clerk as soon as it had arrived.
While he was rejoicing at the good speculation he had made, the
soldier's wife sat on a box in her room feeding her half famished
children. The room was now utterly destitute of furniture, but the
heart of the mother rejoiced at the knowledge that for a couple of
weeks longer her children would have food.
CHAPTER FOURTEENTH.
DR. HUMPHRIES BUYS A SLAVE AND BRINGS HOME NEWS.
A few days after Mrs. Wentworth had sold her last piece of furniture,
Dr. Humphries was walking along one of the principal streets in
Jackson when he was stopped by a crowd that had gathered in front of
an auction mart. On walking up he learned that it was a sheriff's sale
of a "likely young negro girl." Remembering that Emma had requested
him to purchase a girl as a waiting maid for her, he examined the
slave and found her in all respects the kind of house servant he
desired. Going up to the auctioneer who had just mounted a bench for
the purpose of selling the slave, he enquired where she had come from.
The auctioneer responded by handing the doctor a small hand bill
setting forth the sale. After reading it he walked up to the slave and
commenced to question her.
"What is your name?" he enquired.
"Elsy, sir," she replied.
"You say that you come from New Orleans," he continued.
"Yes, sir," she responded.
"What was your master's name?" asked the doctor.
"His name is Mr. Alfred Wentworth," the negro answered.
"Where is your master now?" he enquired, continuing his questions.
"Massa is a prisner in de Yankee army," she replied.
"And what made you leave New Orleans?" was the next question.
"My missis was turned away from de city, and I runaway from dem
Yankees and come here to look for her."
"Have you not been able to find your mistress?" asked Dr. Humphries.
"No, sir. Jest as I came here de city police took me up and put me in
jail."
"Excuse me," interrupted the auctioneer, "but I must sell this girl at
once. Time is precious, so you must excuse me;" then turning to the
crowd he continued: "Here is the slave, gentlemen. She is an
intelligent looking negro, says she understands all that appertains to
the duties of a house servant. What will you bid for her?"
"Seven hundred dollars," exclaimed a voice in the crowd.
"Thank you, sir; seven hundred dollars; going at seven hundred
dollars. Look at the girl, gentlemen, going at seven hundred dollars.
Can I get another bid?" exclaimed the auctioneer in the rapid voice
peculiar to his class.
"Seven hundred and twenty-five," was the next bid.
"Seven hundred and fifty," Dr. Humphries cried out, having made up his
mind to purchase her.
In a few minutes the slave was "knocked down" to the doctor for eleven
hundred dollars, and after the proper form was gone through and the
money paid, he ordered her to follow him, and retraced his steps
homeward.
As our readers must have recognized already, Elsy was no other than
the slave who was left at New Orleans by Mrs. Wentworth, and who
declared that she would follow her mistress into the Confederate
lines. After making several ineffectual attempts she had succeeded in
reaching Baton Rouge, the capital of Louisiana, at which place she
eluded the Federal pickets, and made her way to Jackson. The first
part of her journey being through the country she passed unnoticed,
until on her arrival at Jackson she was stopped by the police, who
demanded her papers. Not having any she was confined in the county
jail, and after due notice in the papers, calling for the owner to
come and take her away, she was sold at auction according to law. The
girl was very much grieved at her failure to find her mistress, but
being of a good disposition soon became contented with her lot.
Accordingly, when Dr. Humphries purchased her, she followed him home
with a cheerful step.
On entering his house the doctor presented the negro to Emma.
"Here, Emma," he observed, "is a girl I have bought for you to-day."
"Thank you," she answered, looking at Elsy. "This is really a nice
looking girl. Who did you buy her from?"
"She says she is from New Orleans. Her master is a prisoner in the
hands of the Yankees, and her mistress being turned out of her home by
Butler, is now somewhere in the Confederacy, but where, the girl
cannot tell. When her mistress left New Orleans, the Yankees would not
permit the slave to leave with her, but she succeeded in escaping from
their lines, and came to Jackson, where she was arrested, and as no
owner claimed her, she was sold to me at auction this morning
according to law."
"Then we will not be doing justice to the owner of the girl, if we
keep her constantly. Perhaps her mistress is some poor soldier's wife
who would be glad to get the money you have expended, or may require
her services."
