs from
the sleigh on a single leg and with both arms
grasps a woman who fears the giant embrace so
little that she does not turn away her face. There
is a creaking, osculatory sound as when the sleigh
moves swiftly over the cold, hard snow. Then
the arm of the overcoat lifts a man out of the
conveyance and sets him on his feet. A woman
follows — the two women meet with more sounds
of osculation. An irregular procession, with a
cripple using his wife as a substitute for a lack-
ing leg and with children swarming up his back,
at its head, enters the house, followed by two
strangers, and the Van Metres are within the
hospitable home of the Bedells.

The travellers have reached a haven where
there is no anxiety or fear. The guests are ex-
tracted from their unaccustomed polar wraps and
shown to a room on the ground -floor, with a warn-
ing that but little time can be spared them for
preparation, for a slight repast is waiting which
must be cleared away before the fast teams of the
neighbors who met them at the station can gather
in their wives and daughters and return. They
conformed to the wishes of their hostess and were
soon seated at her board of simple New Eng-

30G AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

land fare. She was unable to set before them
anything more appetizing than a yomig turkey,
with its chestnut stuffing and cranberry accesso-
ries, young and tender chickens roasted, fricasseed,
broiled, and browned into a pie with flaky crust,
a boiled ham of a delicate pink color, sausages,
apple-sauce with boiled cider, and a miscellaneous
assortment of puddings, mince, apple, custard,
and golden pumpkin pies serving as side-dishes
and dessert. With these and other incidentals
the travellers managed to keep hunger at a dis-
tance for the time. They had scarcely done jus-
tice to the homely cheer before the music of the
sleigh-bells and the runners creaking upon the
hard snow announced the coming of the guests.
The "welcome" on the wall pervaded the house.
Never, even in warm-hearted Vermont, was it
more cordial than that of his fellow-citizens and
their wives to Bedell and to the woman who had
saved his life; never was it more warmly recipro-
cated than by Bedell and his efficient wife.

The Van Metres would have appropriated none
of this cordiality to themselves, and yet they could
not but feel more like honored guests than stran-
gers. Van Metre had borne the journey well. He
was stronger than when he left Washington.
But Bedell would take no risks, and after he was
presented to the guests insisted that he should
retire. The bed was so much more comfortable
than any which he had used since his first capture

"but joy COMETH IN THE MORNING." 307

that it was a long time before he could compose
himself to sleep.

For the absence of the heroine of the valley
the guests would accept no excuse. She was the
attraction of the evening — the brave woman who
had saved the life of their fellow-citizen. She
it was whom the husbands came to honor, their
wives to know and to love.

That was also a memorable occasion for Bedell.
He learned how well he stood in the esteem of
his neighbors, and he was not spoiled by their
praises. He could not decline to gratify their
desire to hear an account of his life in the valley,
though his story was little more than a hymn of
praises for his preserver. She, poor woman, was
as much embarrassed as she had been in the pres-
ence of Secretary Stanton. She had a hard experi-
ence with the impetuous beings of her own sex.
After her husband retired, Mrs. Bedell took her
arm and with it exclusive possession of her person.
She presented her to the wives of her neighbors
as her creditor for her husband's life. She ex-
tolled her courage and her fearless performance
of her duty. '' She is henceforth to be my sister,"
she said, "with whom I hope to share whatever
of good fortune hereafter comes to me."

The modest Virginian, so fearless in the pres-
ence of real danger, was overcome by the love of
many generous hearts. She appealed to her host-
ess with the simplicity of a child. " You must

308 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

assist me," she said. ''I cannot think what I
ought to say — the words will not come. I must
be losing the little mind I once possessed ; if you
do not help me they will think me very stupid!"

''Then do not try to think or speak," was the
counsel of her friend. "You are with those who
will appreciate your silence far better than my
volubility."

She did break the silence, however, when, as
she claimed. Bedell was giving her a credit to
which she thought she was not entitled. She
cautioned his neighbors against believing all his
statements about herself, for, said she a little mis-
chievously, "he was not always himself in those
trying days, and some of his impressions may have
been caused by his delirium." But her protesta-
tions could not suppress the essential facts. She
had found Bedell in the very grasp of death.
She had saved him. But for her his body would
now have been buried in the distant region where
he had left his amputated limb. Through her,
he was now surrounded by his family and friends
with a prospect before him of a long and useful
life. Such an undisputed service was enough to
give her a warm place in their hearts and an es-
teem which they knew how to express without
annoyance to a modest woman. They showed
their consideration in many ways. They knew
the day had been a weary one for her, and
that the family of Bedell were entitled to his un-

"but joy COMETH IN THE MORNING." 309

disturbed possession. As soon as they had shown
to Mrs. Van Metre how thoroughly her conduct
was appreciated, how welcome she was in the
community to which she had returned a valued
citizen, and to Bedell how well he stood in their
esteem, the guests withdrew. But there was no
man or woman of them who did not bestow upon
her a parting benediction which made her grate-
ful that without fear of consequences or the cen-
sorship of man she had done her duty.

