Chapter XXXIV: Part VI (1)

LADIES DISTINGUISHED FOR OTHER SERVICES IN THE NATIONAL CAUSE.

MRS. ANNIE ETHERIDGE

No woman attached to a regiment, as _vivandiere_, _cantiniere_, or _fille du regiment_ (we use the French terms because we have no English ones which fully correspond to them), during the recent war, has won so high and pure a renown as Annie Etheridge. Placed in circumstances of peculiar moral peril, her goodness and purity of character were so strongly marked that she was respected and beloved not only by all her own regiment, but by the brigade division and corps to which that regiment belonged, and so fully convinced were the officers from the corps commander down, of her usefulness and faithfulness in the care of the wounded, that at a time when a peremptory order was issued from the headquarters of the army that all women, whatever their position or services should leave the camp, all the principal field officers of the corps to which her regiment was attached united in a petition to the general-in-chief, that an exception might be made in her favor.

The greater part of Annie Etheridge's childhood was passed in Wisconsin. Her father was a man of considerable property, and her girlhood was passed in ease and luxury; but as she drew near the age of womanhood, he met with misfortunes by which he lost nearly all he had possessed, and returned to her former home in Michigan. Annie remained in Wisconsin, where she had married, but was on a visit to her father in Detroit at the outbreak of the war, and joined the Second Michigan Regiment when they departed for the seat of war, to fulfil the office of a daughter of the regiment, in attending to its sick and wounded. When that regiment was sent to Tennessee she went to the Third Regiment in which she had many friends, and was with them in every battle in which they were engaged. When their three years' service was completed, she with the re-enlisted veterans joined the Fifth Michigan. Through this whole period of more than four years' service she conducted herself with such modesty and propriety, and was at the same time so full of patriotism and courage, that she was a universal favorite with the soldiers as well as officers.

She was in the skirmish of Blackburn's Ford, and subsequently in the first battle of Bull Run, where she manifested the same courage and presence of mind which characterized her in all her subsequent career in the army. She never carried a musket, though she had a pair of pistols in her holsters, but seldom or never used them. She was for a time during the winter following engaged in hospital service, and when the Army of the Potomac went to the Peninsula, during the Chickahominy campaign she was on a hospital transport with Miss Amy M. Bradley, and rendered excellent service there. She was a very tender and careful nurse, and seemed to know instinctively what to do for the sick and wounded. She returned to Alexandria with her regiment, and was with them at the second battle of Bull Run, on the 29th of August, 1862. Early in this battle she was on a portion of the battle-field which had been warmly contested, where there was a rocky ledge, under shelter of which, some of the wounded had crawled. Annie lingered behind the troops, as they changed position, assisted several poor helpless fellows to this cover and dressed their wounds. One of these was William ---- of the Seventh New York Infantry, a noble-looking boy, to whose parched lips she had held the cooling draught, and had bound up his wounds, receiving in return a look of unutterable gratitude from his bright blue eyes, and his faintly murmured "God's blessing on you," when a shot from the rebel battery tore him to pieces under her very hands. She discovered at the same moment that the rebels were near, and almost upon her, and she was forced to follow in the direction taken by her regiment. On another portion of that bloody field, Annie was kneeling by the side of a soldier binding up his wounds, when hearing a gruff voice above her, she looked up and to her astonishment saw General Kearny checking his horse beside her. He said, "That is right; I am glad to see you here helping these poor fellows, and when this is over, I will have you made a regimental sergeant;" meaning of course that she should receive a sergeant's pay and rations. But two days later the gallant Kearny was killed at Chantilly, and Annie never received the appointment, as has been erroneously asserted.

At Chancellorsville on the 2d of May, 1863, when the Third Corps were in such extreme peril, in consequence of the panic by which the Eleventh Corps were broken up, one company of the Third Michigan, and one of the sharp-shooters were detailed as skirmishers. Annie, although advised to remain in the rear accompanied them, taking the lead; meeting her colonel however, he told her to go back, as the enemy was near, and he was every moment expecting an attack. Very loth to fall back, she turned and rode along the front of a line of shallow trenches filled with our men; she called to them, "Boys, do your duty and whip the rebels." The men partially rose and cheered her, shouting "Hurrah for Annie," "Bully for you." This revealed their position to the rebels, who immediately fired a volley in the direction of the cheering; Annie rode to the rear of the line, then turned to see the result; as she did so, an officer pushed his horse between her and a large tree by which she was waiting, thus sheltering himself behind her. She looked round at him with surprise, when a second volley was fired, and a Minie ball whizzing by her, entered the officer's body, and he fell a corpse, against her and then to the ground. At the same moment another ball grazed her hand, (the only wound she received during the war), pierced her dress, the skirt of which she was holding, and slightly wounded her horse. Frightened by the pain, he set off on a run through a dense wood, winding in and out among the trees so rapidly that Annie feared being torn from her saddle by the branches, or having her brains dashed out by violent contact with the trunks. She raised herself upon the saddle, and crouching on her knees clung to the pommel. The frightened animal as he emerged from the woods plunged into the midst of the Eleventh Corps, when his course was soon checked. Many of the men, recognizing Annie, received her with cheers. As she was now at a distance from her regiment, she felt a strong impulse to see and speak with General Berry, the commander of her division, with whom she was well acquainted. Meeting an aid, she asked where the General was. "He is not here," replied the aid. "He is here," replied Annie; "He is my Division General, and has command on the right to-day. I must see him." The aid turned his horse and rode up to the General, who was near at hand, and told him that a woman was coming up who insisted on seeing him. "It is Annie," said General Berry, "let her come; let her come, I would risk my life for Annie, any time." As she approached from one side, a prisoner was brought up on the other, said to be an aid of General Hill's. After some words with him, and receiving his sword, the General sent him to the rear; and after giving Annie a cordial greeting and some kind words, he put the prisoner under her charge, directing him to walk by her horse. It was her last interview with the brave General. Early the next morning he was slain, in the desperate fight for the possession of the plank road past the Chancellor House. In the neighborhood of the hospital, Annie, working as usual among the wounded, discovered an artillery man badly injured and very much in need of her assistance. She bound up his wounds and succeeded in having him brought to the hospital. The batteries were not usually accompanied by surgeons, and their men were often very much neglected, when wounded, as the Infantry Surgeons with their hands full with their own wounded would not, and perhaps could not, always render them speedy assistance. A year later Annie received the following letter, which was found on the body of a Lieutenant Strachan, of her division, who was killed in one of the early battles of Grant's campaign.