"I have thought of that before I purchased her, but as she seems
honest, I did not make the thought prevent me from getting her. I have
also made up my mind to give her up should her owner at any time claim
her, and he is a poor man."
"I am glad you have so decided," Emily replied, "for I should not have
liked the idea of depriving any Confederate soldier of his slave,
particularly if he is a poor man. And now," she continued, speaking to
Elsy, "do you go in the next room and wait there until I come in."
Making a curtesy, Elsy left the parlor, and entered the room pointed
out by Emily.
"I have some news for you, Emily," remarked the Doctor as soon as the
negro had left the room.
"What is it about," she enquired.
"Something that will interest you considerably," he answered.
"If it will interest me, let me know what it is," she remarked.
"I have received a telegraphic dispatch from Harry," Dr. Humphries
replied.
"Why, how could he have arrived in our lines?" she enquired, as a
smile of joy illumined her features.
"Here is what the dispatch says:" "I arrived here this morning, having
escaped from prison. Will be in Jackson on to-morrow's train. Show
this to Emily."
"I am so glad," exclaimed Emily joyfully, as soon as her father had
concluded reading the dispatch, "for," she continued, "I was beginning
to be afraid that our unfortunate prisoners in the hands of the
Yankees, would never be exchanged."
"You need not have labored under any such fear," Dr. Humphries
observed. "The papers of this morning announce that a cartel has been
arranged, and the prisoners held on both sides will be shortly
exchanged."
"Nevertheless, I am glad that Harry has made his escape, for it will
bring him to us sooner than we anticipated. Besides which, it is
gratifying to know that he had no occasion to wait for an exchange."
"That is very true" replied her father, "and as he has safely escaped,
you can rejoice, but the dangers which must have, necessarily
presented themselves in the attempt, were of such a nature, that you
would not have desired him to make the effort had you known them."
"He is safe, and we can well afford to laugh at them," she answered,
"all I hope is that he may never be taken prisoner again."
"I do not believe he will relish the idea, much less the reality of
such a thing again occurring," observed Dr. Humphries. "However," he
continued, "he will be here to-morrow, and the little cloud that his
capture had sent over our happiness, will have been removed, and all
will again be bright."
As he concluded speaking, a servant entered with a letter containing a
summons to attend a patient, and Dr. Humphries kissing his daughter
once more, left the house.
CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.
ARRIVAL OF HARRY.
The next day Emily prepared herself to welcome the return of her
lover, while Dr. Humphries proceeded to the railroad depot to meet
him. In the meantime, we will give our readers a brief account of
Harry's escape.
After leaving Chicago, Harry made his way through the country towards
the Tennessee river. His journey was a dangerous one, for the people
of Illinois where then highly elated at the successes which had
attended the Yankee arms, and the few sympathisers that the South had
in their midst, were afraid to express their sympathies. He, luckily,
however, succeeded in finding out a worthy gentleman, who not only
befriended him, but furnished the necessary means for his journey, and
procured a passport for him to visit Nashville. Prepared for a
continuation of his travel, Harry, who had been staying at the
residence of his noble hearted host for three days, bade him adieu,
and started on his way to Nashville. On arriving at Frankfort,
Kentucky, he met with a man he had become acquainted with in
Mississippi, but who, on account of his strong Union proclivities, was
compelled to leave the South at the commencement of the war. This
creature immediately recognized Harry, and knowing that he had always
been an ardent Secessionist, conjectured that he was either a spy, or
an escaped prisoner. Harry was accordingly arrested and carried before
the military authorities, but his persistent denial of any knowledge
of the man who had caused his arrest, and the passport he had received
from the generous Illinoisan, induced the Yankee officer by whom he
was examined, to release him, and permit his departure for Nashville.
Harry had many hair breadth escapes from detection and capture, but
surmounting all the dangers which beset his path, he succeeded In
reaching the Confederate lines in safety, and immediately started for
Jackson. But one thing marred the joy he experienced at his daringly
won freedom, and that was his ignorance of Alfred's fate. Had not the
love of freedom been too strong in his breast, he would have returned
and endeavored to find his friend, but the success of his escape, and
the idea that Alfred may have pursued a different road, deterred him
from so doing. He determined, however, to make enquiry on his return
to Jackson, whether his friend had arrived there, he having promised
Harry to call on Dr. Humphries after they should arrive in the
Confederate lines. He was not aware of the wound his friend had
received, for though the Chicago papers made a notice of the attempted
escape, and wounding of one of the prisoners, the notice was never
seen by him, as he had no opportunity of getting a newspaper.
