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 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
 the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for 
 the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 
 
 By Tratisfer 
 
 MARIS W' 
 

 THIS RECORD 
 
 OF 
 
 A WOMAN'S DEVOTION TO HER COUNTRY 
 
 TO THE OFFICERS iVND SOLDIERS 
 WHO FOUGHT AND WON 
 
 THE BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG. 
 
" The country has already heard of John 
 Burns, the hero of Gettysburg, — of how the 
 old man sallied forth, a host within himself, 
 * to fight on his own hook,' and how he fell 
 wounded, after having delivered many shots 
 from his trusty rifle into the faces and 
 hearts of his country's foes. John Burns's 
 name is already recorded among the im- 
 mortal, to live there while American valor 
 and patriotism have an admirer and emu- 
 lator. 
 
 " But there was a heroine as well as a hero 
 of Gettysburg. The old hero, Burns, still 
 lives. The heroine, sweet Jenny TVade, 
 perished in the din of that awful fray, and 
 she now sleeps where the flowers once 
 bloomed and the perfume-laden air wafted 
 lovingly over Cemetery Hill. 
 
" Before the battle, and while the national 
 hosts were awaiting the assault of the 
 traitor foe, Jenny Wade was busily engaged 
 in baking bread for the national troops. 
 She occupied a house in range of the guns 
 of both armies, and the rebels had sternly 
 ordered her to leave the premises, but this 
 she as sternly refused to do. While she 
 was busily engaged in her patriotic work, a 
 minie ball pierced her pure heart, and she 
 fell, a holy sacrifice in her country's cause." 
 
JENNY WADE. 
 
 mt mm. 
 
 " Oh, Jenny Wade ! are you still here ? 
 
 The rebel troops are pressing near, 
 
 And our brave soldiers wait the din 
 
 That their assault will usher in. 
 
 'Tis said our ranks already thin, 
 
 For sleeping on those heights are men 
 
 1^0 bugle-call will wake again, 
 
 I saw one from the battle-plain ; 
 
 He says that all is quiet now, 
 
 Save where, on yonder hillock's brow, 
 
 Our men are digging graves for those 
 
 Who've earned the patriot's sweet repose. 
 
 Not long the cannon's shout may cease ; 
 
 The battle-tumult will increase; 
 
8 .TENNYWADE. 
 
 Mayhap the rebels will come down 
 
 To burn our poor, deserted town, 
 
 -For all have fled, with terror wild ; 
 
 You do not meet a man or child. 
 
 Though you should walk through every street. 
 
 Old Pompey stamps his angry feet. 
 
 And bites his chain, for all forgot 
 
 T'unclasp the iron-forged knot. 
 
 His foaming mouth ! his eye bloodshot ! 
 
 I pitied him, but did not dare 
 
 To loose the bonds that hold him there. 
 
 For I believe the cannon's roar 
 
 Has maddened him at our own door. 
 
 I never saw him thus before. 
 
 ''But, Jenny! tell me why they tight? 
 
 Say ! were we not all happy, ere 
 
 Young men could talk of naught but war, — 
 
 When swords hung rusting in the hall. 
 
 And guns leaned idly by the wall ? 
 
 I wished my father here last night. 
 
 For I, with my tenth year begun, 
 
 Can little do with sword or gun. 
 
THE WAR. 
 
 Yet glad were I, one of my name 
 Were here to fight for home. 
 
 Our dame, 
 Who keeps my father's house and me, 
 Has fled. And so I came to see 
 If you had done, as you oft said, 
 Eemained to make the soldiers' bread, 
 Though ball and bullet thick might fall, 
 And batter down your cottage wall." 
 
 Then Jenny said, " You too must stay, 
 Till I can send you safe away. 
 This little cottage is our fort. 
 I think it is a safe resort 
 For women and for boys, till God 
 Has driven th'invader from our sod. 
 Ah ! not in man our trust may be : 
 'Tis Grod who giveth victory. 
 
