University of Virginia Library

CARRIE SHEADS.

GETTYSBURG will be ranked in history as one of the
few great, decisive battles of the world; and, in
consequence, every hero who fell, and a great many of
those who figured there, will enjoy a prominence not
accorded to those who fought and bled on the other
fields. So of those who were casually connected with
those three momentous days, so big with the destiny of
the republic.

The name of Carrie Sheads, besides its association with
that great battle-field, will be remembered as of one who,
being summoned, by the terrible boom of hostile cannon,
from a life of quiet and scholastic seclusion, met the terrible
demands of the hour with the calmness of a heroine,
and, amid the roar and crash of battle, and the fierce
hate of the fiery belligerents, acted with a discretion and
genuine courage which entitle her name and her act to
be held in perpetual remembrance by the daughters of
America.

When Lee's army advanced to the invasion of Pennsylvania,
Miss Sheads was principal of Oakridge Seminary, a
short distance west of the village. As many idle and
groundless rumors of the rebel advance had reached the
village, she had at length dismissed anxiety, become indifferent

to the reports, and kept on in the even tenor of her
way, little dreaming how soon or how fiercely the storm
would burst around her. The evening of the 30th of June
came, and with it Buford's cavalry, the van of the army of
the Potomac. The first brigade of this division camped on
the Chambersburg Pike, not more than two hundred yards
from the seminary.

Closing the usual routine of the day, she promised her
scholars a holiday on the morrow, to enable them to visit
the camp, and contribute to the comfort of the weary and
hungry soldier boys.

The next morning was ushered in by the heavy boom of
artillery, soon followed by sharp volleys of carbine and
musket shots. So suddenly and unexpectedly had war
unfurled its gorgeous but bloody panorama around her and
the cluster of girls in her care, that no time was left to
withdraw to a place of safety, and the battle was now
actually raging a few hundred yards from her door.

So near the line of battle, and situated on the turnpike,
the buildings of Oakridge Seminary were soon used as a
hospital; and, with that amazing suddenness which can
happen only in a time of active and invasive warfare,
Miss Sheads found herself converted from the principal of
a young ladies' seminary into the lady superintendent of an
army hospital. The world is familiar with the story of this
great battle, of which this cavalry engagement on the
morning of the 1st of July was the opening; how Buford,
with his handful of cavalry, checked the advance of the rebel
masses, till Reynolds, with the first corps, came to their
relief, and, by the assistance of the eleventh and part of

the third, seized upon the key point of the position, — the
Cemetery Ridge, — which was strengthened by the entire
Union force as it came up, and which, at the end of three
days of awful carnage, remained secure in the iron grasp
of the Federal army. The issue of the first day's fight
was the falling back of Howard — who commanded after
Reynolds fell — from Seminary Ridge, where the action
began, to Cemetery Ridge, on the other side of the town.
Slowly and sadly the veterans of the first corps turned to
obey the order. And, although the rebels pressed them
hard, and sought by desperate charges and wild huzzas to
rout them in confusion, still they maintained their discipline,
and obstinately contested every inch of ground.

Reynolds had fallen, but the dead hero had left his own
gallant and self-devoting spirit in the breasts of his men.
They were fighting on their own soil, by their own hearthstones,
on hills that had been familiar to many of them
from boyhood; and this had made heroes of them all.

Among the last to leave the field were the ninety-seventh
New York infantry, commanded by Lieutenant-Colonel
Charles Wheelock, who, after fighting hand-to-hand as
long as there was a shadow of hope, undertook to lead his
broken column through the only opening in the enemy's
lines, which were fast closing around him.

Arriving on the grounds of Oakridge Seminary, the gallant
colonel found his only avenue of escape effectually
closed, and, standing in a vortex of fire, from front, rear,
and both flanks, encouraged his men to fight with the naked
bayonet, hoping to force a passage through the walls of
steel which surrounded him. Finding all his efforts vain,

he ascended the steps of the seminary, and waved a white
pocket handkerchief in token of surrender. The rebels,
not seeing it, or taking no notice of it, continued to pour
their murderous volleys into the helpless ranks. The colonel
then opened the door, and called for a large white cloth.
Carrie Sheads stood there, and readily supplied him with
one. When the rebels saw his token of surrender they
ceased firing, and the colonel went into the basement to
rest himself, for he was thoroughly exhausted.

