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Fob Woman’s Work.
DEEDS THEIE ECHOES.
Among the mountains of Switzerland
There’s one green spot where you may stand,
And, be your utterance loud or low,
A score of echoes will wake below,
And airily rising from peak to peak
Will reproduce all the words you speak.
•
K
For Woman’s Work.
Mortimer rode on and on, fording the
valley streams. Nor cared he for fatigue,
save that his horse might be over-wearied.
Sometimes he asked refreshments at a
way-side house, and at night stretched
himself on the grass, sheltered by a forest
tree, having first kindled a huge log fire
to guard him from the animals that in
fested the forests, and then he fell asleep—
that luxurious sleep, the offspring of fa
tigue and a pure conscience ; and so deep
was this sleep that the cry of the panther
or the bay of the wolf had no effect to dis
turb. Thus he passed through the
* “Stranger Country,” disturbing not the
rest of her “little people.”
It will be remembered that Captain
Lynne left the army of General Bragg af
ter the great battle of Chickamauga, in
which Rosecrans had been driven into
Chattanooga,and Longstreet sent to invest
Knoxville. The Confederates were
stretched in an irregular line or circle from
the river above to the river below the
town, just under Lookout Point, Mission
ary Ridge in the rear and east of these
lines. General Bragg, having sent Long
street and Buckner to Knoxville, and re
inforced only by Stevenson’s division, had
an army of less than thirty-five thousand
men. He had failed to cut off hostile sup
plies or reinforcements of Rosecrans.
Hooker, Howard and Sherman, with their
army corps and others, had joined and
swelled the Federal forces to one hundred
thousand and Lieutenant General Grant
had assumed the command. Military crit
ics will never cease to censure Bragg for
not pursuing the Federate from the field
of Chickamauga and entering Chattanooga
with them. That he could have done so.
the light of subsequent events clearly
proves. Again, when the Federate were re
inforced to nearly three times his numbers,
to receive battle with his extended line
was a grave error. Yet such was the fact.
Till the day before the battle of Mission
ary Ridge, he was investing a strong posi
tion held by one hundred thousand men,
with one-third of that number. This
would do with the Mexicans, as Scott and
Taylor demonstrated in Mexico, but the
men who held Chattanooga were Ameri
cans, and the officers were of the same
school—many of the same class —as Bragg
himself.
Such was the situation when Captain
Lynne rejoined his command, the 18th.
Alabama, two days before the fight at Mis
sionary Ridge. O nthe morning of the 25th.
of November, Hooker moved in a dense
fog and surprised and captured a portion
of Walthal’s brigade under Lookout Point;
Pettus’ Alabama brigade was sent to his
support, and checked the Federal advance
about noon. At four P. M., Holtzclaw’s
Alabama brigade relieved General Pettus,
and held the position till midnight, when
he withdrew, under orders, to Missionary
Ridge—burning the bridge on Chatta
nooga Creek. There was, from the time
the Federate were checked till the Con
federates withdrew, a great deal of firing,
but very little damage, as both lines were
protected by the rocks and rough ground.
This was the battle so celebrated in story
and painting as the “Battle of the Clouds.”
At daylight the next morning, the Con
federates were along the crest of Mission
ary Ridge, in a line about seven miles
long. In the fight on the mountain,
tCaptain Lynne commanded the skir
*Miss Craddock’s Story in Harper’s Monthly 1891.
t Historical.
"ESEEOLA"
But, better still,—whate’er your tone,
If a saving word goes floating down
From manhood’s height to some dark spot
Where a wand’rer stumbles, the way forgot,
Ten thousand echoes from heaven return
In music sweet that your soul can learn.
George Bancroft Gbiffeth.
mish line, his left resting under Look
out Point, when he retired under orders.
