THE BURNING OF OUR QUARTERS.--CARRYING THE MAIL.
We had hardly finished arranging our quarters when, one freezing night,
I was awakened by a roaring sound in a chimney that had been defective
from the first. Women have such a rooted habit of smelling smoke and
sending men on needless investigating trips in the dead of night, that
I tried to keep still for a few moments. The sound grew too loud to
be mistaken, and I awakened my husband. He ran up-stairs and found
the room above us on fire. He called to me to bring him some water,
believing he could extinguish it himself. While I hurried after the
water, there came such a crash and explosion that my brain seemed to
reel from fright. I had no thought but that my husband was killed.
Nothing can describe the relief with which I heard his voice calling
back to my agonized question as to his safety. His escape was very
narrow; the chimney had burst, the whole side of the room was blown
out, and he was covered with plaster and surrounded with fallen bricks.
The gas from the petroleum paper put on between the plastering and the
outer walls to keep out the cold had exploded. The roof had ignited at
once, and was blown off with a noise like the report of artillery. The
sentinel at the guard-house fired his carbine as an alarm. The general
ran to one of the lower windows, and with his powerful voice that he
could throw so far called for the guard. Then we hurried to the room
occupied by our girl-friend. The plastering falling on her bed from the
burning roof was the first hint she had of the danger. It was unsafe
for her to stop to gather her clothes, and wrapping a blanket about her
we sent her to our sister next door.
In an incredibly short time the men were swarming about the house. The
general had buttoned his vest, containing his watch and purse, over
his long night-dress, and unconscious of his appearance, gave just as
cool orders to the soldiers as if it were at drill. They, also, were
perfectly cool, and worked like beavers to remove our things; for with
no engine and without water it was useless to try to save the house.
The general stood upon the upper landing and forbade them to join him,
as it was perilous, the floors being then on fire. He had insisted upon
my going out of the house, but I was determined not to do so until he
was safe. When I did leave I ran in my night-dress over the snow to our
sister’s. The house burned very quickly. Fortunately it was a still,
cold night, and there was no wind to spread the flames. Except for this
the whole garrison must have been burned.
When the morning came we went to inspect the heap of household
belongings that had been carried out on the parade-ground. It was
a sorry collection of torn, broken, and marred effects! Most of my
clothes were gone. Our poor girl-friend looked down into her trunk,
empty except for one tarlatan party gown. I had lost silver and linen,
and what laces and finery I had. The only loss I mourned, as it was
really irreparable, was a collection of newspaper clippings regarding
my husband that I had saved during and since the war. Besides these I
lost a little wig that I had worn at a fancy-dress ball, made from the
golden rings of curly hair cut from my husband’s head after the war,
when he had given up wearing long locks.
The fire served one purpose after all. Before it occurred I had always
been a trial to Mary because I cared so little for dress and really
owned so few ornaments. When the servants gathered together after
that to boast of the possessions of their several mistresses, as is
customary with the colored people, who so love display, Mary was armed
with an excuse for me. I used to hear of her saying, “You jist orter
seed what Miss Libbie had afo’ the fire;” and then she would describe
in detail elegant apparel that I had never even thought of having.
Long afterwards I heard of the comments of one of our number, who
loved the loaves and fishes of this life beyond everything. In vain
she accumulated and had the proud satisfaction of out-doing every one
in the number of her dresses. Mary managed to slip into her kitchen on
some feigned errand, and drawing upon her imagination related how much
richer Miss Libbie’s possessions were before the fire. I had a hearty
laugh by myself when I heard that the Miss Flora McFlimsey of our
circle, worn out with the boasting of the cook, was heard to exclaim,
“I wish I might have seen for myself all the gorgeousness described. I
am tired to death of hearing about ‘befo’ the fire.’”
The general selected another set of quarters next to his brother’s,
and thither removed the remnants of our household goods. He begged me
not to go near the house, or attempt to settle, until I had recovered
from the fright of the fire and of his imperilled life the night
before. We were all busy enough trying to fit our things upon our
little friend. Her purse, with abundance to buy a new outfit, was
burned, and it would be weeks before she could receive a remittance
from home by our slow mails. Next day, as she sat among us in
borrowed apparel, several sizes too large, she had a surprise. A huge
clothes-basket was handed in at the door, with a note addressed to
her, begging her to consider herself, what the garrison had long felt
that she was, “the daughter of the regiment.” The basket contained
everything that the generous hearts of friends could suggest. Not
content with this, another was sent on the next day, with a further
supply of things bought in the store at Bismarck. She objected to the
acceptance, and tears rose in her eyes at the thoughtfulness; but there
were no names signed to the note, so we would not heed remonstrances.
Every one came with needles and thimbles, and the scissors flew.
I was too much absorbed in this scheme to ask many questions about the
new quarters. When I did inquire, the general put me off by saying
that in a few days I should begin to settle. The second evening after
the fire he sent for me, and asked if I would come and consult with
him about some arrangement of the furniture, as he was too busy to
come after me. I started at once, but Mary, ever thoughtful of my
appearance, and deep in the mystery that followed, urged me to put on
my other gown. I was unwillingly put into it, and went to the new
house to find both sets of quarters lighted throughout, and the band
playing “Home, Sweet Home.” My husband, meeting me, led me in, and to
my utter surprise I found the whole place completely settled, a door
cut through into Colonel Tom’s quarters, and the garrison assembled at
the general’s invitation for the house-warming. The pantry was full of
good things to eat that Mary had prepared for the supper. Every one
tried, by merry frolic and dancing, to make me forget the catastrophe,
and the general, bubbling over with fun, inspired me to join. Then he
told me to what subterfuges he had resorted to get the house ready, and
repeated to me again that it was never worth while to “cry over spilled
milk.”
