THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
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 ^^^mo;jiX£Lix^^ 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/lastmaOOmcla 
 
THE LAST MAN 
 
 A NOVEL 
 
 BY 
 
 N. MONROE MCLAUGHLIN 
 
 \10N IN SOLO 
 
 WASHINGTON 
 
 THE NEALE COMPANY 
 
 431 ELEVENTH STREET NORTHWEST 
 1900 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1900, BY N. M. M'LAUGHLIN 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
TO MY WIFE 
 
 603120 
 
PREFATORY. 
 
 After the major part of this story had been writ- 
 ten, events of transcendent importance to the nation 
 occurred, events following each other with such 
 rapidity as to challenge and command the admira- 
 tion of the civilized world. To enumerate or de- 
 scribe such would be presumptuous, and no work 
 of that nature will be attempted. 
 
 Great responsibilities have been assumed, great 
 problems are to be solved, and the greatest wisdom 
 will be required to meet these new conditions and 
 develop the results which may be rightfully ex- 
 pected of the nation. Best of all thus far attained 
 is the sweet revelation that there ought not to be — 
 and is no longer — a North, a South, an East, or 
 a West ; but, instead, one great, indivisible, patri- 
 otic, prosperous country and people. 
 
 Pessimism — that bird of evil form and omen — 
 may now betake itself to the dark abodes of despair, 
 While Optimism displays her fine form and richly- 
 tinted plumage in the bright rays of the sun of 
 prosperity. 
 
 This story, aiming to be consonant with the views 
 here set forth, is now presented to his fellow-citizens 
 by 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 March i, 1900. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Prologue 9 
 
 The Beginning 17 
 
 Preliminary Engagements 25 
 
 War in Earnest 34 
 
 Deliverance 44 
 
 The Wrestling of Giants 53 
 
 In the Hands of the Enemy 62 
 
 Convalescence 72 
 
 Exchanged 83 
 
 Promotion 95 
 
 Cogitations 108 
 
 The Troth-Plight 119 
 
 The Marriage 130 
 
 The Fiery Furnace 141 
 
 " The Hawk's 'Nest " I53 
 
 Light Ahead 164 
 
 The Wanderer's Return 174 
 
 The Colony 186 
 
 The Broken Link I95 
 
 Lengthening Shadows 206 
 
 The Ending 215 
 
THE LAST MAN 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 
 Never S'hone the sun more brightly than on July 
 4, 1926. It is the one hundred and fiftieth anni- 
 versary of the birth of the great Republic, and the 
 one hundredth anniversary of the deaths of two of 
 its earlier Presidents. Washington, "The City 
 Beautiful," the Capital, is to celebrate this day of 
 days, and call to mind the greatness, the patriotism, 
 and the distinguished services of those two chief 
 magistrates, eminent among the immortals who 
 enacted and signed the Declaration of Independ- 
 ence. 
 
 From thousands of fiagstafifs and windows, on 
 the tops of all the Government buildings, at the 
 Arsenal and the Navy Yard, at Fort Myer, above 
 the crown of the Goddess of Liberty — bedecked in 
 costliest gilding, on statues of heroes in parks and 
 other public places, on street cars, steam cars, and 
 steamers, floats "Old Glory," — the banner of beauty, 
 the sign of liberty for the world, in whose azure 
 field glitter and sparkle fifty bright stars ! 
 
 Thirteen then ; fifty now ! 
 
 Upon the fronts of thousands of business blocks, 
 palatial residences, and even upon the cots of the 
 
10 THE LAST MAN 
 
 poor, and from strong ropes stretched at greatest 
 heights across streets and avenues, hang in shields, 
 clusters, festoons, and other multiform shapes, the 
 gayest of bunting, the whole transforming the 
 Capital into a bower of transcendent beauty and 
 magnificence. 
 
 Down in Monument Lot, and Grand Army Place, 
 the hand and the genius of the decorator are sig- 
 nally displayed. 
 
 Flags large, flags small, and bunting everywhere ! 
 
 Memorial Bridge, that noblest example of similar 
 structures, is literally hidden by its massive decora- 
 tions. 
 
 Depending from the windows near the summit of 
 the Washington Monument, on massive staffs, float 
 flags more than forty feet in length by twenty in 
 wddth. 
 
 At varying heights, from fifty to a hundred feet, 
 suspended by strong ropes depending from the 
 windows of the Monument, hang greatly magnified 
 copies of the Declaration, and portraits of all the 
 Presidents, the two whose lives and deaths are to be 
 commemorated occupying the lowest altitude, in 
 order to be easily and accurately seen and studied. 
 
 At the northwest angle of the Monument there 
 is a spacious platform, and on its flanks and in front 
 is a great structure of seats, arranged as an amphi- 
 theater, for the occupancy of the organizations that 
 are to be present : The Sons of the Revolution, 
 Daughters ol the Revolution, Sons and Daughters 
 of the American Revolution, sons and daughters of 
 
PROLOGUE 11 
 
 the veterans of later wars, and professors and 
 alumni of the four great universities at the Capital. 
 
 On the platform are to sit the President, his 
 Cabinet, the Supreme Court, Senators and Mem- 
 bers of Congi-ess, the Committee of Arrangements, 
 and the reader and speakers. 
 
 In front of these, and at a lower elevation, facing 
 the audience, is to sit the greatest aggregation of 
 singers and instrumentalists ever assembled. 
 
 The city clocks simultaneously strike the hour 
 of ten. Chimes of bells ring out the notes of the 
 national aiuthem ; great guns on the White Lot, 
 down at the Arsenal, and over at Fort Myer, bel- 
 low so loudly as to shake the very earth, stir the 
 air with quivers, and send troops of echoes chasing 
 each other up and down the Potomac, away to the 
 hills of Anacostia and over to the massive pineries 
 of silent, sacred Arlington. Drums in every direc- 
 tion roll out their deep bass notes; bugles sound 
 the signal for marching; and, anon, from every 
 point of the compass, from a score of armories and 
 rendezvous, march forth and forward along streets 
 and avenues the various societies and gaily uni- 
 formed companies and battalions of men under 
 arms, all moving toward the Monument, that loftiest 
 commemorative pile under the sun. 
 
 Meantime, thousands of citizens, within a radius 
 of many miles, come pouring in over street rail- 
 ways, steam railways, on steamers, and across 
 Memorial Bridge ; and two hundred thousand of 
 the people of the city, one-third of its population, 
 
12 THE LAST MAN 
 
 join these and swell the mass to gigantic propor- 
 tions. 
 
 Quickly, yet without confusion, the component 
 parts of this wonderful assemblage are in place, 
 and the advertised functions begin. 
 
 First, the vast choir, accompanied by the orches- 
 tra, renders that grand old hymn, "America." At 
 every accented note a gun in the battery, two hun- 
 dred yards distant, is fired by electricity, discharged 
 by touching a keyboard on the grand stand. 
 
 The very sky seems to echo the grand prayer — 
 
 "Long may our land be bright, 
 With freedom's holy light ! 
 Protect us by Thy might, 
 Great God, our King!" 
 
 As the last note ceases, a tall, scholarly-looking 
 Doctor of Divinity stands forth and utters an elo- 
 quent invocation, which is followed by the singing 
 of "Tlie Star-Spangled Banner," accompanied not 
 only by artillery and anvils, but by a beautiful and 
 elaborate Rag drill performed by a bevy of fifty 
 young girls, decorated with the national colors. 
 
 Then rises and advances to the front of the plat- 
 form the young man, a university student, wliose 
 office it is to read that immortal paper, the Decla- 
 ration. 
 
 With a voice of great power, depth, and reso- 
 nance, he begins : "When in the course of human 
 events" — his delivery is perfect and masterful, and 
 the immense throngs are electrified and fascinated. 
 He proceeds : "We hold these truths to be self- 
 
PROLOGUE 13 
 
 evident" — he ceases to read ; what has happened ? 
 A low-toned, wide-spread buzz of wonder pervades 
 the mass of people, and the reader, following their 
 upward gaze, beholds a spectacle never seen before, 
 and, perhaps, never to be seen again under like 
 circumstances. High above the apex of the Monu- 
 ment a genuine American eagle, "the bird of free- 
 dom," soars in circles whose center is the mighty 
 shaft extended upVvard. At short intervals he 
 emits that peculiar note which belong-s to his spe- 
 cies alone. For several minutes he continues to 
 describe those circles, while the concourse of peo- 
 ple regard the incident as a special omen of good ! 
 Has the "Majesty of all the earth" sent this bird, 
 as He set His bow of promise in the cloud, and for 
 a like purpose? At length the bird soars away in a 
 direct line across the Potomac to the heights and 
 pines of Arlington. 
 
 The reader resumes, interrupted frequently by 
 great applause, and when he closes with those 
 impassioned words, "we pledge our lives, our for- 
 tunes and our sacred honor," flags wave wildly, 
 guns speak, bands play, and the people, with one 
 accord, rise and give vent to one long, loud, deafen- 
 ing shout that is heard in Anacostia. 
 
 An orator, than whom few are more gifted, now 
 engages attention. He congratulates his hearers 
 upon the perfect day, the "azure skies bending o'er 
 them," the almost limitless number of people pres- 
 ent, the beauty of the decorations, the magnificent 
 spirit that prompted all this expenditure, and, best 
 
14 THE LAST MAN 
 
 of all, that on this, the dearest spot on earth, except 
 each one's home, the most completely American 
 of all places under Heaven, is celebrated this anni- 
 versary. 
 
 As he raises his eyes and face to emphasize his 
 last words, another strange spectacle meets his 
 gaze. His voice ceases, but his steady look upward 
 directs the eyes of the audience. Wonder of won- 
 ders ! Beautiful apparition ! Happy omen ! Directly 
 over and surrounding the apex of the Monument 
 in a circle of thirty degrees or more in diameter, a 
 most magnificent corona shines ! 
 
 In glad, sweet silence, broken only by low mur- 
 murs and ejaculations, the multitudes gaze for many 
 moments. 
 
 At length the orator, recovering his voice and 
 self-control, breaks forth : "Tlie Bird of Freedom, 
 now so rare, comes many a weary league from his 
 mountain crag to visit this spot and this scene ; and 
 now, O rarest gift of God ! He again sets His bow 
 of promise over and above this sacred pile, as a 
 token that the Republic shall live 'tO' the last syl- 
 lable of recorded time !' " For fully half an hour 
 the corona remains, then slowly fades away. 
 
 The elaborate program has been followed until 
 the last number is reached. 
 
 • A space on the platform is cleared, upon which 
 comes a bevy of little maidens, two by two, strew- 
 ing flowers as they move. Following them, ad- 
 vances a body of boys and young men, bearing 
 each a flag which he waves in time with music. 
 
PROLOGUE 15 
 
 Then approaches, leaning on the shoulder of a stal- 
 wart young man on each side, a tall, erect, gray- 
 haired man of at least eighty-four winters. His 
 eyes are clear and expressive ; his face beams with 
 benevolence and happiness, and his lips are 
 wreathed in a genuine, natural smile. 
 
 Meantime a forest of flags wave and cheerful but 
 deafening shouts fill the space for a furlong around. 
 
 The master of ceremonies signals for silence, and 
 announces that the committee had made great 
 effort to secure the presence of a company of such 
 men as the one now before them, but that the 
 attempt had been futile, and facts in possession of 
 the committee showed, beyond a doubt, that this 
 is the sole man of his class now living. 
 
 "A brief address," announces the chairman, 'Svill 
 now be presented by the Hon. John W. Francis, 
 the Secretary of State." 
 
 The speaker, after shaking hands with the aged 
 man, begins with a paraphrase of Webster's cele- 
 brated oration at the dedication of Bunker Hill 
 Monument : "Venerable man ! you have come 
 down to us from a former generation!" He then 
 portrays the life and services of the man before 
 them, and closes with the peroration : "May the 
 God of nations, caring for this nation in the future 
 as in the past, continue to raise up men, like this 
 man, equal to every emergency, inspired by holy 
 patriotism, and fired by dauntless courage, that the 
 cause of liberty, defined by law; the cause of 
 humanity and human elevation, promoted and en- 
 
16 THE LAST MAN 
 
 hanced by the useful as well as the ornamental arts 
 and sciences ; and the cause of God, promoted and 
 illustrated by the fullest 'freedom to worship Him' 
 in accord with the wishes and desires of each wor- 
 shiper, may be assured to all generations ! And, 
 to secure and perpetuate these paramount princi- 
 ples and privileges, shall ever be the highest, the 
 holiest, the most engrossing of all the thoughts, 
 ambitions, and engagements of American freemen !" 
 
 He bows and retires, and so does the aged man. 
 
 The pageant is ended. 
 
 Who is this mxan? 
 
I. 
 
 THE BEGINNING. 
 
 "What is all this talk and excitement about?" 
 asked a student of Magnolia College of his com- 
 panion, as they walked from their rooms to the 
 college chapel to attend the devotional exercises of 
 the morning. 'T hear talk about war, and last 
 evening two prominent business men agreed that 
 'matters had gone so far that nothing would settle 
 the difficulty but a resort to the last argument, — 
 arms.' " 
 
 "What is it all about?" his fellow student, who was 
 more addicted to the use of newspapers than books, 
 blurted out. "Wby, Brown, what an ignoramus 
 you are ! Don't you know that the Southern States 
 and the Government are going to have a war?" 
 
 "No, I didn't, and don't know it yet," said Brown. 
 "I have been so busy, Beach, that I have given but 
 little attention to other matters, and it was a mere 
 accident that I heard what I have told you. What 
 is the cause of the war, if there is to be a war?" 
 
 "Well, Brown, you are the most innocent, if not 
 the most ignorant, fellow outside of a prison or an 
 asylum. Why, every boy in the country knows 
 tliat there is to be war, and knows the cause, too." 
 
 "Then post me up on these matters, Beach, do." 
 
 2 
 
18 THE LAST MAN 
 
 "Well," began Beach, "the trouble originated 
 long ago, when the State of Massachusetts threat- 
 ened to resist a statute of the United States because 
 she thought it detrimental to her interests. Later, in 
 1832, South Carolina, under the leadership of a dis- 
 tinguished citizen, tried to nullify a statute of the 
 General Government. In each case the attempt 
 failed, but the notion or sentiment which prompted 
 the efifort at rebellion did not die, but instead took 
 root like a noxious weed in a fertile soil, and grew 
 up into a doctrine called 'State's rights'; that is, 
 that any State thinking its rights tmder the Con- 
 stitution have been violated or abridged may secede 
 from the Union. This doctrine, or notion, has 
 been advocated and approved by many leading men 
 in twelve Southern States, seven of which have 
 already enacted an ordinance of secession, as they 
 call it, and other States will soon follow. Several 
 United States Senators and Representatives from 
 these States have left Congress and gone home to 
 assist in the act of secession. Quite a large num- 
 ber of the Army and Naval officers of tlie Govern- 
 ment, educated and trained at public expense, under 
 the folds of the flag, have deserted and gone to the 
 ranks of secession. The cause of the contention 
 on the part of the South, under their doctrine of 
 State rights, is negro slavery. They insist that the 
 Constitution recognizes and protects the institution, 
 and, pushing their vantage in this respect, they 
 have secured a decision from the Chief Justice of 
 the United States which would virtually carry slav- 
 
THE BEGINNING 19 
 
 ery into every State and Territory. All this the 
 great body of people loyal to the Government deny 
 and oppose, and insist that the 'Union is one and 
 indivisible' ; that a State trying to get out shall be 
 compelled to stay in the Union." 
 
 "But why do the two sections not compromise 
 the matter?" queried Brown. "A compromise 
 would surely be preferable to a conflict." 
 
 "Not always, and perhaps not often," said Beach. 
 "Compromises rarely, if ever, settle the matters in 
 dispute. At the best, they only postpone the settle- 
 ment to a future time, perhaps to a future genera- 
 tion. Read the history of Europe for the last six 
 centuries. Alany compromises have been entered 
 into, but every now and then each matter compro- 
 mised has reappeared, like a very ghost of Banquo. 
 In our own case there have been several compro- 
 mises within the last thirty years, none of which 
 have attained their object, until now neither party 
 thinks of further compromise, and the conflict is 
 inevitable." 
 
 "Well, if it must come," said Brown, with much 
 spirit and emotion, "I am for the Union forever ! 
 Three cheers for the Red, White and Blue !" 
 
 "There spoke a patriot and the son of a patriot !" 
 said Beach. "Shake hands on it, old boy !" 
 
 They indulged in a firm hand clasp as they 
 reached and entered the college chapel. 
 
 The chaplain prayed that the nation might be 
 delivered from fratricidal war ; that the President 
 
20 THE LAST MAN 
 
 and Congress might be endowed with wisdom to 
 see and pursue the path of duty, and that the people 
 might be obedient to law and "lead peaceable and 
 quiet lives." 
 
 He then announced that, as the signs of the times 
 betoken serious difficulty in the near future be- 
 tween the Government and certain of the States 
 which had by their legislatures passed what they 
 called an ordinance of secession, it became every 
 young man to read and study events as published 
 from day to day, and solemnly decide what would 
 be his duty if war should come, and the clash of 
 resounding arms be heard in the land. 
 
 All this occurred in the winter of 1860-61. The 
 excitement increased each day, and patriotism, 
 Which had been for a generation previous merely a 
 sentiment, suitable for the florid efiforts of Fourth 
 of July orators, suddenly became a real thing, a 
 sun whose light and heat irradiated and warmed 
 into life every State, city, hamlet, and country-side 
 in the broad, loyal land. "The Union, it must and 
 shall be preserved !" became, in feeling as well as 
 word, the motto of millions. 
 
 It needed but a spark to fire the magazine. 
 
 Meantime, the States attempting secession had 
 formed a bond of union under the title of The Con- 
 federate States of America, and the leaders, in imi- 
 tation of the old thirteen colonies, had pledged their 
 lives, their fortunes and their sacred honor to 
 secure independence from that very Union which 
 their grandfathers had helped to frame. The blood 
 
THE BEGINNING 21 
 
 and temper of the Southern people were super- 
 heated, and, from their point of view, their object 
 would soon be attained, by the consent of the Gov- 
 ernment, or by force of arms. 
 
 Thus matters stood on March 4, 1861, when 
 Abraham Lincoln took the oath of office as Presi- 
 dent and Commander-in-Chief of the Amiy and 
 Navy of the United States. During the few 
 weeks following, the Confederates made vigorous, 
 rapid and effective preparations for the conflict, 
 w'hich they now saw would come ; while the Gov- 
 ernment and the loyal people of the North sat inac- 
 tive, hoping, wishing, believing, that it would never 
 come. 
 
 On April 12, 1861, the fatal spark reached the 
 magazine, when the Confederates fired the first 
 gun at Fort Sumter, a Government fort. 
 
 On April 13, President I>incoln called for seventy- 
 five thousand volunteers to put down the rebellion. 
 His proclamation and call for troops was read to 
 the alumni of Magnolia College next morning. 
 
 The President of the College, standing before the 
 students in the chapel, said : "Young men, the hour 
 has come ! The flag is insulted ! The Union is in 
 peril ! What will you do ? Will you rally in their 
 defense? Are you ready, now, here? If so, rise 
 with me !" Every man rose ! Within thirty min- 
 utes Mr. Lincoln was reading the following mes- 
 sage : "Two full companies of students of Mag- 
 nolia College volunteered ten minutes ago. We 
 are ready ! We await orders !" 
 
22 THE LAST MAN 
 
 One of these young- men, Alfred Boyd, like his 
 fellows, had heard the bugle calling 
 
 "On to glory or the grave !" 
 
 In the organization of the two companies young 
 Boyd was elected to a lieutenancy. He was so 
 quiet, so manly, so generous, and, withal, so regard- 
 ful of the rights and feelings of his fellow-students, 
 that the vote was unanimous. 
 
 For weeks following came equipping, drilling, 
 and other preparations for the trial by fire. The 
 Southern troops had the advantage in these re- 
 spects. They were at home ; knew their country 
 well ; were acclimated ; and felt that their blows 
 would be in defense of their country and their 
 homes. 
 
 The Government troops, on the contrary, must 
 be marched or transported hundreds of miles to 
 hostile States, ready to "receive them with bloody 
 hands to hospitable graves." They must become 
 acclimated, used to the water, and adapted to many 
 other conditions. They were strangers to the 
 topography of the country, its streams, mountains, 
 ravines, and strategic points. 
 
 A great mistake had been made by the people of 
 each section. The Southern people thought them- 
 selves invincible, because, as they boastfully put it, 
 "one Southerner could whip two, three, or even five 
 Yankees." 
 
 The Northern people, so strong in superior num- 
 bers, saw, or thought they saw, peace at the close 
 
THE BEGINNING 23 
 
 of a war of but a few months' duration ; and a 
 very distinguished man and high officer of the 
 Government proclaimed that the war would be 
 ended within ninety days. 
 
 Each section had forgotten that the people of the 
 other section were Americans. Had both sections 
 known before the war began what they learned 
 during the war, it would never have begun. 
 
 Who, for example, saw, or even imagined, what 
 a war would cost ? 
 
 Who thought of the billions of money and prop- 
 erty which was absolutely lost or destroyed? 
 
 Who dreamed of the wholesale loss of half a 
 million of young lives, the choicest of the whole 
 country? Of the long, sad processions of marred, 
 helpless, broken-down men who survived the war? 
 And of the still greater multitude of fathers, 
 mothers, sisters, wives and children, with tear- 
 stained cheeks, clad in the habiliments of mourn- 
 ing for loved ones who never came back? 
 
 Who foresaw the terrible paralysis of nearly all 
 industrial pursuits and interests ; the impairment 
 of public morals ; the suspension, if not the death, 
 of churches, schools, societies, and scientific efforts 
 and enterprises, and the threatened disruption of 
 those ties, and the abandonment of those safe- 
 guards, which distinguish civilized from savage 
 life? 
 
 Well will it be if the present and coming genera- 
 tions shall learn from history what veterans, both 
 
24 THE LAST MAN <- 
 
 North and South, learned from experience, that 
 "war is cruel," unrelenting and destructive; that 
 it should never be invoked unless it cannot be 
 avoided; and that those who originated and pre- 
 cipitated our Civil War are to be held responsible 
 for its irreparable results and consequences. 
 