 *' You ask me, Harry ! why they fight, 
 And of the wrong, and of the right. 
 Would, only from afar might come 
 The echo of war's dreadful hum ! 
 
10 JENNY WADE. 
 
 Ah ! why such message sent the South 
 As only the dread cannon's mouth 
 Could, from dark Sumter's turrets, dare 
 O'er hill and plain and wave to bear !" 
 "War is so dreadful, Jenny !'^ 
 
 ''Yes! 
 That, yon fresh-opened vaults confess. 
 The very nation's heart-strings throb, 
 The faintest breeze seems like a sob. 
 Another Eachel mourns her lost 
 On Western plain and Southern coast. 
 Harry ! when, like a stream of life, 
 Our braves rushed forward to the strife, 
 Your father was the first who said, 
 ' Their blood and ours be on their head, 
 Who, urged by wounded, baffled pride, 
 Have the law's majesty defied.' 
 He went, but never tidings came ; 
 'No battle-list has showed his name; 
 Nor know we yet, if his dear blood 
 Have swelled the noble, patriot flood 
 That gilds the current of the seas, 
 And, mixing still its tide with these 
 
THE WAR. 11 
 
 Who fall to-day, will wash our land 
 From pride, that, with its haughty brand 
 Upreared to heaven, defies its wrath. 
 Ah! fainter grew your mother's breath, 
 When each one said, ' WeVe nothing heard.' 
 ' Is there no letter ? Speak ! ]^o word ? 
 Could certain woe be more intense 
 Than this long trial of suspense?' 
 And thus she faded, till the shine 
 Passed from her eyes, as blue as thine. 
 She died. And to the one that you 
 Were left, this day has proved how true 
 Her promises. But fear not ! we 
 Will by God's care protected be. 
 We trust in an Almighty form 
 That, viewless, guides the battle-storm." 
 
 " Oh, Jenny ! hear the cannon I see 
 The flashing of the musketry ! 
 I would I might a w^eapon wield. 
 And tread that direful battle-field. 
 Our own flag from the heights is hurled! 
 The rebel standard is unfurled ! 
 
12 JENNY WADE. 
 
 Oh ! would it were God's holy will 
 I slept on Cemetery Hill 
 
 With her who gave me birth ! 
 Oh! leave your bread! what need of food, 
 When every stream is red with blood ? 
 At every blow those cannon deal, 
 The rider feels his horse's heel 
 Press on his throbbing breast, laid low. 
 Fly, Jenny ! from these scenes of woe." 
 
 "Be calm, my child! I may not go. 
 I see the flaunting standard wave, 
 But Grod is mighty ; He will save ; 
 And all our ranks are thick and brave. 
 Our flag will yet these hill-tops crown, 
 And yonder banner be cast down. 
 Harry ! turn from it thy sad eyes ! 
 See ! I must put my bread to rise ; 
 Oh ! sweet and light my loaves shall be, 
 For those who soon will come to me, 
 Singing the song of victory." 
 
Sft^ mnim MUm. 
 
 " What, Jenny Wade ! are you still here ? 
 
 Against the table idly leaning 
 With naught on earth, you or your house 
 
 From the hot bullets' pathway screening. 
 The cannon-balls ! you hear their hissing ! 
 This youngster here, with terror shiv'ring. 
 He feels the earth beneath him quiv'ring. 
 Come, fly V the Union soldier said, 
 "For shot and shell fly o'er your head. 
 Nay, Jenny ! look not at your bread. 
 But hasten through yon dusty track, 
 E'or turn, like Lot's wife, to look back. 
 You and the boy must hurry on ; 
 For all from Gettysburg have gone. 
 My horse stands champing at the door, 
 I only stej^ped this threshold o'er 
 
 2 . 13 
 
14 JENNY WADE. 
 
 To see if 'twere you or your ghost 
 
 Here still, like sentry, at your post. 
 
 Our reinforcements swift come on; 
 
 I must be back bere by the dawn. 
 
 God grant, not at our own beartb-stone, 
 
 Like cowards, we lie down to feel 
 
 Upon our necks tb'invader's beel. 
 