The life of the enlisted men was very dull during the cold weather.
In the summer they had mounted drill and parades, and an occasional
scout, to vary the life. They got very little good out of their horses
in the winter. An hour in the morning and another in the afternoon
were spent every day in grooming them. The general took me down to the
stables sometimes to watch the work. Each horse had the name given to
him by his rider printed in home-made letters over his stall. Some of
the men were so careful of their horses that they were able to keep
them for service during the five years of their enlistment. The daily
intercourse of horse and rider quickened the instinct of the brute,
so that he seemed half human. Indeed, I have seen an old troop-horse,
from whose back a raw recruit had tumbled, go through the rest of the
drill as correctly as if mounted by a well-trained soldier. Many of
the soldiers love and pet their dumb beasts, and if the supply of grain
gives out on a campaign they unhesitatingly steal for them, as a mother
would for a starving child.
Beside every stall hung the saddle and equipments of the trooper,
and the companies vied with one another in keeping them in perfect
condition. Some of the horses’ coats shone like satin under the
busy currycomb of an attached master. The captain of a company and
his first-sergeant soon discovered the faults of a horse. When the
preparations for a campaign began, it was really laughable to hear the
ingenious excuses why an apparently sound horse should be exchanged for
another from the fresh supply.
In the same way a soldier who was hopelessly worthless was often
transferred to another company. The officers who had been the recipient
of the undesirable soldier would come to the general to complain. I
could not always keep a straight countenance when the injured captain
narrated his wrongs. One told of what desperate need he had been in
for a tailor. He had been proffered this man with many eulogies by a
brother officer, and the final recommendation given which insured the
acceptance of this seemingly generous offer was, “He has made clothes
for _me_.” Not until the transfer was effected, and a suit of clothes
ruined for the captain, was he told by his would-be liberal friend the
whole story, which was, “Oh yes! he made clothes for me, but, _I forgot
to add_, I couldn’t wear them.”
The general sympathized with the impatience of the enlisted men in
their dull life, which drove the sergeants to solicit as a privilege
the transportation of the mail. For a man of my husband’s temperament
it was easy to understand that danger was more endurable than the dead
calm of barrack life. The telegraph lines were frequently down, and
except for the courage of the sergeants we should have been completely
isolated from the outside world. With four mules and the covered body
of a government wagon on bobs, they went over a trackless waste of snow
for two hundred and fifty miles. Occasionally there were huts that had
once been stage stations, where they could stop, but it was deadly
perilous for them to leave the telegraph line, no matter through what
drifts they were compelled to plunge.
The bewilderment of a snow-storm comes very soon. An officer lying
in the hospital, quite crazed from having been lost in attempting to
cross a parade-ground only large enough for the regiment in line, was
a fearful warning to these venturesome men. If the mail sergeant did
not appear when he was due--at the end of two weeks--the general could
scarcely restrain his anxiety. He was so concerned for the man’s safety
that he kept going to the window and door incessantly. He spoke to me
so often of his fears for him that I used to imagine he would, for
once, express some of his anxiety when the sergeant finally appeared to
report; but military usage was too deeply bred in the bone of both, and
the report was made and received with the customary repressed dignity
of manner. However, I have seen my husband follow the man to the door,
and tell him that he had felt great concern about him, and renew his
directions to take every precaution for his safety. How thankful I
used to be that I was not hedged in with a soldier’s discipline, but
that I could follow the faithful old trooper and tell him how the
general had worried about him, and how thankful we all were for his
safe return.
It did not take long for the garrison to discover the poor mules, with
their tired, drooping heads and wilted ears, dragging the mail-sleigh
into the post. Every officer rushed to the adjutant’s office for his
mail. It was a great event and the letters were hailed with joy. An
orphan, and having no brothers and sisters, I must have been the only
one who was contented not to get any. For my world was there. An
officer’s wife who could hardly wait for news from her lonely, delicate
mother in the East used to say pathetically, realizing the distance
that intervened, that no one knew what it was to be married to a
husband and a mother at the same time.
As soon as the mail was distributed, the general buried himself with
the newspapers. For several days after he agreed with me that an
old engraving, called “My Husband,” was a faithful likeness of him
at such a time (the picture represented a man sitting in a chair,
completely hidden, except his crossed legs and his hands, and clasping
an outspread paper). As soon as the contents were devoured, he cut
from the illustrated papers comic pictures, and adding to them some
doggerel, sent them in to our witty neighbor as illustrating some joke
that had transpired against her. With other papers, by a little drawing
he transposed the figures and likenesses of some of the officers
who had been placed previously in some ludicrous position. Adding
marginal comments, he left the pictures uppermost where they were
sure to be seen by the persons for whom they were intended, when they
came in as usual to look over the papers and magazines in his room. A
clever lady in a neighboring garrison, speaking of the arrival of the
mail, described how voraciously she seized the new reading matter and
closeted herself for hours to read up in advance of the others. She
felt that “having exhausted every other topic she must coach up on
something new.”
In spite of the great risks and dangers of the mail-carriers, their
journeys were accomplished without serious accident. I used to hear
occasionally that the sergeant had levied such a heavy tax upon the
citizens of Bismarck, when he brought small parcels through for them,
that he had quite a little sum of money for himself by spring.