"Jackson replied that some one must proceed to Washington at once, and that he thought it was not best to let the boy's parents in Detroit know the facts, they being old people and alone (according to the statement of the boy), and as the young lady is doubtless searching for Henry, as we all surmise from her letter to our father, it is certainly our duty to look after this boy's case ourselves. I have only ten days' leave from my duty, and therefore brought these papers, thinking that father might perhaps go to see the President.
"Mary Anderson spoke up at once and said:
"'No, sir; no, sir. Your father will not go. He must not leave Aunt Sarah in her present condition. I will go; yes, I will go at once. Get me a ticket, I want no trunk; my satchel will do. I will be off on the first train.'
"Jennie said, 'Why, Mary, you will not go, will you?'
"'Yes, I am going. I am determined to do so. It is settled; so do not attempt to stop me.'
"'Well,' said Jennie, 'Uncle Daniel, what shall we do?'
"I replied, 'She is determined on it, and we will just help her to get off at once.'
"So the ticket was procured and Mary was off with a good-bye, taking with her a full statement of the case made out by Jackson, also his letter, and a letter from me to the President. Under the circumstances this was a painful trip to her--the anxiety as to her success; the fact that she knew nothing about the family in whose behalf she was enlisted.
She a stranger to the President, how should she approach him? What could she say to him? Suppose he would refuse to interpose in behalf of the boy? And a thousand inquiries would come to her mind to annoy her. She slept none on her way, but finally arrived safely in Washington, and went directly to the Executive Mansion without stopping to take a mouthful of food or a moment's repose.
"When she reached the threshold of the mansion she came near fainting; her courage and strength both seemed to leave her all at once. Presently her strength returned, and she asked to be admitted. The usher said, 'I will see,' and took her name to the President; also my letter. The President was alone. She could not speak. The President came forward and took her by the hand and greeted her most kindly, saying that he almost knew her; that he knew much of her through me, as I had spoken of her in connection with her husband. The President said:
"'Your brave husband is so well known to me through my friend Mr. Lyon, and through his daring on the field, that you would need no introduction more than that I should know who you are; and I take it that you are on an errand of mercy, as I am sure you could not be here to ask anything for your husband, as I would do anything for him, as he knows, merely for the asking by himself or my friend Lyon.'
"'No, Mr. President; you will never be troubled by me in that way. I am truly on an errand of mercy and justice'; and here she broke down and wept.
"When she recovered she said:
"'Mr. President, my errand is to save the destruction of a good family.'
"She then recited the facts as to the two old people, and that Seraine, the only daughter, was now on an errand of mercy South somewhere.
"The President replied that he remembered giving her a letter at the request of his friend Daniel Lyon, and said:
"'My dear Mrs. Anderson, there is hardly anything that I would not do for any of Mr. Lyon's family, as well as Gen. Anderson and yourself; and, certainly, if to prevent a calamity to such a family as you describe Mr. Whitcomb's to be, I would do anything that would be proper and reasonable for me to do.'
"She was very much encouraged by these remarks, and began to feel more at ease.
"The President, seeing this, asked her many questions about her husband's health, and also about my family. When she spoke of Stephen's foul murder, the President walked the floor and remarked:
"'Most diabolical--fiendish.'"
("Little did he or she then suppose that it was her own brother that had committed this wicked and cruel murder.")
"By this time she was so much encouraged that she handed him the letter and statement of Jackson.
"The President read the letter, and then read and reread Jackson's statement. Great tears rolled down his bronzed cheeks as he read the statement. He tapped a bell, and sent for the Secretary of War. The Secretary soon came, and greeted Mrs. Anderson very cordially on being introduced. The President asked him to take a seat, and handed him the statement. He read it, and said:
"'I will at once see if any papers in this case have been forwarded.'
"During all this time imagine the suspense and fears of Mary Anderson.
"The Secretary sent to the Judge-Advocate-General, and found that the papers had just arrived.
"The President said:
"'Let them be brought to me immediately.'
"When they were placed before him he read them over carefully, remarking, when he had finished, that they were exactly as stated by Capt. Lyon. He handed them to the Secretary and asked him to read them, which he did, and laid them down without a word of comment.
"After some conversation between the two men, the President turned to her and said:
"'Mrs. Anderson, cheer up, weep no more; your friend shall not be hurt!