 Ob, Jenny ! old Jobn Eurns is wbere 
 
 Thickest tbe figbt, brightest the glare; 
 
 Had Pennsylvania's sons stood up 
 
 Like him, we need not of this cup 
 
 Of shame have drunk the dregs. But baste ! 
 
 E'or yet these precious moments waste; 
 
 Come, Harry ! come ! spring up behind, 
 
 I will for you a refuge find. 
 
 Jenny ! tread thou wbere yon bill-side 
 
 Will thee from rebel bullet hide. 
 
 Follow its path, 'twill lead thee down 
 
 Where many, from our poor old town. 
 
 Are trembling like tbe birds that hear, 
 
 In forest-aisles, the hunter near." 
 
 Then Jenny said, "I know not fear; 
 
THE UNION SOLDIER. 15 
 
 Shield thou the boy ! give him to those 
 Who'll guard him safe, until our foes 
 Are from our grieving valleys thrust ; 
 For driven out they'll be — they must ! 
 Farewell, and Grod be with thee, Harry !" 
 
 "Jenny, I must away! why tarry?" 
 The Union soldier said, perplexed. 
 And Jenny cried, " Oh ! be not vexed; 
 G-o on thy errand, for, indeed, 
 Our fate may hang upon thy speed. 
 Here I must stay !" 
 
 Away he reels ; 
 The dust flies round his horse^s heels; 
 Jenny hears not his steed's loud tramp, 
 Tears her eyes dim, her lashes damp. 
 The horseman round the steep path whirls; 
 She sees no more the golden curls 
 That, floating like eve's parting light, 
 Look brighter as they pass from sight. 
 The child she loved so well — oh ! who 
 Will say that ever to her view 
 Will come again those eyes of blue, 
 
16 JENNYWADE. iJ 
 
 That seemed oft from the grave's decay I 
 
 To roll the heavy stone away, \ 
 
 And show from out the shadowed air \ 
 The angel-mother waiting there ? 
 
 Soon Jenny's eyes forget to weep, i 
 
 For troops of horsemen by her sweep, | 
 
 And, like the sunbeams on the river, . 
 
 She sees their gleaming sabres quiver; ' 
 
 She hears the bullets whirring by; ■ 
 She hears the trumpet's blast defy 
 Far hill and vale and deep ravine 
 
 That sleep Wyoming's groves between, — ' 
 That, lulled by songs of peace, awake 
 
 When war's hoarse shouts their slumbers i 
 
 break, J 
 
 Like those affrighted from their rest ■ 
 
 By footsteps of unwelcome guest. i 
 
 Still, still the noisy conflict raves, — ' 
 
 Still, still the rebel standard waves. \ 
 
 Not long that cliff will dare to hold \ 
 
 In heaven's sight that ensign bold. 
 
 j 
 
 1 
 
THE UNION SOLDIER. 17 
 
 Oh ! gallant soldiers ! thrust aside 
 Th'escutcheon of th'invader's pride, 
 That yet a purpose good will serve, 
 The shrinking, trembling heart to nerve, 
 The dauntless soul to make more sure 
 Freedom's great triumph fco secure. 
 
 2* 
 
Alas ! where sleep the dead, they fight. 
 
 O'er the green graves the battle rages; 
 
 Each maddened host a host engages; 
 Each brow with ire is black as night. 
 Yes ! war, it is a dreadful thing. 
 The horses' hoofs are madly ringing. 
 By marble tombs, 'neath which dry bones 
 Are to the earth in terror clinging; 
 What, if from dust these dry bones spring- 
 ing 
 Should call on heaven, a witness true, — 
 On hell's deep, fearful abyss too : 
 "Angels! and ye lost ones ! come, view 
 Where brother, brother meets, to glare, 
 And with hate's direful, stony stare, 
 Tearing the heart-strings from each breast 
 So long against the other pressed, 
 
 18 
 
JENNY AND THE REBEL OFFICER. 19 
 
 With such confiding love and pride, 
 As all the nations' power defied/' 
 
 Pale as a lily Jenny's face, 
 
 And in her temples you could trace 
 
 The hlue veins, over which her hair 
 
 Shone like the waves of Delaware, 
 
 When the sun's burning glances stream 
 
 Their lustre where the billows dream ; 
 
 Her hands and arms were white as snow } 
 
 Well used to labor were they, though, 
 
 For idleness and Jenny Wade 
 
 Had never yet acquaintance made ; 
 
 Her waist was trim and small and round, 
 
 And ever with an apron bound, 
 
 White as the flour she sifted o'er 
 
 The loaves ranged by the oven-door. 
 
