University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.
OBTAINING SUPPLIES.

“I want something to do.”

This remark being addressed to the world in general, no
one in particular felt it their duty to reply; so I repeated it
to the smaller world about me, received the following suggestions,
and settled the matter by answering my own inquiry, as
people are apt to do when very much in earnest.

“Write a book,” quoth the author of my being.

“Don't know enough, sir. First live, then write.”

“Try teaching again,” suggested my mother.

“No thank you, ma'am, ten years of that is enough.”

“Take a husband like my Darby, and fulfill your mission,”
said sister Joan, home on a visit.

“Can't afford expensive luxuries, Mrs. Coobiddy.”

“Turn actress, and immortalize your name,” said sister
Vashti, striking an attitude.

“I won't.”

“Go nurse the soldiers,” said my young brother, Tom, panting
for “the tented field.”

“I will!”

So far, very good. Here was the will—now for the way.
At first sight not a foot of it appeared, but that didn't matter,
for the Periwinkles are a hopeful race; their crest is an
anchor, with three cock-a-doodles crowing atop. They all
wear rose-colored spectacles, and are lineal descendants of the
inventor of aerial architecture. An hour's conversation on
the subject set the whole family in a blaze of enthusiasm. A
model hospital was erected, and each member had accepted an
honorable post therein. The paternal P. was chaplain, the
maternal P. was matron, and all the youthful P.s filled the
pod of futurity with achievements whose brilliancy eclipsed
the glories of the present and the past. Arriving at this satisfactory
conclusion, the meeting adjourned, and the fact that
Miss Tribulation was available as army nurse went abroad on
the wings of the wind.

In a few days a townswoman heard of my desire, approved
of it, and brought about an interview with one of the sisterhood
which I wished to join, who was at home on a furlough,
and able and willing to satisfy all inquiries. A morning chat
with Miss General S.—we hear no end of Mrs. Generals, why
not a Miss?—produced three results: I felt that I could do
the work, was offered a place, and accepted it, promising not
to desert, but stand ready to march on Washington at an
hour's notice.

A few days were necessary for the letter containing my re
quest and recommendation to reach headquarters, and another,
containing my commission, to return; therefore no time was
to be lost; and heartily thanking my pair of friends, I tore
home through the December slush as if the rebels were after
me, and like many another recruit, burst in upon my family
with the announcement—

“I've enlisted!”

An impressive silence followed. Tom, the irrepressible,
broke it with a slap on the shoulder and the graceful compliment—

“Old Trib, you're a trump!”

“Thank you; then I'll take something:” which I did, in
the shape of dinner, reeling off my news at the rate of three
dozen words to a mouthful; and as every one else talked
equally fast, and all together, the scene was most inspiring.

As boys going to sea immediately become nautical in speech,
walk as if they already had their “sea legs” on, and shiver
their timbers on all possible occasions, so I turned military at
once, called my dinner my rations, saluted all new comers,
and ordered a dress parade that very afternoon. Having reviewed
every rag I possessed, I detailed some for picket duty
while airing over the fence; some to the sanitary influences of
the wash-tub; others to mount guard in the trunk; while the
weak and wounded went to the Work-basket Hospital, to be
made ready for active service again. To this squad I devoted
myself for a week; but all was done, and I had time to get
powerfully impatient before the letter came. It did arrive
however, and brought a disappointment along with its good
will and friendliness, for it told me that the place in the Armory
Hospital that I supposed I was to take, was already
filled, and a much less desirable one at Hurly-burly House
was offered instead.

“That's just your luck, Trib. I'll tote your trunk up
garret for you again; for of course you won't go,” Tom remarked,
with the disdainful pity which small boys affect when
they get into their teens. I was wavering in my secret soul,
but that settled the matter, and I crushed him on the spot
with martial brevity—

“It is now one; I shall march at six.”

I have a confused recollection of spending the afternoon in
pervading the house like an executive whirlwind, with my
family swarming after me, all working, talking, prophesying
and lamenting, while I packed my “go-abroady” possessions,
tumbled the rest into two big boxes, danced on the lids till
they shut, and gave them in charge, with the direction,—

“If I never come back, make a bonfire of them.”

