 | MRS. MARY W. LEE. Women of the war : |  |
MRS. MARY W. LEE.
THIS name will recall to the minds of ten thousands
of our brave soldiers who fought in the army of the
Potomac the face and the figure of a cheerful, active,
efficient, yet tender-hearted woman, herself the mother of
a soldier boy, who for month after month, and year after
year, while the war continued, moved about the hospitals
of the army a blessing, a comfort, and a hope to thousands
of weary sufferers.
She came to America from Great Britain when a mere
child, and grew up with intense national pride and loyalty
to the government which has given an asylum and opportunity
to so many millions.
Her first efforts in behalf of the soldiers in our great
war were in the hospital of the Union Refreshment Saloon,
in Philadelphia. Here she labored with constancy and zeal
during the greater part of the first year of hostilities; but
when the conflict assumed the serious and bloody proportions
that we saw in the summer of 1862, Mrs. Lee felt
that she could do more good nearer the field of action. In
August opportunity favored her, and she went down to
Harrison's Landing on the Spaulding, a hospital transport,
and there, with others, she found that enterprising and
indefatigable army worker, Mrs. Harris, with whom she
scenes that attended the disastrous finale of the Peninsular
campaign.
No sooner was the mutilated wreck of that grand army
brought away from the sickly bottoms of James River,
than all fit for service, and thousands of new recruits, were
pushed forward in the relentless and deadly campaign
which ended in disaster and repulse for the rebels at
Antietam. In this great battle Mrs. Lee was one of the
first on the field; and her labors, commencing among the
first wounded, continued, without weariness or abatement,
till the last poor, mutilated hero of the "crutch brigade"
was moved from the general hospital late in December.
Although it was her first experience in a great battle,
Mrs. Lee prepared for the awful scenes that were to follow
with the coolness and judgment of a veteran. She had two
large buckets filled with water, one for washing wounds,
the other for quenching thirst. As the action grew hot,
the first tub grew of a deeper and deeper crimson, till it
seemed almost as red as blood itself; and the other was
again and again replenished, as the men came in with faces
black with powder, and clothes stiff with gore. The hunger,
too, in many cases, was clamorous. Many of the men had
eaten nothing for more than twenty-four hours. Mrs. Lee
found a sutler, who, with enterprise that would have been
becoming in anything less purely selfish, had urged his
wagon well to the front, and was selling at exorbitant
rates to the exhausted men. She took money from her
private purse, and again and again bought his bread and
soft crackers at his army rates. At last such repeated
and he was determined not to be outdone so entirely by a
woman. About the third or fourth time she pulled out her
purse he exclaimed, "Great God, I can't stand this any
longer. Give that woman the bread!" The ice was now
broken, and from giving to her, he began to give away,
himself, till his last cracker had gone down the throat of a
half-famished hero, and he drove away with his wagon
lighter and his heart softer for having met a noble-hearted
woman.
While she was thus working just in the rear of the awful
thunder, Sedgwick was brought to the rear, with his severe
wound, and then Hooker, with his bleeding limb.
Mrs. Lee was probably nearer the front than any other
woman on the day of the battle, and certainly much nearer
than the commander-in-chief himself.
Among the fatally wounded was one named Adams, from
the nineteenth Massachusetts, whose brother brought him
to Mrs. Lee, and said, "My good lady, my brother here
will die, I think; the regiment is ordered to Harper's
Ferry. Will you promise to look after him, and when he
dies, to see that he is decently buried, and mark the spot,
so I can find his body and take it on to our home in Massachusetts?"
Mrs. Lee promised the heavy-hearted soldier
that all his wishes should be respected; and he buckled on
his sword and marched back to the front. A few days
after, he sought out Mrs. Lee, and she gave him a full
account of the last hours of his brother and his dying
words; and then taking him out among the thick and fresh-heaped
mounds, pointed out a grave better rounded than
was buried there; and so he found it. Such was her
fidelity and perfect reliability at all times and in all trusts
committed to her.