On arriving at Jackson, the evening after he had forwarded his
telegraphic dispatch, Harry found Dr. Humphries at the depot awaiting
his arrival. After they had exchanged hearty expressions of delight at
meeting each other again, they proceeded to the house where Emma was
anxiously looking out for her lover.
The customary salutations between lovers who have been separated being
over, Harry proceeded to give an account of his escape, which was
listened to with great interest by his hearers.
"By the way," he remarked, as soon as he had concluded, "has a soldier
giving his name as Wentworth, and claiming to be a friend of mine,
called here within the last ten days."
"No one has called here of that name," replied Dr. Humphries.
"I am very anxious to receive some intelligence of him," remarked
Harry, "He was the friend I mentioned, having made my escape with."
"He may have taken a different road to the one you pursued," Dr.
Humphries observed.
"If I were satisfied in my mind that he did escape safely, my fears
would be allayed," he answered, "but," he continued, "we left the
gates of the prison together, and were not four yards apart when the
treachery of the guard was discovered. We both started at a full run,
and almost instantaneously the Yankees, who lay in ambush for us,
fired, their muskets in the direction we were going. The bullets
whistled harmless by me, and I continued my flight at the top of my
speed, nor did I discover the absence of my friend until some distance
from the prison, when stopping to take breath, I called him by name,
and receiving no answer found out that he was not with me. I am afraid
he might have been shot."
"Did you hear no cry after the Yankees had fired," enquired Dr.
Humphries.
"No, and that is the reason I feel anxious to learn his fate. Had he
uttered any cry, I should be certain that he was wounded, but the
silence on his part may have been caused from instant death."
"You would have, heard him fall at any rate; had he been struck by the
Yankee bullets," remarked Dr. Humphries.
"That is very doubtful," he replied. "I was running at such a rapid
rate, and the uproar made by the Yankees was sufficient to drown the
sound that a fall is likely to create."
"I really trust your friend is safe," said Dr. Humphries. "Perhaps,
after all, he did not make any attempt to escape, but surrendered
himself to the Yankees."
"There is not the slightest chance of his having done such a thing,"
Harry answered. "He was determined to escape, and had told me that he
would rather be shot than be re-captured, after once leaving the
prison. I shall never cease to regret the misfortune should he have
fallen in our attempt to escape. His kindness to me at Fort Donelson
had caused a warm friendship to spring up between us. Besides which,
he has a wife and two small children in New Orleans, who were the sole
cause of his attempting to escape. He informed me that they were not
in very good circumstances, and should Alfred Wentworth have been
killed at Camp Douglas, God help his poor widow and orphans!"
"Did you say his name was Alfred Wentworth," inquired Emma, for the
first time joining in the conversation.
"Yes, and do you know anything about him?" he asked.
"No," she replied, "I know nothing of the gentleman, but father bought
a slave on yesterday, who stated that she has belonged to a gentleman
of New Orleans, of the name you mentioned just now."
"By what means did you purchase her?" asked Harry addressing himself
to Dr. Humphries.
The Doctor related to him the circumstances which occasioned the
purchase, as well as the statement of Elsy. Harry listened
attentively, for the friendship he felt for his friend naturally made
him interested in all that concerned Alfred, or his family.
"Is there no way by which I can discover where Mrs. Wentworth is
residing at present?" he enquired, after a moment of thought.
"None that I could devise," answered Dr. Humphries. "I know nothing of
the family personally, nor would I have known anything of their
existence, had not chance carried me to the auction sale, at which I
purchased Elsy."
"Call the girl here for me," Harry said: "I must learn something more
of the departure of Mrs. Wentworth and her children from New Orleans,
and endeavor to obtain a clue to her whereabouts. It is a duty I owe
to the man who saved my life, that everything I can do for his family
shall be performed."
Emma left the room as he was speaking, and shortly after returned,
followed by Elsy.