II. 
 
 PRELIMINARY ENGAGEMENTS. 
 
 The battles of 1861 were mere skirmishes com- 
 pared with many that followed. Small as they 
 were, however, they were of the greatest use to the 
 combatants of both armies. Through these, they 
 saw that a long war had begun, and that ultimate 
 victory would be won by the force which could 
 endure longest. Each side had learned, too, that it 
 had "a foeman worthy of its steel." During the win- 
 ter of 1861-62, the energies of both sections were 
 employed in arming and training the new recruits, 
 numbering, on both sides, hundreds of thousands. 
 Occasionally forays and raids by both sides varied, 
 to some extent, the regular round of camp and 
 garrison duty. What follows will give a faint idea 
 of many incidents that occurred during that winter. 
 
 The regiment of which Lieutenant Boyd's com- 
 pany formed a part was one of the very best of the 
 many splendid regiments from his State. 
 
 In the fore part of December, a Confederate 
 colonel, with his regiment of cavalry, made a night 
 attack upon a camp of Union soldiers and recruits 
 at Gramercy, W. Va^ captured everything, killed 
 some of the men, and paroled the rest ; burnt build- 
 ings owned by loyal people, and departed before 
 morning. 
 
26 THE LAST MAN 
 
 Within two days thereafter, several regiments of 
 Union troops arrived, took possession, burned sev- 
 eral houses of disloyal people, and went into winter 
 quarters at the town. The officers, for the most 
 part, secured boarding with resident families, most 
 of whom were of Southern proclivities. 
 
 Lieutenant Boyd and his captain boarded with a 
 Mrs. Lonj^ whose family, when all at home, con- 
 sisted of the parents, two sons and a daughter. 
 This family, like thousands of others in the border 
 States, was divided. The father and elder son had 
 joined the Confederate Army, and the younger son 
 the Union Army. The mother, like any mother in 
 similar conditions, had sympathy for both sides. 
 The daughter was an out and out Southern girl. 
 Nothing could daunt her, restrain her avowal of 
 devotion to the Southern cause, or mitigate her 
 dislike for the old Government and the old flag. 
 And of all sights to her, the most disgusting was a 
 blue uniform on a saucy looking Yankee. 
 
 Beautiful as a vision, graceful as a fawn, and 
 imperious as a goddess, her wealth of raven curls 
 trembled, her full, sparkling eyes danced, and her 
 lithe figure swayed vmder the dominating emotions 
 of an active, restless soul. The personification of 
 innocence, she knew no fear; the perfection of 
 nature's handiwork, she was unaware of her beauty ; 
 and willing and anxious even to assist, if she might, 
 the cause of secession, she had no thought or sus- 
 picion of danger to herself or her friends, excepting 
 her mother, between whom and herself there existed 
 
PRELIMINARY ENGAGEMENTS 27 
 
 a love as tender and self-sacrificing as that of Ruth 
 and Naomi, and as potent and absorbing as the 
 loves of angels ! No joy or sorrow, no pain or 
 pleasure, came to one that was not cheerfully, 
 joyfully, shared by the other. To the world they 
 were merely mother and daughter; to each other 
 they were lovers, one and inseparable. 
 
 Mrs. Long was a lady by birth, by nature, and by 
 education. The child of an ancient family of royal 
 old Virginia, she had been sought in marriage by 
 many choice young men, of wealth and high social 
 standing; had rejected them all, and married her 
 sweetheart, — for love and comparative poverty. 
 But she had never regretted the step. More than 
 twenty years of wedded life, if they had not given 
 her wealth and social position, had brought her 
 children, — her jewels. Now this cruel war was on, 
 and the family was disrupted. Alena, the daughter, 
 alone was left for her to look upon, care for, and 
 love. 
 
 In addition to Lieutenant Boyd and his captain, 
 half a dozen or more other officers boarded with 
 Mrs. Long, to whom they were uniformly kind and 
 courteous. But frequently they would amuse them- 
 selves by "stirring up" Miss Long, just to hear her 
 talk of the Southern cause, and its ultimate success. 
 In these wordy contests Lieutenant Boyd never 
 took part, but secretly sympathized, not with the 
 young woman's sentiments, but with herself. His 
 was a noble soul. Youthful, but manly; modest, 
 but firm ; and, though thoroughly devoted to his 
 
28 THE LAST MAN 
 
 country and her service, he was yet chivalrous to 
 woman, because of an innate sense, and because his 
 mothers and sisters were women. 
 
 With the intuition of her sex. Miss Long soon 
 divined that the Heutenant, if he did not have a 
 special interest in her, was at least moved by kindly 
 feeling. At first she was shy of his regard, which 
 she saw was his secret. It was now hers also. He 
 made no advances. His eyes and smiles alone told 
 their story ; and, cautiously, her eyes and smiles 
 responded. And thus a species of comradery grew 
 up and continued between them so long as the 
 troops remained in quarters there. 
 
 In the latter part of April, 1862, orders came to 
 prepare for a forward movement. During these 
 preparations it became known throughout the 
 camp that an old-fashioned country dance was to 
 take place the next night, at a house on the bank 
 of the Ohio River, about a mile beyond the picket 
 line. Many of the soldiers were seized with an 
 insatiable desire to attend and take part in this, 
 their last dance perhaps. 
 
 Of all amusements among young people of many 
 country places, the most fascinating is the free 
 and easy, noisy, rustic dance. How to get a pass 
 out of the camp was the difBcuIty. Once out of 
 camp, the getting into camp again might take care 
 of itself. At length, two men applied to their cap- 
 tains for a "pass" to go out that evening to say 
 "good-bye" to some relatives who lived about a 
 mile down the river. The captain referred them to 
 
PRELIMINARY ENGAGEMENTS 29 
 
 the colonel, who, without inquiry, gave them a pass. 
 Presently other men came, by twos, threes, and 
 even fours, to go out and see relatives who lived 
 about a mile up the river, a mile back from the 
 river, or across the river, until thirty or more men 
 had gone out, when the colonel, surmising that 
 something was afoot, said to the next squad that 
 presented itself : "It seems to me that all you men 
 have relatives hereabouts. Now, tell me the whole 
 truth, or not a man of you shall go out." 
 
 They told him all, and, on giving them passes, 
 he ordered them to return to camp not later than 
 ten o'clock, and to tell the men already there to 
 come to camp by that hour. Of course, when ten 
 o'clock came, not a man was back. Eleven, twelve 
 o'clock came, but not one of the absentees had 
 returned. 
 
 The colonel had been deceived and was mad. He 
 decided to punish the boys by giving them a scare 
 which would return them to camp at "double quick," 
 and would serve as a lesson for future emergencies. 
 There was a gallant, daring Confederate trooper in 
 command of a body of cavalry, or horsemen, armed, 
 numbering from one to three hundred men, whose 
 haunts were up toward the foot-hills, several miles 
 distant, whose business was to harass the Union 
 troops, and capture such of them as he might 
 pounce upon when they least expected him. He 
 was known to all the soldiers by the name of 
 "Clawhammer," from the cut of his coat. A veri- 
 table bugaboo to all the soldiers was he, and one 
 
30 THE LAST MAN 
 
 of the nightly instructions to the men on picket 
 duty was — "and look out for Clawhammer." 
 
 The colonel stole to the quarters of Lieutenant 
 Boyd, commanding the company (as the captain 
 was sick), and wakened him ; ordered him to get 
 out his company, equipped with guns and cartridge 
 boxes, within ten minutes ; and to do all^this with- 
 out speaking or permitting the men to speak, 
 except in low whispers. The order was obeyed. 
 The colonel and the lieutenant, followed by the 
 company, then marched quietly out of camp, and, 
 when a furlong or more distant, halted. The object 
 of the movement was then explained. The house 
 wherein the dance was in progress was to be sur- 
 rounded on the south and western sides, while the 
 northern side was bounded by the bank of the 
 river, and the eastern side, the one looking up the 
 river toward the camp, was to be left free for the 
 truants to escape capture, if they so desired. 
 
 When called upon to surrender, if they should 
 be slow about it, the company, imder strict orders, 
 were to fire their pieces, elevated, so that no one 
 should be injured. On being satisfied that the men 
 understood their duty perfectly, the company was 
 marched to a point some two hundred yards dis- 
 tant from the house, deployed as skirmishers, and 
 thrown forward to within a hundred yards of the 
 house, within which "all went merry as a marriage 
 bell." The squeaking of a fiddle, the calling of the 
 figures by the floor master, the stamping of feet, 
 the movements of" the dancers, and the shouts and 
 
PRELIMINARY ENGAGEMENTS 31 
 
 laughter of men and women presented a scene of 
 the most rollicking, roysterous enjoyment and 
 abandon. 
 
 Now comes the man with a powerful bass voice, 
 who had been coached to impersonate the Confed- 
 erate night rider. He shouts : "Halt there ! Stop 
 that noise and come out and surrender, 'Yanks,' 
 and do it quick ! I'll give you another kind of a 
 dance! You've invaded the Sunny South. You 
 shall dance, away down in Dixie. You want to 
 know who I am, eh? You've heard of 'Clawham- 
 mer.' Well, he is here with lots of company. Ar'n't 
 you coming out? Then take what you'll get! Bat- 
 talion ! ready, aim, fire !" A widespread blaze, a 
 deafening report, and then quickly came the order, 
 "Fire at will ! fire !" Then ensued that patter of 
 musketry with which every veteran is familiar. 
 What occurred in the house? At the first fire the 
 lights went out, and a ludicrous scene followed. 
 Chairs and tables tumbled on the floor; men 
 scrambled to get out, women shrieked, and prayers 
 and oaths mingled as the place of exit was sought 
 in the darkness. And still that awful voice without 
 was shouting, "Don't take any prisoners !" 
 
 At last the door in the end of the house toward 
 the camp was found and flung wide open, and a 
 seething mass of humanity, men, women and chil- 
 dren, tumbled out pell-mell over each other. From 
 out the mass darted a blue-coat, then another, then 
 others, and sprang away at highest speed toward 
 the camp. Some were coatless, some hatless, and 
 
32 THE LAST MAN 
 
 others shoeless, but they all went, nor did they 
 "stand upon the order of their going." 
 
 The role of the Confederate trooper was finished, 
 and was a complete success, emptying the house 
 without an encore, or a request for repetition. The 
 colonel narrowly escaped discipline by a court mar- 
 tial for his "night attack" without orders from his 
 superior officer; but one good result came of it — 
 during all their marches, battles, and sieges for the 
 next three years, no one of that regiment ever again 
 took the risk of capture that had been taken by 
 those fun-seeking fellows on that beautiful April 
 night. 
 
 The day came, the hour was at hand, when the 
 camp would be left, and the troops gone. 
 
 When the officers sat down at Mrs. Long's table 
 to eat for the last time. Lieutenant Boyd found a 
 tiny envelope beneath his plate. Deftly pocketing 
 it, he hastily ate, and went to his quarters. Open- 
 nig the envelope, he read : 
 
 "I care nothing for these other officers, nor for 
 your soldiers, but a friend hopes that you may get 
 back again, unharmed. Alena." 
 
 That was all, but the man placed the little scrap 
 of paper in the most secret part of his pocket-book, 
 and often, when far away, he would fish out of its 
 hiding place the kindly little message, read and 
 replace it, and ponder and imagine. Just before 
 the troops moved he returned to Mrs. Long's to 
 
PRELIMINARY ENGAGEMENTS 33 
 
 say "good-bye." She had gone out to some neigh- 
 bors, and Alena was alone, except a servant. 
 
 He said hurriedly, "We shall be off within an 
 hour. Where is your mother?" The servant was 
 sent to bring her. He timidly slipped a note into 
 her hand which she quickly hid on her person. 
 "Read it after we are gone," said he. Mrs. Long 
 came, good-byes were said and handshakes given, 
 and he was gone. 
 
 Alena went to her room on some pretext, opened 
 his note and read : 
 
 "Miss Long: I thank you for your interest in 
 me. I feel that we shall meet again. Till then, 
 farewell! Boyd." 
 
 i 
 
 What a prediction ! When, where, and under 
 the control of which of the fates should they ever 
 again meet? She hid the paper, as a girl would, 
 and never dared to mention it, even to her mother. 
 
 Was she right? 
 
III. 
 
 WAR IN EARNEST. 
 
 The regiment of which Lieutenant Boyd's com- 
 pany formed a part was attached to the Army of 
 the Potomac, whose organization, equipment and 
 personnel made it the most noted body that had 
 ever trod the Western world. All it needed to 
 become the pride and glory of the Government 
 that had created it was to achieve victories, — fre- 
 quent and decisive. The country was doomed to 
 disappointment. The campaign on the peninsula, 
 the seven days' battles before Richmond, the sec- 
 ond battle at Bull Run, and that at Fredericksburg 
 were all disastrous, and the engagements at Sharps- 
 burg and Antietam were little better than drawn 
 battles. 
 
 About July first. Lieutenant Boyd was promoted 
 to the captaincy of his company, the former cap- 
 tain having died of fever contracted in the early 
 summer. In this new and most important relation 
 to the company he was the same brave, considerate 
 man, and was the idol of his men. Into the battles 
 of Sharpsburg and Antietam he fearlessly led them 
 in charges, and, when all was over, devoted himself 
 night and day to the care and treatment of his sick 
 and wounded. Soon after, about October first, he 
 received a telegram to come home with all speed, 
 
W/.R IN EARNEST 35 
 
 to see his father die. A furlough for thirty days 
 was granted, and he arrived at home just in time 
 to be recognized by the dying parent. 
 
 Remaining at home almost his full time, he gave 
 himself to soothing and solacing his mother and 
 sisters, and effecting arrangements for their com- 
 fort and safety. Thus far he had escaped untouched 
 in fierce battles, while many of his comrades in 
 arms had "fought their last battle," and others had 
 been maimed and injured, so that they were unfit- 
 ted for further service at the front. 
 
 All honor to these. Crown with laurel the brows 
 of those who lost a limb, or were otherwise injured 
 by deadly missiles in their first battle, perhaps, so 
 that they could no longer take active part in the 
 gigantic conflict. 
 
 But the question has been asked, whether or not 
 these are the real heroes of the war. 
 
 What shall be said of those who stood up to be 
 shot at in scores of hot engagements, and gave 
 blow for blow; who suffered from cold, hunger, 
 thirst, exposure, disease, and a hundred other unto- 
 ward conditions, and, at the close of a long, faith- 
 ful, victorious service, came home without a wound, 
 but, in thousands of cases, were physical and, fre- 
 quently, mental wrecks? These are the men who 
 won the victories, and let a grateful country never 
 forget to crown them also. Let equal and, in some 
 cases, superior honors be shown to such as bore 
 "Old Glory" to the summit of Lookout Mountain ; 
 fought their way, foot by foot, through an entire 
 
36 THE LAST MAN ' , 
 
 summer, to Atlanta, which they invested and cap- 
 tured ; then, divided into two confident veteran 
 bodies, one pushed boldly through Georgia to the 
 sea, while the other, retracing its route of the pre- 
 ceding months, fell back to Nashville and waited 
 for, met, and annihilated the army of the gallant, 
 impetuous Confederate General Hood. These are 
 men, who, by their deeds of daring and valor, 
 induced the white-winged Angel of Peace to return 
 again to earth ; men whose grandparents wove and 
 flung forth "the banner of beauty and glory," and 
 these, their sons, received and defended it from the 
 dust, and from dishonor. 
 
 Having parted, sadly, it must be said, from 
 mother and sisters. Captain Boyd boarded a 
 steamer bound for Galliput, a Government post 
 and rendezvous, at which point he would embark 
 on another steamer plying between Galliput and 
 Charlesport, on the Kanoche River, beyond which 
 point his command then lay. 
 
 Landing at Galliput, he went to a hotel, had sup- 
 per, and then, as was his duty, reported to the 
 officer in charge of the post, and returned to his 
 hotel. Occupying a chair in front of the house, 
 among guests and others, his ear soon caught por- 
 tions of a heated conversation going on in a little 
 knot of civilians. "All I have to say," growled 
 one, "is that she ought to be hung-." "O no," said 
 another; "she is a woman, and I take no stock in 
 a man that would hang a woman." "Then you 
 ought to be hung with her, as a sympathizer," said 
 
WAR IN EARNEST 37 
 
 the first. "What has she done to deserve hanging?" 
 aslced the second. Here a third man made answer, 
 "She is a notorious rebel. They say she had a 
 hand in planning that massacre of recruits at 
 Gramercy last December; that she wrote letters 
 which were smuggled to the Confederate force, 
 telling them when, where, and how to make an 
 attack ; and that she tried to poison a lot of officers 
 who were boarding with her mother last winter." 
 "How do you know she did these things? Who 
 says she did?" asked the second. "If these things 
 are true, why don't they try her on charges pre- 
 ferred? Let the woman have a chance, I say." 
 
 To all this talk Captain Boyd was keenly alive. 
 Going to the hotel keeper, he asked what woman 
 was a prisoner in the county jail, and from what 
 place she came. The hotel man said her name 
 was Long ; that she lived down at Gramercy, Va. ; 
 that she was reported to be a Confederate spy. 
 
 Strolling forth, Boyd directed his steps toward 
 the jail, found the sheriff, and, after preliminary 
 civilities, asked him, "Who is the woman from 
 Gramercy, Va., that is in jail?" 
 
 Said the sheriff, "Her name is Long." 
 
 "When was she brought here?" 
 
 "Looking at his register, the sheriff answered, 
 "Twelve days ago." 
 
 "Who brought her? Was there a guard?" 
 
 "Yes; two soldiers." 
 
 "Were there any other prisoners?" 
 
 "Yes; two men." 
 
38 THE LAST MAN 
 
 "Is the guard here?" 
 
 "No, they left the next morning, with the wagon 
 that brought the prisoners here." 
 
 "What charges were preferred against the 
 woman ?" 
 
 "None, so far as I know." 
 
 "Did you not receive a paper of some description, 
 committing her to jail, and commanding you to 
 keep her here in custody?" 
 
 "None," said the sheriff. 
 
 "Then why do you keep her locked up?" 
 
 "That was the order given by the guard." 
 
 "Can I see her?" asked the captain. 
 
 "Who are you?" asked the sheriff. 
 
 Boyd presented his card to the sheriff. 
 
 "That will do; you may see her," said the sheriff. 
 
 Leading the way, the sheriff thrust a key into a 
 lock, opened the door, and, going in, lit a lamp in 
 the room, said "Come in," and then retired to the 
 door as the captain entered. 
 
 It was a small, square room, with a low ceiling 
 and but one window, and that grated. A cracked 
 mirror, an old wash-stand, a three-legged stool, 
 and a low, narrow cot in the corner were the fur- 
 nishings. An old-time, much-worn oilcloth carpet 
 bag was the only receptacle for clothing. 
 
 On a stool, with her back toward the door, her 
 head bent forward, and her face resting between 
 the palms of her hands, sat the prisoner. Her 
 radiant curls, quite disheveled, hung down, cover- 
 ing the sides of her face. The captain spoke her 
 
WAR IN EARNEST 39 
 
 name, "Miss Long!" Springing to her feet, and 
 turning, she rushed toward him with outstretched, 
 imploring hands, and in a voice of joy and sobs 
 commingled, and tears springing in her eyes, she 
 cried out: "Oh, Lieutenant, you here? You said 
 we would meet again. Why have you come? 
 Where are you from? I thought you and your 
 soldiers were away down in old Virginia." Thus 
 she ran on, half dazed, and not waiting for an 
 answer to her questions, while her face, eyes, lips, 
 attitude, and all else, made her for the time an 
 emphasized, illuminated interrogation point. Seat- 
 ing her on the stool, he told his entire story ; where 
 he had been and what he had seen, done and suf- 
 fered, from the time they said good-bye at her 
 mother's house until he returned to Galliput and 
 learned of her imprisonment. 
 
 "Now tell me," said he, "of your mother and 
 yourself, and how you came to get into this trou- 
 ble." 
 
 "O, it's so unpleasant to think of," said she, "that 
 I dislike to tell it." 
 
 "But let me insist," said he. "I want to know 
 who is the author of such a foul proceeding," and 
 his face and eyes betokened hottest anger. 
 
 "Well," said she, "last month, as Colonel Jame- 
 son's cavalry were returning to Virginia from their 
 raid over into Ohio, they came in haste to Gra- 
 mercy, and begged the people for something to eat, 
 and feed for their horses. They were Confeder- 
 ates, you know. We gave them all we had but a 
 
40 THE LAST MAN 
 
 few handfuls of flour. Suddenly, while they were 
 eating, the rattle of guns was heard at the edge of 
 town, and our men left as fast as they could, for 
 the Yankees were pursuing them. When the 
 Yankee cavalry galloped into town, and found that 
 the game had escaped, their commander, General 
 Baxter, was furious, and swore that his men should 
 stay until they had eaten the people out of house 
 and home. An under officer, a sergeant, I believe, 
 and ten men came to our house and asked us to 
 feed them. Mother showed him our scanty pro- 
 vision, and told him that was all we had left, and 
 for him to search the house, if he thought she was 
 not telling the truth. Mother looked so distressed 
 that I stepped up and said, 'Please go away, and 
 do not annoy us any more ; we are not keeping a 
 hotel." 
 
 "They went, but in a few minutes another set 
 came to arrest me; they said it was by General 
 Baxter's order. 'What have I done?' asked I. 
 'Don't know,' said the man at their head, 'but we 
 must obey orders.' They told me to be ready in 
 ten minutes, to be taken away from town. Mother 
 was crushed, and cried as I had never heard her 
 cry before. She plead and prayed them, if they 
 must punish me, so be it, but for her sake not to 
 separate us. All in vain. The man told me the 
 ten minutes would soon be up. and I must go. I 
 told mother I would better go, for if we should 
 resist they might burn the house or kill us. I 
 seized that old carpet-bag, into which I had only 
 
WAR IN EARNEST 41 
 
 time to thrust a few things, when the man took 
 it up, and said, 'Come on.' Mother and I kissed 
 and cried and embraced, till the man grasped my 
 arm and said, 'Stop this, and come on, I say.' So 
 I started without having time to change clothes, 
 and came wearing this black calico dress, and that 
 old black poke bonnet. Mother followed. They 
 hurried me to the landing at the wharf, and ordered 
 me and two men, whose hands were tied, to get 
 into a skifT. Two of the soldiers with their guns 
 and things got in, too, and ordered the boatman to 
 row over to the Ohio shore. As we rowed away, 
 the last thing I saw and heard was mother weep- 
 ing and wringing her hands." Here Miss Long 
 broke down and cried as if broken-hearted. 
 