WASHINGTON, D. C., _January_ 14th, 1864.

ANNIE--_Dearest Friend_: I am not long for this world, and I wish
to thank you for your kindness ere I go.

You were the only one who was ever kind to me, since I entered the
Army. At Chancellorsville, I was shot through the body, the ball
entering my side, and coming out through the shoulder. I was also
hit in the arm, and was carried to the hospital in the woods, where
I lay for hours, and not a surgeon would touch me; when you came
along and gave me water, and bound up my wounds. I do not know what
regiment you belong to, and I don't know if this will ever reach
you. There is only one man in your division that I know. I will try
and send this to him; his name is Strachan, orderly sergeant in
Sixty-third Pennsylvania volunteers.

But should you get this, please accept my heartfelt gratitude; and
may God bless you, and protect you from all dangers; may you be
eminently successful in your present pursuit. I enclose a flower, a
present from a _sainted mother_; it is the only gift I have to send
you. Had I a picture, I would send you one; but I never had but
two, one my sister has; the other, the sergeant I told you of; he
would give it you, if you should tell him it is my desire. I know
nothing of your history, but I hope you always have, and always may
be happy; and, since I will be unable to see you in this world, I
hope I may meet you in that better world, where there is no war.
May God bless you, both now and forever, is the wish of your
grateful friend,

GEORGE H. HILL,
CLEVELAND, OHIO.

During the battle of Spottsylvania, Annie met a number of soldiers retreating. She expostulated with them, and at last shamed them into doing their duty, by offering to lead them back into the fight, which she did under a heavy fire from the enemy. She had done the same thing more than once on other battle-fields, not by flourishing a sword or rifle, for she carried neither: nor by waving a flag, for she was never color-bearer; but by inspiring the men to deeds of valor by her own example, her courage, and her presence of mind. On the 1st or 2nd of June, when the Second Corps attacked the enemy at Deep Bottom, Annie became separated from her regiment, and with her usual attendant, the surgeon's orderly, who carried the "pill box" (the medicine chest), she started in search of it, and before long, without being aware of the fact, she had passed beyond the line of Union pickets. Here she met an officer, apparently reconnoitering, who told her she must turn back, as the enemy was near; and hardly were the words spoken, when their skirmishers suddenly appeared. The officer struck his spurs into his horse and fled, Annie and the orderly following with all speed, and arrived safe within our lines. As the Rebels hoped to surprise our troops, they did not fire lest they should give the alarm; and to this fact Annie probably owed her escape unscathed.

On the 27th of October, 1864, in one of the battles for the possession of Hatcher's Run and the Boydtown Plank Road, a portion of the Third Division of the Second Corps, was nearly surrounded by the enemy, in what the soldiers called the "Bull Ring." The regiment to which Annie was attached was sorely pressed, the balls flying thick and fast, so that the surgeon advised her to accompany him to safer quarters; but she lingered, watching for an opportunity to render assistance. A little drummer boy stopped to speak to her, when a ball struck him, and he fell against her, and then to the ground, dead. This so startled her, that she ran towards the line of battle. But to her surprise, she found that the enemy occupied every part of the ground held a few moments before by Union troops. She did not pause, however, but dashed through their line unhurt, though several of the chivalry fired at her.

So strong was the confidence of the soldiers in her courage and fidelity to her voluntarily assumed duties, that whenever a battle was to be fought it was regarded as absolutely certain that "Gentle Annie" (so the soldiers named her) would be at hand to render assistance to any in need. General Birney never performed an act more heartily approved by his entire command, than when in the presence of his troops, he presented her with the Kearny cross.