"Here is the girl," she said, as she entered.
"So you belonged to Mr. Wentworth of New Orleans, did you?" Harry
commenced.
"I used to belong to him," replied Elsy.
"What made Mrs. Wentworth leave New Orleans?" he asked, continuing his
questions.
Elsy gave a long account of the villainy of Awtry, in the usual style
adopted by negroes, but sufficiently intelligible for Harry to
understand the cause of Mrs. Wentworth being compelled to abandon her
home, and take refuge in the Confederate lines.
"Did not your mistress state where she was going," he asked.
"No, sah," replied Elsy. "My mistis jest told me good bye when she
left wid de children. I promised her I would get away from de Yankees,
but she forgot to tell me whar she was gwine to lib."
"Did she bring out plenty of money with her?" he enquired.
"Yes, sah," Elsy answered. She had seen the sum of money possessed by
Mrs. Wentworth, on her departure from New Orleans, and it being a much
larger amount than she had ever beheld before, made the faithful girl
believe that her mistress had left with quite a fortune.
"Very well, you can go now," remarked Harry. "It is a satisfaction,"
he continued as Elsy left the room, "to know that Wentworth's wife is
well provided with money, although it does appear strange that she
should have a plenty of funds, when her husband informed me, while in
prison, that the money he left her with could not maintain his wife
and children for any great length of time."
"She may have been furnished with money by some friend, who intending
to remain in the city, had no use for Confederate Treasury notes," Dr.
Humphries remarked.
"That is very likely, and I trust it is so," observed Harry,
"However," he continued, "I shall take steps on Monday next, to find
out where Mrs. Wentworth is now residing."
On Monday the following advertisement appeared in the evening papers:
INFORMATION WANTED.
Any one knowing where Mrs. Eva Wentworth and her two
children reside, will be liberally rewarded, by addressing
the undersigned at this place. Mrs. Wentworth is a refugee
from New Orleans, and the wife of a gallant soldier, now a
prisoner of war.
Jackson,----1862. H. SHACKLEFORD.
It was too late. Extensively published as it was, Mrs. Wentworth never
saw it. Her hardships and trials had increased ten-fold; she was fast
drifting before the storm, with breakers before, threatening to wreck
and sink into the grave the wife and children of Alfred Wentworth.
CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.
MR. ELDER DEMANDS HIS RENT.--NOTICE TO QUIT.
The money received by Mrs. Wentworth from Mr. Swartz, proved but a
temporary relief for her children and herself. A fatal day was fast
arriving, and she knew not how to avert the impending storm. By a
great deal of labor and deprivation she had heretofore succeeded in
paying the rent of the room she occupied, although Mr. Elder had twice
advanced the price. Now there was no hope of her being able to obtain
a sufficient sum of money to meet the demand of that gentleman, who
would call on her the following day in person, did she not call at his
office and settle for at least one months rent in advance. The month
for which she had paid expired in three days, and she was apprehensive
of being turned out, unless she could collect sufficient money to pay
him. She knew not where to find the means. The room was stripped bare
of furniture to supply the calls of nature; nothing but a mattress in
one corner of the apartment, and a few cooking utensils remained. She
labored day and night, to procure work, but all her efforts were
unavailing. It appeared to her as if the Almighty had forsaken herself
and children, and had left them to perish through want.
It cannot be that God would place his image on earth, and willingly
leave them to perish from destitution. Many have been known to die of
starvation, and the tales of wretchedness and woe with which the
public ear is often filled attest the fact. Squalid forms and
threadbare garments are seen, alas! too often in this civilised world,
and the grave of the pauper is often opened to receive some unhappy
mortal, whose life had been one scene of suffering and want.
Philanthropy shudders and Christianity believes it to be a punishment,
administered by the hand of God; that the haggard cause of the starved
creature, who has thus miserably died, once contained the spirit of a
mortal undergoing the penalty of Him, who judges mankind on high, and
expiating through his heart-rending bodily agony, crimes committed in
by-gone days.