 After a time she continued : "When we reached 
 the shore, one of the guards took possession of an 
 open two-horse wagon, with its horses and driver, 
 told us to get in, and then ordered the driver to 
 head for Galliput, and drive fast enough to make 
 the distance before morning. It was now dark, 
 O what a horrible night that was ! I shall never 
 forget it. The other prisoners and the two guards 
 sat, or lay, in the body of the wagon, while I sat 
 upon the seat by the driver, who kindly permitted 
 me to do so. He drove fast, and at break of day 
 we reached this town, and drove to this house — the 
 common jail. 
 
 "The guards aroused the jailer, and ordered him 
 to take us and keep us safe under lock and key, until 
 
42 THE LAST MAN 
 
 further orders. The sheriff asked them who sent 
 us, and what for. They said it was by the order of 
 General Baxter, at Gramercy, Va., but that they 
 didn't know what we were arrested or sent there 
 for. The sheriff, after thinking the matter over, 
 told us to get out of the wagon, brought us intO' 
 the jail, and put me into this room, and here I 
 have been ever since." 
 
 As the hour was now very late, and he wished 
 some time for reflection, the captain called the 
 sheriff, to whom he said : "I know this young 
 woman and her mother, and am one of the of^cers 
 that boarded at their house last winter. They are 
 eminently respectable people, and this is a false 
 imprisonment, without a charge or pretext, and 
 without a trial or even a commitment. I vouch 
 for her. You have my card." 
 
 The sheriff read the card, and said, "Well, Cap- 
 tain, I am glad you take the responsibility of order- 
 ing her release. Will you have her removed to- 
 night?" 
 
 "No, I think not," said Captain Boyd. "It is 
 very late, and I think. Miss Long, you had better 
 stay here overnight, if you will." 
 
 "O, yes," said she, "though I am so tired of this 
 room." 
 
 "Sheriff," said Boyd, "can't you give her a decent 
 room for the night, and a good breakfast in the 
 morning, at my expense?" 
 
 "Certainly I can, and will." 
 
WAR IN EARNEST 43 
 
 "Very well," said Boyd. "And you, Miss Long, 
 try to have a good night's rest, and you will feel 
 much better in the morning. I will be here about 
 nine o'clock, and we will finish this business. Good 
 night. Good night. Sheriff." 
 
IV. 
 
 DELIVERANCE. 
 
 As soon as the captain was gone, the sheriff 
 brought his wife to Miss Long to assist in remov- 
 ing her belongings to a room above stairs. The 
 change was soon made, and Alena had a large, airy, 
 well-furnished apartment. The good housewife 
 was very kind, speaking of her sympathy for the 
 girl, and her mother, and her sadness over the loss 
 of fathers, husbands, and sons of her neighbors, 
 until tears streamed down her kind, womanly face. 
 
 When she retired, Alena was again alone, but not 
 a prisoner. She was unable to sleep for hours. 
 Deliverance had come, and in what a strange way. 
 The face of her mother, sad, disconsolate, as she 
 last saw it, was ever before her. One other face 
 came before her, now and then — that of Captain 
 Boyd. He must be one of God's noblemen, sent 
 at times to earth to show to the world and to all 
 men what they might be and ought to be. And 
 she who, until a few months ago, had fairly hated 
 Yankees, now secretly rendered her heart's homage 
 to this member of the hated race. One thing she 
 felt to be true — a man might be a Yankee and yet 
 be an honorable, high-minded, courteous gentle- 
 man. Why should he take such an interest in her, 
 a poor little mite of humanity, without wealth, 
 
DELIVERANCE 45 
 
 social position, or influence? Could it be? — oh, 
 no — perish the thought — it could not be — that he 
 was beginning to love her. No ; this kindness, this 
 great service, was but the normal emanation of a 
 noble soul. He would have done the same for any 
 other woman, young or old, married or single. She 
 slept at last, and her dreams were of her mother 
 and the captain. 
 
 She awoke late next morning, but much re- 
 freshed, and full of hope and expectancy. When 
 the daily steamer came down the Ohio, she would 
 board it, and be at home in a few hours. But, 
 alas ! she had not one poor penny with which to 
 pay the passage money. She would go aboard the 
 boat, though, and pledge payment when they 
 reached Gramercy. The housewife came and led 
 her down to breakfast — the first meal she had 
 enjoyed for a fortnight. 
 
 Then came Captain Boyd, and, by suggestion 
 and kindly invitation, they went to the parlor, and 
 the "business" of the preceding evening, as he 
 called it, was resumed. 
 
 'T hope you had a good night's rest, Miss Long." 
 
 "Oh, yes, it was exquisite. Captain Boyd." 
 
 "Did these folks treat you well?" 
 
 "Yes, with the greatest of kindness, and sympa- 
 thy for mother and me, which they could not show 
 while I was a prisoner." 
 
 "Well, you are free now. Miss Long; but if you 
 will permit, I will stay about and see you safe on 
 the steamer which is to carry you home. There 
 
46 THE LAST MAN 
 
 is no telling what might happen if you were left to 
 get to the boat alone. Such talk as I heard in 
 front of the hotel last night, before I found you, 
 assures me that some of those heroic fellows, who 
 take precious good care to keep out of hearing of 
 the music of flying bullets, are just the kind of fel- 
 lows to give trouble to a defenseless young woman, 
 if they should get such a thing into their heads." 
 
 "Thanks, Captain, I shall be still more obliged 
 to you, then, if you will assist me to get off. But 
 please don't let my affair interfere with your duties." 
 
 "Not at all. Your boat is due here at one 
 o'clock, and mine doesn't leave until five. So I'll 
 see you safe on your voyage." He ventured a 
 remark which was not very sagacious : "I suppose 
 you are quite anxious to get home." 
 
 "O, Captain Boyd, how can you ask such a 
 question? What sort of a girl would it be that 
 would not be anxious to get home, under such cir- 
 cumstances?" 
 
 "And how do you think your mother will receive 
 you?" said he. 
 
 "As though I had been lost and was found. As 
 though I had been dead and was suddenly restored 
 to life. As though I had come back to her from 
 heaven ! O, Captain, but few girls have mothers 
 such as mine!" 
 
 "You do love your mother as I never before saw 
 a child do, and I honor you for it, with all my head 
 and heart. And what do you and she propose to 
 do when you are settled again?" 
 
DELIVERANCE 47 
 
 "Really, I don't know," said Alena ; "furnish 
 boarding, I suppose." 
 
 "But there are no people at Gramercy now who 
 require boarding. The soldiers are gone, the boat- 
 men are gone, all are gone, except a few old men 
 and young boys." 
 
 "I don't know what we shall do then, if that is 
 the case. O, did I tell vou, Captain, that father is 
 dead?" 
 
 "No, you hadn't mentioned it." 
 
 "Yes, he died at Richmond, in July, of a wound 
 received at a place called Fair Oaks, I think." 
 
 "Ah, I was in that battle," said Boyd, "and a 
 fierce one it was. And your brother, Bertrand, 
 where is he?" 
 
 "The last I heard of him he was in Brecken- 
 ridge's division of General Lee's army. Why do 
 you ask. Captain? Do you know anything?" As 
 she said this she gave him a piercing, anxious look. 
 
 "O, no; you recall that your father and Bertrand 
 had joined the Confederate Army before we came 
 to Gramercy, last fall, and I thought you might 
 have heard from him since that time. Now, Miss 
 Long, excuse me for an hour or more, while I go 
 to the commandant of the post and arrange matters 
 so that we can leave this afternoon. I shall return 
 just after dinner; and, by the way, you must have 
 dinner, too." Walking briskly to the room where 
 the sheriff was, he spoke of the matter, and it was 
 so arranged. 
 
 Returning to the voungf woman, he told her of 
 
48 THE LAST MAN 
 
 the arrangement, then reported at the office of the 
 commandant, and procured a p£.ss for her. Then 
 visiting a store, he bought a first-class lady's valise, 
 and had it sent to the jail for Miss Alena Long, 
 with the sheriff's family. After dinner at the hotel 
 he went to his room, prepared a large envelope, 
 put within it a valuable enclosure, and a short note, 
 sealed, and thrust it into his breast pocket, and 
 returned to the sheriff. The wife met him with a 
 genial, but quizzical, smile, and Miss Long with a 
 very subdued one. 
 
 "Who is the present for, eh, Captain ?" asked the 
 wife. 
 
 "For Miss Long," said he. 
 
 "O, Captain Boyd, please don't," said Miss Long. 
 "The carpet-bag will do." 
 
 "No indeed. Miss Long, it shall remain here a 
 prisoner as long as the sheriff sees fit. Take the 
 valise to your room and fill it, I command you !" 
 
 Mutely, but hesitatingly, she obeyed, and while 
 transferring things, the boat blew a signal of her 
 approach, and the young woman came down to the 
 parlor. Going to the sheriff, Boyd asked for her 
 bill. 
 
 "Nothing," said the sheriff; "I am very glad to 
 show kindness to Miss Long, and that we bear no 
 ill will against her. I'll have the valise carried to 
 the boat. And, young woman, if you ever come 
 this way again, you shall have better treatment." 
 
 "Indeed shall you," chimed in the wife, and she 
 folded her arms round Alena, and kissing her said. 
 
DELIVERANCE 49 
 
 "That is for your mother," and again, "and that is 
 for yourself." 
 
 By this time the boat was rounding in at the 
 landing, farewells were said, the servant took up 
 the valise, and the captain and Miss Long followed 
 and boarded the steamer. Seating her in the 
 ladies' cabin, Boyd went to the purser's office, paid 
 her fare to Gramercy, including supper and a state- 
 room, and returned to her. "Now, Miss Long," 
 said he, 'T think I have done all I can, except to 
 give you this parcel, which I request you not to 
 open till you reach home. Do you promise?" 
 
 "Certainly, I promise. Captain Boyd." 
 
 Passing the envelope to her, he suggested, "Go 
 and lock it up in your valise, just now." 
 
 She obeyed, and then said, "O, Captain Boyd, 
 how can I ever thank yovi enough, much less pay 
 you, for all your kindness?" 
 
 She could say no more, but tears, not of sadness, 
 but gratitude, sparkled in her eyes. 
 
 "Say nothing about it," said he; "I have done 
 nothing more than I could wish any true man to 
 do for my sister, were she in trouble. That repays 
 me. Give my best wishes to your mother, and be 
 assured I remain her and your friend. Good-bye." 
 
 As he walked forward toward the gangway, he 
 turned for a moment and saw her going to her 
 state-room. A look was in his eloquent eyes, of 
 which he was unconscious, and which he would 
 not have confessed to himself, even ; a look of pure 
 and ineffable, but repressed, love. At five o'clock 
 4 
 
50 THE LAST MAN 
 
 he boarded the steamer for the Kanoche River and 
 Charlesport. 
 
 As the water in the Ohio River was very low, 
 the steamer bearing Miss Long to Gramercy made 
 slow progress, and did not reach the town till eight 
 o'clock, and when she stepped ashore there were 
 no people in waiting but the wharf-master and his 
 assistant. Recognizing her, they came forward 
 and spoke to her. "Miss Long, do you want your 
 valise carried to the house?" asked the assistant. 
 
 "Yes, please, but I have no money to pay for 
 such service," she answered. 
 
 "Never mind that," said he; "we are awful glad 
 to see you back again safe. Heard you were going 
 to be shot for a spy. And then we heard you were 
 dead. O, mighty souls ! but your mother will be 
 glad to see you. They say she's done nothin' but 
 rock herself and cry, ever since you were tooken 
 away, and some say as how she was mighty nigh 
 crazy. And no wonder, the way they sarved you, 
 and all because old Baxter was mad and drunk." 
 
 Thus he chattered all the way to her mother's 
 door. 
 
 Alena rapped, the door opened, and mother and 
 daughter w^ere face to face. With a loud cry, "O, 
 daughter ! My heart's idol !" the mother clasped 
 the girl in her hungry arms, and kisses and tears 
 rained on each other's lips and cheeks. 
 
 "Home again !" What a boon is it to the trav- 
 eler after months of long, wearisome journeyings. 
 "There's no place like home !" But how much 
 
DELIVERANCE 51 
 
 greater the joy of a return to home and mother 
 was that of Miss Long, from both of which a cruel 
 fate had so suddenly snatched her! 
 
 At length, becoming calmer, Alena gave a full 
 account of her imprisonment and deliverance. As 
 she related the acts of Captain Boyd the mother 
 looked apprehensive, and the daughter, under- 
 standing the look, said, "O, mother, pray don't 
 misjudge him ! He is the grandest, most honor- 
 able man I ever saw. We need never fear him. 
 He has a widowed mother and two sisters, to 
 whom he is enthusiastically devoted. He is a 
 Yankee, it is true, and an officer — a captain now, 
 and you know how I have hated Yankees ; but I 
 now know he is a gentleman, a gallant knight, 
 such as we read of, and I dare say a splendid soldier, 
 even if he is against our cause. O, by the way, he 
 gave me an envelope which I was not to open till I 
 got home. Let me get it." Unlocking the valise, 
 she drew forth the bulky packet, and, on opening 
 it, there lay a quantity of bank notes, bright and 
 crisp — a considerable sum. The sight paralyzed 
 both tongues for some moments. 
 
 Her mother said, "Alena, dear, tell me all ! All !" 
 
 "O, mamma, don't look at me that way so 
 cruelly! Wait till I read his note." Unfolding it, 
 she read : 
 
 "'Hotel, Galliput, O., 
 
 October 20th, 1862. 
 
 My Dear Mrs. Long: — Enclosed please find a small 
 sum of money which I can loan you for a while, 
 
52 THE LAST MAN 
 
 just as well as not. I wish it were larger. It may 
 be of use to you, just now, as times are hard. And, 
 Miss Long, I once predicted that we should meet 
 again. We met. I now prophesy that we shall 
 meet again. Till then, farewell, Boyd.' 
 
 "There now, mother, you have a true illustration 
 of the man. What do you think?" 
 
 "Alena, dear, he loves you. Tell me whether he 
 said or did or looked anything that showed special 
 regard for you." 
 
 "Nothing, mother ; not even the tiniest pressure 
 of my hand when we parted. No, mamma, he 
 respects and pities us — that is all." 
 
V. 
 
 THE WRESTLING OF GIANTS. 
 
 Captain Boyd's return to his company was sig- 
 nalized by hearty hand grasps and expressions of 
 gladness from every member, which to a man of 
 his mold was of more value than the elaborate com- 
 pliments of his fellow-officers. Who that was 
 entrusted with the duties and cares of commandant 
 of a company of soldiers did not realize keenly and 
 sometimes painfully that perfect confidence on the 
 part of the men in his courage, abihty, justice and 
 kindness, is the one indispensable condition to his 
 confidence in the company, enabling him, at all 
 times, and under most crucial tests, to secure and 
 enforce, not merely willing, but enthusiastic, com- 
 pliance with orders and commands? 
 
 Among many distinguished officers of all ranks, 
 in both armies, one there was, who has answered 
 to the last roll-call, in whom was exemplified, in 
 the highest degree, that indefinable, but potent, 
 influence over men, which every officer should 
 strive to gain. By acts of kindness and considera- 
 tion, and little courtesies, which an officer, even of 
 high rank, may perform in the midst of his duties 
 as a commander and disciplinarian, he so won the 
 confidence and devotion of subordinates and men 
 that, had he issued an order to march straight 
 
54 THE LAST MAN 
 
 through the Confederacy to Charleston or Savan- 
 nah, every officer and man would have sprung to 
 his place with the liveliest enthusiasm, with the 
 light of battle on his face, and determination to exe- 
 cute the order or die in the attempt. All officers 
 and men who had the honor to serve under that 
 distinguished, intrepid officer will recognize in this 
 description the late Major-General George Crook. 
 
 Of a similar type must have been Generals Crom- 
 well, Bonaparte, Wellington, Washington, Lee, and 
 Stonewall Jackson. Such a man, and such an offi- 
 cer, to a degree, was Captain Boyd. He felt, and 
 determined, more than ever before, that, come what 
 might, the proper care of his men should be second 
 only to the cause of his country. 
 
 In these respects what a contrast he presented to 
 scores of officers, whose first care was of their own 
 precious persons and interests, and their last 
 thought was of men and country. Disguise it, 
 ignore it, deny it, even, yet the truth remains that 
 a larger per cent, of incompetency and recreancy 
 prevailed among officers than among enlisted men ; 
 and had the issue of the conflict depended on men 
 as demoralized as were many officers, it may well 
 be doubted whether victory had ever been achieved. 
 
 In the winter of i862-'63, the command of which 
 Captain Boyd's company was a part was quartered 
 in the Valley of Virginia, at a town noted for its 
 alternate occupancy, many times, by the forces of 
 both armies, and for its final permanent posses- 
 sion by the Union forces, late in the fall of 1864, 
 
THE V^RESTLING OF GIANTS 55 
 
 after the destruction of the army of General Early. 
 During this winter the men knew better than before 
 how to render themselves comparatively comfort- 
 able. When not on duty, in camp, on guard, or 
 under training, their time was spent in writing let- 
 ters to home folks, relating stories or gossip, sing- 
 ing, and playing games. Bye and bye, tokens of 
 coming spring were visible, and the great armies 
 on both sides hastened their preparations for the 
 year's campaigns. Novv^ and then small bodies of 
 troops, mostly cavalry, made reconnoissances to- 
 ward the lines of the enemy to ascertain his exact 
 v.'hereabouts and his condition. Picket firing was 
 frequent. Prisoners were brought in. Quarter- 
 masters' and ordnance stores were replenished. 
 Hospital supplies were overhauled and put in order. 
 Men were clad anew, and both they and horses 
 were freshly shod. 
 
 The campaign began by a movement of the 
 Union Army. The corps in the valley broke camp 
 in April and marched to Washington, crossed the 
 Potomac, and traversed the hills, valleys and 
 streams of old Virginia till it reached and was 
 made an integral part of the Army of the Potomac. 
 About May first that great body arose, shook 
 itself, put on its panoply, and moved straight at its 
 enemy, fortified and waiting for it. Each army 
 had tested the courage and powers of its opponent, 
 and the marvelous skill of its commander, on sev- 
 eral notable occasions, and the Union force had 
 been obliged to show its back to the foe and retreat 
 
56 THE LAST MAN 
 
 almost to the environs of the Capital. But now 
 that its movements were to be directed by a gen- 
 eral known by both armies, and by the world, as an 
 eminent soldier and fighter, the country expected, 
 and confidently looked for — victory. 
 
 A military campaign — a battle, if not an acci- 
 dent — is a great game played by two men, the 
 commanders of the opposing forces. Neither com- 
 mander, nor any one else, sees, or can see, all of a 
 battle. The commanders issue orders ; subordi- 
 nates carry the orders to officers in command of 
 divisions, brigades and regiments ; and the men, 
 commanded by these, execute the orders, perform 
 the maneuvers, and do the marching, fighting, and 
 charging, with which they are so occupied as to be 
 unable to see only what is directly before them. If 
 the maneuvers, the fighting, the irrepressible 
 charge, or the sudden, unlooked-for attack upon 
 the opponent's flank is successful, defeat, total or 
 partial, is inevitable, and he is obliged either to 
 retreat, thus losing the field, or reform his line in 
 such manner that he may renew the battle. The 
 flank movement, as it is called, was employed four 
 times, at least, in a certain battle ; the contending 
 forces revolving about each other until they had 
 fought toward every point of the compass, and 
 finally each force withdrew from the field, as if by 
 mutual consent. 
 
 Frequently, however, an army thus flanked has 
 been disorganized, pursued, and almost, if not com- 
 pletely, annihilated. The seven days' battle of 
 
THE WRESTLING OF GIANTS 57 
 
 General McClellan in June, 1862 ; the second battle 
 of Bull Run, in August, 1862; and of General Lee, 
 in September, 1862, and July, 1863, are examples 
 of successful retreat and re-formation of an army 
 when defeated, or worsted. The campaign of Gen- 
 eral Early, in October, 1864, and of General Hood, 
 in December, 1864, are examples of the destruction 
 of an army, pursued and disintegrated, after a lost 
 battle. 
 
 The battle of Chancellorsville, Va., was fought 
 on May 5th and 6th, 1863, by the Confederate 
 Army of Northern Virginia, commanded by Gen- 
 eral Lee, and the Union Army vmder General 
 Joseph Hooker. The plan of each general showed 
 consummate skill, and, as the action progressed, 
 the advantage was clearly with General Hooker. 
 But, late in the evening of May 6th, when the day's 
 fighting was apparently over, and the Union force 
 was disposing itself for a night's bivouac, suddenly 
 a solid, resolute Confederate force struck it on its 
 right flank, with the resistless might of a tornado. 
 There was no withstanding its momentum. The 
 attacking force was that of the redoubtable Stone- 
 wall Jackson. The Union Army was thus beaten 
 again, and retreated across the Rappahannock 
 River toward Washington. 
 
 Captain Boyd's company and regiment were a 
 part of the corps which received the assault result- 
 ing so disastrously. While exerting himself to the 
 utmost, by voice, daring and example, to hold his 
 company steady, to resist and stay the charge of 
 
58 THE LAST MAN 
 
 the enemy, he suddenly felt a sharp but paralyzing 
 sensation, fell helpless, and, his line being broken, 
 the men retreated ; a moment later, the Confeder- 
 ate force reached and passed him, and he was a 
 prisoner. 
 