Then I choked down a cup of tea, generously salted instead
of sugared, by some agitated relative, shouldered my knapsack—it
was only a traveling bag, but do let me preserve the
unities—hugged my family three times all round without a
vestige of unmanly emotion, till a certain dear old lady broke
down upon my neck, with a despairing sort of wail—

“Oh, my dear, my dear, how can I let you go?”

“I'll stay if you say so, mother.”

“But I don't; go, and the Lord will take care of you.”

Much of the Roman matron's courage had gone into the
Yankee matron's composition, and, in spite of her tears, she
would have sent ten sons to the war, had she possessed them,
as freely as she sent one daughter, smiling and flapping on the
door-step till I vanished, though the eyes that followed me
were very dim, and the handkerchief she waved was very
wet.

My transit from The Gables to the village depot was a funny
mixture of good wishes and good byes, mud-puddles and shopping.
A December twilight is not the most cheering time to
enter upon a somewhat perilous enterprise, and, but for the
presence of Vashti and neighbor Thorn, I fear that I might
have added a drop of the briny to the native moisture of—

“The town I left behind me;”

though I'd no thought of giving out: oh, bless you, no!
When the engine screeched “Here we are,” I clutched my

escort in a fervent embrace, and skipped into the car with as
blithe a farewell as if going on a bridal tour—though I believe
brides don't usually wear cavernous black bonnets and
fuzzy brown coats, with a hair-brush, a pair of rubbers, two
books, and a bag of ginger-bread distorting the pockets of the
same. If I thought that any one would believe it, I'd boldly
state that I slept from C. to B., which would simplify matters
immensely; but as I know they wouldn't, I'll confess that
the head under the funereal coal-hod fermented with all manner
of high thoughts and heroic purposes “to do or die,”—
perhaps both; and the heart under the fuzzy brown coat felt
very tender with the memory of the dear old lady, probably
sobbing over her army socks and the loss of her topsy-turvy
Trib. At this juncture I took the veil, and what I did behind
it is nobody's business; but I maintain that the soldier
who cries when his mother says “Good bye,” is the boy to
fight best, and die bravest, when the time comes, or go back
to her better than he went.

Till nine o'clock I trotted about the city streets, doing those
last errands which no woman would even go to heaven without
attempting, if she could. Then I went to my usual refuge,
and, fully intending to keep awake, as a sort of vigil
appropriate to the occasion, fell fast asleep and dreamed propitious
dreams till my rosy-faced cousin waked me with a kiss.

A bright day smiled upon my enterprise, and at ten I reported
myself to my General, received last instructions and
no end of the sympathetic encouragement which women give,
in look, touch, and tone more effectually than in words. The
next step was to get a free pass to Washington, for I'd no
desire to waste my substance on railroad companies when
“the boys” needed even a spinster's mite. A friend of mine
had procured such a pass, and I was bent on doing likewise,

though I had to face the president of the railroad to accomplish
it. I'm a bashful individual, though I can't get any one to
believe it; so it cost me a great effort to poke about the
Worcester depot till the right door appeared, then walk into a
room containing several gentlemen, and blunder out my request
in a high state of stammer and blush. Nothing could
have been more courteous than this dreaded President, but it
was evident that I had made as absurd a demand as if I had
asked for the nose off his respectable face. He referred me
to the Governor at the State House, and I backed out, leaving
him no doubt to regret that such mild maniacs were left at
large. Here was a Scylla and Charybdis business: as if a
President wasn't trying enough, without the Governor of Massachusetts
and the hub of the hub piled on top of that. “I
never can do it,” thought I. “Tom will hoot at you if you
don't,” whispered the inconvenient little voice that is always
goading people to the performance of disagreeable duties, and
always appeals to the most effective agent to produce the proper
result. The idea of allowing any boy that ever wore a
felt basin and a shoddy jacket with a microscopic tail, to crow
over me, was preposterous, so giving myself a mental slap for
such faint-heartedness, I streamed away across the Common,
wondering if I ought to say “your Honor,” or simply “Sir,”
and decided upon the latter, fortifying myself with recollections
of an evening in a charming green library, where I beheld
the Governor placidly consuming oysters, and laughing
as if Massachusetts was a myth, and he had no heavier burden
on his shoulders than his host's handsome hands.