 "My oven, 'tis already hot," 
 
 Said Jenny Wade ; " I had forgot 
 
 My work ; for all have work to do 
 
 When war's dark shadow, striding through 
 
20 JENNY WADE. 
 
 Our peaceful hamlets, makes so sad 
 The homes that ever were so glad. 
 
 " Oh ! would the awful strife were done ! 
 Oh ! would that, all our battles won, 
 Our seas and rivers might give back 
 The glory of the stars' light track. 
 All the bright stripes that cross our flag 
 Their silken folds might never drag. 
 But star and stripe might clasp again 
 Florida's groves with those of Maine !" 
 
 Whose shadow, falling in the door, 
 Plays on the white and sanded floor? 
 For Jenny does not seem to mark 
 The cheek so flushed, the eye so dark, 
 The raven hair all waving round 
 A brow and countenance sunbrowned. 
 The paleness from her face is gone. 
 And on her cheeks a crimson glowing ; 
 Her care upon her bread bestowing, 
 She smiles to see her loaves as brown 
 
JENNY AND THE REBEL OFFICER. 21 
 
 As leaves the autumn winds are blowing, 
 
 Where Alleghany's peaks look down 
 On rock and hill and mossy ways, 
 Lit with the Indian summer's blaze. 
 She sings with voice as low and sweet 
 As breezes that those summits greet, 
 When summer's balmy breath is passed 
 O'er moss-topped rocks and caverns vast : 
 
 "My loaves, how good, how light they arel 
 Come, soldiers ! when the battle o'er, — 
 Open for you my welcome door; 
 
 Come ! eat and rest. 
 
 ''Come ! I will wash the dust from off 
 The burning brow, the weary feet, — 
 'Tis woman's task ! a task how meet ! 
 
 Come ! eat and rest. 
 
 *' Come ! for I see the stars outshine 
 The sun, upon our nation's flag 3 
 Low let the foe's dread banner drag I 
 
 Come I eat and rest." 
 
22 JENNY WADE. 
 
 As Jenny sang, th'intruder smiled j 
 
 « Not yet ! not yet !" lie said. " My child ! 
 
 The rebel standard — thus men call 
 
 Our banner — will not, must not fall; 
 
 But who art thou that dar'st to stay, 
 
 When from each party, in this fray, 
 
 The swift-contending bullets meet 
 
 And play around thy careless feet ? 
 
 So young, so fearless, haste afar ; — 
 
 IsTot for fair woman, scenes of war; 
 
 As well might lilies bloom beside 
 
 Etna's hot j)athways, lava-dried. 
 
 Our balls fly hither, hissing fierce, 
 
 The danger from thine own, is worse; 
 
 Thy cottage is not iron-grated. 
 
 And, were it, two such foes ne'er hated 
 
 As those whose shot and shell fly round 
 
 This house, with noisy burst and bound; 
 
 Thy song is in this tumult drowned ; — 
 
 But list ! there is a breathing space. 
 
 Haste, maiden ! from this dangerous place V 
 
JENNY AND THE REBEL OrEICER. 23 
 
 "And who art thou that bidd'st me go? 
 !N'either thy face nor form I know; 
 Eut thy soft accent and thy dress 
 The Southern name and cause confess. 
 And thinkest thou I'll leave this spot 
 At such command as thme ? oh ! not 
 From thee permission will I ask 
 Still to pursue my pleasant task. 
 Eut not for woman, scenes of war ! 
 Then why bring scenes of war to her ? 
 For show me, of our land, a part 
 Without a desolated heart, 
 Made so by those who, not content 
 With all the blessings Heaven lent, 
 Have trampled on a nation's word. 
 And chose the verdict of the sword; 
 And boast not that our flag now droops :— 
 From yon high cloud our eagle swoops, 
 And Lee and his proud hosts shall fly 
 The glances of his sunlit eye." 
 