 When the charge was done, his captors raised 
 him upon his legs, and caused him to walk to the 
 rear of their lines, when they relieved him of 
 sword, belt and revolver. The firing was still in 
 progress, but he knew by the distance and decrease 
 of the volume of sound that his own army was still 
 retreating. For the first time in his career hope 
 fled from his heart. The racking pain from a 
 wound in his right side, loss of blood, intense hun- 
 ger and thirst and extreme fatigue wrought com- 
 plete physical exhaustion. To be made a prisoner 
 is bad ; to be wounded, and yet be rescued and 
 cared for by one's friends is serious ; but to be both 
 wounded and a prisoner is enough to beget deplor- 
 able mental exhaustion. Such was his condition 
 when, led to a rude field hospital, he was permitted 
 to lie down and receive a drink of water from a 
 canteen. 
 
 As he lay there, indulging in his sad reveries, 
 there arose, at some distance, a low, agonizing 
 moan or cry, apparently from hundreds of lips, 
 and Boyd forced himself to sit up, to ascertain the 
 cause of this outcry. Presently he saw, coming 
 through the darkness, a mass of men, in disorder, 
 and in their midst the body of some one borne on a 
 stretcher. The carriers halted and set their burden 
 
THE WRESTLING OF GIANTS 59 
 
 down, within a few feet of him. There were two 
 or more surgeons in charge, who dispersed the 
 crowd so that the dying man might have plenty of 
 fresh air. Just then, by the flickering light of a 
 couple of torches, he saw, for the first and last time, 
 the pallid face of General Jackson, who had been 
 mortally wounded, just after his corps had com- 
 pleted its savage and successful attack upon the 
 Union force. Reverently, touchingly, with un- 
 covered heads, his heartbroken men again moved 
 on with the helpless body of the man who had been 
 the most versatile, daring, competent, and success- 
 ful of all Confederate commanders. His death, 
 soon after, equaled the loss of thousands of men to 
 the Confederates, and was a correspondingly great 
 gain to the Union cause. The troops he had com- 
 manded remained brave, it is true, but never again 
 did they display the qualities for which, under him, 
 they had been so widely distinguished. 
 
 In addition to his ability as a soldier. General 
 Jackson was noted for high qualities as a citizen 
 and a Christian man. 
 
 When the lives and deeds of men shall have been 
 canvassed in Heaven's high court, and each shall 
 receive his reward, "according to the deeds done in 
 the body," who dare say that he will not sit down 
 in the realm of eternal peace with Grant, Sherman, 
 Lincoln, and Howard? 
 
 After this touching episode had passed, a Con- 
 federate hospital officer and two attendants, with 
 a lantern, paper and pencil, came to the captain to 
 
60 THE LAST MAN 
 
 register his name, rank, company, and regiment, 
 and to take an inventory of his effects. When 
 about to answer the first question, his sight failed, 
 and unconsciousness ensued. He had fainted. 
 What transpired thereafter, that night, and for 
 several days and nights folloAving, Vv^as unknown to 
 the poor suffering officer. Wound fever, and affec- 
 tion of the nerve centers, brought on first a coma- 
 tose state, then delirium, then raving. The hospital 
 officer reported the case to the superior surgeon, 
 who at once made an examination. A ball had 
 struck and penetrated the captain's right side, just 
 above the sword-belt, fractured two ribs, and was 
 lodged somewhere in the cavity of the chest. To 
 find the ball and the full extent of its damage, the 
 surgeons were obliged to make a large transverse 
 incision below the short ribs. This effected, the 
 ball was found wedged between two ribs on the 
 posterior side of the chest, and was extracted. It 
 was also found that the liver, though not lacerated, 
 had been somewhat impinged upon. The neces- 
 sary measures were taken, appliances were adapted 
 to the wound and the incision, and an attendant 
 was left Vvuth the patient to carry out the instruc- 
 tions. When the morning came, several wounded 
 Confederate officers in the hospital were dead, and 
 the preparations for their sepulture, together with 
 the moanings of those still living, the odor of medi- 
 cinal and surgical preparations, and the presence 
 of villainous looking instruments lying about, con- 
 spired to render the place a not unfitting supplement 
 
THE WRESTLING OF GIANTS 61 
 
 to Dante's Inferno. From all of this the captain 
 was mercifully spared, as he remained unconscious, 
 contributing his share of the audible indications of 
 pain and delirium prevailing on every side. 
 
 The attendant and the surgeon in whose ward 
 he lay failed to understand most of the sufferer's 
 incoherent words and fragments of sentences. 
 
 Only two expressions, often repeated, were 
 understood: "Mother, don't worry!" and "Miss 
 Long! Miss Long! Why do you suffer thus!" 
 
VI. 
 
 IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY. 
 
 One of the few features that mitigated the hor- 
 rors of the war, aside from the services of the Sani- 
 tary Commission and the Christian Commission, 
 was the voluntary and heroic service of a number 
 of noble women, some older, some younger, as 
 army hospital nurses. It may be that, in some 
 cases, these duties were assumed in order that the 
 nurses might be near those they loved, who were 
 in the saddle, or the ranks, so that should they be 
 prostrated by wounds or diseases, they might 
 receive superior care and nursing. But in most 
 cases, the motive of these women was entirely 
 unselfish, — a combination of patriotism and philan- 
 thropy, — and their noble sacrifices shone as a bril- 
 liant, self-supporting light, dispelling, in a degree, 
 the gloom of fratricidal war. Of this honored class, 
 the patron saint, if she may be so called, is, by 
 common consent, Florence Nightingale, who with 
 a corps of assistants gave herself to such a holy work 
 during the Crimean War, in 1855- 56, and demon- 
 strated, beyond question or cavil, the practicability, 
 utility, and humanity of woman's work in hospitals. 
 Perhaps the Red Cross Society, at whose head 
 stands that noble woman, Clara Barton, is in part 
 a result of Miss Nightingale's first endeavor. Who 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 63 
 
 knows but that, in the near future, such women as 
 these may exert an influence potent enough to 
 prevent war, or at least, to remove many of its 
 horrors? However all this may be, there were 
 from 1862 to the close of the war quite a number 
 of women serving as nurses in hospitals in and 
 near Washington and Alexandria, and with armies 
 in the field. There were also women nurses in 
 Confederate hospitals — women whose motive and 
 heroism were the same as those of the Union 
 nurses. 
 
 On the second day after the battle several Con- 
 federate women nurses from Richmond came to 
 the field hospital for duty. With soft, quiet step, 
 they moved from one sufiferer to another, minis- 
 tering as occasion required, bathing the face and 
 hands of one, combing the matted locks of another, 
 feeding one who was permitted to eat, giving medi- 
 cines to others, as directed, wTiting letters for those 
 who could not write, and even holding instruments 
 and anaesthetics for surgeons when operations were 
 performed. By chance, it would seem, a young 
 woman who was performing such functions entered 
 the ward in which lay Captain Boyd. Reaching, in 
 her progress, the cot of a wounded Confederate, 
 she did him some kindness, and was about to move 
 on, when, from a cot a few yards distant, a moan 
 caught her ear and attention. Could it be — O, 
 surely it could not be — he? She moved nearer. 
 Heaven help him ! It was Captain Boyd — the 
 Yankee officer! But so changed, so pale, and, 
 
64 THE LAST MAN 
 
 withal unconscious and delirious ! The young 
 woman was Miss Long! They had met again! 
 He had predicted it ! But what a meeting ! She, 
 when last they parted, was a happy girl delivered 
 from prison and duress by him, the gallant, buoy- 
 ant Union officer. Now he is a prisoner and suf- 
 ferer, unconscious, and unable to help himself, and 
 she can assist, if not deliver, him. Who can de- 
 scribe the torrent of emotions by which she was 
 moved at that moment? 
 
 Loyalty to the South, and her pledge to support 
 and promote its cause would lead her away from 
 him to minister to suffering Confederates. Grati- 
 tude, and another yet stronger sentiment, would 
 draw her to him. Which will she do? Will she 
 hesitate? Would you, right-minded young lady 
 reader, hesitate? Your head might suggest, "Pass 
 him by ! He is nothing but a hateful Yankee." 
 But your heart would say, "What ! Pass Jiini by ? 
 Never!" So was it with Miss Long. There was 
 no debate in her mind, and no hesitation in her 
 actions. A man's head may, and often does, rule 
 him, or he thinks so ; a woman's heart rules her. 
 
 "O woman! In our hours of ease. 
 Uncertain, coy, and hard to please! 
 Let pain or sorrow rack the brow, 
 A ministering angel, thou!" 
 
 She applies a wet towel to his face and hands, 
 fans him, feels his quick fluttering pulse, places 
 water to his parched lips, and finds and puts 
 another pillow beneath his head. Those who saw 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 65 
 
 her thus engaged may have thought she was sur- 
 prised to see a Yankee there ; or that his moanings, 
 tossings, and ravings moved her to pity for him. 
 Either of these things might arrest, or hold, for a 
 few moments, the attention of a nurse who, so far 
 as the other nurses and attendants knew, had never 
 before seen a Union officer or soldier. But for her, 
 far more important and touching considerations 
 controlled both heart and hand. 
 
 So long did she linger by the captain's cot, that 
 the attention of all who were near was drawn to 
 her; glances were exchanged, and whispered 
 remarks were made as to her sudden and evident 
 devotion to this prisoner, an enemy of hers and 
 theirs. One of the nurses reported the matter to 
 the surgeon whose duties brought him to that por- 
 tion of the hospital, and, coming near, he asked 
 her why she did not move on to relieve others — 
 Confederates, in particular. On his face, and in 
 his face, as he spoke, were distrust and appre- 
 hension that something was wrong with her; 
 either she was suffering from dementia, or she 
 was a Union spy in disguise. His words and 
 looks aroused her. With crimsoned cheeks, tear- 
 dimmed eyes, and tremulous voice, but with 
 intense, quiet energy, characteristic of her, she 
 replied : "Doctor, this man is an enemy of the 
 South, it is true; he is a Yankee officer; but I 
 knew him at my old home in West Virginia, and, 
 next to my mother, while living, he was the best 
 friend I ever had, and the noblest man I ever 
 
66 THE LAST MAN 
 
 knew. O, Doctor, please examine his case thor- 
 oughly and tell me truly what his condition is, and 
 I'll tell you all hereafter!" 
 
 What a scene for a hospital, wherein all emotions 
 are suppressed, and all expressions are cautious 
 and subdued ! Moved by her words and tears, the 
 surgeon examined the wound and its condition, 
 the pulse, respiration and symptoms, and then, 
 looking at her, as she stood some distance aside, in 
 great agitation, ominously shook his head, and 
 turned to depart. She rushed to him, and said, 
 with hands clinched together : "O, Doctor, he 
 must not die ! Let me do all I can, and, please, 
 will you do all you can, to save his life?" 
 
 The surgeon said "Yes" as an answer to both 
 her requests, and directed the other nurses to "let 
 Miss Long have her way, as it would all be over 
 in a few hours at most." 
 
 All that day, and the night following, she clung 
 to that spot, devising and doing whatever she 
 thought, or imagined, m^ight bring relief to the 
 sufferer. And when morning dawned Captain 
 Boyd still lived, though very weak and exhausted, 
 and yet raving in delirium. The surgeon made 
 his morning visit much earlier than usual, expect- 
 ing to find nothing except a body, dead and cold ; 
 but, instead, to his great surprise, the patient was 
 alive, and the devoted nurse was still at her post, 
 apparently fresh and vigorous. The surgeon 
 directed her to go and rest for a few hours, and he 
 would personally care for the patient in her absence. 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 67 
 
 Thus adjured, she reluctantly retired to a small 
 dwelling house, at some distance, appropriated to 
 the use of lady nurses, flung herself upon a rude 
 couch, and ere long tired nature asserted her sway, 
 and she slept for several hours, a troubled, dream- 
 disturbed sleep. On waking a torrent of memories 
 and emotions overwhelmed her. What if he had died 
 while she slept? She could never forgive herself. 
 Dressing hastily, and attended by the colored boy, 
 without waiting for breakfast, she hastened to the 
 hospital. As she entered, a number of nurses and 
 attendants fixed upon her a steady and significant 
 gaze. This she regarded, obviously, as an evil 
 omen. But a nurse hastened to her, and said : "The 
 Yankee is still alive, but he is very weak. I don't 
 think he can live the day out." 
 
 She answered not, but, pushing by, she was soon 
 by the sufferer's side. He was still in a stupor, but 
 had ceased raving. She repeated all those little, 
 delicate offices so natural to a woman, and finished 
 by giving him a small supply of stimulant and 
 liquid nourishment, and very soon he fell into a 
 sound natural sleep. Returning to her quarters, 
 she tidied herself, had breakfast, and came again. 
 
 She met the surgeon, who was waiting for her. 
 "I have seen him," said he, "and am bound to say 
 that all his symptoms are more favorable, and if 
 the improvement continues for two days, he will 
 recover." 
 
 "Thanks for your opinion, Doctor, and may 
 Heaven grant that your judgment shall be cor- 
 
68 THE LAST MAN 
 
 rect ! And may I continue to wait on and nurse 
 him?" 
 
 "Yes," said he; "I have given orders to the hos- 
 pital steward that you alone shall nurse him. I 
 am curious to see how the case will terminate." 
 
 "Tihank you again, Doctor, and be assured that 
 nothing shall be wanting on my part to have the 
 case terminate in his recovery. And whether he 
 recovers or dies. Doctor, I shall owe it to you, to 
 the hospital, to our cause, to him, and to myself, 
 to tell you why I have seemed to act so singularly." 
 
 Several days passed in this manner; the fever 
 and delirium diminished, then ceased, and suddenly 
 Boyd returned to consciousness. Looking about 
 him, he motioned an attendant to come to him, 
 and asked where he was, how long he had been 
 there, and why, and how much longer he was 
 likely to remain. The attendant readily answered 
 all inquiries but the last, which he said the doctor 
 alone could answer, if any one could. 
 
 "Go, please, and tell one of them I want to see 
 him." The attendant complied, and soon the sur- 
 geon-in-chief came. 
 
 "Doctor, I am glad to see you," said Boyd. "I 
 dare say I have given you a deal of trouble since 
 I came, but I assure you I am quite willing to end 
 the trouble as soon as you will permit, and assist 
 me to get away." 
 
 "My dear sir," said the surgeon, "you must be 
 in no hurry. You have just emerged from a fear- 
 ful delirium, and have survived the shock and loss 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 69 
 
 of blood from your wound in a most remarkable 
 manner, and I want you to recover fully before 
 you leave us. You are not yet out of danger, and 
 even now your pulse and temperature are rising 
 rapidly, and you must cease talking for the remain- 
 der of the day. To-morrow, if you continue toi 
 improve, we will resume this conversation. For 
 the present, be quiet, and sleep, if possible." 
 
 The thinking and talking had worried Boyd, and 
 in a few minutes he fell asleep. Miss Long, by 
 advice of the surgeon, as well as from native shy- 
 ness, kept out of the way the remainder of the 
 day, and for a day or two later. But the next day 
 Boyd was entirely sane, and was so much im- 
 proved, in all respects, that the surgeon permitted 
 him to reopen the conversation of the day pre- 
 vious. 
 
 "By the way. Captain, I have not been able to 
 secure your name, regiment. State, and post-office 
 address. Please favor me with these data." 
 
 When this was done, Boyd said : "Now, Doctor, 
 how long, think you, will it be until I shall be able 
 to return to my regiment?" 
 
 "Can't say as to that," replied the surgeon; "it 
 may be a month, or even two months. We can't 
 hurry nature. She will not be hurried. You will 
 require much nursing and attention, and must 
 acquire blood, tissue, and nerve power, before you 
 will convalesce. You shall have the best that this 
 hospital can furnish, which is all that we can do." 
 
 Boyd asked how long tlie hospital would prob- 
 
70 THE LAST MAN 
 
 ably remain there. The answer was that rumor 
 had it that the hospital would soon be discontinued 
 and the inmates carried by rail to hospitals at 
 Richmond. 
 
 "Has any arrangement been made between the 
 two armies for an exchange of prisoners?" asked 
 Boyd. 
 
 "None, so far as I know," said the surgeon; 
 "but I presume there will be an exchange before 
 long. Your army needs more men, I think, and 
 the men it needs are the men we do not want; 
 and your army has some of our men as prisoners, 
 that it doesn't want, and those are the men that 
 we may need, before long, eh?" 
 
 "That is a fair statement. Doctor, I am sure, but 
 here I am, among strangers, without a fellow- 
 ofificer or soldier to see and talk to. I fear I shall 
 become lonely, and a burden to you." 
 
 "By no means. Captain Boyd. I will arrange 
 to-day, if possible, to put you into better quarters, 
 and give you stimulating nourishment, so that all 
 you will have to do is to get well enough to go tO' 
 your people, when your chance comes. As to your 
 becoming lonesome, I think I have in store for 
 you something that will cure, or rather prevent, 
 lonesomeness. We shall see." 
 
 The surgeon smiled mysteriously, as he hinted 
 at a prescription for such a complaint, and Boyd'S 
 curiosity was excited and piqued by the doctor's 
 reticence. 
 
 That afternoon the captain was lifted from his 
 
IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 71 
 
 cot, placed on a stretcher, and borne some distance 
 to more commodious quarters, where a score of 
 wounded Confederate officers were lodged and 
 treated. 
 
 He was assigned a cot by himself, at some dis- 
 tance from them. His furnishings and surround- 
 ings were quite complete, tasteful, and almost 
 elaborate. Evidently, artistic hands had been at 
 work there. A small colored boy, the same one 
 that had assisted Miss Long, was ordered to stay 
 with and wait upon him. 
 
 The fatigue induced by his removal, however 
 carefully it had been conducted, was sufficient to 
 put him asleep, in which condition he remained for 
 several hours. 
 
 While all these things were occurring, a pair of 
 bright eyes wa.tched from a secure hiding place, and 
 a woman's heart beat tumultuously. 
 
VII. 
 
 CONVALESCENCE. 
 
 The surgeon was in high spirits when he discov- 
 ered, or surmised, that there was a Httle drama 
 going on between two actors — the captain and 
 Miss Long, Hastening to her, as soon as possible, 
 he announced, with more animation than is con- 
 sidered proper by medical men, that the captain 
 had resumed proper mental functions and would 
 completely recover health and strength in a brief 
 period. A gleam of joy, which she strove in vain 
 to suppress, lit up the young woman's face and 
 eyes. "Now, tell me. Miss Long, will you not," 
 said he, "when, where, and under what circum- 
 stances, you became acquainted with the captain." 
 
 In accordance with her promise, she gave a full 
 and circumstantial account of the origin and prog- 
 ress of their acquaintance, and of the captain's 
 silent, but none the less pronounced sympathy for 
 her mother and herself, but not for her views as to 
 secession, whenever the other officers would nag and 
 rate her and the South, for the attempted revolution. 
 Then came the account of her arrest, transporta- 
 tion, incarceration, and deliverance from prison, 
 and her restoration to home and mother. "And, 
 Doctor," added she, "when the boat was about to 
 leave Galliput for my home he placed in my hand 
 
CONVALESCENCE 73 
 
 a sealed envelope, shook my other hand, said 
 'good bye,' and was gone, and I never saw him 
 again until the second day after the battle, when 
 his moaning caught my ear, over yonder in the 
 hospital." 
 
 "And what was in the envelope, Miss Long," 
 said the doctor, "if you feel that you may tell? A 
 genuine love-letter, I dare say." 
 
 "No, not a love-letter, but something better," 
 said she ; "ever so much better for us." 
 
 "Ah, Miss Long, what could be better than a 
 love-letter from such a nice fellow, except a pro- 
 posal of marriage, eh?" 
 
 "O, it was better than that, even," said she. "I 
 may as well tell you, Doctor, that on opening the 
 envelope, after reaching home, mother and I were 
 surprised beyond measure to see several bank notes 
 of high value, of the old Government's money, and 
 on a little slip of paper, some words expressive of 
 sympathy for us, and begging us to receive the 
 money as a loan. At the close he said, 'take good 
 care of your mother and yourself, until the war is 
 over, and we may meet again !' " 
 
 As she ended the account, a tide of emotion 
 swept over her, and her tears fell like rain. The 
 doctor's eyes were dewy, and his voice quavered, 
 as he said : 
 
 "Miss Long, yours is a thrilling experience, and 
 this is a noble man, if he is a Yankee and an enemy. 
 Now I comprehend why you have taken such an 
 
74 THE LAST MAN 
 
 interest in him, and have made such exertions for 
 his recovery." 
 
 "But, Doctor, there is a burden on my mind that 
 I cannot get rid of." 
 
 "What is it, Miss Long?" 
 
 "I want to repay the money before he leaves us." 
 
 "Why should you repay it? It was a present. 
 Miss Long." 
 
 "Possibly it was. Doctor, but no lady accepts a 
 present of such a kind, or of any kind, from a sin- 
 gle gentleman, unless she is — is — " 
 
 "Engaged to him, you mean. Miss Long," said 
 the doctor, by way of assistance. 
 
 "Certainly, Doctor," said she, in beautiful em- 
 barrassment. 
 
 "Ah, well," said the doctor, "you are as worthy 
 as he, and I take ofif my hat to both of you, for 
 this illustration of a noble ideal of human life, so 
 seldom, if ever, realized. May I have the supreme 
 pleasure of telling him you are here, and bringing 
 you face to face again ?" 
 
 "O, Doctor," said Alena, "I am afraid it would 
 not be best, in such a place, and under such cir- 
 cumstances." 
 
 "Begging your pardon, Miss Long, permit me 
 to say that this is the very place, and these the 
 very conditions, under which you should meet 
 again, and renew your acquaintance. Two such 
 souls should not longer be sundered, and I beg 
 that you will waive your scruples, and permit me 
 to prepare him to meet you to-morrow." 
 
CONVALESCENCE 75 
 
 Said she, "Doctor, suppose it was your daugh- 
 ter, far from home, among strangers — an orphan — 
 would you favor the thing you now propose?" 
 
 "Most certamly I would. Miss Long, if the man 
 in the case were such a man as Captain Boyd." 
 
 "Then I consent, Doctor, as I want to speak to 
 him and thank him." 
 
