Spring came with its "ethereal mildness" and budding beauty, and the ties which bound me to the Monumental City must, although with convulsive effort, be broken.

Miss Chase was but "a treasure lent," her sweet, loving nature having won the heart of one who made her his life companion; hence it became necessary for me to find another to fill her place. She came in the person of Miss Kate Fowler, a lovely young girl of seventeen years, who possessed great charms of person, mind and soul, as the sequel will show.

We traveled together throughout Delaware, New Jersey and Pennsylvania, meeting with greater success than we could have hoped for while the din of war was raging, always making sufficient for our support.

At Hollidaysburgh, Penn., I learned of the presence of General Anderson, and resolved that I would offer a tangible evidence of my appreciation of the "Hero of Fort Sumter." Entwining one of my little books with red, white and blue ribbons, I sent it to him with a little note, asking its acceptance from the auth.o.r.ess, a Baltimore lady, in behalf of her native city, then under a cloud, the Ma.s.sachusetts troops having been stoned by a mob collected from various points, and for which she bore the undeserved odium. These I sent in their tri-colored dress, expecting only a silent reception. But, as I sat at dinner in my hotel, there came a singular and unexpected response in the person of the General himself. He was introduced by the landlord, and was accompanied by his little daughter, holding in her hand my token, as she smilingly approached me in her fairy-like beauty. A delightful chat ensued, and an urgent request upon his part that I should visit Cresson Springs, to which he had resorted with his family in order to recuperate his health, shattered by the protracted and gallant defense of one of our national citadels.

With a kind "good bye" he left, and as I pa.s.sed out of the dining-room door I received an evidence of his great delicacy in a token he would not publicly tender. The landlord handed me a box from him containing a handsome plain gold ring, ever since cherished as a memento; and, although worn by time, there is still legible the name engraved within this shining circlet, even that of General Anderson.

After canva.s.sing Altoona I went to Cresson Springs and was no sooner registered than I received a card from the General. Meeting me in the parlor, he gave me a cordial welcome, after which he said: "Now I am going to a.s.sist you in your sales." He drew together three of the parlor tables, and, taking one hundred of my books, he placed them thereon, together with specimens of my bead work, which he artistically arranged in the national colors. It needed but a wave of the magician's wand, for such he seemed, to evoke the spirits of generosity and love, and through these all of my volumes vanished, as well as much of the bead work. At General Anderson's request I took my work to the parlor, and amid a group of wondering ones, many of whom were members of his own family, I showed them how the blind could deftly weave these little trinkets, the fashioning of the "bijou"

baskets needing no sight to arrange the colors, with celerity and skill. I was also, at his request, seated at his family table, and time will never erase the memory of words which fell from the lips of the warrior, as gently, as lovingly, as if a woman's voice were breathing words of comfort and affection. In after time, when tidings of his death were borne from a foreign land, when the perfumed breath of sunny France received the last sigh of our hero, I dropped many a tear, which truly welled up from the depths of a sorrowing heart.

In the winter I made Philadelphia my head-quarters, stopping at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Mack, both of whom were blind when married, and who both possess great musical talent, which they utilized by teaching piano music, thus earning a handsome support and purchasing the home they then occupied, a tasteful, comfortable domicile. It was well for me I selected this spot, for it afterward proved "a City of Refuge." I was soon prostrated with a severe typhoid fever, and was so kindly cared for by this dear family, who, by tender ministration, nursed the little spark of hope, and brought me from death unto life. Their two sweet children and their musical prattle will ever be recalled as illuminated pictures upon the red-lettered page of life's history.

Of the tender care of Miss Fowler too much cannot be said. It was to her a.s.siduous attention I was also, in a great degree, indebted for my recovery.

During this illness I could also number two other ministering spirits, Dr.

Seiss, a Lutheran minister, who constantly visited me, and gave me many a word of comforting support, and Professor Brooks, who was called to my bedside as medical attendant.

He had been for many years an eminent allopathic physician, and was then a professor in the Homeopathic College of Philadelphia.

He also faithfully and unremittingly ministered to me during the many weeks of fever and prostration.

When I was almost well I one day said to him: "Doctor, what do I owe you?"

The sweet serenity of his face merged into a benevolent beam, and in the vernacular of the Society of Friends, of which he was a member, he said: "Mary, Rachel and I have been talking it over, and we have concluded that thee will be too delicate to travel this winter, and will need all thy money; so thee does not owe me anything."