At the close of the war, though her health had been somewhat shaken by her varied and trying experiences, she felt the necessity of engaging in some employment, by which she could maintain herself, and aid her aged father, and accepted an appointment in one of the Government departments, where she labors assiduously for twelve hours daily. Her army experiences have not robbed her of that charming modesty and diffidence of demeanor, which are so attractive in a woman, or made her boastful of her adventures. To these she seldom alludes, and never in such a way as to indicate that she thinks herself in the least a heroine.

DELPHINE P. BAKER

Though her attentions and efforts have had a specific direction widely different, for the most part, from those of the majority of the American women, who have devoted themselves to the cause of the country and its defenders, few have been more actively and energetically employed, or perhaps more usefully, than the subject of the following sketch. To her efforts, persistent, untiring, self-sacrificing, almost entirely does the Nation owe the organization of the National Military Asylum--a home for the maimed and permanently disabled veterans who gave themselves to the cause which has so signally triumphed.

Delphine P. Baker was born in Bethlehem, Grafton County, New Hampshire, in the year 1828, and she resided in New England during her early youth. Her father was a respectable mechanic of good family, an honest, intellectual, industrious man, of sterling principle and a good member of society. Her mother possessed a large self-acquired culture, a mind of uncommon scope, and a vivid and powerful imagination. She was in a large degree capable of influencing the minds of others, and was endowed with a natural power of leadership.

These qualities and traits of both parents we find remarkably developed in the daughter, and to them is doubtless largely due the successful achievement of the great object of her later labors. A feeling, from some cause always cherished by her mother, until it became an actual belief, that her child was destined to an extraordinary career, was so impressed upon her daughter's mind, and inwrought with her higher being as to become a controlling impulse. It is easy, in tracing the history of Miss Baker, to mark the influence of this fixed idea in every act of her life.

For some years previous to the breaking out of the war, Miss Baker had devoted herself to the inculcation of proper ideas of the sphere and culture of woman. She belonged to no party, or clique, had no connection with the Women's Rights Movement, but desired to see her sex better educated, and in the enjoyment of the fullest mental development. To that end she had travelled in many of the Western States, giving lectures upon her favorite subject, and largely influencing the public mind. In this employment her acquaintance had become very extensive.

At the time of the first breaking out of hostilities, Miss Baker was residing in Chicago, Illinois, enjoying a respite from public labors, and devoting herself to her family. But she soon saw that there was much need of the efforts of woman--a great deal to be done by her in preparing for the sudden emergency into which the nation had been plunged. Government had not at hand all the appliances for sending its newly raised forces into the field properly equipped, and women, who could not wield the bayonet, were skillful in the use of another implement as sharp and bright, and which just at that period could be as usefully brought into action.

The devoted labors of the women of Chicago for the soldiers, have long since become a part of the history of the war. In these Miss Baker had her own, and a large share. She collected materials for garments, exerted her influence among her extensive circle of acquaintances in gathering up supplies, and providing for the yet small, but rapidly increasing, demand for hospital comforts. She took several journeys to St. Louis and Chicago, ministered in the hospitals, and induced others to enter upon the same work. Perceiving, with a quick eye, what was most needed in the hastily-arranged and half-furnished places to which the sick and wounded were consigned, she journeyed backward and forward, gathering up from the rich and well-disposed the needed articles, and then conveying them herself to those points where they were most wanted.

Not in strong health, a few months of such indefatigable labors exhausted her strength. She returned to Chicago, but her ardent spirit chafed in inaction. After a time she resolved to commence a literary enterprise in aid of the object she had so much at heart, and in the spring of 1862 she announced the forthcoming publication of the "National Banner," a monthly paper of sixteen pages, the profits of which were to be devoted to the needs of the volunteer soldiery of the United States.

After publishing in Chicago a few numbers of this very readable paper, she removed it to Washington, D. C., where its publication was for some time continued. It was then transferred to New York.

The National Banner did not meet with all the success, its patriotic object and its real literary excellence, demanded. During the last year of the war it was not published with complete regularity, owing to this cause, and to the lack of pecuniary means. But it was undoubtedly the means of doing a great deal of good. Among other things it kept constantly before the people the great object into which Miss Baker had now entered with all the ardor and the persistence of her nature.

This object was the founding of a National Home for totally disabled volunteers of the Union service, and included all who had in their devotion to the cause of the nation become incompetent to provide for their own wants or those of their families.

For years, with a devotion seldom equalled, and a self-sacrifice almost unparalleled, Miss Baker gave herself to this work. She wrote, she travelled, she enlisted the aid of her numerous friends, she importuned the Executive, Heads of Departments, and members of Congress. She gave herself no rest, she flinched at no privations. She apparently existed by the sheer necessity of living for her object, and in almost total self-abnegation she encountered opposition, paralyzing delays, false promises, made only to be broken, and hypocritical advice, intended only to mislead.

Hopeful, unsubdued, unchanged, she at last saw herself nearing success. The session of 1865 was drawing to a close, and repeated promises of reporting the bill for the establishment of the Asylum had been broken. But at length her almost agonized pleadings had their effect. Three days before the adjournment of Congress Hon. Henry Wilson, chairman of the Committee on Military Affairs, in the Senate introduced the bill. It provided for the establishment of a National Military and Naval Asylum for the totally disabled of both branches of the service.