Soon a rebel officer came in, with a detail of men, and,
on entering, declared, with an oath, that he would show
them "southern grit." He then began taking the officers'
side arms. Seeing Colonel Wheelock vainly endeavoring
to break his sword, which was of trusty metal, and resisted
all his efforts, the rebel demanded the weapon; but the
colonel was of the same temper as his sword, and turning
to the rebel soldier, declared he would never surrender his
sword to a traitor while he lived. The rebel then drew a
revolver, and told him if he did not surrender his sword he
would shoot him. But the colonel was a veteran, and had
been in close places before. Drawing himself up proudly,
he tore open his uniform, and still grasping his well-tried
blade, bared his bosom, and bade the rebel "shoot," but he
would guard his sword with his life. At this moment,
Elias Sheads, Carrie's father, stepped between the two, and
begged them not to be rash; but he was soon pushed aside,
and the rebel repeated his threat. Seeing the danger to
which the colonel was exposed, Miss Sheads, true to the
instincts of her sex, rushed between them, and besought
the rebel not to kill a man so completely in his power;

there was already enough blood shed, and why add another
defenceless victim to the list? Then turning to the colonel,
she pleaded with him not to be so rash, but to surrender
his sword, and save his life; that by refusing he would lose
both, and the government would lose a valuable officer.
But the colonel still refused, saying, "This sword was
given me by my friends for meritorious conduct, and I
promised to guard it sacredly, and never surrender or disgrace
it; and I never will while I live." Fortunately, at
this moment the attention of the rebel officer was drawn
away for the time by the entrance of other prisoners, and
while he was thus occupied Miss Sheads, seizing the favorable
opportunity, with admirable presence of mind unclasped
the colonel's sword from his belt, and hid it in the folds of
her dress. When the rebel officer returned, the colonel
told him he was willing to surrender, and that one of his men
had taken his sword and passed out. This artifice succeeded,
and the colonel "fell in" with the other prisoners, who
were drawn up in line to march to the rear, and thence to
some one of the loathsome southern prison pens, many of
them to meet a terrible death, and fill an unknown grave.

When the prisoners had all been collected, and were
about starting, Miss Sheads, remembering the wounded men
in the house, turned to the rebel officer, and told him that
there were seventy-two wounded men in the building, and
asked him if he would not leave some of the prisoners to
help take care of them. The officer replied that he had
already left three. "But," said Miss Sheads, "three are not
sufficient." "Then keep five, and select those you want,
except commissioned officers," was the rebel's unexpected

reply. On the fifth day after the battle, Colonel Wheelock
unexpectedly made his appearance, and received his sword
from the hands of its noble guardian, with those profound
emotions which only the soldier can feel and understand,
and, with the sacred blade again in his possession, started
at once to the front, where he won for himself new laurels,
and was promoted to the rank of a brigadier-general. He
had managed to effect his escape from the rebels while
crossing South Mountain, and, after considerable difficulty
and suffering, succeeded in reaching Gettysburg in safety.
General Wheelock finally died of camp fever, in Washington
City, near the close of the war, in January, 1865.

As the battle raged, Miss Sheads and her little flock continued
unterrified in the midst of the awful cannonade, she
soothing and cheering the girls, and they learning from
her that noble calmness in danger which, under all circumstances,
and in either sex, stamps the character with an air
of true nobility, and indicates genuine heroism.

The seminary was hit in more than sixty places, and two
shells passed entirely through it. At length Miss Sheads
and her young ladies became accustomed, as it were, to the
situation, and in the intervals of the uproar would walk
out in the grounds, and watch the magnificent yet fearful
sight, that the slopes of Cemetery Hill presented.

All devoted themselves to the great number of wounded
with whom their halls and large rooms were crowded. For
many days after the fighting ceased, and Lee had withdrawn
his mutilated army south of the mountain, these poor fellows
remained there, and were most kindly cared for, till
all whose injuries were serious had been removed to the

general hospitals that had been fitted up on the hills at the
other side of the town.

The annoyance suffered by having the battle at their
threshold was not the only trial which the war laid upon the
family of Miss Sheads. There were four brothers, who,
imbibing the spirit of patriotism which animated so many
thousands in all the loyal states at the outbreak of the
rebellion, thought

The two eldest joined the army at the first call for
troops, and by reënlistment remained in service until one
was discharged for disability, and the other fell while
bravely fighting at the battle of Monocacy.

The other two joined the army later; one of whom
entered the hospital at City Point, while the other received,
at White Oak Swamp, wounds which have made him an
invalid for life. All four have proved their loyalty on the
bloody field, and, while two of them

another, by her exertions in providing for the sufferers and
for the family, at the time of the great battle, has rendered
herself a chronic invalid. Thus five of this interesting
and deeply loyal family have laid the most precious of
earthly gifts — life and health — as free-will offerings on the
altar of their country.