Choking with grateful emotion, as soon as I could command control I said: "Doctor, I could not expect you to give me such kind attention without remuneration, but since you have so willed it, I can only say I thank you for having saved my life." Whereupon there came the same luminous look, and the gentle voice said: "Mary, it was not I that saved thy life; it was thy Heavenly Father."

As soon as I was well enough to ride he made arrangements for me to visit his house. I took the street car, but by pre-arranged plan, he met me at his door, lifted me from the car, and carried me in his arms into a luxurious bed-chamber, where I was met by the sweet-voiced Rachel, who gave me a reviving draught of rare old wine, and in every way studied my wants during the day's visit, after which the Doctor drove me home in his carriage.

How do our hearts go out in grat.i.tude to such true and loving natures, and how fondly do we recall in after years the sweet sounds of sympathy, whose melody pervades life's measured music.

Once again I found myself in Baltimore, where I received a letter from my brother William, urging me to spend the winter at his home in Pecatonica, Ill. This, together with a meeting with my cousin Sammy Heald, determined me to go West. My cousin was about to visit Iowa City, Iowa, where dwelt his betrothed, and he offered to pay all my traveling expenses if I would accompany him. The temptation of seeing one from whom there had been an eight years separation made my cousin's entreaties irresistible, and I yielded, receiving from him all the devoted attendance his kind nature could dictate. So, after the lapse of so many eventful years, I turned my face westward. I spent the winter at the home of my brother, and shall never forget his kindness and that of his family, as well as other residents of Pecatonica, who did so much to lighten the leaden-winged hours, which, in a little hamlet, drag so slowly in comparison with the din and bustle of city life, and the excitement of business and travel.

CHAPTER VIII.

"So where'er I turn my eyes, Back upon the days gone by, Saddening thoughts of friends come o'er me; Friends who closed their course before me, Yet what links us friend to friend, But that soul with soul can blend.

Love-like were those hours of yore, Let us walk in soul once more."

The dreary winter had pa.s.sed away, one in sad contrast with the mild southern season, and known only to those who have realized its storms and wind and snow.

The birds of spring were caroling their first songs of the season, and the white mantle of snow disappearing under the sun-rays. These tokens told me I must be "up and doing." Selecting a companion among the kind group of Pecatonica friends, Miss Sarah Rogers, a lady of sterling virtue and p.r.o.nounced character, I went to Chicago. The war conflict being still at its height, I could do little in the way of book selling, but managed to dispose of sufficient bead work to be entirely self-sustaining. In my business route in Chicago I entered a millinery establishment, and was surprised by a greeting from the familiar voice of my sister Jennie, and they alone who are members of a scattered household can realize what must be such a meeting. In the lapse of years since our separation, our paths had so diverged that we had lost trace of each other. I sat down and eagerly listened to a recital of an experience fraught with varied incident. They had moved from Chicago to Monroe city, Missouri, a place which (as most will remember) received the baptism of fire, being utterly destroyed by the Northern troops. My sister not only lost her home, but was separated from her family for several days. As soon as they were gathered together, and had gained sufficient strength to travel, they returned without a resource to Chicago, there to begin life anew, my sister lending a helping hand by opening this business. Her daughter Cora, whom I had left a little girl, was then a graceful young lady, has since married and is living in the city.

My brothers, Charles and Howard, both entered the ranks of the army, returned with health impaired from service, and afterward yielded up their lives.

My father had settled with his new family at Farmington, Ill., and thither my brother Howard repaired when utterly broken down in health. No mother could have more tenderly and steadfastly ministered to him, than did my father's wife; she, her two bachelor brothers and a maiden sister attending him, in the lingering, languishing hours of suffering, and gently smoothing his "pathway to the grave."

I must not fail to mention among Chicago friends the name of Mrs. Dean, which has been written in letters of light upon a hallowed life page, standing out in bold relief upon the background of years. Her house was my home, and she was ever a fond mother to me.

Her lovely little daughter, Ada, has since matured to womanhood, a.s.sumed the relations and duties of a wife, and is now presiding over an elegant home in one of the flourishing towns of Iowa.

CHAPTER IX.

"And when the stream Which overflowed the soul was pa.s.sed away, A consciousness remained that it had left.

Deposited upon the silent sh.o.r.e Of memory, images and previous thoughts, That shall not die and cannot be destroyed."

For three years longer lowered the lurking war-cloud, and I, among so many others, felt its baneful shadow. During this time I made Chicago my headquarters, taking occasional trips upon the various railroad routes converging there.