 *' Say'st thou ? and wilt thou dare thy fate?" 
 
 "Until the battle's o'er I wait; 
 
24 JENNY WADE. 
 
 My hand shall bathe the aching brow, — 
 
 My hand the gushing wound shall bind, — 
 And the limbs, pain-disturbed now. 
 
 From me shall death's composure find 3 
 The icy drops, from yon bright spring, 
 
 I'll bring to quench the hero's thirst; 
 And I shall find some soothing thing. 
 
 Let pain and fever do their worst; 
 And I shall give the hungry bread, — 
 For sweet and light my loaves shall be 
 To those who soon will come to me, 
 Singing the song of victory. 
 
 '' Farewell ! I stay to do my part 
 
 In this dire struggle, though my hand 
 
 Hold not a sword; my loving heart 
 Throbs for an undivided land." 
 
G-ETTYSBURG ! thy fields are sown 
 With seed the earth will not disown, 
 And watered with as pure a tide 
 
 As ever field of battle dyed. 
 
 1 stood the dying Weed beside, 
 
 And saw young Hazlitt bending near, 
 His parting messages to hear. 
 I see them still, — that dying man, 
 With paling lips and closing eye, 
 
 And Hazlitt, with his gentle tones. 
 Listing to catch the faintest sigh, 
 
 Eepeating words that were but moans, 
 Words to be borne — the little all — 
 Mementos of his friend's sad fall. 
 
 25 
 
26 JENNYWADE. ^ 
 
 I could but watch tlie earnest youth, 
 
 His eye as soft as woman's, full 
 Of woman's holy trust and truth; 
 His brow — but why that look of pain ? 
 Th'accursed bullet to his brain 
 Was surely aimed. 
 
 He fell beside 
 The friend who leaned on him, and died. 
 
 God grant above his ear is bent, 
 
 Yet not to messages of woe, 
 J3ut to those lovely sounds that flow 
 
 From heavenly voice and instrument. 
 
 O Death ! the hills of Gettysburg 
 
 Were, for the time, to thee a throne; 
 There thou, with kingly air, marked out 
 
 The noble Eeynolds for thine own. 
 O'Eourke thy victim was, and Cross, 
 Whose home, in Hampshire's hills, yet 
 
 mourns ; 
 The Union was his love, his bride, — 
 For her he fought, for her he died ; 
 
THE BATTLE. 27 
 
 Gushing and Woodruff, brave and young 
 As ever theme by poet sung ; 
 And ranks of those who found a rest, 
 By blessings of their country blest. 
 
 Their sleep is quiet and serene 
 
 As those tall pines that rest between 
 
 The jagged cliff, the lowering cloud. 
 
 O'er Alleghanian summit bowed. 
 
 IS'o foot their fallen leaves has stirred, — 
 
 1^0 human voice they e'er have heard; 
 
 Only the wind's shrill tones they know. 
 
 Only one voice our braves will know, — 
 
 Only one call they e'er will hear; 
 When the great God of battles will 
 
 Upon his holy mount appear, — 
 When th'Archangel of his host 
 
 A piercing trumpet-call will sound. 
 That, thrilling hill and vale and coast, 
 
 Will from each ocean-cave rebound; 
 All must this summons listen, all 
 Must answer at this dread roll-call. 
 
28 JENNY WADE. 
 
 Brave soldiers of onr army ! yon 
 
 Will present be at this review, 
 
 To hear your final orders given, 
 
 Bead out on earth, though writ in heaven. 
 
 Then do your duty now, as those 
 
 Who will, when this parade shall close, 
 
 This last parade, with ranks so full, 
 
 Magnificent and terrible ! 
 