In the confusion and hurry of the closing scenes of the session the bill did not probably meet the attention it would have done under other circumstances. But it was well received, passed by a large vote of both houses, was sanctioned by the signature of President Lincoln, and became a law before the adjournment of Congress.

The bill appointed one hundred corporators who were to organize and assume the powers granted them under its provisions, for the immediate foundation of the proper establishment or establishments, for the reception of the contemplated recipients of its benefits. The fund accrued from military fines and unclaimed pay of members of the service, was to be handed over to the use of the Asylum as soon as a corresponding sum was raised by public gift.

Unfortunately for the success of the organization, the meeting of the corporators for that purpose was appointed for the day afterward so mournfully conspicuous as that of the funeral obsequies of our assassinated President. Amidst the sad and angry excitement of the closing scenes of that terrible tragedy, it was found impossible to convene a sufficient number of the corporators (although present in the city) to form a quorum for the transaction of business. The opportunity thus lost did not recur, and though an effort was made to substitute proxies for actual members of the body, it was unsuccessful, and an organization was not effected.

Thus a year dragged its slow length along. Miss Baker was busy enlarging her sphere of influence--encountering and overcoming opposition and obstacles, endeavoring to secure co-operation, and in securing also personal possession of the property at Point Lookout, Maryland, which she believed to be a desirable site for the Asylum. Her object in this was that she might hold this property until the organization was effected, and it might be legally transferred to the corporators.

Point Lookout was a watering-place previous to the war. The hospital property there consists of three hundred acres of land, occupying the point which divides the mouth of the Potomac River from Chesapeake Bay, at the confluence of the former with the Bay. One or more large hotels, numerous cottages and other buildings remained from the days of peace. The Government also established there, during the war, Hammond General Hospital with its extensive buildings, and a stockade and encampment for prisoners. The air is salubrious, the land fertile, a supply of excellent water brought from neighboring heights, and an extensive oyster-bed and a fine beach for bathing, add to its attractions. Believing the place well calculated to meet the wants of the Asylum, Miss Baker desired to secure the private property together with a grant from the Government of that portion which belongs to it. She succeeded in securing the latter, and in delaying the contemplated sale of the former.

A change being imperatively demanded in the Act of Incorporation, efforts were immediately commenced at the next session of Congress to effect this purpose. Again the painful, anxious delays, again the wearisome opposition were encountered. But Miss Baker and the movement had friends--and in the highest quarters. Her efforts were countenanced and aided by these, but it was not till the session of 1866 approached its close that the amended bill was reached, and the votes of both Houses at last placed the whole matter on a proper footing, and in competent hands.

With Major-General Butler at the head of the Managing Board of Trustees, the successful commencement of the Institution is a foregone conclusion. The Board is composed of some of the best men of the Nation--men, some of them unequalled in their various spheres. The United States will soon boast for its disabled defenders Institutions (for the present management contemplate the establishment of Homes at several points), fully equal to those which the great Powers of Europe have erected for similar purposes. In the autumn and winter of 1866-7 Miss Baker succeeded in consummating the purchase, and tender to the Trustees of the Asylum of the Point Lookout property.

The labors of Miss Baker for this purpose are now ended. She retires, not to rest or idleness, but still to lend her efforts to this or any other great and worthy cause. She has no official connection with the organization which controls the destiny of the Asylum. But it will not cease to be remembered in this country that to her efforts the United States owes in great part all that, as a nation, it has done for the men who have thus given all but life itself to its cause.

MRS. S. BURGER STEARNS.

This lady is a native of New York city, where she resided for the first seven years of her life. In 1844 her parents removed to Michigan, where she has lived ever since, receiving her education at the best schools, and spending much time in preparation for a classical course at the State University. She was, however, with other young ladies, denied admission there, on the ground of expediency; and finally entered the State Normal School where she graduated with high honors.

She soon after became Mrs. Stearns, her husband being a graduate of the Literary and Law Departments of the Michigan University. But choosing to devote himself to the service of his country, he entered the army as First Lieutenant, afterwards rising to the rank of Colonel.

Mrs. Stearns determined to devote herself to the work of lecturing in behalf of the Aid movement, and did extensive, and much appreciated services in this direction. From time to time she visited the hospitals, and learned the details of the work, as well as the necessities required there; in that way rendering herself peculiarly competent for her chosen field of labor. She continued in this service until the close of the war, accomplishing much good, and laboring with much acceptance.

BARBARA FRIETCHIE.

Barbara Frietchie was an aged lady of Frederick, Maryland, of German birth, but intensely patriotic. In September, 1862, when Lee's army were on their way to Antietam, "Stonewall" Jackson's corps passed through Frederick, and the inhabitants, though a majority of them were loyal, resolved not to provoke the rebels unnecessarily, knowing that they could make no effectual resistance to such a large force, and accordingly took down their flags; but Dame Barbara though nearly eighty years of age could not brook that the flag of the Union should be humbled before the rebel ensign, and from her upper window waved her flag, the only one visible that day in Frederick. Whittier has told the whole story so admirably that we cannot do better than to transfer his exquisite poem to our pages. Dame Barbara died in 1865.