Like an energetic fly in a very large cobweb, I struggled
through the state House, getting into all the wrong rooms and
none of the right, till I turned desperate, and went into one,
resolving not to come out till I'd made somebody hear and

answer me. I suspect that of all the wrong places I had
blundered into, this was the most so. But I didn't care; and,
though the apartment was full of soldiers, surgeons, starers,
and spittoons, I cornered a perfectly incapable person, and
proceeded to pump for information with the following result:

“Was the Governor anywhere about?”

No, he wasn't.

“Could he tell me where to look?”

No, he couldn't.

“Did he know anything about free passes?”

No, he didn't.

“Was there any one there of whom I could inquire?”

Not a person.

“Did he know of any place where information could be
obtained?”

Not a place.

“Could he throw the smallest gleam of light upon the matter,
in any way?”

Not a ray.

I am naturally irascible, and if I could have shaken this
negative gentleman vigorously, the relief would have been
immense. The prejudices of society forbidding this mode of
redress, I merely glowered at him; and, before my wrath
found vent in words, my General appeared, having seen me
from an opposite window, and come to know what I was about.
At her command the languid gentleman woke up, and troubled
himself to remember that Major or Sergeant or something
Mc K. knew all about the tickets, and his office was in Milk
Street. I perked up instanter, and then, as if the exertion
was too much for him, what did this animated wet blanket do
but add—

“I think Mc K. may have left Milk Street, now, and I
don't know where he has gone.”

“Never mind; the new comers will know where he has
moved to, my dear, so don't be discouraged; and if you don't
succeed, come to me, and we will see what to do next,” said
my General.

I blessed her in a fervent manner and a cool hall, fluttered
round the corner, and bore down upon Milk street, bent on
discovering Mc K. if such a being was to be found. He
wasn't, and the ignorance of the neighborhood was really pitiable.
Nobody knew anything, and after tumbling over bundles
of leather, bumping against big boxes, being nearly annihilated
by descending bales, and sworn at by aggravated
truckmen, I finally elicited the advice to look for Mc K. in
Haymarket Square. Who my informant was I've really forgotten;
for, having hailed several busy gentlemen, some one of
them fabricated this delusive quietus for the perturbed spirit,
who instantly departed to the sequestered locality he named.
If I had been in search of the Koh-i-noor diamond I should
have been as likely to find it there as any vestige of Mc K.
I stared at signs, inquired in shops, invaded an eating house,
visited the recruiting tent in the middle of the Square, made
myself a nuisance generally, and accumulated mud enough to
retard another Nile. All in vain: and I mournfully turned
my face toward the General's, feeling that I should be
forced to enrich the railroad company after all; when, suddenly,
I beheld that admirable young man, brother-in-law Darby
Coobiddy, Esq. I arrested him with a burst of news, and
wants, and woes, which caused his manly countenance to lose
its usual repose.

“Oh, my dear boy, I'm going to Washington at five, and
I can't find the free ticket man, and there won't be time to see

Joan, and I'm so tired and cross I don't know what to do;
and will you help me, like a cherub as you are?”

“Oh, yes, of course. I know a fellow who will set us
right,” responded Darby, mildly excited, and darting into
some kind of an office, held counsel with an invisible angel,
who sent him out radiant. “All serene. I've got him. I'll
see you through the business, and then get Joan from the
Dove Cote in time to see you off.”

I'm a woman's rights woman, and if any man had offered
help in the morning, I should have condescendingly refused
it, sure that I could do everything as well, if not better, myself.
My strong-mindedness had rather abated since then,
and I was now quite ready to be a “timid trembler,” if necessary.
Dear me! how easily Darby did it all: he just asked
one question, received an answer, tucked me under his arm,
and in ten minutes I stood in the presence of Mc K., the
Desired.

“Now my troubles are over,” thought I, and as usual was
direfully mistaken.

“You will have to get a pass from Dr. H., in Temple
Place, before I can give you a pass, madam,” answered Mc
K., as blandly as if he wasn't carrying desolation to my soul.
Oh, indeed! why didn't he send me to Dorchester Heights,
India Wharf, or Bunker Hill Monument, and done with it?
Here I was, after a morning's tramp, down in some place about
Dock Square, and was told to step to Temple Place. Nor
was that all; he might as well have asked me to catch a humming-bird,
toast a salamander, or call on the man in the moon,
as find a Doctor at home at the busiest hour of the day. It
was a blow; but weariness had extinguished enthusiasm, and
resignation clothed me as a garment. I sent Darby for Joan,
and doggedly paddled off, feeling that mud was my native element,

and quite sure that the evening papers would announce
the appearance of the Wandering Jew, in feminine habiliments.