There are none of the promises of Scripture
more precious than those of rest to the weary
soul. There was never a weary heart to whom
rest was more grateful than that of the woman
whose life for less than a half-year we have at-
tempted to describe. For almost four years she
had endured the privations and miseries of war.
Every hour of her life had been broken by anxiety
and distress. She had been reduced to poverty,
her nerves had been shattered by the roar of bat-
tle, her heart pierced by the sufferings of the
wounded, her eyes dimmed by pictures of the dy-
ing ; she had mourned her husband as among the
dead. In all these years when there was not a
gleam of light, not a rift in the dark horizon of
her life, she had never yielded. She had always
bravely met her apparent duty. Now, at last,
she was in the quiet of the country, surrounded
by friends where there was none to molest or
make her afraid. Her husband was with her;

310 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

he might recover and have a long and useful life.
Now she knew the meaning of the promise, "Ye
shall find rest unto your souls."

Van Metre also had suffered. He had loyally
served under his flag, he had endured all that
man could endure and live. With him days had
grown into weeks and weeks into months of
suffering more acute than death on the field.
If now when enfeebled by disease he decided
not to return to the service, no man could justly
charge him with any failure to perform his
duty.

As the winter passed and the Union lines,
stronger in number of their defenders, were con-
tracting around Kichmond, and it was a^jparent
that the end of the war was approaching, by the
inevitable result of all future wars between na-
tions of Saxon origin, the exhaustion of the weak-
er party, Bedell and Van Metre felt no desire to
fight their battles over again, and were quite con-
tent to be spectators of the closing struggle.

The time had come when the modest, brave
woman of the valley was beginning to enjoy the
reward of her heroic performance of her woman's
duty. There was a marvellous change in her ap-
pearance. The weary movement of her body dis-
appeared ; the color of health upon her face was
fixed ; the sad expression of her eyes was replaced
by the light of joy and hope. Her step became
elastic, her figure lithe and graceful. She be-

"but joy COMETH IN THE MORNING." 311

came an universal favorite, especially with the
young. She entered into their plans and plays
with the spirit of a young girl. She was quick
to relieve her hostess of the service of the house-
hold on the plea that she was a learner of New
England ways. She travelled miles to nurse the
sick and comfort the mourner, because, as she
maintained, she must have the exercise. Her
sweet nature expanded and grew more attractive
under New England culture until it reached its
matured perfection.

Time waits neither for a Vermont nor a Vir-
ginia farmer. There was no complaint about his
slowness now. The members of this household
had been so happy in the society of each other
that before they were conscious how time was
passing, winter was reposing in the lap of
spring. Bedell, grown strong and stalwart, was
now unfitted by his loss for a farmer's life, and
must accept or decline an advantageous offer
to exchange his farm for an established business
in a neighboring town. Van Metre felt that he
had tarried at Westfield until his beard was
grown. It was heavier now than the one he lost
at Point Lookout. His face had lost its pallor,
his muscles had recovered their former density.
Sheridan had harrowed the valley for the last
time. If the valley farm was to be made as at-
tractive and productive as before it was blasted
by the hot breath of war, its owner must go back

312 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

and prepare it for the planting and sowing of the
spring.

And so with one more separation, the rela-
tions of the Bedells and the Van Metres are
brought to an end. This young Virginia woman,
unconsciously and without an effort, has set be-
fore the world an example vfhich ought to make
her name a household word in the Eepublic.
The soldier whose life she saved has repaid a part
of his debt by the restoration of her husband. He
now bids her farewell, but he will carry to his
grave the memory of his preserver, the true
woman and the unconscious heroine.

NOTE.

This volume is illustrated by portraits of Mrs. Van Metre
and Lieutenant Bedell. Their portraits would have been more
satisfactory if they had represented their respective originals
at the time when the events occurred which are here recorded.
But no photographs of either of so early a date existed.
Those from which these portraits are drawn were taken, that
of Mrs. Van Meter about twelve and of Mr. Bedell about
fifteen years after the close of the war. Both represent char-
acters capable of the acts attributed to them.

