XXIX.

E. W. ANDREWS.

NE morning, early in the spring of 1863, a middle-aged lady appeared at the garrison gate of Fort McHenry, and applied for permission to visit head-quarters.

This was some time after the battle fought at Nashville, Tennessee, where our troops were victorious under the command of General Franklin.

The lady's request was sent up to head-quarters by the officer of the guard. At that time, I was chief of staff to General W. W. Morris, of the regular army, then commanding the defenses of Baltimore. Representing my chief, who was absent, I granted the lady's request.

Her appearance, as she entered head-quarters, inspired every one with the deepest interest, for, with the calm self-possession and distinguished bearing of an accomplished lady, there was an expression of profound sadness in her face which appealed touchingly to every heart.

She told me her story with modest dignity. She was a widow, she said, and resided near Nashville,

Tennessee, but, although a native of that State, she had no sympathy with the rebellion. She had an only son. At the outbreak of the war he was a student in a Southern college. Without her knowledge or consent he enlisted in a rebel regiment, and was severely wounded at the battle of Nashville, taken prisoner, and carried North.

The day after the battle, to her great astonishment and grief, she first heard of these facts. She at once applied to the commanding general for leave to go through the lines and follow her son. Leave was granted. She first found her son at Louisville, then followed him to Wheeling, West Virginia, and thence to Fort McHenry, Baltimore. Here he was placed in the garrison hospital.

The mother desired the privilege of seeing her son in order to learn his present condition, and to furnish him any little comforts he might need which were not supplied under army regulations.

Only a short time before, an order had been received from the War Department prohibiting all intercourse between citizens and prisoners of war.

I expressed my regret that, under this order, I must deny her request, but assured her that she should be fully informed as to her son's condition, and have permission to send him anything for his comfort that the post surgeon should approve of.

The post surgeon was sent for, but said that he

had not personally examined the case of this special prisoner, but added that she might go with him to his office in the hospital, and he would make inquiries. She went, and learned that her son's wound had been aggravated by his journey from Wheeling, but that with rest and careful treatment he was certain to recover.

To remove all doubts from her mind as to the comforts furnished patients who were our prisoners of war, the surgeon said to her, as she arose to go:

"Let me show you, madam, one or two of our prisoners' wards, so that you may see for yourself how our government provides for the sick and wounded of the enemy who are captured."

Gladly the mother accepted the invitation. Hardly had they entered, when the lady, descrying her boy through a half-open door in an adjoining room, rushed from the surgeon's side. Rapidly following her, he saw a scene," which, he said, was too sacred to interrupt." The mother was on her knees by the cot of her pale and emaciated boy, exclaiming, as she clasped him to her bosom :

"Oh! my

for it!"

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blessed child! I must see you if I die

The kind-hearted surgeon turned away and left the mother and son undisturbed.

Soon the lady returned to the waiting officer, her

face suffused with tears, but beaming with hope and joy, as she said :

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Oh, sir! my blessed boy is sorry he entered the army, and wishes to give his parole and leave the Confederate service forever. Will the authorities permit him to do this? Can I go again to head

quarters ?"

They came together to head-quarters. She approached me with a look of mingled fear and exultation that greatly puzzled me; but she recounted all that had occurred at the hospital with perfect frankness, and said:

"If I have done wrong, punish me; but I could not help it."

Of course I did not utter a word of censure, but in answer to her request to have her son paroled, I told her that this power was vested in the President or Secretary of War alone, and advised her to go to Washington and appeal to Secretary Stanton.

The next day she went, taking with her a letter of introduction to the Commissary-General of Pris

oners.

In two days she returned to Fort Henry, disappointed and crushed in heart at the treatment she had received from Secretary Stanton. She told me her story.

"I took your note of introduction to General Hoffman," she said, "and he kindly spoke to the

Secretary of my purpose in visiting Washington, and afterward he went with me and introduced me at the War Department.

"As we entered the Secretary's office, Mr. Stanton was writing at his desk. General Hoffman said: "Mr. Secretary, this is the lady I spoke to you about. She wishes to consult you about releasing her son, who is a prisoner of war, wounded, in the hospital at Fort Henry.' The General then turned and left the room. I was standing near the door of the office. Mr. Stanton never looked at me nor spoke. After a minute or two the Secretary turned round in his chair, and abruptly, in a severe tone, said:

"So, you are the woman who has a son prisoner of war in Fort McHenry.'"

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"I am so unfortunate,' I said.

"The Secretary then answered in a still louder and sterner tone of voice, leaving me standing all the time:

"I have nothing to say to you, and no time to waste on you. If you have raised up sons to rebel against the best government under the sun, you and they must take the consequences.'

"I attempted to say to him," continued the lady, "that my son was a mere boy, scarcely seventeen years old, and had entered the Confederate service without my knowledge or approval, but before I had