By the time the crowd had reached the spot, Porter had disentangled himself from the folds of oiled canvas, and was ready to greet his anxious friends; and amid hearty congratulations and vociferous cheers, he was escorted to his quarters.

As this chapter is devoted to incidents in camp, I will try to ill.u.s.trate the variety of interesting events with which our camps abound.

After one of the most severe battles ever fought in Virginia, and while our troops were still rejoicing over their victory, a young soldier sought the chaplain for the purpose of religious conversation. Said the chaplain: "The tears were in his eyes, and his lips trembled with emotion. I knew that he was in earnest. We knelt down together and I prayed with him, and he prayed for himself. In this manner we spent several hours, pleading with G.o.d in his behalf, until light broke through the darkness, and he arose from his knees praising G.o.d."

Wishing to manifest by some outward sign his consecration to G.o.d and to His service, he requested the chaplain to baptize him by immersion. The next day being the Sabbath his request was complied with, in the presence of thousands of his comrades.

The scene was a most solemn one, and after the ordinance was administered there was scarcely a dry eye in the company to which he belonged.

In the evening one of the delegates of the Christian Commission preached to an immense congregation of grim warriors seated on the ground--a little pine grove for a church, the great blue dome of heaven for galleries, and the clear, bright moon for a chandelier.

The scene was a magnificent one. A little to the right lay a cloud of white canvas tents shining in the moonlight, and just below, in plain sight, were the transports dotting the water, with their gleaming lights and star-spangled banners floating in the evening breeze. All combined to make the scene beautiful and interesting.

The discourse was excellent and well chosen, and the men listened with profound attention, and I have no doubt with much profit. Then was sung

Lord, dismiss us with thy blessing,

and the benediction being p.r.o.nounced, the vast a.s.sembly marched to their quarters as solemnly as if going from a funeral.

Next came a wedding! Yes; a real wedding in camp. You must know that when military necessity prevents our young heroes from going home to fulfill their engagements to their devoted fair ones, it is the privilege of the waiting damsels, in war times, to remove all unnecessary obstacles, and facilitate matters by declaring themselves in favor of the _union_, and claiming their lovers on the field.

This wedding was a grand affair, and took place in a camp which was very prettily decorated, being picturesquely arranged among pine trees--just the most romantic place imaginable for such an event.

A little before noon the guests began to arrive in large numbers. Among them were Generals Hooker, Sickles, Carr, Mott, Hobart, Ward, Revere, Bartlett, Birney, and Berry.

The troops, looking their very best, formed a hollow square, in the center of which a canopy was erected, and an altar formed of drums.

As the generals marched into the square--General Hooker leading the van--and grouped themselves on each side of the altar, the bands struck up "Hail to the Chief," and on the appearance of the bridal party the "Wedding March" was played.

The day was cold and windy, with a few snow-flakes interspersed, which made the ladies in attendance look very much like "blue noses"; but the blushing bride bore the cold and the admiring glances of the soldiers like a martyr, and retained her dignity and self-possession throughout the ceremony worthy of a heroine, as she was.

To add to the dramatic effect of the scene, a line of battle was formed by the remaining troops in that section, a short distance from camp, to repel an expected attack of the enemy.

The ceremony having been performed, dinner was announced, and all partook of the good things provided for the occasion.

After dinner, came numerous toasts, speeches, songs, and music from the bands, and, to close up the day in good style, a regular military ball was held, and fireworks exhibited in the evening--"and on the whole," a newspaper correspondent says, "it entirely eclipsed an opera at the Academy of Music."

I have before alluded to the vindictive spirit manifested by the women of Virginia toward our soldiers. I will ill.u.s.trate this fact by an incident which took place in one of the hospitals just after a severe battle.

Many wounded soldiers, both Union and Confederate, were brought into the town of Winchester, and placed in the churches and court-house side by side.

The ladies (beg pardon, ladies, I mean females) of that place brought into the hospital many things to nourish and tempt the appet.i.tes of the sufferers, but they gave all these delicacies to the Confederate soldiers: our men were pa.s.sed by as unworthy of notice or sympathy.

One day a lady, who had been a constant visitor, brought in a supply of fragrant tea. She went from one cot to another of her friends, but had no eye or heart of pity for others.