 Going over to Boyd's quarters, the surgeon 
 found him resting quietly, but wide awake, and 
 apparently ruminating. 
 
 "Hello, Captain; why don't you sleep, as you did 
 some days since? What has come over you?" 
 
 "Certainly not a spell from Morpheus, Doctor," 
 said Boyd. "I cannot avoid thinking when I shaH 
 get back to my command. That is what keeps me 
 awake." 
 
 "I am sorry I can't inform you on that subject, 
 but while you are doomed to remain with us. Cap- 
 tain, you shall be treated as a soldier and a gentle- 
 man. By the way, I think you are getting lonely, 
 and to-morrow I shall begin treating you for lone- 
 someness," said the doctor ; and again that myste- 
 rious smile pervaded his benign countenance. 
 
 Next day, after a thorough examination of 
 Boyd's now fast-healing wound, the doctor said, as 
 though it was a mere passing thought, "Captain, 
 did you ever know a Miss Long, oyer in West Vir- 
 ginia?" 
 
 Boyd roused at the question, and, looking sharp 
 at the face of the questioner, said, slowly: "Yes, I 
 knew a Miss Long and her mother at Gramercy 
 
76 THE LAST MAN 
 
 West Virginia, in the winter of 1861-62. My 
 regiment and other troops wintered there, and sev- 
 eral officers, including myself, boarded with her 
 mother for several weeks. Why, Doctor?" 
 
 "Have you ever seen her since that winter?" 
 asked the doctor. 
 
 "Yes," repUed Boyd ; and then followed a brief 
 account of her liberation from prison, from which, 
 however, was omitted all reference to his kindness 
 and gallantry to her. 
 
 "Do you expect to see her and her mother 
 again?" queried the doctor. 
 
 "Yes, when I am exchanged and get a furlough 
 to go and see my mother and sisters, I may visit 
 the Longs, too." 
 
 "But possibly you would not find them at their 
 old home," suggested the doctor. 
 
 "Where then?" asked Boyd, turning quickly 
 toward the surgeon. "What do you know? Are 
 they dead, or have they removed?" 
 
 "No, my dear fellow; she is not dead, and will 
 not be for many years, I hope. For a considera- 
 tion, I could tell you where she is, at this moment." 
 
 "Name the consideration, Doctor," said Boyd. 
 
 "That you do not become excited when I tell 
 you," said the doctor. 
 
 "I promise. Doctor ; now tell me." 
 
 "She is here ! Look toward the other side of 
 your couch!" 
 
 He looked. There stood Miss Long, motion- 
 less, cheeks flushed, and eyes fixed on the ground. 
 
CONVALESCENCE 77 
 
 "Miss Long!" 
 
 "Captain Boyd !" Then hands joined in a firm, 
 prolonged clasp. 
 
 He spoke, "And you are here?" 
 
 "Yes," said she, "and yon are here?" 
 
 At this sally all three smiled. 
 
 "Yes, I am here ; unwillingly, though. Miss 
 Long. Is that your condition?" 
 
 "No, I am here as a hospital nurse. I came over 
 from Gramercy to Richmond in February, and 
 have been doing hospital work there, until the next 
 day after the battle here, when a half dozen of us 
 nurses were sent up to assist in the cure of the 
 wounded." 
 
 "There, that is sufficient for this time," broke in 
 the doctor. "I see my prescription is a good one. 
 But your pulse .has gone up, Captain, and you must 
 cease the treatment for to-day. To-morrow the 
 dose may be repeated, Captain, eh?" 
 
 "O, Captain Boyd," broke in Miss Long, "allow 
 me to present you to our surgeon-in-chief. Dr. 
 Culp." 
 
 The men shook hands. "I have had Dr. Culp's 
 hands on me often, but never more gently and 
 pleasantly than now," said Boyd. 
 
 "And who knows but that you may lay hands 
 on me, some time?" said Dr. Culp. "But now, 
 Miss Long, you are excused for the present ; and 
 you. Captain, compose yourself, and sleep awhile." 
 
 At the surgeon's visit next day, the subject now 
 uppermost in Boyd's mind recurred — how, and 
 
78 THE LAST MAN 
 
 why, Miss Long came to Richmond, and where 
 was her mother? 
 
 "She herself shall tell you that," said Dr. Gulp. 
 "I will tell you, though, what she will not tell." 
 • "What is that. Doctor?" asked Boyd. 
 
 "That if it had not been for her constant care 
 and nursing, night and day, for more than a week, 
 during your fever and delirium, you would not 
 now be above ground to hear me tell you this. 
 Never before have I seen a recovery from so com- 
 plete a case of collapse, nor have I ever seen before 
 such devotion on the part of either physician or 
 nurse, as hers has been. Ah, here she comes. 
 Miss Long, the Captain wants to know why you 
 became a nurse, and how you got to Richmond. 
 Tell him, while I visit the other patients." 
 
 "Now tell the story. Miss Long," said Boyd. 
 
 Taking a seat some feet distant, she began. 
 "When I reached home, after we parted at Galliput, 
 I found mother looking so sad and wan that I was 
 about to break out in weeping ; but, at sight of me, 
 all that vanished in a moment. Then I told her 
 what I had seen and suffered, and how you secured 
 my release, and sent me home. And when I 
 opened that envelope and found money, so much 
 of it, we were speechless with apprehension. But 
 when I read your note, we were relieved of suspi- 
 cion as to your motives, Captain. And, just now, 
 I want to thank you for your favor, and to say that, 
 just as soon as possible, I will return the amount." 
 
CONVALESCENCE 79 
 
 "Please don't speak of that now, Miss Long ; go 
 on with your story." 
 
 "Are you prepared for a sad story?" asked she. 
 
 "Certainly, since I have asked you for it," said he. 
 
 "Well, for a few days mamma seemed to be her- 
 self again, but the blow she had received brought 
 on 'sinking spells,' as the neighbors called them, 
 which happened almost every day. The doctor 
 called it 'heart failure,' due to intense excitement 
 and worry about me, but said that she would soon 
 recover. Still she grew worse, had attacks oftener, 
 and became very pale and weak. One day, Decem- 
 ber 29th, I ran over to Mrs. Cook's to have her 
 come and see mamma, — she had a look so un- 
 earthly, and far away, — and as we were coming, 
 the servant came screaming, *0, come quick, Miss, 
 Missus is dying, I believe.' We flew tO' mamma. 
 She was dying. She motioned me with her head 
 to come to her. I clasped her in my arms, and, 
 kissing each other, she whispered : 'I am going, 
 dear! Meet me up yonder.' Her eyes were fixed, 
 as if looking at something beautiful that she had 
 never seen before, and, — she was dead ! O my poor 
 heart ! It seemed to be broken. I wanted to die, 
 too. I could neither cry nor speak. I had nothing 
 left to live for. Father dead ; brother George 
 killed at the second battle of Bull Run ; brother 
 Bertrand gone I know not where, and now, 
 mother, — the dearest, sweetest, saintliest mother 
 that ever a child had, — dead ! 
 
 "How long I clung to her icy form, I know not. 
 
80 THE LAST MAN 
 
 They took me away, put me into another room, 
 and I knew no more until they came to take me to 
 the funeral ! She lies in the little cemetery at Gra- 
 mercy and my heart lies there too !" 
 
 "Pray, don't let grief give a tinge to your whole 
 life, Miss Long. All must die, sooner or later, 
 and, under the ordinary course of nature, your 
 mother would die before you. I have no doubt 
 and you have no doubt, that she is happy." 
 
 "Yes," said Alena, "if ever one was ready to go, 
 it was mother." 
 
 "And now, Miss Long, go on. What did you do 
 next?" asked he. "I sat down to consider; I 
 must do something. Just then, when I didn't 
 know which way to turn, one of the neighbors got 
 a letter from a friend in Richmond, saying that 
 women were wanted for nurses, to assist in taking 
 care of patients in hospitals in and about Rich- 
 mond. We answered the letter, asking our friends 
 to go to the authorities and secure me a place. 
 In about a month, I got an answer, telling me to 
 come on quickly. I sold some of our effects for 
 a small sum which, with what was left of your loan 
 to us, enabled me to get some heavy winter cloth- 
 ing, and on February 15th, with nothing but that 
 valise, an umbrella, and a few dollars, I bade fare- 
 well to all, and set out for Richmond. In the one- 
 horse dearborn of a fast friend of the family, and 
 the South, we left at night so as not to be observed 
 or followed; and after fifteen miles of hard travel, 
 reached a friend's house at daybreak. Resting 
 
CONVALESCENCE 81 
 
 there through the day, I was carried at night 
 another stage, and lay by during the day. Thus I 
 came, resting every day at the house of a stanch 
 Southerner. It occupied fifteen nights to make the 
 journey, and, in the gray of a bitterly cold morn- 
 ing, we reached Staunton, Virginia, and for the 
 first time I felt safe and breathed easy. Resting 
 there for two days, I then came by rail to Rich- 
 mond." 
 
 "Were you never stopped by any one on your 
 journey?" asked Boyd. 
 
 "Only once, just beyond the top of the moun- 
 tains. It was after midnight, I judge, when sud- 
 denly, two men said 'halt,' and caught the horse 
 by the bridle. They asked us who we were, and 
 where we were going at that time of night. We 
 were prepared for this. I told them we were from 
 Kentucky, that the driver was our farm hand, and 
 that I was on my way to join my husband, a Union 
 officer, in a fort at the summit of the Allegheny 
 Mountains. Then, lady, we must stop you. We 
 are on the other side, and our orders are to stop 
 everybody, and carry them to our headquarters, up 
 yonder.' I felt sure they told the truth, and then 
 I told them truly where I was from, where I was 
 going, and for what purpose. But none the less, 
 they said I must go to their camp. In about half an 
 hour we reached an old cabin in a deep ravine, hid 
 by overhanging pines. O, how lonely, and, as I 
 thought, how dangerous ! Our captors waked the 
 commander, who stirred the fire, made a light, 
 6 
 
82 THE LAST MAN 
 
 looked at and questioned us closely, until he was 
 satisfied that we were true Southerners, when he 
 said 'we might go vn. Cut wait a minute, lady; 
 what would you do if the "Yanks" should gobble 
 you?' 'Really I don't know,' said I. 'Hold on,' 
 said he. Going into another apartment, he brought 
 out a Yankee officer's coat, and giving it to me 
 said, 'If they stop you, make a story to suit, and 
 show them the coat, and they'll believe your story 
 and let you go on. Good-bye, and good luck to you.' 
 As we proceeded I wove a fine story, and had it in 
 readiness should the occasion arise requiring its 
 use. But, fortunately, no further detention hap- 
 pened." 
 
 Dr. Gulp had returned and heard that part of 
 the story detailing her journey, and said : 
 
 "Miss Long, nearly all seeming evils and mis- 
 fortunes have their compensations. In the midst 
 of hardships and dangers you found friends, tried 
 and true; since your arrival you are in the midst 
 of a multitude whose object is the same — independ- 
 ence of the old Government, now oppressive and 
 efifete (I beg pardon. Captain Boyd). If we suc- 
 ceed, as I believe we shall (I beg pardon again, 
 Captain), you will have an honorable record in its 
 attainment, and a rich share in the advantages to 
 follow." 
 
VIIL 
 EXCHANGED. 
 
 Dr. Gulp had taken such a hvely interest in Gap- 
 tain Boyd and Miss Long that he had decided to 
 have the prisoner and his belongings brought from 
 the hospital to the headquarters, which occupied an 
 old-fashioned Virginia house, vacated by its 
 owner, who, with his family, had removed to Rich- 
 mond. There were the surgeon, the hospital 
 steward, and a colored man, his wife and their little 
 son, whose business was to do the cooking and 
 other work. The room next to Dr. Gulp's was put 
 in order for Gaptain Boyd, who was carried thither 
 the same day. There were chairs instead of 
 campstools, and a dressing case with its mirror, and 
 all the other equipments of a gentleman's chamber, 
 and even a thermometer, to indicate the increment 
 of sensible heat in those ardent summer days. 
 
 The doctor had just congratulated the prisoner 
 and himself on the improved conditions and sur- 
 roundings, when the swish of feminine skirts was 
 heard without, and the next moment. Miss Long 
 stood at the open door. The doctor bade her 
 enter, and, having seated her, said : 
 
 "Miss Long, as you were a prisoner once, and Gap- 
 tain Boyd released you, and as he is now the pris- 
 oner, I appoint you his jailor, from this time forth, 
 
84 THE LAST MAN 
 
 to have and to hold said prisoner; to see that he 
 is kept safe ; that he behaves himself, and, espe- 
 cially that you secure his complete release from 
 loneliness, of which he has been complaining of 
 late. For this purpose, you, as jailor, shall come 
 here, every day, for one hour, to discharge this 
 duty. Do you accept the office, and the duty 
 named?" 
 
 "Of course, I am subject to your orders. Doctor," 
 said she. 
 
 "And are you, the prisoner, willing to be con- 
 trolled by this gentle jailor?" 
 
 "Certainly, I am willing," assented Boyd; "such 
 a jail, and such a jailor, would mitigate greatly the 
 horrors of any one's captivity." 
 
 All laughed heartily, and the doctor, either by 
 accident or intent, went away, leaving them alone. 
 
 The jailor seemed quite timid at first, but the 
 prisoner soon set her at ease by his cheerful, cour- 
 teous ways and words. Once more she spoke of 
 his loan to her mother, and her consuming desire 
 to pay it, at the earliest possible moment. 
 
 "I have no note or other obligation against you," 
 said Boyd. 
 
 "Very true, and that is just the reason I mention 
 the matter," said she. "I shall give you my note, 
 with interest, dated October 20, 1862, and due and 
 payable, — oh, when shall I say, Captain ?" 
 
 "When this cruel war is over," said he. 
 
 "But that would not be business-like," sug- 
 gested she. 
 
EXCHANGED 85 
 
 "And yet that is the way all your Confederate 
 money is made payable," said he. 
 
 "Well, if that is tiaie," responded she, "none the 
 less, it is not the proper business method." 
 
 "I'll tell you the best way. Miss Long. Just let 
 it remain as a loan and give yourself no trouble 
 about it. If I should die or be killed, before the 
 war ends, I will not need the money. If you 
 should die, you wouldn't need it, either." 
 
 "If that is your wish, Captain, I will leave it so, 
 as I think it harasses you to hear so much about it." 
 
 "Agreed," said he. "Let us talk of something 
 else. When am I going to get away from this 
 place, jailor?" 
 
 "Really, I don't know, prisoner, but I suspect 
 that we shall all be removed soon. I heard Dr. 
 Culp and a medical director from Richmond talk- 
 ing yesterday about some great 'movement,' as 
 they called it, which is to be made soon ; and the 
 director told Dr. Culp to send the sick and 
 wounded to their commands, just as soon, and as 
 fast, as their health and condition would admit." 
 
 "Did they say when, and tO' what point, or place, 
 the movement w^as to be made?" asked Boyd, with 
 the instinct of a soldier. 
 
 "Ah, Captain, you are shrewd, I see; but even 
 if I knew, I would not dare to tell any one, and 
 least of all, to an officer who is opposed to us. But, 
 in truth, Captain, I do not know." 
 
 "Where do you think I will be sent before this 
 movement begfins ?" asked he. 
 
86 THE LAST MAN 
 
 "To Richmond, I suppose, with all the very sick, 
 the badly wounded, and the hospital stores and 
 nurses," she replied. 
 
 "Then you will be there, too, and will not be a 
 part of this movement," suggested he, with anxiety 
 in his face and voice. 
 
 ''I can't say. Captain; we nurses are subject to 
 orders, just as you and your army are." 
 
 "And what are you going to do, Miss Long, 
 when the war is over?" he asked. 
 
 "I do not know, Captain, nor can I imagine." 
 
 "Have you relations to whom you can go ?" 
 
 "None, except an aunt on father's side, but there 
 never seemed to be any love between mother and 
 her, and, of course, she wouldn't care for me." 
 
 "Where does she live?" pursued he. 
 
 "In Richmond. Father died at her home." 
 
 Boyd ruminated for several moments, then, ris- 
 ing, and resting on an elbow, he said, with a 
 tremor in his voice : 
 
 "Miss Long, if there was not a war, in which 
 you and I have espoused opposite sides of the great 
 problem, now in process of solution by the sword, 
 I would venture to speak of a matter. quite differ- 
 ent from war, and far more pleasing to me, at least ; 
 but, as matters stand, to speak of it would compro- 
 mise both of us, since each has solemnly engaged 
 to give his efiforts, and his life, if need be, for the 
 promotion and success of that which he deems to 
 be the right. Think this over, my little jailor, and 
 tell me what you think, will you not?" 
 
EXCHANGED 87 
 
 "But, Captain, what is it you would have me 
 think over?" 
 
 "Ah, Miss Long, — oh, how stiff and formal that 
 ever-recurring 'Miss Long' sounds, — may I not 
 call you Alena, hereafter, when we are alone?" 
 
 "Yes, if it suits you better. 'Miss Long' does 
 sound a little stately and conventional," answered 
 she. 
 
 "Well then, Alena, my dear friend, you surely 
 know, by this time, that I have a preference for 
 you. You must have felt that I entertained a 
 higher regard than exists in mere friendship. At 
 least I know it, and what I want to learn, before I 
 leave, is w'hether it will be worth while for me to 
 cherish the hope that 'in the sweet bye and bye' I 
 may find you and tell you all I feel, and all I hope 
 for. Think it over and tell me to-morrow, Alena, 
 will you?" 
 
 "I'll promise to think it over, Captain," consented 
 she, her face and neck suffused with that tell-tale 
 token of the birth of love in the heart of an inno- 
 cent, pure woman. 
 
 "Ah, here comes Dr. Culp," said Boyd. "Doc- 
 tor, will you not let me try to walk a little ?" 
 
 "No," said the doctor, "but I will do something 
 better for you to-morrow. You couldn't walk yet. 
 And how does your jailor succeed, eh?" asked he, 
 with a broad, genial smile, and a twinkle in his eyes. 
 
 "Perfectly," said Boyd. "The captivity is sweet, 
 rather than galling." 
 
 "I thought it would be so. Do you not feel bet- 
 
88 THE LAST MAN 
 
 ter of that loneliness, Captain?" asked he, with 
 mock gravity. 
 
 "Yes, I confess I do, Doctor." 
 
 Here Miss Long went out. 
 
 "To-morrow," said the doctor, "I will get you 
 up and seat you in that arm chair, and when she 
 comes and sees you, just observe the expression 
 that will be on her face. Captain, I cannot mis- 
 take ; that young woman is in love with you." 
 
 "Bah !" said Boyd, "I have never spoken a word 
 about love to her, and do you think she would lead 
 in such a matter?" 
 
 "No, — not lead, — but her heart is no longer 
 under control of her head, and I know it," said the 
 doctor. 
 
 "How do you know it. Doctor?" 
 
 "By all that transpired before either of you came 
 here, and, still more, by all that I have observed 
 since you came." 
 
 Next day, when she came, there sat Boyd, in a 
 wide chair, dressed, and looking very bright and 
 cheerful. A great joy, which she did not attempt 
 to conceal, lit up her face, and all three smiled elo- 
 quently. Boyd broke the silence : 
 
 "Miss Long, this is a deal better than Galliput, 
 when you had nothing to sit on but a three-legged 
 stool." 
 
 "And how glad I am that it is so," replied she; 
 "but I regret that I cannot do for you what you 
 did for me at Galliput, — set you at liberty." 
 
 "Never mind that," put in Dr. Culp, as he took 
 
EXCHANGED 89 
 
 his -hat and went out; "that will come of itself, and 
 before long." 
 
 "Now, my jailor," said Boyd, "tell me what you 
 think of the subject I broached yesterday." 
 
 Her words seemed to stick in her throat, but she 
 managed to say : 
 
 "I am not sure that I know what you meant, 
 Captain, but I quite agree with you that, until the 
 war ends, we can be and remain good friends only." 
 
 "That is it exactly," said he ; "shake hands on it, 
 my good friend and jailor." 
 
 They joined hands in a prolonged fervent pres- 
 sure, and there was an important compact made, 
 even though it was not "signed, sealed, and deliv- 
 ered in the presence of witnesses." 
 
 Within the next week patients in the hospital 
 diminished rapidly, most of them being sent to 
 their commands, and some to the cemetery. Boyd 
 had become able to walk ; the surgeon and the 
 "jailor" came every day to see him ; and the "friend- 
 ship," as the two called it, became a very different 
 sentiment from that which animated Damon and 
 Pythias. It was, as Dr. Culp saw, and as you, 
 dear reader, see, a case of pure, unselfish, mutual, 
 unspoken love ! 
 
 O Love ! Born in Heaven, but domiciled on 
 earth ever since Eden, and seeking — yea, finding — 
 a lodging place in every honest, upright, human 
 heart ! All such as seek thee are found and con- 
 quered by thee ! These words are addressed to 
 genuine, old-fashioned love, alone. 
 
90 THE LAST MAN 
 
 Out upon that base counterfeit which many call 
 love, but which is mere brute passion, such as the 
 lower orders of animals experience, or that other 
 still more reprehensible thing that prevails in 
 courts, guilds of nobles, classes of aristocrats, and 
 the over-wealthy and exclusive ! Scarcely less 
 wicked and criminal is that custom in many coun- 
 tries of making marriage a mere civil contract, or 
 that other abomination called morganatic marriage. 
 All these are counterfeits, more or less gross, and 
 are the devil's own inventions, to deceive, cheat, 
 and lead to shame, ignominy, and destruction, the 
 sons and daughters of men. The words of Madam 
 Roland, changed in one word are apposite : 
 
 "O, Love, what crimes are committed in thy name!" 
 