Immediately after the battle there was that confusion
and delay in the supply trains inevitable in the best-conducted
army at the time of a great action. At one of
the field hospitals where Mrs. Lee was doing the best she
could for the crowd of sufferers, there was found nothing
in the way of commissary supplies but a barrel of flour, a
barrel of apples, and a keg of lard. To a practical housekeeper,
as she is, this combination seemed to point to
apple dumplings as the dish in which they could all be
employed to the best advantage; and the good-natured
astonishment of the poor fellows, who looked for nothing
but black coffee and hard-tack, was merged in admiration
for the accomplished cook who could there, almost
on the battle-field, serve them with hot dumplings.
While the battle was still raging, and orderlies were
galloping past where Mrs. Lee was at work, she asked one
of them if Sumner's corps were yet engaged. "Yes," was
the reply; "they have just been double-quicked into the
fight." For a few moments her heart sank within her, and
she grew sick, for her son was in that corps, and all her
acquaintances in the army. Her anguish found relief in
prayer; after which she grew so calm and cheerful that
a wounded boy, who lay there on the grass beside her, said,
"Madam, I suppose you haven't any one in the battle, or
you couldn't be so calm."
The night after the battle she went to Sedgwick's division
was greatly annoyed by some worthless camp-followers,
who would not carry food to the wounded, and when she
left to carry it, they stole everything she had cooked. She
went up stairs, where most of the wounded were, and asked
if any one was there who had sufficient authority to detail
her a guard. A pleasant voice from one of the cots,
where an officer lay bleeding, said, "I believe I have.
Just take the first man you can find, and put a gun in his
hand." It was General John Sedgwick; and she had no
more annoyance from camp thieves.
In a day or two after the battle she went, with Mrs.
General Barlow, in an ambulance, to see if some poor fellow
had not been overlooked on the field. They found two
boys in a deserted cabin, who had never had their wounds
dressed, and had been living on a few crackers and water.
They were, of course, brought in, and tenderly cared for.
Mrs. Lee was very much interested in a very brave little
fellow, from Company B, seventy-second Pennsylvania volunteers,
named Willie Morrow. He had fought all day
with uncommon bravery, acting as a sharpshooter. He
and his companion, at one time, came marching in six rebel
prisoners, captured by only those two, and Willie was the
smallest boy in the regiment. As he was going back to the
front, a cannon ball hit him, and carried off both his legs.
When brought to the rear, he asked the surgeon if there
was any hope of his getting over it. "No, Willie, there is
no hope," said the doctor. Turning to his companions, he
said, "Tell them at home that I died happy, — that I was
glad to give my life for my country." The blood continued
"Tell them I died happy," were his last words; and in death
his pale young face wore a smile.
Not long after the battle, all the field and regimental
hospitals were merged into one general hospital at Smoketown;
and here Mrs. Lee was aided by a noble and efficient
corps of army workers — Miss Maria Hall, Mrs. Barlow,
Mrs. Husband, Mrs. Harris, and others, most of whom
labored through the war, and enjoyed the utmost confidence
of the surgeons and all who observed the superior character
and spirit of their work.
During the fall many touching instances of noble youths
dying of their wounds, and making the last sacrifice for
their country, occurred among those daily visited by Mrs.
Lee. Among others was the case of Henry Cole, of the
nineteenth Massachusetts. He had been wounded in the
leg, and strong hopes were entertained that he might recover.
His mother came on from Massachusetts to nurse
him. He was her only child. As she bent over his cot,
and saw him gradually becoming weaker and more pallid,
tears fell fast on the coverlet, and she would exclaim, "O,
if money could restore you, I'd gladly give all I have in
this world."
He was a Christian, and a well-educated young gentleman;
everything that a mother's heart, in its pride and its
unfathomable love could hope for in a son. "O Henry,
my son," she would say, amid her tears, "when you are
gone, my light is gone out. I've nothing to live for."
"Mother," he would answer, "I am only going a little
while before you; we shall meet again." Then, just before
boys good by for me, and tell them never to give up our
noble cause."