He brought a Federal scout and five pri
vates as prisoners with him. Bringing up
the rear of his brigade, he executed Holtz
claw’s orders to destroy the bridge on Chat
tanooga Creek, which much retarded the
advance of Hooker, who succeeded late in
the afternoon in passing through Ross
ville Gap, turning Bragg’s left, and getting
into his rear, which won the battle. I
will not give the details of this battle. AU
critics of it severely censure General
Bragg’s disposition of his forces in mass
ing four strong divisions on his right,
where he repulsed every advance, and ex
tending the remainder of his command in
a thin line for miles along the crest of the
ridge, with the Gap at Rossville, the key
to his left, undefended. Near sundown,
Holtzclaw and his brigade were sent to
defend the Gap at Rossville. It was too
late. Hooker’s whole corps had crossed
Chattanooga Creek, gone through the Gap,
turned Bragg’s left and was in his rear.
General Breckinridge ordered his brigade
to withdraw, and in endeavoring to extri
cate his command from the cul de sac in
the darkness and confusion many were
captured, among them Captain Lynne,
who, with his command, was literally sur
rounded by overwhelming numbers.
Captain Lynne was first sent to Nash
ville, then to Columbus, Ohio, on his way
to prison at Johnson’s Island. He escaped
at Columbus, and getting free from the
car going to Cleveland, hid himself—dis
guised in Federal overcoats —in one going
to Philadelphia. He went to Nassau; in
March ran the blockade to Wilmington;
re-joined his command the first day of
May, 1864, near Dalton, and was with the
army of Johnston in the retreat from
Dalton to the fall of Atlanta. He went
with Hood on his flank movement to Nash
ville, was promoted after the retreat from
Nashville to the rank of Lieutenant Col
onel, and went on the staff of Clayton.
*;< << << * m ♦
We return to Eseeola. Mary accompa
nied Daphnie Ann, and the remainder of
the day busied herself unpacking her
trunk ; almost with a motherly caress she
laid aside the dainty bit of needle-work
that suggested wee, pink toes. The com
pletion of this tiny wardrobe, with long
rambles through the wood, helped break
the monotony of her life, until one day ev
erything was quiet at Mr. Green’s.
They spoke to each other in subdued
tones, and were careful to avoid unneces
sary noise. A horseman stopped at the
gate, dismounted, and taking his saddle
bags, entered the house and was taken
immediately to Mrs. Fremont’s room. Dr.
Pompous came from somewhere over the
mountain, I don’t know just where. He
was held in great esteem by the moun
taineers, and when he was pleased to dis
play his great learning while sitting be
side the bed of his patient, his hearers
were over-awed, and sometimes forgot to
obey his orders. This was always con
sidered the case when a patient died ; no
reproach for the doctor, for it was the
failure to carry out the orders given. Dr.
Pompous and Mrs. Green were in Mrs.
Fremont’s room all that day, and in the
stillness of the night, the feeble cry of an
infant was heard.
Is it not strange that children are born
crying? Why is it they do not make
known their entrance into an earthly ex
istence in some other way? It seems as
WOMAN’S WORK.
if the little helpless thing, having been
forced without its own consent into a
world of suffering, utters its feeble wall of
protest. Early next morning Mrs. Green
conveyed the news to her husband and
Daphnie Ann. The family were delight
ed, and wondered what the little girl would
be named. Mrs. Green said that she liked
Jerusha. Daphnie Ann hoped she would
name the baby for her, and Mr. Green said
he thought that “Jemimy wus er nice
name.” But these good people were to be
disappointed. Mrs. Fremont was very ill
for a week, then the doctor’s visits grew
less and less regular, and one day, about
three weeks after his first visit, he gave
her permission to sit up and hold the lit
tle one on her lap. How she hugged it to
her heart and cried over it! Each day
she grew stronger, and one sweet April
day, when the baby was just a month old,
Mrs. Fremont was sitting in the room of
all work, with the baby on her lap, watch
ing Mrs. Green prepare dinner, when she
said, “I have named my little girl Ga
zelle. I name her for her eyes, they are
so beautiful—just like those of the ga
zelle,” and then she explained to them all
about this beautiful animal.