 An incident of thrilling interest happened on one 
 of those sultry summer days which set the matter 
 at rest as to Miss Long's state of feeling toward the 
 captain, and was a revelation to all who saw it. A 
 thunder-storm came driving up, with great fury, 
 while she was making her daily visit to him. Sud- 
 denly a blinding flash and a clap of thunder, loud 
 and sharp as the report of a twelve-pound Parrott 
 gun, dazed, and for a moment paralyzed, all in and 
 about the building. A few moments later, smoke 
 and a blaze showed that the house had been struck 
 and set on fire, the whole length of the roof. Worse, 
 still. Captain Boyd was unconscious, and when 
 Dr. Culp and others came, they found the gallant 
 little woman trying with might and main to pull 
 
EXCHANGED 91 
 
 out of the house his couch with the still form upon 
 it. Tears and terror were on her tace, and almost 
 superhuman strength seemed to be exerted by her. 
 Assistance was rendered, and soon all were out of 
 the building. The surgical instruments, their cloth- 
 ing, and a few other articles were saved, while all 
 else and the house was consumed within half an 
 hour. The couch and its burden were carried back 
 to the hospital. The doctor and Miss Long went 
 with those who bore the couch. All were 
 thoroughly drenched by the torrents of rain which, 
 in the captain's case, was the best possible treat- 
 ment for an electric shock. In a few minutes he 
 recovered consciousness, opened his eyes, as if from 
 sleep, and was himself again. For the first time 
 the young woman forgot her reserve, rushed to the 
 couch, hid her face on his breast and burst into 
 glad weeping, while he placed his arms about her 
 in a strong, fond embrace. 
 
 Two days later the hospital was discontinued, 
 and the patients, materials, bag and baggage, were 
 transported to Richmond. Captain Boyd was 
 placed in the convalescent ward of an officer's hos- 
 pital, and Miss Long, through Dr. Gulp's influence, 
 was assigned to duty in that ward. The meetings 
 thus continued, she coming, ostensibly, to write his 
 letters. Soon a cartel for the exchange of prisoners 
 was arranged, and Boyd, being now able to return 
 to his own, was designated as one of the fortunate 
 prisoners. On the morrow the prisoners were to 
 
92 THE LAST MAN 
 
 be sent by steamer to White House Landing, 
 where the exchange would be made. 
 
 "Dr. Gulp," said Boyd, "should the fortunes of 
 war ever throw 3-ou into our hands, send for me, 
 that I may do something for you, to show my ap- 
 preciation of your many kindnesses to me, while 
 a poor wounded, demoralized prisoner in your 
 hands! I can never forget my obligation to you!" 
 
 "Many thanks. Captain," replied the doctor. "I 
 have no wish to enjoy such an experience, and 
 prefer, greatly, that your obligation, as you term 
 it, should remain uncanceled. But, if such a thing 
 as you have hinted at should happen, I may avail 
 myself of your kind ofifer. But pray don't feel 
 oppressed by the weight of your obligation. Cap- 
 tain." 
 
 "By the way, Doctor, do you know w4iere are my 
 sword, belt, and revolver?" asked Boyd. 
 
 "I really do not know% Captain. Who relieved 
 you of them ?" 
 
 "I do not know," replied Boyd. "I was not in 
 condition to observe anything at the time. Do you 
 not have a schedule of articles taken from captured 
 ofificers ?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Dr. Culp, "I will go at once and 
 search." 
 
 Search was made, and the doctor was obliged 
 to say that he had no record of the articles, and did 
 not know anything concerning them. Miss Long 
 became aware of the loss, and was disturbed by it; 
 not on account of the value of the articles, nor be- 
 
EXCHANGED 93 
 
 cause they belonged to Captain Boyd ; but because 
 of the inherent meanness of the theft. She de- 
 clared that they should be found, if she had to 
 search for them all over the Southern Confederacy. 
 
 Next day the expected steamer rounded up at 
 Richmond ; a long double line of Union soldiers 
 and officers marched to the landing, under guard; 
 and a little way off stood Miss Long and a few 
 other women to see the prisoners embark. Bitter, 
 unfeeling remarks were made by some of the wo- 
 men, but not a syllable did she utter. Her heart 
 was too full for words, and her uppermost thought 
 was — "shall we meet again?" With eyes fixed 
 upon Boyd, between whom and herself glances 
 were frequently exchanged, she was painfully aware 
 that the vessel was to receive and bear away the 
 one person in "the wide, wide world," for whom she 
 felt a deathless interest, and the keenest apprehen- 
 sion. Now the steamer hauls in her cables, her 
 wheels revolve, her prow turns down stream, and 
 she is away. Two kerchiefs wave ; one on the 
 steamer, the other on the beach ! 
 
 Miss Long resumed her duties in the hospital. 
 Boyd and his comrades arrived, and were ex- 
 changed, at White House Landing, and twenty- 
 four hours later he was in Washington. Having 
 reported to the proper authorities, he was granted 
 a sixty-day furlough. While in the Capital he ar- 
 rayed himself in a new suit, sword, belt, sash, and 
 revolver; then paid his respects to the President, 
 and that grim but faithful Secretary of War, and 
 
94 THE LAST MAN 
 
 revealed all he had seen and heard relative to a 
 prospective movement by the Confederate Army. 
 The Secretary and his trusted assistants were not 
 well advised, nor apprehensive of the movement, 
 which was even then in progress, until too late to 
 relieve or reinforce the corps of Union troops which 
 occupied Winchester, and which, after waiting for 
 orders or relief until it was surrounded, cut its way 
 out, with a loss of one-third of its force, under the 
 command of that heroic old soldier. General Milroy. 
 Then began the movement to meet the Confeder- 
 ates, resulting in the battle of Gettysburg. 
 
IX. 
 
 PROMOTION. 
 
 It has been said that "the battle of Gettysburg 
 fought itself." Thus much, at least, is thought to 
 be true ; it was fought on ground that neither of 
 the opposing generals had chosen, or would have 
 chosen. There were disadvantages on both sides. 
 When the combat came on, it was, to a great ex- 
 tent, the result of conditions over which neither 
 army had control. Had either general attempted, 
 just before the engagement, to change his position 
 or alignment, such change would have been the 
 signal for attack by the opposing force, with im- 
 minent danger of overwhelming defeat, a disaster 
 whose magnitude and sequences can only be im- 
 agined. Two skilful, powerful pugilists, with fists 
 up, stand face to face, on the alert to seize upon 
 some advantage of position, or some accident, or 
 error of an opponent. Some slight circumstance, 
 unlooked for, draws the first blow, and the fight is 
 on. So was it at Gettysburg. 
 
 Captain Boyd, anxious to see a battle — which 
 one cannot see, if he be a participant — ofifered his 
 services as an aide-de-camp to the commanding 
 ofBcer, General Meade, which were accepted, and 
 a horse, trappings, and field glass were furnished 
 him. From the first shock of battle to the close 
 
96 THE LAST MAN 
 
 of the three days' fighting he devoted his attention 
 to the various movements and counter movements 
 of the two armies, reporting the same to his chief. 
 The doings of those days can never be forgotten, 
 and perhaps never described. Never, at least, until 
 another Victor Hugo is born, to perform the task, 
 with a pen of inspiration such as the elder Hugo 
 wielded in his description of Waterloo. 
 
 On the third day, when that grand charge of 
 General Pickett failed, the Confederate Army did 
 just what it ought to do, because it was all it could 
 do, retreated. The Union Army had done the same 
 thing at Bull Run, Fredericksburg, Chancellors- 
 ville, and the seven days' battles before Richmond. 
 The substantial difference between these engage- 
 ments and Gettysburg was that this was the high- 
 water mark of Confederate hopes, efforts, and 
 valor. Never thereafter did they succeed in push- 
 ing into the North any considerable force with a 
 reasonable prospect of success ; and ever there- 
 after were their hands and heads kept busy with 
 devices and efforts to defend their own section 
 against the constantly increasing and successful 
 attacks and inroads of the Government soldiery. 
 Scarcely had the echoes of the guns at Gettysburg 
 ceased, when tidings of the surrender of Vicksburg 
 came, to further discourage the Confederates, and 
 invigorate the armies of the Union. 
 
 Captain Boyd's furlough having expired, and his 
 health being completely restored, he rejoined the 
 command, then resting near Fredericksburg, Vir- 
 
PROMOTION 97 
 
 ginia. A royal welcome was tendered him by his 
 company. Scarcely had their congratulations 
 ceased, when an orderly rode up and delivered a 
 package to him. On opening it he found within a 
 commission as Major of the regiment, "for gal- 
 lantry at Chancellorsville," so read the document. 
 Soon after, on September 19th and 20th, the fierce 
 battle of Chickamauga, Georgia, was fought, and 
 a strong detachment from the Army of the Poto- 
 mac was sent by rail and river to assist in a grand 
 movement about to be made in that section, and 
 Major Boyd's regiment and brigade formed a part 
 of the detachment. The movement culminated in 
 the celebrated battle above the clouds, at Lookout 
 Mountain, and the raising of the siege at Knox- 
 ville, Tennessee. 
 
 The movement completed, the detachment was 
 transported back to its place in the Army of the 
 Potomac. The colonel of Boyd's regiment was 
 now permanently detached for staff duty with a 
 major-general ; the lieutenant-colonel was made 
 colonel, and Major Boyd w^as advanced to the 
 lieutenant-colonelcy. 
 
 The winter of 1863- 64 was the severest of the 
 war, and but few important steps were made in the 
 field by either of the opposing armies, but, instead, 
 winter quarters were sought, or built, and occupied 
 without murmur or discontent. The Government 
 and the Confederates were not idle, however. Great 
 preparations were made by both for the gigantic 
 struggle that all saw was tO' come, when birds 
 
98 THE LAST MAN 
 
 should sing, and flowers bloom again. The forces 
 on both sides were greatly augmented by enlist- 
 ments and drafts into the Union armies, and con- 
 scriptions and impressments intO' the armies of the 
 Confederates. The plan of the campaign by the 
 Union force was arranged by General Grant, and 
 his next in rank and command. General Sherman. 
 On May ist, 1864, the two great armies of the 
 Potomac, and of Tennessee, left their winter quar- 
 ters, moved forward and struck the enemy in front, 
 and for many weeks not a day passed that did not 
 witness a greater or less engagement. The Union 
 armies pushed the fighting. It was their plain 
 duty, and the only road to ultimate victory. And 
 thus, not until Petersburg and Richmond had been 
 invested and besieged by the Army of the Potomac, 
 and Atlanta, Georgia, had capitulated to General 
 Sherman, was there pause or cessation of hostile 
 demonstrations. 
 
 After the fall of Atlanta, there was projected and 
 set on foot that most wonderful of modern cam- 
 paigns of its kind — "Sherman's march to the sea." 
 Nothing in modern times has approached, much 
 less, surpassed it. It will be recorded in the tomes 
 of history forever, and be assigned a place beside 
 the march of Alexander the Great in India ; of the 
 crossing of the Hellespont by Xerxes, and Napo- 
 leon's passage over the Alps. Reaching the sea, 
 at Savannah, on or about Christmas, 1864, the foot- 
 sore veterans spent a period in rest, renewal of 
 clothing and equipments, and preparations for one 
 
PROMOTION 99 
 
 more, and, as it proved, their last, campaign. This 
 began in February, 1865, by a bold movement 
 northward through the Carolinas. Onward, for- 
 ward, the triumphant body moves, conscious of its 
 power, and confident of the unlimited ability of its 
 peerless leader ! Now it fords a swollen river ; now 
 clambers up and over hills and other impediments ; 
 and now captures a city or town, lying in its path, — 
 harassed, worried, opposed, by its enemy, in front, 
 or flank, or rear, but never, save once, seriously 
 impeded or endangered in its progress, until its 
 formidable opponent, commanded by Confederate 
 General Johnston, was brought to bay and sur- 
 rendered. 
 
 During the campaign of the Army of the Poto- 
 mac from the "Wilderness" to the environs of 
 Richmond and Petersburg, heroic deeds and spec- 
 tacles were of almost daily occurrence ; reconnois- 
 sances in force, flank movements, battles, charges, 
 reprisals, and all the other thrilling, because un- 
 locked for, accidents and incidents of war on the 
 grandest scale. One result of such a campaign 
 was the capture by both armies of prisoners, in 
 squads, companies, and even entire regiments. 
 These were sent away, to be held by the captors 
 until exchanged. After the battles of the "Wilder- 
 ness," Spottsylvania, and Cold Harbor, a body of 
 Confederate prisoners, as large as a full brigade, 
 comprising all ranks of ofificers as well as privates, 
 was to be guarded and marched to White House 
 Landing, there to be shipped to some military 
 
100 THE LAST MAN 
 
 prison in the North; and it fell to Lieutenant-Colo- 
 nel Boyd's regiment to perform this duty, and to 
 deliver the prisoners to the provost guard at that 
 place. The march was made without incident ; but 
 all that long day a stripling in the ranks of prisoners 
 had been closely observing the lieutenant-colonel, 
 whose name he had accidentally heard, and had de- 
 cided to seek an interview, when the march should 
 be ended. After the prisoners had been delivered 
 to the provost guard, and were corraled safely, one 
 of the guards addressed the colonel, saying, that 
 a prisoner within the guard line desired to speak 
 with him. Passing into the enclosure he saw ap- 
 proaching a tall, slim, gaunt youth, who saluted in 
 true soldierly style, and stood at "attention." 
 
 "Is it you that wishes to speak to me?" inquired 
 Colonel Boyd. 
 
 "It is," said the youth. 
 
 "Are you not Colonel Boyd, commanding the 
 regiment that brought us here to-day?" 
 
 "I am," said the colonel ; "what do you wish of 
 me?" 
 
 "I am Bertrand A. Long, of Breckenridge's 
 Division, Jackson's Corps." 
 
 "Did you say 'Bertrand A. Long?'" inquired 
 Boyd. 
 
 "Yes," said he. 
 
 "Where was your home before you enlisted?" 
 
 "At Gramercy, West Virginia," said Long. 
 
 "Is your family still there?" pursued Boyd. 
 
 ^'No," said Long, "they are all gone. Father and 
 
PROMOTION 101 
 
 mother are both dead, brother died in prison at 
 Andersonville, and my sister and I are the only 
 ones left. She is a hospital nurse at Richmond, 
 and here I am." As he concluded his eyes and 
 voice were full of tears. 
 
 "What is your sister's given name?" inquired 
 Boyd. 
 
 "Alena," said the youth. 
 
 "Have you ever been to Gramercy since you en- 
 listed?" asked Boyd. 
 
 "Never, and perhaps I will never see it again. 
 When the war ends, and the South is independent, 
 I will hunt up sister, and we will go to Richmond 
 or W^ashington to live — if we capture Washing- 
 ton." 
 
 "Poor fellow!" said the colonel; "the South will 
 never be independent, as you hope, and your peo- 
 ple will never capture Washington. Look at these 
 comrades of yours. There is a squad of men, none 
 of whom is less than fifty years old, and yonder is 
 a bevy of boys whose average age is not more than 
 fifteen years. Your available forces are now all in 
 the field, while the Government has yet a million 
 of robust men to draw upon. No, young man, the 
 beautiful, but wilful South will have to submit 
 within a year." 
 
 "Well," said the young fellow, "I have been in 
 twenty-three big fights and never got a scratch, 
 and I don't believe the Yankee bullet or shell has 
 ever been molded or cast that will hurt Bertrand 
 Long." 
 
102 THE LAST MAN 
 
 "Stop," said the colonel; "you are too good a 
 soldier, and have seen too much, to talk so. You 
 know that nothing is more uncertain than life in 
 war time. You are safe now, and will be, till next 
 spring, perhaps, when you will be exchanged and 
 rejoin your command, and you and I may be killed 
 in our last battle." 
 
 "That is true," said Long; "I take that back. I 
 am mighty glad, Colonel, that you gave me a 
 chance to speak to you. And if I ever see Sis 
 again, and you ever see her, tell her that Bertrand 
 died in defense of what she and I thought was 
 right. Poor Sister! what will become of her, if I 
 am killed." 
 
 As he ceased from sheer emotion, Boyd said : 
 
 "Well, Bertrand, I must return to my regiment. 
 I hope we shall meet again." 
 
 The men shook hands, and said "farewell," and 
 the colonel turned to depart. He had gone but a 
 few steps, when suddenly, from amid the crowd of 
 prisoners, there sprang at him a wild-eyed man, 
 flourishing aloft a villainous-looking knife, and 
 crying, "Kill the Yankee ! Kill all Yankees !" 
 Quicker than thought young Long darted into 
 space, intercepted the would-be assassin, and dealt 
 him a terrific blow which felled him in an uncon- 
 scious, quivering condition. Guards rushed to the 
 spot, and secured and carried the man to the guard 
 house. Boyd was overcome with gratitude to his 
 preserver. Rushing to young Long, and grasping 
 both hands, he poured forth thanks in unmeasured 
 
PROMOTION 103 
 
 terms, and proffered any and all assistance he 
 might be in condition to render, should they ever 
 meet, after the war should end. He finished by 
 thrusting into Long's hand, as they said "good- 
 bye" again, a wad of brown paper, which the young 
 man secreted in his bosom. The incident, from be- 
 ginning to end, was so unusual and so dramatic 
 that it brought to the spot all the prisoners, and 
 many of the Union soldiers and guards whose duty 
 was at that point. 
 
 In the long captivity that followed, young Long, 
 tiring often of prison fare — though good of its 
 kind — would at times send out and buy other 
 articles of food, with portions of the money which 
 he found rolled up in that wad of brown paper. He 
 was the envy of all his mess, and was often twitted 
 by them with the charge of waning fidelity to the 
 cause of the South. As the spring of 1865 ap- 
 proached, he and his fellow prisoners were trans- 
 ported back to Virginia, were exchanged, and re- 
 joined their comrades in arms, to endure again the 
 hard, sad lot of the common soldier. The Army 
 of the Potomac opened the campaign by a charge 
 all along the enemy's lines from Richmond to 
 Petersburg, because it was now strong enough to 
 do so. The Confederate Army was not strong 
 enough to repel the charge. On April 3d, Rich- 
 mond was evacuated, and soon after their entire 
 line of works was abandoned, and then began the 
 last march, a retreat, which ended in the surrender 
 at Appomattox. The news of the surrender reached 
 
104 THE LAST MAN 
 
 the armies of Sherman and Johnston in North 
 CaroHna, and in a few days Johnston surrendered 
 to Sherman, and the greatest war of modern times 
 was ended. Before the beginning of this last, 
 shortest, and sharpest campaign, Boyd was again 
 promoted — this time to the colonelcy of the regi- 
 ment. 
 
 Now began preparations to muster out, and 
 transport to their homes, these vast armies. An 
 order from General Grant directed General Sher- 
 man to move his army to Washington. A similar 
 order was sent to General Meade, commanding the 
 Army of the Potomac. The armies moved by easy 
 stages, and in the latter part of May reached and 
 camped on Arlington Heights, overlooking the 
 Capital, Vv^hich most of them had never before seen, 
 but in whose defense and protection they had been 
 fighting for four long years. Colonel Boyd gazed 
 upon the city with more than ordinary emotion. It 
 was the seat of Government ; the repository of the 
 archives of his country ; and the place whence ema- 
 nated all laws and edicts for the Government and 
 of a great and once more united and unified nation. 
 Thrice had he seen the Capital in dire danger of 
 capture by those who had once sworn to protect it ; 
 thrice had he seen a beaten, demoralized army 
 driven into the defenses of the city, while, with pain 
 and indignation, he saw on hundreds of faces of 
 residents a gleam of fiendish gratification, over the 
 mishaps and defeats of the army organized and 
 operating for its defense. All that was over, now. 
 
PROMOTION . 105 
 
 and the Capital, the Government, and the Nation 
 were safe. 
 
 A grand parade and review of the two united 
 armies was arranged. Great preparations were 
 made. Flags and decorations were every\vhere. 
 The city put on her gala attire, for her knights 
 were coming. On the western front of the Capitol 
 was displayed an immense placard upon which was 
 printed in letters so large as to be read at the base 
 of Capitol Hill, the sentiment : "Hail and welcome 
 to the Nation's victorious defenders ! There is 
 nothing too good or too great for the Nation to 
 'Grant' them !" 
 
 The review consumed two flill days. Never be- 
 fore was there such a spectacle in the new world, 
 and never again, perhaps, will there be occasion for 
 a similar spectacle. Tliat grand thoroughfare, 
 Pennsylvania Avenue, the scene of so many dis- 
 plays, military and civic, shook beneath the rumble 
 of artillery wheels, the hoofs of cavalry horses, and 
 the "tramp, tramp, tramp" of infantry. Blasts of 
 bugles, notes of bands, and noise of drums fur- 
 nished a fitting accompaniment to such an exhibi- 
 tion. 
 
 Had that powerful aggregation of soldiers taken 
 it into their heads, at this moment, they could have 
 captured the Capital, displaced the President, and 
 established a military government, or a monarclhy. 
 Such things have been done. The act would have 
 been no more heinous than that which they had 
 just suppressed and punished. But, in the same 
 
106 THE LAST MAN 
 
 sublime spirit of patriotism which had led them to 
 forsake home, happiness and business, that the 
 nation's life might be preserved, they now returned 
 to their homes. Not a single outbreak or accident 
 occurred to mar or disgrace this wonderful disinte- 
 gration of a great, victorious, veteran army. 
 
 Just before Colonel Boyd and his regiment took 
 cars for home he did a fitting and graceful little 
 act which caused him to be held in everlasting 
 remembrance by at least one individual. His ser- 
 vant Sam, who had been with him from 1862, and 
 had ever been faithful and trustworthy, was greatly 
 grieved that the relation between them was ended. 
 Presenting himself, he said : 
 
 "And now, Cunnel, what is poor Sam to do? 
 You'se gwine away to your home, and I has no 
 home, no kin, and nuffin to do." 
 
 "How much money have you, Sam?" asked 
 Boyd. 
 
 "Dunno, Cunnel ; you knows. It's all in with 
 yourn. Seems to me its somewhar nigh unto five 
 or six hundred dollars." 
 
 The colonel examined his bank account, and 
 announced the amount of Sam's deposit ; went with 
 him to the bank ; drew out the money, and had him 
 open an account. He called the cashier and tellers, 
 related Sam's history, and requested them to scan 
 him closely, in order to identify him thereafter. 
 Then taking Sam aside, he said : 
 
 "Now, Sam, go out to the lands in the north- 
 west part of the city, not far from the President's 
 
PROMOTION 107 
 
 house, and buy as many acres as you can, and hold 
 it, paying the taxes as they fall due, and wait. The 
 land will become valuable and you will make 
 money." 
 