“Is Dr. H. in?”

“No, mum, he aint.”

Of course he wasn't; I knew that before I asked: and,
considering it all in the light of a hollow mockery, added:

“When will be probably return?”

If the damsel had said, “ten to-night,” I should have felt a
grim satisfaction, in the fulfillment of my own dark prophecy;
but she said, “At two, mum;” and I felt it a personal insult.

“I'll call, then. Tell him my business is important:” with
which mysteriously delivered message I departed, hoping that
I left her consumed with curiosity; for mud rendered me an
object of interest.

By way of resting myself, I crossed the Common, for the
third time, bespoke the carriage, got some lunch, packed my
purchases, smoothed my plumage, and was back again, as the
clock struck two. The Doctor hadn't come yet; and I was
morally certain that he would not, till, having waited till the
last minute, I was driven to buy a ticket, and, five minutes
after the irrevocable deed was done, he would be at my service,
with all manner of helpful documents and directions.
Everything goes by contraries with me; so, having made up
my mind to be disappointed, of course I wasn't; for, presently,
in walked Dr. H., and no sooner had he heard my errand,
and glanced at my credentials, than he said, with the most engaging
readiness:

“I will give you the order, with pleasure, madam.”

“Words connot express how soothing and delightful it was to
find, at last, somebody who could do what I wanted, without
sending me from Dan to Beersheba, for a dozen other bodies

to do something else first. Peace descended, like oil, upon
the ruffled waters of my being, as I sat listening to the busy
scratch of his pen; and, when he turned about, giving me not
only the order, but a paper of directions wherewith to smooth
away all difficulties between Boston and Washington, I felt as
did poor Christian when the Evangelist gave him the scroll,
on the safe side of the Slough of Despond. I've no doubt
many dismal nurses have inflicted themselves upon the worthy
gentleman since then; but I am sure none have been more
kindly helped, or are more grateful, than T. P.; for that short
interview added another to the many pleasant associations that
already surround his name.

Feeling myself no longer a “Martha Struggles,” but a
comfortable young woman, with plain sailing before her, and
the worst of the voyage well over, I once more presented myself
to the valuable Mc K. The order was read, and certain
printed papers, necessary to be filled out, were given a young
gentleman—no, I prefer to say Boy, with a scornful emphasis
upon the word, as the only means of revenge now left me.
This Boy, instead of doing his duty with the diligence so
charming in the young loitered and lounged, in a manner
which proved his education to have been sadly neglected in
the—

direction. He started at me, gaped out of the window, ate
peanuts, and gossiped with his neighbors—Boys, like himself,
and all penned in a row, like colts at a Cattle Show. I don't
imagine he knew the anguish he was inflicting; for it was
nearly three, the train left at five, and I had my ticket to get,
my dinner to eat, my blessed sister to see, and the depot to
reach, if I didn't die of apoplexy. Meanwhile, Patience
certainly had her perfect work that day, and I hope she enjoyed
the job more than I did. Having waited some twenty
minutes, it pleased this reprehensible Boy to make various
marks and blots on my documents, toss them to a venerable
creature of sixteen, who delivered them to me with such paternal
directions, that it only needed a pat on the head and an
encouraging—“Now run home to your Ma, little girl, and
mind the crossings, my dear,” to make the illusion quite perfect.

Why I was sent to a steamboat office for car tickets, is not
for me to say, though I went as meekly as I should have gone
to the Probate Court, if sent. A fat, easy gentleman gave
me several bits of paper, with coupons attached, with a warning
not to separate them, which instantly inspired me with a
yearning to pluck them apart, and see what came of it. But,
remembering through what fear and tribulation I had obtained
them, I curbed Satan's promptings, and, clutching my prize, as
if it were my pass to the Elysian Fields, I hurried home.
Dinner was rapidly consumed; Joan enlightened, comforted,
and kissed; the dearest of apple-faced cousins hugged; the
kindest of apple-faced cousins' fathers subjected to the same
process; and I mounted the ambulance, baggage-wagon, or
anything you please but hack, and drove away, too tired to
feel excited, sorry, or glad.