This hospital was blessed with the attendance and service
of a superior surgeon-general in Dr. Vanderkieft, and a
most excellent and praiseworthy chaplain in Rev. Mr.
Sloan. Hardly a soldier in the Smoketown Hospital but
loved him as a brother. Many a face tortured with pain
grew smooth when his cheerful countenance entered
the tent.
When the hospital was fully established, the tents were
divided between Mrs. Husband, Miss Hall, and Mrs. Lee;
and their labors, thus systematic and persistent, continued
till some time in December, when the wounded at
Fredericksburg demanded attention.
Among Mrs. Lee's patients was one poor fellow who was
so weak and reduced that no food would remain in his
stomach. She tried every dish for which the hospital supplies
afforded materials, but without reaching his case.
One day, in overhauling some stores, she discovered a bag
of Indian meal. "O, I've found a prize!" she exclaimed.
"What is it?" asked the little fellow, who had been detailed
to act as her orderly. "Indian meal, to be sure." "Pshaw!
I thought you had found a bag of dollars." "Better than
dollars now," was her reply, as she hurried away to the
tent where her poor patient lay.
"Sandburn," said she, "could you eat some mush?"
"Don't know what that is — don't like any of your fancy
dishes." A boy on the next cot said, "Why, it's pudding
and milk."
"O, yes," said the starving soldier, "I could eat a
bucketful of that!" She made him some, and brought it
to him in a cup with milk, sweet milk, and it agreed with
him. Then he ate it three times a day, and soon could
take with it a little broiled squab, and began to gain
strength very fast. The discovery of that little sack of
corn meal had saved his life.
The religious exercises at this hospital were often deeply
interesting. Mr. Sloan was as much respected for piety as
he was beloved for his kindness. Miss Hall commonly led
the singing; and many a touching, fervent, and whole-souled
prayer for the Union and the army was offered by
men who would hobble in on crutches. The more they
suffered in the cause, the more they loved it.
While thus occupied at Antietam, Mrs. Lee heard with
alarm of the great explosion of powder at Harper's Ferry,
by which so many of the seventy-second Pennsylvania were
killed or wounded. Her son was in that regiment. She
hurried up there, and labored some time among those sufferers,
compounding for their burns a salve that was found
very grateful and healing. Her boy was fortunately not
injured in the explosion.
From Antietam the hospital workers next went to Falmouth,
on the Rappahannock, where the army was encamped,
after Burnside's unfortunate attack at Fredericksburg. Upon
leaving Antietam, Dr. Vanderkieft expressed his opinion of
the character and worth of Mrs. Lee, and her labors there,
in the following terms: —
"It is with great pleasure that I bear witness to the invaluable
services of Mrs. Lee in this hospital. She knew
Her unwearied activity was a subject of universal comment,
among officers and men, and her untiring efforts in behalf
of patriots have won the love and esteem of all to whom
she has ministered. I commend Mrs. Lee to the highest
position that a noble and Christian woman can fill."
Chaplain Sloan, also, in a letter from Antietam, in which
he speaks of the workers there, says of Mrs. Lee: "None
of the newspaper notices tell half the story of her good
works. Many a poor boy, that suffered here, will long
remember her kindness. She labored harder, and did
more to alleviate the pains and sufferings of the wounded
at Antietam than any three others."
This describes her labors at the Falmouth hospitals, and
all the others with which she was connected during the
three years of her army life. She was regular, persistent,
thorough, and obedient to the surgeons in all she did, and
all she gave to the soldiers. Her wards were always found
in perfect order, and well supplied. For a great part of
the time she was placed in charge of the light diet and
special diet department, where her duties were laborious,
and often vexatious.
The rickety old stove upon which she prepared her food
for the sick was often in a wretched condition. When set
up in a tent it generally smoked, and fuel was not always
abundant, or of a good quality. Notwithstanding all these
discouragements, her temper was always cheerful, her
health perfect, and her duty performed with thoroughness
and punctuality.
After a temporary absence from Falmouth, with her sick
wounded at Chancellorsville.
She was at the Lacey House Hospital, and had a full view
of the storming of Mayre's Heights, by Sedgwick's corps,
on the 2d of May.