 When every soldier that has died 
 
 In battle, since the world began, 
 Shall meet, in presence of his God, 
 
 The foe he strove with, man to man. 
 Oh ! keep your armor bright, that He 
 
 Who will your Captain be that day, 
 God's Son, our Christ, with glory crowned, 
 
 May fling the fearful sword away. 
 
 That, gazing, ye may hear him say, 
 " Oppression's cruel reign is o'er. 
 And war's dread curse shall be no more; 
 The good fight's fought, the victory won, 
 Eternal peace has now begun. 
 
THE BATTLE. 29 
 
 Ye soldiers of the Cross are blessed ! 
 Ye with my name upon your crest ! 
 !N"o more on blood-stained fields ye move; 
 Heaven's banner over you is love. 
 Soldiers, ye now may rest V* 
 
 3* 
 
" O Jenny Wade ! not sleeping now ! 
 Where are ttie laurels for my brow?" 
 The Union soldier said. " All ! fleet 
 The rebels must be to retreat, 
 Ere Meade again will give them fight, 
 And thus arrest their hurried flight 
 Potomac's shielding tide across, 
 With their light gains and heavy loss. 
 'Tis true their trains have borne away 
 Burdens of corn and oats and hay. 
 But many a Southern lad remains 
 Lifeless upon our groaning plains; 
 'No mother need look out to greet 
 The smile, the voice, to her so sweet. 
 These Southerners were gallant friends, 
 I liked them very well as such, 
 But do not love them half so much 
 
 30 
 
THE SACRIFICE. 31 
 
 That on their yes or no depends 
 "Whether in Charleston's genial air 
 I may my winter clothing wear, 
 Or change to furs from felt my hat. 
 But wait a while ; we'll fix all that. 
 
 "I'll venture Lee has rued the day 
 That Pennsylvania's farms he saw ; 
 Perhaps lie may a lesson draw, 
 And not to Africa's domains 
 Again remove the tide of war, 
 Though I confess I wish he would 
 Upon us soon again intrude ; 
 Where'er his followers may deign 
 To steal a horse, or load a train, 
 I'll pledge my soul they'll get enough 
 Of that and other sort of stuff. 
 
 "But I'll not linger at the door; 
 
 I will arouse sweet Jenny, for 
 
 Here come the conquering sons of war; 
 
 They reel like drunkards at the gates : 
 
 'Tis joy that now intoxicates. 
 
32 JENNYWADE. 
 
 " How Jenny sleeps ! would she were waked ! 
 
 ril warrant all her bread is baked, 
 
 For I remember how she said, 
 
 'Come, when the battle's o'er, for bread; 
 
 Oh ! sweet and light the loaves shall be 
 
 To you, who then shall come to me, 
 
 Singing the song of victory/ 
 
 " How sound she sleeps ! sweet Jenny, wake ! 
 Thy toil was for thy country's sake, 
 And of its joy thou must partake; 
 Thou'rt weary, but arouse thee now ! 
 
 " Oh, heaven ! how pallid is her brow ! 
 Jenny, wake up ! O maiden ! why 
 So quiet ? rouse ! what ! no reply ? 
 
 " Oh, Grod ! my feet are wet with blood ! 
 What means this dark and clotted flood ? 
 
 " Alas ! the tide is from her breast ! 
 
 Her white hands there are tightly pressed. 
 
THE SACRIFICE. 
 
 83 
 
 The tracks of bullets round her lay, 
 This to her heart has found its way; 
 She sleeps, but this is death ! 
 
 ''O soldiers, from the battle-field. 
 
 Tread lightly, though her slumbers deep 
 Will never to your sorrow yield. 
 
 " For you poured out her bosom's tide, — 
 For you, for her dear land, she died ! 
 Well may you weep ! 
 
 But her loved name 
 Will every patriot heart inflame, — 
 Will every coward bosom shame ! 
 'Ne'er from this country's altars fade 
 The memory of Jenny Wade V 
 
 THE END. 
 

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