BARBARA FRIETCHIE.

Up from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,

The clustered spires of Frederick stand,
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.

Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach trees fruited deep,

Fair as a garden of the Lord
To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,

On that pleasant morn of the early fall
When Lee marched over the mountain-wall--

Over the mountains winding down,
Horse and foot, into Frederick town.

Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,

Flapped in the morning wind: the sun
Of noon looked down, and saw not one.

Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;

Bravest of all in Frederick town,
She took up the flag the men hauled down;

In her attic-window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet,

Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.

Under his slouched hat left and right
He glanced; the old flag met his sight.

"Halt!"--the dust-brown ranks stood fast,
"Fire!"--out blazed the rifle-blast.

It shivered the window, pane and sash:
It rent the banner with seam and gash.

Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf;

She leaned far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.

"Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
But spare your country's flag," she said.

A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;

The nobler nature within him stirred
To life at that woman's deed and word:

"Who touches a hair of yon gray head
Dies like a dog! March on!" he said.

All day long through Frederick street
Sounded the tread of marching feet:

All day long that free flag tost
Over the heads of the rebel host.

Ever its torn folds rose and fell
On the loyal winds that loved it well;

And through the hill-gaps sunset light
Shone over it with a warm good-night.

Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,
And the Rebel rides on his raids no more.

Honor to her! and let a tear
Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.

Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!

Peace and order and beauty draw
Round thy symbol of light and law;

And ever the stars above look down
On thy stars below in Frederick town!

MRS. HETTY M. McEWEN.

Mrs. McEwen is an aged woman of Nashville, Tennessee, of revolutionary stock, having had six uncles in the revolutionary war, four of whom fell at the battle of King's Mountain. Her husband, Colonel Robert H. McEwen, was a soldier in the war of 1812, as his father had been in the revolution. Her devotion to the Union, like that of most of those who had the blood of our revolutionary fathers in their veins is intense, and its preservation and defense were the objects of her greatest concern. Making a flag with her own hands, she raised it in the first movements of secession, in Nashville, and when through the treachery of Isham Harris and his co-conspirators, Tennessee was dragged out of the Union, and the secessionists demanded that the flag should be taken down, the brave old couple nailed it to the flag-staff, and that to the chimney of their house. The secessionists threatened to fire the house if it was not lowered, and the old lady armed with a shot-gun, undertook to defend it, and drove them away. She subsequently refused to give up her fire-arms on the requisition of the traitor Harris. Mrs. Lucy H. Hooper has told the story of the rebel efforts to procure the lowering of her flag very forcibly and truthfully:

HETTY McEWEN.

Oh Hetty McEwen! Hetty McEwen!
What were the angry rebels doing,
That autumn day, in Nashville town,
They looked aloft with oath and frown,
And saw the Stars and Stripes wave high
Against the blue of the sunny sky;
Deep was the oath, and dark the frown,
And loud the shout of "Tear it down!"

For over Nashville, far and wide,
Rebel banners the breeze defied,
Staining heaven with crimson bars;
Only the one old "Stripes and Stars"
Waved, where autumn leaves were strewing,
Round the home of Hetty McEwen.

Hetty McEwen watched that day
Where her son on his death-bed lay;
She heard the hoarse and angry cry--
The blood of "76" rose high.
Out-flashed her eye, her cheek grew warm,
Up rose her aged stately form;
From her window, with steadfast brow,
She looked upon the crowd below.

Eyes all aflame with angry fire
Flashed on her in defiant ire,
And once more rose the angry call,
"Tear down that flag, or the house shall fall!"
Never a single inch quailed she,
Her answer rang out firm and free:
"Under the roof where that flag flies,
Now my son on his death-bed lies;
Born where that banner floated high,
'Neath its folds he shall surely die.
Not for threats nor yet for suing
Shall it fall," said Hetty McEwen.

The loyal heart and steadfast hand
Claimed respect from the traitor band;
The fiercest rebel quailed that day
Before that woman stern and gray.
They went in silence, one by one--
Left her there with her dying son,
And left the old flag floating free
O'er the bravest heart in Tennessee,
To wave in loyal splendor there
Upon that treason-tainted air,
Until the rebel rule was o'er
And Nashville town was ours once more.

Came the day when Fort Donelson
Fell, and the rebel reign was done;
And into Nashville, Buell, then,
Marched with a hundred thousand men,
With waving flags and rolling drums
Past the heroine's house he comes;
He checked his steed and bared his head,
"Soldiers! salute that flag," he said;
"And cheer, boys, cheer!--give three times three
For the bravest woman in Tennessee!"

OTHER DEFENDERS OF THE FLAG.