No effort has been made to trace the descent of either of the
principal characters in this book to any distinguished ances-
try. But they are all of good blood. A very casual acquaint-
ance with the history of the Shenandoah Valley settles the
question as to the Ke^^sers and the Van Metres. Very early
in the history of the valley there was an emigration to it of
Hollanders and Germans from New York and Pennsylvania.

NOTE. 313

The limestone lands about the headwaters of the Opequan Creek
were attractive to them. The town of Woodstock was exclu-
sively settled b}^ them, and for many years the Dutch and
German languages were the only ones spoken in that settle-
ment. Dutch customs have survived there to the present time.
These settlers were among the sturdy patriots of the Revolu-
tion. It was in the town of Woodstock that Maj.-Gen. John
Peter Gabriel Muhlenberg, minister of the Lutheran Church,
dressed in his uniform, with his sword buckled to his side,
preached a farewell sermon, in 1776, to his patriotic congre-
gation, and the next day marched as colonel at the head of
his regiment to join the Continental army. Such names as
Strasburg, Mecklenberg, Hamburg, and others show that many
of the early settlers of the section were of German origin.

Among these early settlers w^ere the Van Metres and the
Keysers. Washington's journal, kept while he was surveying
the lands of Lord Fairfax, in the valley, under date of March
27th, 1748, records that he "Travell'd over to y® South Branch
attended with y® Esqr. to Henry Van Metre's, in order to go
about intended work of lots." The Van Metres were a nu-
merous family and among the earliest settlers in the valley,
on the South Branch and along the Upper Potomac. Kerche-
val in his history says they were people of energy and good
judges of land. John Van Metre was an Indian trader, who
accompanied the Delaware Indians in a war party against the
Catawbas, but the Catawbas, anticipating the attack, surprised
and defeated the Delawares in a battle near where the court-
house of Pendleton now stands. John Van Metre escaped and
returned to New York, but he was so impressed w4th the
beauty and fertility of the lands on the South Branch bottom,
in Hardy County, that he advised his sons to secure lands and
locate there. Of these sons, Isaac became a man of note and
frequently represented Hardy County in the House of Dele-
gates of Virginia. He was a member of the Virginia Con-
vention of 1788, which ratified the Federal Constitution. In
1730 it is a matter of history that John and Isaac Van Metre,
brothers, obtained from Governor Gooch, of Virginia, a war-
rant for 40,000 acres of land, to be located west of the moun-
tains. This warrant, or a part of it, they sold to Joost Hite.

314 AN UNKNOWN HEROINE.

A number of tracts on the original warrant were surveyed in
the vicinity of Shepherdstown. The name of Van Metre is
still frequently met with throughout West Virginia, and has
its monument in a stream forming the northwestern bound-
ary line of Jefferson County and emptying into the Potomac,
and named on the maps of Virginia Van Metre's Marsh. A
controversy as to the validity of the Van Metre patent was
raised in 1738 by Lord Fairfax and taken into the courts for
adjudication. Lord Fairfax contending that his grants cov-
ered the whole of the western end of the northern neck, while
the holders claimed that the governor, under authority of the
crown, had disposing power. This conflict as to title was a
source of much litigation and was not finally settled until
after the Revolution, when all the parties to the original suits
were dead. (Kercheval, " History of the Valley. ")

The Van Metres, like the Lincolns, were of the sterling, brave,
and enterprising men who pushed across the mountains and
won Kentucky and other States of the Great West from the
Indians. In the second volume of that delightful book by
Theodore Roosevelt, "The Winning of the West," at p. 101, I
find the statement that in the spring of 1780 a congregation
of the Low Dutch Reformed Church, to the number of one
hundred and fifty heads of families, with their wives and chil-
dren, their beasts of burden, and their household goods, came
from Virginia to settle in Kentucky. In the appendix to the
same volume is given a manuscript petition, now in the State
Department, dated in May, 1780, stating that the settlers "are
greatly exposed to the saviges by whome our wives and chil-
dring are daly cruily murdered, " and praying the Continental
Congress to "take proper methods to form us into a seperate
state." Among the 640 signers to this petition was Abraham
Van Metre.

I do not pursue the genealogy of the characters in this book,
for I think they are able to stand upon their own merits. I
have written this note because the facts came to my knowl-
edge by pure accident, and it is always pleasant to know that
the present generation sustains the reputation of its sturdy
ancestry.

THE END.

\ :

^c

^i:i-'~^

^ A>. > /

;/$,^'*...'r/