 Sam did as directed, and, in subsequent years, he 
 disposed of city lots at almost fabulous prices, 
 securing thereby a considerable fortune. 
 
X. 
 
 COGITATIONS. 
 
 When his last duty to the noble men who had 
 served with and under him had been performed, 
 and they had gone, Colonel Boyd hastened home 
 to his anxious mother and sisters. Joy, gladness, 
 and happiness came with him. Veterans on both 
 sides, and their dear ones, will understand this, and 
 no words, spoken or written, could enable the 
 younger generation to appreciate that precious 
 home-coming. Sweet home words, congratula- 
 tions, and kindnesses occupied the time for days. 
 But with these, there arose thoughts as to his 
 future career — whether to return to college and 
 complete a course of study, and adopt a profession, 
 or engage in business of some kind, and settle down 
 as a private citizen. 
 
 But, above all, and dominating all other thoughts, 
 plans, and fancies, was one which, do as he might, 
 would challenge and command his attention : 
 "Where is Miss Long? Shall I seek and find her, 
 that 'we may meet again,' as I said, when last we 
 parted?" And the next question — a corollary to 
 the preceding — followed: 'Tf found, shall I 
 strive to win her, and be united for life, 'for weal 
 or woe ?' " What if she had forgotten him, and 
 had given, or would give, "her hand with her heart 
 
COGITATIONS 109 
 
 in it" to the man of her choice? The thought gave 
 him genuine pain, such as he had never felt before. 
 He began to reaHze that hfe would be a dreary 
 thing without her, and to find her and learn from 
 her lips his fate was the only manly, straightfor- 
 ward course to take ; and, deciding thus, he 
 became impatient to begin the undertaking. 
 
 Before he should act, however, he thought his 
 mother and sisters ought to know something of the 
 matter. They had observed that he was moody 
 and silent at times, and apparently thinking of 
 something which he had not seen fit to divulge ; 
 and they frequently talked of it when alone. But 
 the time came, at dinner, one day, when he said : 
 
 "Mother, what would you think, since the war 
 is over, if the North and South should fall in love 
 and marry?" 
 
 "What a question, son !" replied the mother. 
 
 "What a conundrum !" said the elder sister. 
 
 "What a funny notion !" said the younger. 
 
 "Explain yourself, Alfred," said the mother. 
 
 "Yes, give us something real to guess at," said 
 the elder girl. 
 
 "Give us facts," chimed in the younger. 
 
 The three women now had an inkling as to the 
 cause of those dreamy, moody moments, when the 
 seal of absolute silence had been on his lips. 
 
 "Well, then, to speak plainly," said he, "what 
 would you think if I should seek, and find, a South- 
 ern girl to my taste; and should fall in love with, 
 
110 THE LAST MAN 
 
 court, win, and marry her? There, now, is that 
 expHcit enough?" 
 
 "Who is it?" "Who is she?" asked the sisters. 
 
 "Could you not do as well, Alfred, to find, court, 
 and marry some Northern girl?" ventured the 
 mother. 
 
 "But suppose I have already found the girl — a 
 Southern girl — and that I love her. What then?" 
 queried he. 
 
 "Who is she ?" again asked the sisters. 
 
 "Yes, my son; tell us all about her," said the 
 mother. "I am greatly surprised, though, that as 
 good a Union soldier as you should take a fancy 
 to a Southern, secession girl." 
 
 "As to that, mother, I agree with you that great, 
 irreconcilable differences between the opinions of 
 a man and a woman on politics or religion ought 
 to prevent their marrying. But I have a notion 
 that this little w^oman is not the same now that she 
 was when the war began. And so I think I shall go 
 and hunt her up and learn the truth from her, as to 
 that, and other important matters." 
 
 "O, I see," said the elder sister, "brother is over 
 head and ears in love with her, and if he is, why 
 shouldn't he find out whether she cares for him? 
 That's what I would want a man to do, if he were 
 in love with me." 
 
 "And, brother, if you find that she loves you, 
 will you marry her?" asked the younger. 
 
 "I surely w'ill marry her, if she will marry me," 
 answered the brother. 
 
COGITATIONS HI 
 
 Then followed questions as to Miss Long's fam- 
 ily, social standing, beauty, acquirements, and per- 
 sonal qualities, to all of which he gave full, truthful 
 answers, closing with the statement that, if he had 
 not been the subject of this young woman's devo- 
 tion and care, while he lay helpless at death's door, 
 he would not be with them to tell of it. "And," 
 said he, '\vhen we parted at Richmond, I expressed 
 the wish and hope that we might meet again." 
 
 "And where is she now ?" asked the mother. 
 
 "I know not," replied he; "but I shall go to 
 Richmond and search for her." 
 
 "Well, Alfred," concluded she, "men often make 
 the mistake of a lifetime in marrying the wrong 
 woman, but I hope and pray that you may make no 
 mistake." 
 
 "When are you going, brother?" asked the elder 
 sister. 
 
 "To-morrow, Tuss,' " said he, as he gently 
 pinched one of her ears. 
 
 "And how long is this going to take?" asked the 
 younger. 
 
 "In truth I cannot venture to make a guess, 'Kit- 
 ten,' can you?" 
 
 So next morning, with trunk packed, he set out 
 on this, to him, a new tour of search, and possible 
 discovery. 
 
 "You will write soon and often, Alfred?" inquired 
 the mother. 
 
 "O yes, I'll keep you well advised as to all my 
 
112 THE LAST MAN 
 
 doings. The mails are re-established all over the 
 South." 
 
 Farewells and kisses followed, and he was gone. 
 
 Arriving at Richmond, and registering at a hotel, 
 he began the search without delay. First, he vis- 
 ited all the hospitals yet remaining, but in vain. 
 Next he made inquiries of people who had been in 
 Richmond all through the war, but the only infor- 
 mation gained was that many of the hospital attend- 
 ants had gone with the Confederate Government 
 and Army, when the city was evacuated. Tlien he 
 consulted the city directories, but they were several 
 years old, and useless. He then applied to the 
 police force, but, being new men, they knew nothing 
 of the person inquired for. 
 
 He resorted to the writing and mailing of a note. 
 After two days it was returned, unclaimed. At 
 last, he was obliged to publish a personal in a city 
 paper, couched in terms thus : 
 
 "If Miss Alena Long, formerly connected with 
 the hospital service, will kindly give her address in 
 this newspaper, she will oblige, A Friend." 
 
 Next day the paper published a reply, giving her 
 street address, but nothing more. Within an hour 
 he stood ringing the door-bell of the designated 
 humble house; a sable servant opened the door, 
 and, learning that Miss Long was within, he 
 directed the servant to say that the "Friend" who 
 had received her address was desirous of seeing her. 
 
COGITATIONS 113 
 
 The servant returned, saying that Miss Long would 
 be in very soon. While waiting, Boyd looked about 
 the room, which was scantily furnished. On the 
 walls hung cheap lithographs of President Davis 
 and Generals Lee and Jackson. In a corner stood 
 an army rifle, and over the mantlepiece hung an 
 old-fashioned horse pistol. On the table lay some 
 newspapers, in one of which was his "personal" 
 marked, and in another was her answer. 
 
 Presently there was a rustle of garments, and 
 Miss Long was again face to face with Colonel 
 Boyd. The same bright-eyed, cheery young 
 woman, a trifle older, but all the more womanly. 
 Instead of hospital attire, as when he last saw her, 
 she was robed in a gown of gray stuff — cheap, but 
 neat, and fitting her fine figure like a glove. Who 
 is gifted to portray the emotions of those two, at 
 that moment? How much of fearful import had 
 happened since last they parted ! How often had 
 each imagined and feared that ill had come to the 
 other, of which no tidings had come, or could come, 
 to aching hearts ! As the colonel held out both 
 hands and clasped both of hers, he said : 
 
 "As you asked me to do, Alena, I 'took good 
 care of myself,' and here I am." 
 
 Miss Long, at a loss for words, simply responded, 
 in trembling voice : 
 
 "I am so glad ! Welcome, Captain Boyd ! I 
 was cautious about coming in, for I was not sure 
 who wished to see me." 
 
 As eyes looked into eyes, a volume was spoken 
 
114 THE LAST MAN 
 
 that lips had not yet dared to utter. But there was 
 no "rushing into his arms," nor "swooning on his 
 manly bosom," nor, on his part, were there any 
 ungainly airs, nor advances of doubtful gallantry, 
 such as you, good father, would resent, if shown to 
 your daughter. It was a hearty meeting of old- 
 time friends — nothing more. At least they tried to 
 think it was nothing more. Being seated, at his 
 request, she gave a full, circumstantial account of 
 all that had happened to her, from the summer of 
 1863, closing with the evacuation and burning of 
 the city. 
 
 "Since then," said she, "Auntie and I have been 
 in this poor little house, as her house was burned 
 with the rest. That is all, and now, tell me of your- 
 self. Captain, or whatever you may be." 
 
 Boyd related, as succinctly as possible, the events 
 of his career, and closed by saying that he had just 
 come from home and his mother and sisters. 
 
 "And were you still a captain when the war 
 ended?" asked she, hesitatingly. 
 
 "No, I had the honor," said he, "to be advanced 
 from rank to rank, until I became a colonel." 
 
 "Just as I expected," said she, with animation. 
 "I always felt that you would do your duty, as it 
 seemed to you, even though it would be the worse 
 for our cause. Allow me to congratulate Colonel 
 Boyd." 
 
 "Thank you, Alena. And as you have men- 
 tioned your 'cause,' how do you regard it now?" 
 
 "O, it is a lost cause, and must remain lost for- 
 
COGITATIONS 115 
 
 ever," said she. "We took it up honestly, and earn- 
 estly, and for it we risked all, life included. But 
 as the fates so ordained that we failed, I surrender, 
 and accept the result as fixed and final." 
 
 "And do you propose to be loyal from this time 
 forth?" asked he, smiling. 
 
 "Yes, henceforth and forever," said she, smiling 
 at him. 
 
 "Heaven be praised for that. Alena," said he. 
 
 "Yes, the war has settled all," said she, "and 
 what is the use of talking about it, and stirring 
 one's self up about it?" 
 
 "And will the South, especially the women, ac- 
 cept the result, as you do, and hereafter show love 
 and loyalty for the Union as they did for the Con- 
 federacy?" queried he. 
 
 "I cannot say," replied she ; "but I am sure they 
 ought to do so, as they and their fathers, brothers, 
 husbands, and sons will be obliged to live within 
 the Union, obey the laws, and, if necessary, help to 
 defend it against all foreign foes." 
 
 "Hurrah!" said Boyd; "you are as sound and 
 patriotic a woman as I am a man, Alena. I wish 
 all of you were as sensible and patriotic." 
 
 "Thank you. Colonel. I am, first of all an 
 American, with a capital 'A,' and believe in my 
 native country as against the world !" 
 
 As she spoke these words her eyes glowed with 
 enthusiasm, and her curls shook with emotion. 
 
 "Hurrah ! again," said Boyd. "I aver that your 
 loyalty is above suspicion, and will defend it against 
 
116 THE LAST MAN 
 
 all comers. So that is settled. Now may I change 
 the subject?" 
 
 "O yes, as you please." 
 
 "Have you any prospects or plans for the 
 future?" 
 
 "None whatever," said she. "Aunt is financially 
 ruined, and all I have is about five hundred dollars 
 of Confederate money, which is worthless, and we 
 have no income from any source, nor any business 
 in prospect, unless it might be a lunch-room or a 
 boarding-house." 
 
 "Will you introduce me to your aunt? I want 
 to become acquainted." 
 
 "With pleasure," said she ; "but would it do as 
 well to wait till to-morrow? Aunt, poor dear, 
 would, I know, like a little time to prepare for such 
 a meeting. She has never seen a full-fledged, good- 
 humored, live Yankee colonel, and I want to pre- 
 pare her for the trying ordeal." 
 
 Laughing, he said, "Very well." 
 
 "And I may say that you are a real colonel, may 
 I not," quizzed she. 
 
 "Certainly, Alena. But why do you lay such 
 stress on the word 'real ?' " 
 
 "Excuse me for what you may have been think- 
 ing was a doubt in my mind as to your true rank. 
 Down here we have two kinds of colonels — the 
 real ones, who won their spurs in war, and the other 
 kind, who were invisible in war, but are now invin- 
 cible in peace, particularly after the imbibation of 
 the conventional mint julep," 
 
COGITATIONS. 117 
 
 Boyd laughed heartily. 
 
 "At what hour to-morrow shall I come?" 
 
 "Would three o'clock suit you?" 
 
 "Yes, I'll be here at that hour." He extended his 
 hand. 
 
 "Wait a moment, Colonel," said she. Retiring 
 abruptl>-, she came again with a long, tightly 
 wrapped bundle in her hands, which she extended 
 to him. 
 
 ''What is this?" he asked. 
 
 "The sword, belt, and revolver," said she. 
 
 "And you found and kept them, all this time?" 
 queried he, 
 
 "Found them ?" repeated she ; "yes, I never ceased 
 to search and inquire till I found them. And no 
 one but you, or your folks, should ever have had 
 them from me." 
 
 "You're a phenomenon, Alena," said he. 
 
 "What is that?" asked she, curiously. 
 
 "Beg pardon ; you're a jewel," he replied. 
 
 "And what is that?" asked she, roguishly. 
 
 "Excuse me at present. I may tell you at another 
 time," he answered. "But how can I repay you?" 
 
 "I am already repaid." 
 
 "Then how can I reward you?" 
 
 "I am already rewarded." 
 
 "How?" asked he. 
 
 "By seeing the lost articles in the owner's hands." 
 
 "Then what can I do for you ?" he continued. 
 
 "Do nothing." 
 
 "Well, Alena, you are an enigma!" 
 
118 THE LAST MAN 
 
 "And what is that, Colonel?" she asked, her eyes 
 sparkling with fun. 
 
 "An enigma is — is — well, I'll take time to think 
 till to-morrow." 
 
 "Till to-morrow be it, then," she echoed. "Good- 
 bye !" 
 
 "Good-bye !" 
 
 Returning to the hotel, the colonel inspected the 
 revolver, the belt, and, last of all, the sword. As 
 he drew it from the scabbard, he saw attached to 
 the hilt a folded paper. Releasing and unfolding 
 it, he' read: 
 
 "Nov. 3, 1863. — This sword, belt, and revolver 
 belong to Captain Alfred Boyd, of the — th Ohio 
 Infantry, who fell, wounded, and was captured at 
 Chancellorsville, May 5, 1863. He was treated in 
 one of our hospitals for several weeks, and when 
 released, and exchanged, these articles could not 
 be found. x\fter his departure I searched for and 
 found them. If the fortunes of war result in his 
 death, or mine, I charge the reader of this to adver- 
 tise the property, so that his mother and sisters 
 may recover them. Our cause needs not to be 
 aided by wronging a noble, brave man, and a true 
 gentleman, as I know Captain Boyd tO' be, even 
 though he is a Yankee and an enemy. 
 
 Miss Alena Long, 
 Hospital Nurse, Riclimond, Va." 
 
 What a volume in these few words. What food 
 for thought. And he thought. The bells rang out 
 the midnight hour ere he ceased to pace up and 
 down the narrow confines of his apartment. 
 
XL 
 
 THE TROTH-PLIGHT. 
 
 Awaking late the next morning-, the first subject 
 that engaged Boyd's thoughts were the events of 
 the previous day, and his musings were very hap- 
 pifying. But, before all other business, he must 
 write, as he had promised, to the home folks. The 
 missive ran thus : 
 
 "Richmond, Va., Sept. lo, 1865. 
 
 Dear Mother and Sisters : — I have found her ! 
 
 Dutifully yours, Alfred." 
 
 There was music in his soul, such as he had 
 never heard before. There was sweet content, of 
 such delicious quality and flavor as he had never 
 even dreamed of. 
 
 There was an extension of his mental horizon, 
 such as all other events in his life had not produced. 
 He now knew, as never before, that he had loved 
 Miss Long from the beginning; loved her for her- 
 self alone; that his love was augmented by his 
 kindness to her; and that it was intensified by her 
 devotion to him, in past, eventful years. And 
 she — she must have loved him, or, at least, have 
 felt a sentiment warmer than friendship for him, 
 to do, and sufifer, and wait, as she had done, for 
 
120 THE LAST MAN 
 
 his coming. How should he learn whether she 
 loved him? What if she loved another man? Or 
 what if she were receiving the devoted attentions 
 of another man? 
 
 Should he now make the venture, tell her of his 
 love, and ask her for her love in return? Ah, he 
 must know, and end this torturing suspense. He 
 had never taken part in a love-making, and knew 
 nothing as to the process. Should he enter upon 
 the matter, at the meeting this afternoon? Yes, 
 he would, if conditions were favorable, but he 
 would be controlled by circumstances. He was to 
 meet Miss Long's aunt, who might prove to be an 
 important factor in the problem, by reason of her 
 habits, feelings, wishes, and her influence, withal, 
 over the young woman. He would, in military 
 parlance, reconnoitre before making an advance. 
 
 At the appointed hour, he rang and was admitted 
 to the house, which now looked more beautiful 
 than on his previous visit. Miss Long received 
 him cordially, it is true, but with a certain degree 
 of reserve, which he jotted down mentally as an 
 unfavorable condition. "Excuse me for a mo- 
 ment, Colonel, and I will bring aunt." She re- 
 turned with a lady of middle age, on whose face 
 were tracings of trouble, mental suffering, and dis- 
 appointment, combined with a nameless something 
 in her manner and pose which betokened better 
 days, long since past. 
 
 "Aunt," said Alena, "this is Colonel Boyd, of 
 whom I have spoken to you. He is in the city, and 
 
THE TROTH-PLIGHT 121 
 
 has done us the honor of calling. Colonel Boyd, 
 this is my aunt, Mrs. Milgrove, with whom I am 
 now living."' 
 
 "What an introduction!" thought Boyd. "Po- 
 lite and almost frigid ! Not a favorable condition." 
 
 The two bowed and spoke the words of courtesy. 
 The lady's mien, words, and tones of voice showed 
 her to be a woman of culture, and of high former 
 distinction, and he conceived a very favorable re- 
 gard for her. And the open, frank, manly manner 
 of the man showed to the experienced eye and 
 judgment of Mrs. Milgrove, that he was of superior 
 parts, and a gentleman. The expression of their 
 eyes, not less than their words, told of mutual re- 
 spect from that moment. The conversation that 
 ensued revealed the following facts : That she was 
 a sister of Miss Long's father; that she had been 
 educated at a woman's college in New York ; that 
 she had married Mr. Milgrove, a lawyer, planter, 
 and influential citizen of Virginia ; that he had 
 amassed a considerable sum of money, owned large 
 tracts of land, cultivated by more than a hundred 
 slaves, and producing a large income ; and that he 
 had resided in Richmond, in a beautiful house, on a 
 fashionable avenue. Further, that the war had 
 swept away his money, ruined his farms, and freed 
 his slaves — all were gone. And last, and saddest 
 of all, Mr. Milgrove had died on the battle-field 
 and her brother, Miss Long's father, had died at 
 their house, in the winter of 1861- 62. 
 
 What wonder that this lone woman's face bore 
 
122 THE LAST MAN 
 
 indelible traces of grief and settled sadness? What 
 wonder that her tears fell, and sobs punctuated her 
 eloquent but plaintive utterances? As she closed 
 the recital, Miss Long- said, soothingly : 
 
 "Auntie, dear, it is all over, now, and we should 
 try to forget, or endure our troubles and losses, as 
 best we may ; knowing, as we do, that nothing can 
 be reversed or remedied." 
 
 "Very true, Alena," said she; "I have often 
 prayed, and the prayer has been answered, that I 
 might have strength and grace to endure to the 
 end. Life, after all, is grief, but what follows is 
 everlasting." 
 
 Said Boyd : "I have heard that troubles form 
 the greater part of man's lot, and, if so, I suppose 
 the best thing one can do is to endure them, get all 
 the good one can out of them, and so live, that 
 when one goes to his last account he may be found 
 worthy to enter into that future of happiness which 
 is free from all trouble." 
 
 "That is truth itself, Colonel," responded Mrs. 
 Milgrove, "but the troubles incident to the war, 
 the blows we received, as well as those we gave you 
 Northerners, were so unlooked for, so unlike any- 
 thing else we had ever been obliged to meet, that it 
 is hard to become reconciled to them." 
 
 "Very true," said Boyd, "war is cruel, — always 
 cruel, and should in my opinion never be invoked 
 between civilized nations, until every other means 
 of adjusting differences shall have been exhausted, 
 
i^HE TROTH-PLIGHT 123 
 
 and then only when a great principle is the point 
 at issue between the antagonizing forces." 
 
 "Yes," assented Mrs. Milgrove, "war often costs 
 many times more than the value of the matter in 
 dispute. We have apparently lost all but our lands 
 and our honor. Thank Heaven, these are yet ours ! 
 By the way, Colonel, I have been made extremely 
 sad by the death of President Lincoln, for I had 
 come to believe, with many of our people, that he, 
 like that glorious General Grant of yours, would 
 have been a sympathizing friend to us poor people. 
 But, Colonel, this is poor entertainment for you, 
 and as you two friends would like to talk of 'Auld 
 larig syne,' perhaps, I will retire. Call again, when- 
 ever you wish, while you remain in the city." She 
 had risen. "Stay a moment, please, Mrs. Mil- 
 grove," said Boyd, his face all ablaze, "we may talk 
 of 'Auld lang syne,' but I wish to ask your per- 
 mission to talk with Miss Long about her and my 
 future, if, with your permission, she is willing." 
 
 Miss Long's face was now ablaze. 
 
 "Most certainly you have my permission. The 
 young lady is her own mistress, yet she seems to 
 rely, in some matters, upon my 'superior judg- 
 ment,' as she is pleased to term it. Good after- 
 noon !" 
 
 And with stately, but easy courtesy, she retired. 
 