This simple folk had grown so attached
to Mrs. Fremont that they thought every
thing she did was right; but afterwards,
when speaking together of the name, they
did say that they thought it queer she
named her baby after “er animerl.”
it was now April, 1864 Mrs. Fremont
had no news from Mortimer, who had left
her the previous October. She was grow
ing so impatient. She had now gained
sufficient strength to resume her rambies
On one or two occasions she climbed the
mountain in company with Daphnie Ann,
leaving her baby in Mrs. Green’s care,
and made beautiful sketches of the gran
deur that lay stretched before her. But
her favorite resort was Eseeola Falls.
How she delighted to watch the watex - fall
over the dark, rugged cliff into the river,
listen to its murmurings, watch the foamy
spray which caught on the palette of sun
light, and painted tiny rainbows. Here
she made sketches, read or dreamed the
hours away, and sometimes, longing for
companionship, called “Mortimer, oh,
Mortimer.” But no response came. She
thought of attempting to reach the coast
again, for she was like one buried here.
She knew not if the war continued or had
closed. But she thought Mortimer might
come to seek her here, and she would lose
him again; so she concluded to wait for
him this year, and if he came not, she
would make an effort to reach New York.
Days, weeks, months, and no tidings.
She had despaired now of ever seeing him
again. So, one bright, cold January day,
1865, Mr. Green consented to her urgent
request to procure a conveyance and drive
her to Blowing Rock. She left Eseeola,
sorrowfully bidding weeping Daphnie Ann
and Mrs. Green good-bye, as sne had form
ed quite an attachment for her rural
friends. On reaching Blowing Rock she
went to the house of good Mrs. Brown,
who was delighted co see her, and almost
smothered the baby with kisses. Mary
was more fatigued than when Mortimer
drove her over the same road to Eseeola,
but in a few days she was quite strong
enough to resume her travel. When she
bade Mr. Green good bye, she promised to
make his family a visit after the close of
the war. This promise destroyed part of
the poignancy he felt at leaving her.
Mr. Brown, as soon as she was sufficiently
rested, drove her to Yadkin, and in this
way she travelled from town to town, rest
ing at different points until, on the first of
March, she reached Durham Station.
Here she desired to remain sometime, be
ing greatly fatigued, and she procured res
idence at the house of Mr. Bennett, where
she found a more congenial home, and
warm Southern hearts beat with sympa
thy for this lonely widow of a fallen Fed
eral soldier. Here she learned something
of the movements of the war, and her
soul was filled with horror that so much
bloodshed should be deemed necessary for
the good of the nation. Mr. Bennett
thought that, owing to the disparity in the
numbers of the two armies, the Federal
forces far outnumbering the Confederates,
the South would have to surrender, not
for want of bravery—for on what records
of war had been chronicled greater bravery
than that of General Lee and his army? or
of General Jackson, whose daring sug
gested the name of “Stonewall.” Not for
want of bravery did they surrender, but
because they were outnumbered.
Mary was growing rested, and enjoyed
being with this pleasant family, when
news reached them of the indecisive battle
at Averysboro between Generate Hardee’s
and Sherman’s men. Mary also learned
that the corps then commanded by General
Hardee was at Chickamauga, commanded
by General Bragg, to whose corps Morti
mer belonged. She began to think it pos
sible that General Hardee might be able
to give her some news of her friend,
so she sent a messenger to him to make
inquiries. This General remembered
Captain Lynne, but had lost him at the
battle of Missionary Ridge. He was among
the killed, wounded or captured of that
battle. For fear he might have been
among the wounded, and, probably recov
ering, had joined some other corps, Gen
eral Hardee advised the messenger to go
from corps to corps, making inquiry. (At
this time, just after the battle of Benton
ville, almost the entire Confederate force
was in this state). It so happened that
General Clayton was next interviewed by
the messenger, and immediately upon
hearing the inquiry, summoned Captain
Lynne to his tent, giving him his reasons
for so doing, Mortimer evincing great
surprise and pleasure as he spoke. He
afterward gave General Clayton Mrs. Fre
mont’s history. The General laughingly
replied that the bravest soldiers were not
always able to meet the charms of the op
posite sex without being led captive by
them. He then save him permission to
answer the inquiries in person.