This is not so in all cases. What mercy could we attribute to God, did
he willingly entail misery upon the innocent, or punish them for the
crimes of the guilty? Why call it a dispensation of Divine justice,
that would condemn to weeks, months and years of wretchedness, the
mortals he brought in the world himself? Who hath seen the hovel of
the pauper; beheld its wretched inmates, heard their tale of woe,
heard them tell of days passing without their having a crumb of bread
to satisfy the cravings of hunger, or seen them in that last stage of
destitution, when hunger brings on despair, until the mind wanders
from its seat, and madness takes its place; heard the raving of the
maniac, his frenzied call for bread, and his abject desolation, until
death came kindly to relieve his sufferings, and felt not that the
hand of God had never worked so much ill for his people? Is it
profanity to say that the eye of God had wandered from them? We
believe it; for the Book that teaches us of the Almighty, depicts him
as a God of mercy and compassion. The eye of the Omnipotent is not
upon the wretched. "He seeth all things," but there are times when His
eyes are turned from those who endure the storm of a cold and
heartless world, and He knows not of their suffering, until the Angel
of Death brings their spirit before the Judgment seat.
God had not deserted the soldier's wife, but His eyes were turned
away, and He saw not her condition. Thus was she left unaided by the
hand of Providence. She felt her desolation, for as each day passed
by, and her condition became worse, she knew that her prayers were
unanswered. They reached not the ear of the Almighty, and the innocent
children were allowed to participate of that bitter cup, which the
chances of worldly fortune had placed before the unhappy family.
Three days sped away quickly, and the fatal morning arrived. She had
no money to pay the rent, and the day passed away without Mr. Elder
receiving a visit from her. She dared not to tell him of her position,
but awaited patiently his arrival on the following day, for she well
knew he would be sure to come.
The next morning saw him at her door, much annoyed at the trouble she
gave him to call and collect the money. Mrs. Wentworth had nothing to
say, nor had she a dollar to satisfy his demands.
"Good morning, madam," he said, as she opened the door to admit him,
"I was much surprised at your not calling to pay the rent at my office
on yesterday. I admire punctuality above everything else."
He entered the room, and cast his eyes on its empty walls. They did
not satisfy him, for the absence of any furniture told the tale of the
soldier's wife in a more graphic manner than words could have done.
"What does this mean?" he enquired.
"It means that necessity has compelled a mother to sacrifice
everything to keep her children from starving," Mrs. Wentworth
replied.
"Humph," said Mr. Elder. "This is singular. So I suppose," he
continued, addressing her, "you will say you have no money to pay your
month's rent in advance."
"I have not a dollar this day to buy bread," she answered.
A frown gathered on Mr. Elder's brow, as he remarked: "I suppose you
recollect the arrangement made between us when you first hired the
room from me."
"What arrangement was that?" she enquired in an absent manner.
"That on you failing to pay the rent, I should have the power to
resume possession of the room, without giving you notice to leave."
"I recollect," she said.
"Well, in accordance with our arrangements, I shall require that you
vacate the room to-day, as I can procure another tenant, who will be
able to pay the rent promptly."
"Do you mean that I must leave to-day," she asked.
"Yes," he replied, "I desire to have the room renovated at once."
"Where can I go to without money," she enquired, in a tone more like
as if she was addressing herself than speaking to him.
"I really cannot tell my good, woman," he answered, "I am sorry for
your position, but cannot afford to lose the rent of my room, I am
compelled to pay my taxes, and support myself by the money I receive
from rent."
"I cannot leave to-day," Mrs. Wentworth cried in a despairing tone. "I
cannot leave to-day. Oh, sir! look at my child lying on that wretched
bed, and tell me, if you can have the heart to turn me out, homeless,
friendless and alone."
"My good Woman," he answered. "I cannot help your misfortunes, nor can
I do anything to assist you. If you can pay the rent, I have no
objection to your remaining, but if you can not, I will be compelled
to get another tenant who will be able."
"Sir," she remarked, speaking slowly. "I am a woman with two children,
alone in this State. My husband and protector is now pining in a
Yankee prison, a sacrifice on the altar of his country. Let me ask you
as a man, and perhaps a father, to pause ere you turn a helpless woman
from the shelter of your property. You appear wealthy, and the sum
charged for the rent would make but little difference to you, if it
was never paid. Oh! do not eject us from this room. My child lies
there parched with fever, and to remove her may be fatal."