Barbara Frietchie and Hettie McEwen were not the only women of our country who were ready to risk their lives in the defense of the National Flag. Mrs. Effie Titlow, as we have already stated elsewhere, displayed the flag wrapped about her, at Middletown, Maryland, when the Rebels passed through that town in 1863. Early in 1861, while St. Louis yet trembled in the balance, and it seemed doubtful whether the Secessionists were not in the majority, Alfred Clapp, Esq., a merchant of that city, raised the flag on his own house, then the only loyal house for nearly half a mile, on that street, and nailed it there. His secession neighbors came to the house and demanded that it should be taken down. Never! said his heroic wife, afterwards president of the Union Ladies' Aid Society. The demand was repeated, and one of the secessionists at last said, "Well, if you will not take it down, I will," and moved for the stairs leading to the roof. Quick as thought, Mrs. Clapp intercepted him. "You can only reach that flag over my dead body," said she. Finding her thus determined, the secessionist left, and though frequent threats were muttered against the flag, it was not disturbed.

Mrs. Moore (Parson Brownlow's daughter) was another of these fearless defenders of the flag. In June, 1861, the Rebels were greatly annoyed at the sturdy determination of the Parson to keep the Stars and Stripes floating over his house; and delegation after delegation came to his dwelling to demand that they should be lowered. They were refused, and generally went off in a rage. On one of these occasions, nine men from a Louisiana regiment stationed at Knoxville, determined to see the flag humbled. Two men were chosen as a committee to proceed to the parson's house to order the Union ensign down. Mrs. Moore (the parson's daughter) answered the summons. In answer to her inquiry as to what was their errand, one said, rudely:

"We have come to take down that d----d rag you flaunt from your roof--the Stripes and Stars."

Mrs. Moore stepped back a pace or two within the door, drew a revolver from her dress pocket, and leveling it, answered:

"Come on, sirs, and take it down!"

The chivalrous Confederates were startled.

"Yes, come on!" she said, as she advanced toward them.

They cleared the piazza, and stood at bay on the wall.

"We'll go and get more men, and then d----d if it don't come down!"

"Yes, go and get more men--you are not men!" said the heroic woman, contemptuously, as the two backed from the place and disappeared.

Miss Alice Taylor, daughter of Mrs. Nellie Maria Taylor, of New Orleans, a young lady of great beauty and intelligence, possessed much of her mother's patriotic spirit. The flag was always suspended in one or another of the rooms of Mrs. Taylor's dwelling, and notwithstanding the repeated searches made by the Rebels it remained there till the city was occupied by Union troops. The beauty and talent of the daughter, then a young lady of seventeen, had made her very popular in the city. In 1860, she had made a presentation speech when a flag was presented to one of the New Orleans Fire Companies. In May, 1861, a committee of thirteen gentlemen called on Mrs. Taylor, and informed her that the ladies of the district had wrought a flag for the Crescent City (Rebel) regiment to carry on their march to Washington, and that the services of her daughter Alice were required to make the presentation speech. Of course Mrs. Taylor's consent was not given, and the committee insisted that they _must_ see the young lady, and that she must make the presentation address. She was accordingly called, and after hearing their request, replied that she would readily consent on two conditions. First, that her mother's permission should be obtained; and second, that the Stars and Stripes should wave around her, and decorate the arch over her head, as on the former occasion. The committee, finding that they could get no other terms, withdrew, vexed and mortified at their failure.

Mrs. Booth, the widow of Major Booth, who fell contending against fearful odds at Fort Pillow, at the time of the bloody massacre, a few weeks after presented the blood-stained flag of the fort which had been saved by one of the few survivors, to the remnant of the First Battalion of Major Booth's regiment, then incorporated with the Sixth United States Heavy Artillery, with these thrilling words, "Boys, I have just come from a visit to the hospital at Mound City. There I saw your comrades, wounded at the bloody struggle in Fort Pillow. There I found the flag--you recognize it! One of your comrades saved it from the insulting touch of traitors. I have given to my country all I had to give--my husband--such a gift! Yet I have freely given him for freedom and my country. Next to my husband's cold remains, the dearest object left to me in the world, is that flag--the flag that waved in proud defiance over the works of Fort Pillow! Soldiers! this flag I give to you, knowing that you will ever remember the last words of my noble husband, '_never surrender the flag to traitors_!'"

Colonel Jackson received from her hand--on behalf of his command--the blood-stained flag, and called upon his regiment to receive it as such a gift ought to be received. At that call, he and every man of the regiment fell upon their knees, and solemnly appealing to the God of battles, each one swore to avenge their brave and fallen comrades, and never, _never surrender the flag to traitors_.

MILITARY HEROINES.

The number of women who actually bore arms in the war, or who, though generally attending a regiment as nurses and vivandieres, at times engaged in the actual conflict was much larger than is generally supposed, and embraces persons of all ranks of society. Those who from whatever cause, whether romance, love or patriotism, and all these had their influence, donned the male attire and concealed their sex, are hardly entitled to a place in our record, since they did not seek to be known as women, but preferred to pass for men; but aside from these there were not a few who, without abandoning the dress or prerogatives of their sex, yet performed skillfully and well the duties of the other.