So Mortimer accompanied the messen
ger, whose familiarity with the roads fa
cilitated progress, and they reached Dur
ham Station about noon on the 15th of
April. Another surprise. It seemed l»
Mary that her life was constantly yielding
surprises. Sometimes they were pleasant,
and again so full of sorrow ! This was a
pleasant one. It seemed as if one raised
from the dead had come to her. This
time she could not resist giving the em
brace which her heart prompted. Then
her beautiful baby was brought, who
laughed and clung to Mortimer’s neck.
The soft touch of hex* tiny fingers brought
tears to the soldier’s eyes.
Oh, how much they had to tell each
other—Mary of her life at Eseeola, and
her long, wearisome journey to Durham
Station, having despaired of ever seeing
him again, of her grief lest he were dead.
And Mortimer told her of the bloody bat
tles in which he had fought, his many
“hair-breadth” escapes, his capture at
Missionary Ridge and his escape. It had
been impossible for him to return to Esee
ola, and there being no mail facilities in
that country, he was compelled to let her
remain in ignorance as to his movements;
but God in His mercy had re-united them.
He felt that the war must soon cease,
since brave Lee had, after a struggle that
seemed almost superhuman, been com
pelled to surrender at Appomattox, and
he thought other commanders would fol
low. Here he could scarcely control the
emotion that every Confederate must have
felt at this time.
Next day, while sitting together on a rose
embowered porch, talking and thinking
over the strange past, Mortimer ventured
to ask Mary of her strange behavior to
ward him in the years that had passed.
Great tears stood in her lovely blue eyes
as she said : “Mortimer, do you remember
the evening when you told me good-bye,
that a loosened rock fell over the ledge
into the water ? It was father’s footstep
that loosened that rock, and he was hiding
near by, listening. I never knew this un
til after my marriage. Father, after be
ing ill for some months, died the first year
of the war. His death occurred shortly
after my husband enlisted in the Federal
service. About a week before his deatn,
he called me to his bedside, saying :
‘Daughter, I have something 1 wish to
tell you before my spirit is disem
bodied. Mary, have I not been a different
man since your mother’s death ?’ ‘Yes,
father,’ I responded, and I wondered if
you had not been praying for him, Mortie.”
“Yes, Mary, I did not forget your part
ing request, and our God Is a prayer-an
swering God.”
“Mother died in 1859, just three years
after your visit to us. Her death, was
beautiful, the result of her sweet, Christian
life. Father never forgot her parting
words.” The last words of our loved ones,
like the subtle fragrance of flowers crushed,
linger long after their bodies become a
part of earth.
“It may be, Mary, that this was God’s
plan to save his soul.”
“I do not doubt it, Mortie,” she con
tinued: “Father said: ‘Mary, do you re
member the June evening, five years ago,
when you bade that young theological
student good-bye, with a promise to be
come his wife? Do not wonder that I
know this, for witn shame I confess to you,
my daughter, that I was listening, and
when you said that you had tried to live a
Christian,but that father ridiculed religion
so, and then your request, ‘Pray for him,
Mortie,’ stung me deeply. It seemed like
the voice of God rebuking me, but like
Pharaoh of old, my heart was hardened.
I was determined that you should not
marry Lynne, and I carried out my deter
mination by—oh, how it pains me to tell
you”—by intercepting your letters.’
‘ “Oh, father,’ I said, ‘how could you?’
“ ‘Mary, God has forgiven me, won’t
(Concluded on page 10 c )
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