Instead of showing himself unworthy of clemency he has proven himself a noble boy. The kindness which he showed to his messmate and neighbor boy was enough to have commended him to mercy. He should have been complimented for his kindness and excused from duty, instead of having it imposed upon him. You can go home and bear the glad tidings to his father and mother that their boy shall be saved for a better fate.'
"Mary Anderson, trembling with emotion, said:
"'Mr. President, you are so very kind, sir. But, if you will pardon me, his father and mother know nothing of their boy's trouble. We kept it from them, believing it would have caused them great distress. We desire to keep it from them.'
"'Do you say that his father and mother do not know of this, nor that you are here?'
"'Mr. President, they are not aware of the case.'
"'Mrs. Anderson, that was very considerate in your friends and yourself, to keep this from them for the present at least.'
"The President then wrote, with his own hand, a telegram, ordering the suspension of sentence against James Whitcomb--that he had been fully pardoned--signed it and sent it to the office with directions that the dispatch be sent at once. Mary Anderson on her knees thanked the President from the fullness of her heart. He bade her rise; said he had done nothing that she should thank him for; that if he had permitted such a sentence to be carried out he never could have forgiven himself.
He bade her go home and carry the good tidings to her friends. He told her to give me and my family his kindest regards. She then left with a light heart.
"She went directly to the train, forgetting that she had eaten nothing during the day. She returned to us one of the happiest persons that ever lived, and you may depend upon it that we all shared in her joy. Capt.
Jackson had returned to his command prior to Mary's return from Wash ington. When we all got through with the family talk and Mary had eaten her dinner, she gave us a full account of her trip, her agonies and sensations on meeting the President. She was exceedingly happy in her details about her trip and her success; but, strange to say, she never alluded to it again voluntarily, and would, as much as possible, avoid conversation on the subject when spoken to in reference to it.
"Gen. Anderson had asked that James Whitcomb be detailed from his regiment and assigned to him as an Orderly at his Headquarters, which was done. And again all was moving on quietly in the field."
"Yes," said Capt. Inglesby, "as I before stated, there would have been warm times in that camp had they shot that boy. The whole camp had heard the facts about his helping his comrade, and the soldiers with one voice said he should not be executed. His pardon was a Godsend to the officers who were intending to carry out the sentence. During all my experience (and I was through the whole war) I never knew such a mutinous feeling in the army as that sentence created."
Dr. Adams remarked that in all his reading and experience in life there had not been a female character brought to his notice who had shown the will, determination and good judgment that Mrs. Anderson had from the beginning of the war; her fixed Union principles; her determination to make any and all sacrifices for the cause of her country; her persistence in hunting for her husband when all others were sure of his death at Dolinsburg--few women like her have lived in our time. "God bless her, whether she is living or dead!"
The tears rolled down the old man's cheeks, but he uttered not one word in response.
CHAPTER XII.
MORGANSON'S RAID AND BATTLE OF CHEROKEE RUN.--THE REBEL CAVALRYMEN WHIRL THROUGH INDIANA AND OHIO.--BEATEN AND CAPTURED.--KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN CIRCLE CONTINUE THEIR MACHINATIONS.
"If that rebellion Came like itself, in base and abject routs, Led on by bloody youth, guarded with rage, You revered father, and these noble lords Had not been here to dress the ugly form Of base and bloody insurrection."
--Shakespeare.
"After the long-continued idleness of the Army of the Center around Murphy's Hill, the people began to clamor for a movement of some decisive character.
"During Gen. Rosenfelt's inactivity, Gen. Silent had moved with the Army of the West against Gen. Pendleton, who had continued to obstruct Conception River by holding Victor's Hill, as well as the grand bluffs below. Gen. Silent had made some of the most wonderful marches and successes ever known. He had opened ways for the water to flow from the river into the lands; had cut canals through at different points; had run the batteries of an hundred guns with his transports laden with supplies for his army; marched on the opposite side of the river below Pendleton, crossing his army below the Grand Bluffs in one day and night; moved out against the enemy, who was in superior force, cutting loose from his own base of supplies, and fought him in six hardly-contested battles with victorious results each time, and he finally succeeded in hemming Pendleton inside his fortifications at Victor's Hill and forcing him, with his entire army, to surrender unconditionally.