When that fierce engagement was at its height, the men
that had been wounded in the skirmishes of the days
previous all dragged themselves to the galleries and terraces
of the house, Mrs. Lee helping them, and watched
the conflict with eager forgetfulness of their own sufferings.
When at length Sedgwick, and the brave sixth corps, after
two repulses, made the final and triumphant charge, sweeping
over the battlements from which Burnside had been so
terribly repulsed in December, everybody that had a well
arm raised it, with ringing cheers, over his head, and
shouted, till their brave companions on the other side heard
and answered back their triumph. Mrs. Lee stood by her
little cooking tent, wiping dishes, and joined in the general
delight by waving her towel, as a flag, and shouting with
the rest. She did more than this. She fell upon her
knees, and thanked God that those formidable lines, from
which the Union forces had been so often repulsed with
frightful carnage, were at last carried, and the national flag
waved in triumph over them.
But the eight thousand wounded that came pouring
across the Rappahannock soon engrossed the attention of
every one who could do anything for their relief, and Mrs.
Lee, with the other ladies, labored all day, and a considerable
part of each night, striving to mitigate some of the
accumulated suffering and pain.
Some of her patients at the "Lacey House" interested
Mrs. Lee very deeply. One, Frederick Allen, from Kendall's
Mills, was very sick with typhoid pneumonia, and the
doctor ordered stimulants. Frederick refused to take anything
containing alcohol, saying he had given his mother a
solemn promise that he would not take any while in the
army. No inducement could prevail, until his father came
down, and told him his mother released him from his
promise, as she knew it was to save his life. He recovered
health, and was in all the battles with his regiment. At
Bristow Station he was color guard, and the regiment captured
several guns. In the battle of the Wilderness he
was wounded slightly in the arm, and went to the rear, but
returned very soon, and received a severe wound in the
head, and was disabled for several weeks. Returning to
his regiment, he fought around Petersburg, till again
attacked by typhoid pneumonia, of which he died only a
few days before Lee's surrender — a brave and noble youth
as ever shouldered arms; a soldier of the cross no less
than of the starry flag.
Mr. Allen and his family became greatly attached to Mrs.
Lee on account of her kindness to Frederick and other
soldiers. Upon his return home, he begged of Miss
Amanda Lee the photograph of her mother, and acknowledged
the receipt of it in the following terms: —
"I can think of no better title than friend to address you
by, for it seems to me that one having so good a mother as
you have must be a friend to God and humanity.
"But to the question of your mother's picture: we received
it the next day after it was mailed; it did not stop in
Mass., `Troy, Maine,' and it came right along; and a beautiful
picture it is, too. We have got a nice oval frame for
it, and then we had her name and residence printed at the
bottom of the picture; and I tell you it is a splendid thing.
Then we have hung it in the centre of the mantel piece, with
a soldier boy on each side, and our own dear son, Fred,
in the middle; and, as they are arranged, your mother
seems to be watching over them, as I have seen her in the
hospital, on the Rappahannock. I wish you could step in
and see them thus arranged: you might well feel proud of
your mother."
Mrs. Lee was at Gettysburg as soon as the cannon smoke
had cleared away from the blood-stained hill-side, and
labored in the second corps hospital, and also at Letterman
General Hospital, for three months following the
great battle.
One of the patients who died here, on her hands, was
Aaron Wills, color corporal in the seventy-second Pennsylvania
volunteers, the regiment in which her son was serving.
A ball struck the flagstaff, and shattered it. Aaron wrapped
the flag around his arm, and shouted, "Don't let the colors
fall, boys!" The next moment a ball struck him in a vital
part, and he fell, yet held the flag up so that it would not
touch the ground, till it was taken from his faithful hands,
and carried on at the head of the regiment.
A year after, on the anniversary of his son's death, the
father of Aaron Wills wrote an affecting letter to Mrs.