Finally I ventured upon a trip to Louisville, Ky., and, while it was my first introduction to that place, so cordially was I received by its citizens, so much was done to place me at ease, that I could but feel that I was revisiting a familiar spot and receiving the greetings of old-time friends; and, in spite of the heavy war pressure, it was financially the most successful visit I ever made, having sold five hundred volumes in the short s.p.a.ce of two weeks, a fact in itself sufficient to exemplify the pervading spirit of its society, not one of whose members gave grudgingly, but with unhesitating and cheerful alacrity.

Thence I repaired to the "Blue Gra.s.s Country," the garden spot of Kentucky, and to the city of Lexington, the reputation of whose beautiful women has reached from sea to sea and from pole to pole, and the name of whose hero, Henry Clay, has made the heart of our nation throb with exultant pride. I was also a stranger there, yet I resolutely repaired to the Broadway, its princ.i.p.al hotel, trusting to the hospitality of its citizens. Nor did I "count without a host," for Mr. Lindsey, the proprietor, received me with courtly cordiality, installing us in an elegant suite of rooms upon the parlor floor, a.s.signing us a servant in constant attendance, and urging us to feel at home. At breakfast the succeeding morning he greeted us with the pleasant tidings that he had already sold sixteen volumes of my book, after which he came to our apartment with a huge market basket, which he insisted upon filling with books, adding that _I_ was too delicate to go out with them myself. This was a second time filled and emptied, and before dinner there was placed in my hands the proceeds of the sale of one hundred books.

My companion, amazed at his success, begged of him to let her know the secret, whereupon he said, laughingly: "Well, you see, I am a Democrat and a Free Mason. I talked politics to one, gave the society sign to another, and mixed a little religion with all. So I could not fail to succeed."

I could but feel, however, in spite of his jest, that his innate goodness was the Midas like touch, and that he bore in his own heart the "philosopher's stone," transforming all into gold.

It did not become necessary for me to appear in the streets of Lexington, yet I reaped a rich harvest of gain, and, above all, found a mine of wealth in the warm, true, loving, chivalric souls. Nor did the kindness cease at the fountain-head, for the little ones of Mr. Lindsey's family, laden with bead work, walked the streets of the city, trafficking for my benefit, returning with little hands empty of trinkets, but filled with money.

To crown all this kindness I was only allowed, upon leaving, to pay half the usual price for board, receiving letters of introduction to the Capital House, of Frankfort, whose proprietor extended the same liberality of terms, and whose citizens kindly and freely patronized me.

Going to Paris, I received so many favors that I never think of Kentucky and its n.o.ble sons and daughters without a thrill of loving grat.i.tude.

Mr. Lindsey requested me to write to him upon my return, and, after the lapse of a long time, I did so, receiving a reply bearing the painful tidings that, by security debts, he had been bereft of all his earthly possessions, but was hopeful of regaining all. Surely such n.o.ble souls should not be left in the cloud while so many sordid, selfish natures sail upon a sea of success.

CHAPTER X.

"Hope like the glimmering taper's light, Adorns and cheers the way; And still as darker grows the night, Emits a cheerful ray."

Upon our return from Kentucky we were received by motherly Mrs Dean, with her ever warm welcome; but after the usual greeting a mischievous smile was seen lurking on her face, and she archly told us that she had a very attractive addition to her family, in the persons of two bachelor boarders. This served but as a pastime of the moment, and I gave it little further thought, until I was presented to Mr. Arms, a gentleman of medium height, head of n.o.ble mould and fine poise, dark hair and luxuriant beard, large brown eyes expressive and scintillating, quiet, un.o.btrusive manner and somewhat low voice.

Methinks that I can trace a meaning smile upon the faces of some of my readers at the detailed description of one they deem too blind to see. Not so, there is a strange mysterious masonry in human souls, and while

"Few are the hearts, whence one same touch, Bids the sweet fountain flow,"

an indescribable consciousness of mutual interest came with this meeting; and while I little dreamed that this stranger would in after time stand by my side in the _nearest_ and _dearest_ relation of life, even that of a husband; his face, his form, his voice, his soul were all to me an open volume, which by that inner sight, I read in every minute detail, and then and there were all these photographed upon my heart.

Before I had taken my next leave of Chicago I had pa.s.sed through all the phases of doubt, in which I deeply questioned my own heart, seeking there the solution of why I had inspired an interest in this stranger. Ever since my sickness in Philadelphia I had been a comparative invalid, devoting much of my time to the restoration of health, and above all the recovery of that sight which was still so dear to me, and so hard to relinquish without a struggle. So with my depleted strength, moderate means and somewhat darkened hopes, I seemed to myself a very unattractive object. Be this as it may, while no formal engagement bound us, we parted as acknowledged lovers.