One of our wounded men, who lay near his end, longed for a cup of this tea as he saw it handed to those around him, and requested the chaplain, who stood by his side, to ask the lady for a little of the tea.

He did so in a very polite manner, at the same time telling her how ill the man was, and that it was the soldier himself who wished him to make the request.

"No," said she, and her face flushed with anger; "not a drop of it; this tea is all for our suffering martyrs."

The chaplain replied: "Madam, I looked for no other answer. I beg pardon for having seemed for a moment to expect a different one."

A few moments afterwards, as the poor disappointed man lay there seeing the delicious tea pa.s.sed on all sides of him and could not procure a drop of it, an old lame negro woman came limping up the aisle with a large basket on each arm.

Coming up to where the chaplain stood, she laid down the baskets and addressed him thus:

"Ma.s.sa, I'se a slave--my husban' and chil'en is slaves. Will you 'cept dese tings for de poor men?"

Then taking up a roll of stockings, she said: "Dem I knit wid my own hands for de soldiers, when all sleep, in my cabin. We know'd dis war was comin'

long 'fore you Yankees did. We see it 'proaching, an' we began to prepare for it."

Then taking packages of tea, cans of fruit, pears and peaches, lint, linen for bandages, and pocket-handkerchiefs, she said: "Ma.s.sa, permit me to give you dese for de poor men. I have not stole 'em. My own hands have earned 'em over de washtub. I wish to do something for de Union soldiers, Lord bless 'em!"

"As she talked," says the chaplain, "she grew more earnest, and looking around on the mutilated men the tears rolled down her black face, and fell on her hands, as she lifted the treasures out of the baskets and handed them to me."

Our sick men looked with wonder and admiration on the old colored woman, and soon a hundred voices cried out "G.o.d bless you, aunty! You are the only white woman we have seen since we came to Winchester."

Some people a.s.sert that colored people have no souls. Which, think you, acted most as if lacking soul--the black or the white woman in the hospital at Winchester?

The devotion of the negro woman, as manifested in the hospital, is a perfect sample of the devotion of the contrabands, male and female, to the Union cause.

And now that the time has come when the colored men are permitted, by the laws of the land, to a.s.sume the privileges of rational beings, and to go forth as American soldiers to meet their cruel oppressors on the b.l.o.o.d.y field, there is evidently as great, if not greater, enthusiasm and true patriotism manifested by them, as by any troops in the United States army.

And still further--it has been proved satisfactorily within the last twelve months that the colored troops endure fatigue as cheerfully and fight as well (and get less pay) as any of the white troops. Thank G.o.d, this is one great point gained for the poor down-trodden descendants of Africa.

I imagine I see them, with their great shiny eyes and grinning faces, as they march to the field, singing--

Oh! we're de bully soldiers of de "First of Arkansas,"

We are fightin' for de Union, we are fightin' for de law, We can hit a rebel furder dan a white man eber saw, As we go marchin' on: Glory, glory, hallelujah, etc.

See dar! above de center, where de flag is wavin' bright; We are goin' out of slavery; we are bound for freedom's light; We mean to show Jeff. Davis how de Africans can fight!

Glory, glory, hallelujah, Glory, glory, hallelujah, Glory, glory, hallelujah, As we go marching on.

And now, what shall I say in conclusion? The war still continues--our soldiers are daily falling in battle, and thousands are languishing in hospitals or in Southern prisons; and I for months past have not given even a cup of cold water to the sufferers. I am ashamed to acknowledge it!

But when I look around and see the streets crowded with strong, healthy young men who ought to be foremost in the ranks of their country's defenders, I am not only ashamed, but I am indignant!

To prove to my friends that I am not ambitious of gaining the reputation of that venerable general (Halleck) whose "pen is mightier than his sword," I am about to return to the army to offer my services in any capacity which will best promote the interests of the Federal cause--no matter how perilous the position may be.

And now I lay aside my pen, hoping that after "this cruel war is over,"

and peace shall have once more shed her sweet influence over our land, I may be permitted to resume it again to record the annihilation of rebellion, and the final triumph of Truth, Right, and _Liberty_.

O Lord of Peace, who art Lord of Righteousness, Constrain the anguished worlds from sin and grief, Pierce them with conscience, purge them with redress, AND GIVE US PEACE WHICH IS NO COUNTERFEIT!