Lee. "To-day," he says, "I walked out to the cemetery,
to look at the little mound that covers the remains of my
those blessed words, came into my mind: `Father, do not
worry at my being in a dangerous position. I believe, as
you say, I can die in no nobler cause; and, to tell you the
truth, I would as soon die on the battle-field as I would a
natural death.' He need not have said, `to tell you the
truth,' for he never told a lie."
One of her most valued reminiscences of Gettysburg is a
letter of thanks, drawn up and numerously signed by the
boys in whose ward she had acted as nurse. They say, —
Dear Madam: We now hasten to express to you our
thanks for the numerous luxuries and kind services we
have received from you, as from the hands of our own
kind mothers, for which we shall ever feel grateful to you.
While endeavoring to meet the urgent calls of our
wronged country, we had the misfortune to be wounded far
from home, and, as we thought, from friends. Here we
have found your kind hand to care for us, and alleviate our
wants as much as possible. We shall ever feel grateful to
you for such motherly care as can never be forgotten; and
besides the thousand thanks bestowed on you, the God of
our country will ever bless you with a special blessing — if
not now, surely you will receive it hereafter.
This testimonial was signed by a large number in Ward
B, sixth division, General Hospital, Gettysburg.
Sickness in the family of Mrs. Lee detained her at home
during a part of the winter of 1863-64; but she went
Meade's army, in January, February, and March, 1864.
Here she was connected with the hospital of the second
division, second corps, where were the wounded at the
action of Morton's Ford.
Here she found Dr. Sawyer and Dr. Aiken, two physicians,
who, for kindness and self-sacrificing devotion to the
health, cheerfulness, and comfort of the soldier, had no
superiors in the army of the Potomac. With such efficient
aid in the nursing department as was rendered by such
ladies as Mrs. Husband and Mrs. Lee, this General Hospital
soon became the model for all the army. For cleanliness,
order, cheerfulness, and the home-like air which surrounded
it, no corps hospital was equal to it.
One of the boys, under Mrs. Lee's care, received a letter
from his mother, saying that she was coming to see him, and
asking what supplies and luxuries she had better bring with
her. "Bring nothing but yourself, mother," was his reply:
"this is not a hospital; it is a home."
About the middle of April, just before Grant's advance,
Mrs. Lee returned home for a few days. But no sooner had
he moved in the first days of May, than he found obstinate
resistance from the rebel leader, and the great battles
of the Wilderness and Spottsylvania were fought. The
engagement commenced on the 5th, and was continued till
the 12th of May, Grant being "determined to fight it out
on that line, if it took all summer."
There was, of course, a vast number of wounded, and
the demand for hospital workers was never more urgent
than during the months of May and June, 1864. Mrs.
old town one vast hospital. The first and great
clamor was for food. Transportation from Belle Plain was
slow, on account of the fearful condition of the roads; and
though the enemy was crippled and falling slowly back to
Richmond, and Fredericksburg is only a days ride from
Washington, thousands and thousands of our men suffered
constantly from hunger. Upon Mrs. Lee's arrival, Dr. Bannister
gave her the charge of the special diet of the second
corps. The kitchen furniture with which she was supplied
consisted of one small tin cup, and there was no source
from which the proper utensils could be obtained. Mrs.
Lee remembered, however, that the year before, Mrs.
Harris, at the Lacey House, on the other side of the Rappahannock,
had left a cooking stove, which might be there
yet. Obtaining an ambulance, and going over on the pontoon,
she found the old stove, dilapidated, indeed, and
rusty; but she could make gruel and panada on it. She
found some old kettles, too, which she took over, and
scoured up, so that in a few hours a kitchen had been extemporized.
The boys broke up clapboards and pickets
for fuel, and soon the buckets of gruel, tea, and coffee, and
bowls of chicken soup, began to circulate among the famishing
heroes. As long as she remained in Fredericksburg,
and, in fact, all that summer, from daylight till long after
the nine o'clock drum-taps, she did little but cook, cook,
cook. Sometimes, just as the hospital had become composed
for the night, and the old campaign stove had grown
cool for the first time in eighteen hours, an immense train
of ambulances would come rolling in from the front, all
There was no other way but to rise, and work,
perhaps, till long past midnight. It was fortunate that
with such willingness of heart and such skill, nay, such
genius, as she displayed for cooking under all the disadvantages
of camp life, Mrs. Lee had also a robust constitution
and excellent health; otherwise she must have
broken down under the long-continued labors and sleeplessness
of that last grand campaign against Richmond.