Among these we may name Madame Turchin, wife of General Turchin, who rendered essential service by her coolness, her thorough knowledge of military science, her undaunted courage, and her skill in command. She is the daughter of a Russian officer, and had been brought up in the camps, where she was the pet and favorite of the regiment up to nearly the time of her marriage to General Turchin, then a subordinate officer in that army. When the war commenced she and her husband had been for a few years residents of Illinois, and when her husband was commissioned colonel of a regiment of volunteers she prepared at once to follow him to the field. During the march into Tennessee in the spring of 1862, Colonel Turchin was taken seriously ill, and for some days was carried in an ambulance on the route. Madame Turchin took command of the regiment during his illness, and while ministering kindly and tenderly to her husband, filled his place admirably as commander of the regiment. Her administration was so judicious that no complaint or mutiny was manifested, and her commands were obeyed with the utmost promptness. In the battles that followed, she was constantly under fire, now encouraging the men, and anon rescuing some wounded man from the place where he had fallen, administering restoratives and bringing him off to the field-hospital. When, in consequence of the "Athens affair," Colonel Turchin was court-martialed and an attempt made by the conservatives to have him driven from the army, she hastened to Washington, and by her skill and tact succeeded in having the court-martial set aside and her husband promoted to the rank of Brigadier-General, and confounded his accusers by bringing his commission and the order to abandon the trial into court, just as the officers comprising it were about to find him guilty. In all the subsequent campaigns at the West, Madame Turchin was in the field, confining herself usually to ministrations of mercy to the wounded, but ready if occasion required, to lead the troops into action and always manifesting the most perfect indifference to the shot and shell or the whizzing minie balls that fell around her. She seemed entirely devoid of fear, and though so constantly exposed to the enemy's fire never received even a scratch.

Another remarkable heroine who, while from the lower walks of life, was yet faithful and unwearied in her labors for the relief of the soldiers who were wounded and who not unfrequently took her place in the ranks, or cheered and encouraged the men when they were faltering and ready to retreat, was Bridget Divers, better known as "Michigan Bridget," or among Sheridan's men as "Irish Biddy." A stout robust Irish woman, she accompanied the First Michigan Cavalry regiment in which her husband was a private soldier, to the field, and remained with that regiment and the brigade to which it belonged until the close of the war. She became well known throughout the brigade for her fearlessness and daring, and her skill in bringing off the wounded. Occasionally when a soldier whom she knew fell in action, after rescuing him if he was only wounded, she would take his place and fight as bravely as the best. In two instances and perhaps more, she rallied and encouraged retreating troops and brought them to return to their position, thus aiding in preventing a defeat. Other instances of her energy and courage are thus related by Mrs. M. M. Husband, who knew her well.

"In one of Sheridan's grand raids, during the latter days of the rebellion, she, as usual, rode with the troops night and day wearing out several horses, until they dropped from exhaustion. In a severe cavalry engagement, in which her regiment took a prominent part, her colonel was wounded, and her captain killed. She accompanied the former to the rear, where she ministered to his needs, and when placed in the cars, bound to City Point Hospitals, she remained with him, giving all the relief in her power, on that fatiguing journey, although herself almost exhausted, having been without sleep _four_ days and nights. After seeing her colonel safely and comfortably lodged in the hospital, she took one night's rest, and returned to the front. Finding that her captain's body had not been recovered, it being hazardous to make the attempt, she resolved to rescue it, as "it never should be left on rebel soil." So, with her orderly for sole companion, she rode fifteen miles to the scene of the late conflict, found the body she sought, strapped it upon her horse, rode back seven miles to an embalmer's, where she waited whilst the body was embalmed, then again strapping it on her horse, she rode several miles further to the cars in which, with her precious burden she proceeded to City Point, there obtained a rough coffin, and forwarded the whole to Michigan. Without any delay Biddy returned to her Regiment, told some officials, that wounded men had been left on the field from which she had rescued her Captain's body. They did not credit her tale, so she said, "Furnish me some ambulances and I will bring them in." The conveyances were given her, she retraced her steps to the deserted battle-field, and soon had some eight or ten poor sufferers in the wagons, and on their way to camp. The roads were rough, and their moans and cries gave evidence of intense agony. While still some miles from their destination, Bridget saw several rebels approaching, she ordered the drivers to quicken their pace, and endeavoured to urge her horse forward, but he baulked and refused to move. The drivers becoming alarmed, deserted their charge and fled to the woods, while the wounded men begged that they might not be left to the mercy of the enemy, and to suffer in Southern prisons. The rebels soon came up, Bridget plead with them to leave the sufferers unmolested, but they laughed at her, took the horses from the ambulances, and such articles of value as the men possessed, and then dashed off the way they came. Poor Biddy was almost desperate, darkness coming on, and with none to help her, the wounded men beseeching her not to leave them. Fortunately, an officer of our army rode up to see what the matter was, and soon sent horses and assistance to the party."

When the war ended, Bridget accompanied her regiment to Texas, from whence she returned with them to Michigan, but the attractions of army life were too strong to be overcome, and she has since joined one of the regiments of the regular army stationed on the plains in the neighborhood of the Rocky Mountains.