From Fredericksburg she went, over land, to White
House; and there Miss Cornelia Hancock, of New Jersey,
and Mrs. Lee assisted Dr. Aiken to dress the wounds and
give nourishment to a long train of the wounded that were
placed on transports and carried to northern hospitals.
Remaining here some days, she proceeded next to City
Point, which Grant had now made his base of supplies and
his hospital centre.
For some time the accumulation of wounded here was far
greater than could in any small degree be made comfortable.
Many a night Mrs. Lee stood by the fly of her little
kitchen tent, and looked upon long rows of helpless and
bleeding men lying on the ground, sometimes with a little
straw beneath and a blanket over them, all waiting, in mute
and touching patience, for their turn to come to be taken up
and cared for. At night such rows of silent sufferers, lying
there in the moonlight, looked so much like graves, and
summoned up, in a heart as sympathetic as hers, such
troops of melancholy thoughts, that she could not look at
them without shedding tears.
At City Point, among the wounded from Petersburg, Mrs.
patients. One was Major William F. Smith, of the first
Delaware. Wounded severely in the leg, he suffered
amputation, and death followed. He had been severely
wounded at Fredericksburg, and again at Gettysburg.
When urged by his friends to expose his life less freely,
"No," he would reply, "I am no better than any other
soldier." They urged him to remember how much it would
grieve his mother. "I know it," said he; "but I am no
better than any other mother's son." When informed that
he could not live, he thanked the doctors for the pains they
had taken with his case: "You have done all that you
could for me, but Providence has some wise end in view in
overruling your efforts." His last words to his young
brother were, "Kiss mother for me, Lee."
Another, who sealed his devotion with his blood, was
Lieutenant-Colonel John A. Crosby, of the sixty-first
Pennsylvania volunteers. He had entered the service as
orderly sergeant, was badly wounded in both hips at Fredericksburg,
and afterwards lost an arm fighting before
Washington, in Early's last invasion. When his friends
remonstrated with him for keeping the field thus mutilated,
he said, "My country has had my arm. She is welcome to
my life." Before leaving home for the last time, he bade his
wife and family good by, telling them he should never see
them again on earth. Those who knew him best, say that
no better man or braver soldier ever died for his country.
He fell in the last great battle of the war before Petersburg,
in April, 1865.
A poor German boy was killed at the same time, and his
heart-broken mother went on from Baltimore to get his
in her power, saw the dead soldier in his coffin, and sympathized
with the mother.
Upon her return, and after the burial, Mrs. Lee received
from the mother the following letter, which is all the
more interesting for its honest simplicity as well as its
broken English: —
After I left City Point for Baltimore wish my dear son,
I arrifet safe home, only wish a broken hart, on the 11th in
the morning. We cept him till the 12th in the evening,
and took him up to Pansilvaniae, to hes broter and sisters.
The 15th, in the morning, he arrifet saf at hes stat of rest.
Rev. D. Izenbury atent the funerl, and Bregt, hes text John
11th and 11th, and a great many tears has being shatt for
hem. I arrifet at My home the 17th in the morning. I
am so troubelt in my Mint and Week that I could not rite,
and ask for barten me and excus me for not ansern zuner.
My humbel dank to your Virtues and faver which you
showed to me. I would ask your Kindness, if you ples.
I wase so trobelt to see to every ting, namely my Son hat
a very good Watch, and I would lik to have that for Membery,
ples, and ask Mr. Geo. W. Low, Company F. 190th
Penn. Vols. Fifth Core Hospital City Point Va. My Love and
best Respect to Mrs. Hart and Mrs. Polk and Mrs. Ashe.
My Love and best Respect to you
can com tru here, gif me a call.