Mrs. Kady Brownell, the wife of an Orderly Sergeant of the First and afterwards of the Fifth Rhode Island Infantry, who, like Madame Turchin was born in the camp, and was the daughter of a Scottish soldier of the British army, was another of these half-soldier heroines; adopting a semi-military dress, and practicing daily with the sword and rifle, she became as skillful a shot and as expert a swordsman as any of the company of sharp-shooters to which she was attached. Of this company she was the chosen color-bearer, and asking no indulgence, she marched with the men, carrying the flag and participating in the battle as bravely as any of her comrades. In the first battle of Bull Run, she stood by her colors and maintained her position till all her regiment and several others had retreated, and came very near falling into the hands of the enemy. She was in the expedition of General Burnside to Roanoke Island and Newbern and by her coolness and intrepidity saved the Fifth Rhode Island from being fired upon by our own troops by mistake. Her husband was severely wounded in the engagement at Newbern, and she rescued him from his position of danger and having made him as comfortable as possible attempted to rescue others of the wounded, both rebel and Union troops. By some of the rebels, both men and women, she was grossly insulted, but she persevered in her efforts to help the wounded, though not without some heart-burnings for their taunts. Her husband recovering very slowly, and being finally pronounced unfit for service, she returned to Rhode Island with him after nursing him carefully for eighteen months or more, and received her discharge from the army.

There were very, probably, many others of this class of heroines who deserve a place in our record; but there is great difficulty in ascertaining the particulars of their history, and in some cases they failed to maintain that unsullied reputation without which courage and daring are of little worth.

THE WOMEN OF GETTYSBURG.

Those who have read Miss Georgiana Woolsey's charming narrative "Three Weeks at Gettysburg," in this volume, will have formed a higher estimate of the women of Gettysburg than of the men. There were some exceptions among the latter, some brave earnest-hearted men, though the farmers of the vicinity were in general both cowardly and covetous; but the women of the village have won for themselves a high and honorable record, for their faithfulness to the flag, their generosity and their devotion to the wounded.

Chief among these, since she gave her life for the cause, we must reckon MRS. JENNIE WADE. Her house was situated in the valley between Oak Ridge and Seminary Hill, and was directly in range of the guns of both armies. But Mrs. Wade was intensely patriotic and loyal, and on the morning of the third day of the battle, that terrible Friday, July 3, she volunteered to bake bread for the Union troops. The morning passed without more than an occasional shot, and though in the midst of danger, she toiled over her bread, and had succeeded in baking a large quantity. About two o'clock, P. M., began that fearful artillery battle which seemed to the dwellers in that hitherto peaceful valley to shake both earth and heaven. Louder and more deafening crashed the thunder from two hundred and fifty cannon, but as each discharge shook her humble dwelling, she still toiled on unterrified and only intent on her patriotic task. The rebels, who were nearest her had repeatedly ordered her to quit the premises, but she steadily refused. At length a shot from the rebel batteries struck her in the breast killing her instantly. A rebel officer of high rank was killed almost at the same moment near her door, and the rebel troops hastily constructing a rude coffin, were about to place the body of their commander in it for burial, when, in the swaying to and fro of the armies, a Union column drove them from the ground, and finding Mrs. Wade dead, placed her in the coffin intended for the rebel officer. In that coffin she was buried the next day amidst the tears of hundreds who knew her courage and kindness of heart.

MISS CARRIE SHEADS, the principal of Oak Ridge Female Seminary, is also deserving of a place in our record for her courage, humanity and true womanly tact. The Seminary buildings were within a few hundred yards of the original battle-field of the first day's fight, and in the course of the day's conflict, after the death of General Reynolds, the Union troops were driven by the greatly superior force of the enemy into the grounds of the Seminary itself, and most of them swept past it. The Ninety-seventh New York volunteer infantry commanded on that day by Lieutenant-Colonel, afterwards General Charles Wheelock, were surrounded by the enemy in the Seminary grounds, and after repeated attempts to break through the ranks of the enemy, were finally compelled to surrender. Miss Sheads who had given her pupils a holiday on the previous day, and had suddenly found herself transformed into the lady superintendent of a hospital, for the wounded were brought to the Seminary, at once received Colonel Wheelock and furnished him with the signal for surrender. The rebel commander demanded his sword, but the colonel refused to give it up, as it was a gift of friends. An altercation ensued and the rebel officer threatened to kill Colonel Wheelock. Mr. Sheads, Miss Carrie's father, interposed and endeavored to prevent the collision, but was soon pushed out of the way, and the rebel officer again presented his pistol to shoot his prisoner. Miss Sheads now rushed between them and remonstrated with the rebel on his inhumanity, while she urged the colonel to give up his sword. He still refused, and at this moment the entrance of other prisoners attracted the attention of the rebel officer for a few moments, when Miss Sheads unbuckled his sword and concealed it in the folds of her dress unnoticed by the rebel officer. Colonel Wheelock, when the attention of his foe was again turned to him, said that one of his men who had passed out had his sword, and the rebel officer ordered him with the other prisoners to march to the rear. Five days after the battle the colonel, who had made his escape from the rebels, returned to the Seminary, when Miss Sheads returned his sword, with which he did gallant service subsequently.