Among many such letters received by Mrs. Lee during
her three years of army life, the following, from a bereaved
mother in New Hampshire, cannot be read by any mother
who lost a boy in the army without unsealing the fountains
of old grief.
Forever precious are such letters — consecrated by the
sacred baptism of tears that ooze like life-blood from
broken hearts!
I had not received the painful intelligence of my beloved
son's death until Friday afternoon. My heart is filled with
sorrow; my grief I cannot express. You have a beloved
son in the army. Dear Thomas told me of you and of your
son in one of his letters. He told me there was a woman
in the hospital by the name of Mrs. Lee; he said you were
as kind to the soldiers as a mother, and that they all loved
you as a mother. He said you were an angel. I wrote to
him that I was happy to hear him say that there was an
angel in his tent; for I never ceased to pray to God, my
heavenly Father, that he would send his holy angels into
his tent, to guide him by day and guard him by night.
He wrote me, the day he went into the hospital, that he had
the rheumatism in his arms and legs, but thought he should
be able to go back to his regiment. I did not feel much
alarmed about him. He then wrote to me he had the
measles very lightly, but the cough hung on, as it always
does.
His last letter was written to me March 29. He said
he thought he was about rid of the measles, but the lameness
me, and give all the particulars about my darling son.
Were you with him in his last sickness? I suppose he
was a great sufferer. Will you write when he was first
taken with the fever, and if he was conscious of the
approach of death. Did he speak of his mother or sister,
or father or brother? Lieutenant Milton wrote me that
he died the 9th of April. You will please to tell me
at what hour, and when he was buried. Tell me if he
lost his flesh.
O, I shall never, never again see my darling boy in this
world! never again hear his joyous laugh! O Mrs. Lee,
can you sympathize with me? I am thinking of your own
darling son. May be now the battle rages! May our
heavenly Father protect your dear son, and return him
safe to you.
Will you please to ascertain the place where Thomas K.
Ripley is buried. We shall bring his body home as soon as
we can have permission. I have sent three letters to my
son; two the last week in March; one had a five-dollar bill
in it. Do you know if he received the money?
I pray that you will write to me as soon as you can, and
I will satisfy you for it. If there is a pocket-book or letters
left behind, you will please save them for his poor, afflicted
mother.
My dear friend, I hope you will write to me; it will be
a great consolation to my bereaved heart. I am much
afflicted, and can hardly write. This is terrible!
(Wife of Nathaniel Ripley.)
Having thus sympathized in the sufferings and disasters
of our soldiers, and in the agony that their death occasioned
at so many firesides, it was fit that Mrs. Lee should be
present at the happy consummation, and join in that grand
pæan of victory, that, commencing at Richmond, in the
first days of April, went swelling, in a glorious chorus,
from the Atlantic to the Pacific shores.
In the hospital where Mrs. Lee then was, the exultations
of the poor, languishing soldiers were full of almost
frantic joy.
"Such a time!" she writes; "the people nearly went
crazy. Hospital help, ladies, wounded and all, were beside
themselves. Processions were formed, kettles improvised
for drums; all kinds of noises were made to manifest
our joy. Bells were rung, cannon fired, steam whistles
blown; men cheered and shouted themselves hoarse.
President Lincoln visited the hospital while I was there.
He went round to every man, and said he wanted to shake
the hand of every man who had helped to gain so glorious
a victory; and he had a kind word for all."
In the hospitals of Petersburg and Richmond Mrs.
Lee continued for a month after Lee's surrender; for,
though the war was ended, there remained a great multitude
of the sick, and those wounded in the last engagements.
Then, when there were no more homeless and suffering
patriots; no more wounds to be stanched; no more
long trains of ambulances, with their groaning and bleeding
freightage; no more caldrons of gruel and mutton
soup to be cooked for great wards full of half-famished
happy routine of domestic usefulness.
Into those womanly duties she carries the rich consciousness
of having given herself up entirely, for three
laborious but happy years, to the exercise of heavenly
charities, and to the practice of that mercy that is twice
blessed.
| MRS. MARY W. LEE. Women of the war : | |