 Said Boyd : "I admire your aunt greatly." 
 
 "Do you?" echoed Alena. "Then I am greatly 
 pleased." 
 
 "But perhaps my admiration for her is but the 
 
124 THE LAST MAN 
 
 reflex of a sentiment I entertain for her niece, eh ?" 
 said he. 
 
 "Now, Colonel, please don't dissipate my pleas- 
 ure by saying that your opinion of aunt is due to 
 anything else than her own dear self." 
 
 "Then at your suggestion I will leave her out 
 entirely at present, and will speak my opinion of 
 you, alone, Alena. May I ?" 
 
 Miss Long's tell-tale face betrayed two facts — 
 consciousness that a crisis in their affairs had 
 arisen, and a true woman's pleasure, poorly con- 
 cealed, that it had arisen. Hesitating for a mo- 
 ment, with eyes downcast, and flushed face, while 
 he, standing, gazed upon her, earnestly and anx- 
 iously, she said : 
 
 "Colonel Boyd, I cannot decline to hear you. 
 How could I decline, after all that has happened ?" 
 
 The man moved to her side, seated himself, and 
 for the first time grasped one of her hands, and, 
 when all was ready, — found his words sticking in 
 his throat and refusing to be spoken ! At last he 
 made out to say : 
 
 "Miss Long, — Alena, I mean, — you must have 
 seen, if you did not feel, that I have had a prefer- 
 ence for you above all other women. Have you 
 not?" 
 
 "I don't know. Colonel ; I have known that you 
 were my friend," said she, "but as to your prefer- 
 ence, I have never seen you in company with other 
 ladies. How do I know?" 
 
 "I mean to say," urged Boyd, "that I have never 
 
THE TROTH-PLIGHT 125 
 
 had a preference for any woman but you, Alena. 
 But that is not the half of it. May I tell you the 
 other half? Then you will know all." 
 
 "Certainly, Colonel, if it will give you pleasure," 
 answered she. 
 
 "I never 'made love,' as they call it, to any wo- 
 man but my mother, Alena !" he blurted out. 
 
 "Good boy that you were," said she. 
 
 "And I don't know how to make love to any 
 other woman, in any set speech or phrase, or by 
 any rule of polite society." 
 
 "Are rules for love-making good rules?" she 
 quizzed, naively. 
 
 "I don't think they are," said the novice. "At 
 least they wouldn't be of any use in my case, for I 
 wouldn't have time to memorize and practice upon 
 them." 
 
 "Nature surpasses art many times, does she 
 not?" suggested the lady. 
 
 "Certainly she does, Alena, and so I shall follow 
 nature. Alena, little woman, I say with all this 
 heart and soul, I love you, and you only! There ! 
 that is the other half!" 
 
 "O, Colonel Boyd!" said she, as she made an 
 attempt to rise, "isn't this— sudden? Haven't 
 you mistaken our friendship for love?" 
 
 "No, no!" said he, impulsively. "I know what 
 friendship is — know it well — but this — this is — a 
 great emotion or passion, unlike anything I have 
 ever felt before, or ever felt for any one but you, 
 Alena. So powerful is it that I couldn't control it 
 
126 THE LAST MAN 
 
 if I would, and so sweet and intoxicating is it that 
 I wouldn't control it if I could ! Ah, Alena, I 
 know I love you, and you only !" 
 
 He clasped her hand more closely, and bent for- 
 ward to look into her downcast face to read 
 therein, if it were there, a response to his love. 
 Silence, almost painful, prevailed for several mo- 
 ments, and then he ventured to ask, with a true 
 lover's timidity and anxiety — 
 
 "And what are your feelings for me, Alena?" 
 
 "You know how I feel. Colonel," she said. 
 
 "How do I know, Alena?" 
 
 "It is hard for me to tell you," she replied. 
 
 "Why?" pursued he. 
 
 "Because it might seem unwomanly for me to 
 tell," she answered. 
 
 "What ! Unwomanly for you, Alena, to tell me 
 whether you love, or can love me? In my way of 
 thinking, it is impossible for you to say or do an 
 unwomanly thing ! I swear it upon my sword ! 
 O, do tell me the truth, Alena!" 
 
 "Must I?" she asked, trembling. 
 
 "O, no, Alena, I don't say 'must,' but do, pray, 
 tell me, now and here and bless me, or send me 
 away forever !" 
 
 "O, Colonel," replied she, "I must be true and 
 frank with you, I see, and I may just as well tell 
 you, once and for all, I do love you as I never 
 loved any man in the world !" 
 
 "And will you be mine?" quickly came his pas- 
 
THE TROTH-PLIGHT 127 
 
 sionate inquiry, full of joy and hope, as his arm 
 softly stole about her waist. 
 
 The woman's head dropped lower and lower; he 
 drew her to him, till her face and curls rested 
 against his manly bosom ; and thus entreated, half 
 opening her eyes, moist with the dew of a maiden's 
 first and only love, she whispered : 
 
 "Yes, I am thine !" 
 
 Now it was all told ! Her whole soul was in 
 that brief sentence ; and if true marriages are re- 
 corded in heaven, as they say, the recording angel 
 made an entry at that sweet, soulful moment ! 
 Boyd's face bent to hers, and a kiss, — the first he 
 had ever given a woman not a relative, and the 
 first Alena had ever received from a young man, — 
 sealed the solemn compact ! For many minutes 
 they sat thus, unconscious of the flight of time — 
 what was time to them ? — until long slanting shad- 
 ows showed that the sun was near his setting. 
 Then he broke the silence : 
 
 "I should go, for this time, dear, but before go- 
 ing, I think we ought to tell aunt of this, — this, — 
 business. Don't you think so ?" 
 
 "O, yes," said Alena, "I hope it will make her 
 happy, too ! I'll go and bring her." 
 
 When the two returned, Boyd walked briskly to 
 them, and softly passing an arm about Alena's 
 waist, and taking a hand in one of his, he said : 
 
 "Aunt Milgrove, — hoping I may have the pleas- 
 ure of addressing you by that title from this time 
 
128 THE LAST MAN 
 
 forth — I have to tell you that Miss Long and I are 
 in love !" 
 
 "Ah!" said Mrs. Milgrove, "I felt sure of that 
 before I ever saw you." 
 
 "How so ?" asked he. 
 
 "By what I had heard," said she, glancing at 
 Alena. 
 
 "And we are plighted," said he. "What do you 
 think of that?" 
 
 "I foresaw that, too," said she. 
 
 "May I ask how you foresaw it. Aunt?" 
 
 "I knew the young lady loved you, though she 
 never told me so, and, from all I had heard about 
 you, I felt sure that you loved her, though you 
 had never told her so, and that you were not the 
 man to trifle with a woman's love, if she did not 
 trifle with you. Alena would not — could not — 
 trifle with the love of a gentleman, and this is her 
 first love affair. So, putting all these things to- 
 gether, I foresaw the result. It is natural, and is 
 one of the blessed phases of life that is never re- 
 gretted, come what may !" 
 
 "Then you approve of what we have done. 
 Aunt?" asked he. 
 
 "With all my heart, do I approve it ! Blessings 
 on you, my niece and nephew!" 
 
 "Thank you. Aunt," said they, together, as each 
 in turn implanted a dutiful kiss on Mrs. Milgrove's 
 now radiant cheek. 
 
 "To-morrow," said Boyd, "we'll talk of matters 
 looking to our marriage. And I want to speak of 
 
THE TROTH-PLIGHT 129 
 
 Bertrand, too, Alena. But wait till to-morrow; 
 I am too happy to think of anything else to-day. 
 Good-night, Aunt ! And now, my idol, a parting 
 kiss ! Are you happy, dear?" 
 
 "Too happy to find words to tell it !" said Alena. 
 
 The colonel strode forth from that humble 
 dwelling a happier, prouder man by far than when 
 he had captured a redoubt, or won a battle at the 
 head of his regiment. At one time he had been a 
 conqueror, at another time a captive, but now he 
 was both conqueror and captive. True love's vic- 
 tories ever have been, and ever will be, more won- 
 derful than the victories of war. Before he slept 
 that night he wrote and posted the following: 
 
 "Richmond, Va., Sept. ii, 1865. 
 Dear Mother and Sisters : — I told her I loved 
 her ! She loves me, for she told me so ! We are 
 betrothed ! Lovingly, Alfred." 
 
XII. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE. 
 
 "Who comes oftener than I ?" said Boyd, in his 
 breezy way, as he was received by Alena, the next 
 afternoon. "Another example of the force of 
 habit," he added, as he took a seat. 
 
 "Yes," said she, "and how quickly habits are 
 formed !" 
 
 "As in the present case," added he. "Now, dear, 
 let us talk business for a little. We must settle 
 several things, and the first and all-important one 
 is when we shall be married." 
 
 "Are you in a hurry, Colonel?" asked she, quiz- 
 zingly. 
 
 "Now, Alena, dear, will it suit you just as well 
 to leave off my military title when we are alone, 
 and just call me Alfred ? There's a good girl. Of 
 course, when in company you can give me my 
 title, or simply call me 'Mr. Boyd,' as you choose." 
 
 "Agreed," said Alena. "I'll do so, and it seems 
 better. I know I felt relieved when you ceased 
 calling me 'Miss Long,' and simply said 'Alena.' " 
 
 "Well, that's settled," said he. "Do you know 
 anything of Bertrand, Alena?" 
 
 "No, dear," said she; "we have never heard 
 of him, or from him, since the fall of 1862. What 
 do you know about him, Alfred?" 
 
THE MARRIAGE 131 
 
 "Nothing, since June, 1864. He was our pris- 
 oner then, and he saved my life." 
 
 "Do tell me, Alfred ; you never mentioned this 
 before !" 
 
 Boyd gave a full account of the incident, of Ber- 
 trand's heroic act, and of the last farewell spoken 
 by them. 
 
 "Possibly he was in the surrender at Appomat- 
 tox. I will advertise for him. So that is settled 
 for the present." 
 
 "Now another thing, Alena; what is your aunt 
 to do when you leave her and go with me ?" 
 
 "Really, I had not thought of that, xA-lfred. Sup- 
 pose we talk over the matter with her." 
 
 "Yes, that is the proper thing," said he. 
 
 Alena brought Mrs. Milgrove in. She was look- 
 ing very happy, because they seemed supremely 
 happy. 
 
 "Aunt," began Boyd, "Alena and I are to be 
 married ere long, as I hope, and I would like to 
 have you tell me how I can serve you, so that 
 when we leave you may get along comfortably, if 
 possible." 
 
 At this suggestion, Mrs. Milgrove repeated what 
 she had before stated, that, of the three farms 
 owned by Mr. Milgrove, one was somewhere in 
 Alabama in the cotton belt, and the other two lay 
 west of Richmond. She knew nothing of the first, 
 except its location, but the two Virginia farms 
 were ruined ; the buildings and fences all gone, and 
 the entire surface covered with a dense growth of 
 
132 THE LAST MAN 
 
 young pines, so that the land was quite valueless. 
 She could not undertake to restore the farms to a 
 cultivable, paying condition, and, for the reasons 
 mentioned, and the dearth of money among the 
 people, the possibility of selling them was remote, 
 to say the least. 
 
 Boyd suggested that the Virginia farms might 
 be leased for a term of years, which would bring 
 her an income, and improve and enhance the value 
 of the land. 
 
 "But how would I go about it. Colonel?" asked 
 she. "I have no knowledge of business, and would 
 make sorry work of it if I should go down to the 
 farms and try to lease them." 
 
 "I am not surprised at that. Aunt," said Boyd. 
 "But I am advised that a number of Northern men 
 have come to this and other points, seeking 
 to make investments of various kinds, including 
 farms. If such men can be found, they would take 
 a lease on the farms, put them in first-class condi- 
 tion, and soon enjoy a revenue from them. Now, 
 Aunt, if you feel like doing so, you can give me a 
 power of attorney to transact this business for you, 
 and I will go to work at once." 
 
 The power of attorney was given next day, and, 
 to cut the account short, within a fortnight the 
 farms were leased, for five years from January i, 
 1866, at a good annual rental, payable quarterly in 
 advance. 
 
 As the lessees left the house, Alena said : 
 
 "Auntie, you can always trust a Yankee to make 
 
THE MARRIAGE 133 
 
 a good bargain, if nothing else, and in the shortest 
 possible time, too !" 
 
 "Do you allude to me, young woman?" asked 
 Boyd. "Quite complimentary, my dear, but I 
 rather think I deserve it, for I know I made a 
 good bargain some days ago, and in a short time, 
 too, by the clock, but it seemed like an age to me, 
 measured by my feelings !" 
 
 All laughed, but Alena retorted : "O, you rogue, 
 I didn't mean that, I meant the farms." 
 
 During the period just passed there appeared 
 in a daily paper the following personal : 
 
 "If any person can give information as to the 
 whereabouts of Bertrand Long, late of the Confed- 
 erate States Army, he will confer a great favor, and 
 will receive the heartfelt thanks of the young man's 
 sorrowing sister. Address, 'Sister,' this office." 
 
 But no response ever came, and the sad conclu- 
 sion that Bertrand was dead forced itself upon 
 Alena's mind, and that he had probably been killed 
 in the closing battles of the war. 
 
 The old adage, "The course of true love never 
 runs smooth," was not exemplified in Colonel 
 Boyd's case, unless the little episode now to be 
 described may be accepted as a little ripple, or 
 whirlpool, in the current of his love. 
 
 One morning a note addressed to Miss Long 
 was brought to her by a colored boy, which ran 
 thus : 
 
134 THE LAST MAN 
 
 "Richmond, Sept. lo, 1865. 
 Miss Long : — I saw you at a hospital, after the 
 battle of Chancellorsville, while I was a patient 
 there, and noticed, with feelings of envy, that a 
 certain Yankee officer, who was wounded and a 
 prisoner there, required and received much of your 
 attention and kind offices. His name is Colonel 
 Boyd, and I understand he is now in the city, and 
 is paying his addresses to you. I have this to pro- 
 pose, that, if his attentions are not agreeable, you 
 will let me know, and you shall not be further an- 
 noyed. Southern ladies have ever been disposed 
 to indicate a preference for Southern gentlemen, 
 and I trust that you. Miss Long, are not an excep- 
 tion. Hoping to have the honor of receiving a 
 reply by the bearer, I remain, 
 Yours loyally, 
 
 Col. J. Ardmore Paden." 
 
 Alena directed the boy to wait outside, closed 
 the door, called her aunt, and, after a few moments 
 of colloquy between them, returned the note to the 
 messenger without reply. This was carefully kept 
 from Boyd. 
 
 The next day Colonel Boyd received a note from 
 the same source, and of the same tenor, closing 
 with the announcement that he, Colonel Paden, had 
 conceived a consuming passion for Miss Long, and 
 intended, with her consent, to solicit her hand and 
 heart, and if she should favor his suit, he desired 
 to serve notice on Colonel Boyd that any further 
 
THE MARRIAGE 135 
 
 attentions to the lady would not be permitted nor 
 tolerated, and ending with : 
 
 "Colonel Boyd is a soldier, as I am, and will 
 comprehend the full import of this note. 
 Very respectfully, 
 
 Col. J. Ardmore Paden." 
 
 Boyd returned the following answer : 
 
 "September ii, 1865. 
 Sir: — Your note of this morning received and 
 considered. I appreciate your preference for Miss 
 Long, and consider it an evidence of superior 
 taste. But I cannot agree that you should have the 
 exclusive privilege of addressing the lady, unless 
 she has given notice to you or me, or, in some 
 way, indicated that she prefers you to me, in which 
 case I should willingly and cheerfully desist from 
 any further attentions. Will not Colonel Paden 
 agree with me that such would be the proper and 
 amicable way of settling the matter? And, if the 
 lady will intimate, or has intimated, her preference, 
 as between us, will Colonel Paden abide her de- 
 cision, as will Yours, very respectfully. 
 
 Col. Alfred Boyd." 
 
 Next day witnessed a coming together of the 
 two men, when Boyd made a frank averment, on 
 the honor of a soldier, that Miss Long and he were 
 afifianced. Colonel Paden accepted the statement, 
 grew friendly, and finished by congratulating 
 Boyd. And thus by the exercise of good taste and 
 
136 THE LAST MAN 
 
 common sense, a matter of moment to both men 
 was satisfactorily and cordially settled, which, un- 
 der less prudent counsel and management, might 
 have degenerated into a resort to the code duello. 
 
 But now that all other matters are disposed of, 
 comes up the first, last, most important of all — 
 their marriage, and the time, place and circum- 
 stances under which it shall occur. After much 
 conversation it is definitely settled that they will 
 marry about October ist, at either Washington 
 or Alexandria, and without pomp or circumstance, 
 and that as soon thereafter as convenient the bride 
 and groom will go by railway to his home, while 
 Mrs. Milgrove will return to her home in Rich- 
 mond. 
 
 To all the arrangements, except going to Wash- 
 ington, the aunt consented, and at length her ob- 
 jections being overcome by the two youthful en- 
 thusiasts, she consented to that arrangement also. 
 
 One morning Boyd packed his trunk, kissed 
 Alena and the aunt, and was off for Washington. 
 Within three days, by arrangement, Alena, Mrs. 
 Milgrove and her servant joined him, and were 
 quartered in a suite of delightful rooms in a first- 
 class private boarding house, while Boyd remained 
 at his hotel. He wrote home thus : 
 
 "Washington, D. C, Sept. 20, 1865. 
 Dear Home Folks : — We are to be married soon. 
 Will write you when the day is fixed. 
 
 Lovingly, Alfred." 
 
THE MARRIAGE 137 
 
 To say that the two ladies were busy for the 
 next ten days would be stating it mildly, too 
 mildly. Of all occupations and amusements of the 
 fair sex, none is so interesting as the preparations 
 for a marriage, except the marriage itself. Shop- 
 ping, gowns, wraps, bonnets, hats, footgear, lin- 
 gerie, lotions, powders, trunks, satchels, bags, and 
 a hundred other things give them ceaseless and 
 tiresome but delightful labor, never complete till 
 the tired, trembling girl is a bride. Rightly, too, 
 for the greatest, and, as it should be, the happiest 
 event in a woman's life is honorable, irrevocable 
 marriage. The candidate and her young lady 
 friends feel this, her married lady friends know it. 
 Besides, there is a glamour about the marriage 
 altar and the marriage vow that pertains to no 
 other institution or ceremony. 
 
 During the era of preparation, the day, the hour 
 and the place for the marriage had been fixed. 
 October loth, at high noon, in that ancient chapel, 
 Christ Church, in Alexandria, Virginia, where the 
 Father of his Country formerly sat, and knelt, and 
 worshiped ! The day arrived, as such days do, 
 and the three, together with Mrs. Milgrove's ser- 
 vant, and Tom, the colonel's old-time servant, went 
 by boat to Alexandria. It may be said in passing 
 that the two servants enjoyed the scene so well 
 that in a few weeks after they too were wedded. 
 Standing at the altar, as were Boyd and Miss 
 Long, when the rector, robed and dignified, asked : 
 "Who giveth this woman away?" no one replied. 
 
138 THE LAST MAN 
 
 "Is there no one here to perform this office?" 
 asked he. 
 
 Aunt Milgrove replied : "The woman has no 
 male relative, here or elsewhere, so far as is known, 
 to do this office." 
 
 "It matters not," said the rector. "The first wo- 
 man that the Lord made had no one 'to give her 
 away,' so she gave herself away, and thus must this 
 her daughter do." Then came the words, "With 
 this ring I thee wed," and then, "What God hath 
 joined together, let no man put asunder." 
 
 It was done, and "they twain were made one 
 flesh." 
 
 After congratulations, the rector, who had laid 
 aside his robes, asked Boyd what induced him to 
 come from Washington to be married there. Boyd 
 replied : 
 
 "In this church the Father of our Country wor- 
 shiped. It seemed to me, and to my wife, and to 
 aunt, a beautiful as well as a grateful, sacred thing 
 to celebrate our nuptials here." 
 
 The rector was highly pleased with the groom's 
 patriotism and good taste, and proceeded to show 
 him all the curios and relics in and about the 
 consecrated place. They sat in the pew which 
 Washington had occupied, looked at the ancient 
 candelabra, formerly used in lighting the church; 
 saw and read the title of incorporation of the 
 church, nearly a century old, and examined with 
 interest all other matters and things so carefully 
 
THE MARRIAGE 139 
 
 preserved and so reverently exhibited. Adieus 
 were then said and the party returned to Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 That evening our new benedict wrote and mailed 
 the following: 
 
 "Washington, D. C, October loth. 
 Dear Mother and Sisters : — We were married at 
 12 o'clock to-day in the church where Washington 
 was a member and worshiped. The North and 
 South are again united. Look for us, we are com- 
 ing. Loyally yours, Alfred." 
 
 Two or more days were spent in the Capital in 
 sight-seeing. Even so long ago as 1865 the city 
 was rich in objects of interest. There is, in this 
 vast country, teeming as it does with a multitude 
 of wonders, but one great Monument, one Capitol, 
 and one Washington. 
 
 On a beautiful October morning Aunt Milgrove, 
 with tears in her eyes, but joy in her heart, kissed 
 the happy young people, promised to visit them, 
 and the sweet old-fashioned good-byes were 
 spoken and she and her servant were off for Rich- 
 mond. A few days later Boyd and wife boarded 
 a railway train for Ohio, and in due time, without 
 incident, arrived at his boyhood home. 
 
 His mother, after planting an enthusiastic, moth- 
 erly kiss on the cheek of her son, glided to the 
 blushing, sweet-faced girl at his side, embraced, 
 kissed and caressed her as though she were an 
 
140 THE LAST MAN 
 
 own, only daughter. The two sisters followed the 
 mother's example. White-winged peace spread 
 her pinions over a once more united household, 
 and the stars, far above, shone their brightest, and 
 twinkled welcomes to the successful wooer and 
 his bonny, blushing bride. 
 
XIII. 
 
 THE FIERY FURNACE. 
 
 After a fortnight of connubial bliss, Boyd said : 
 
 "Alena, suppose we visit your old home. Shall 
 we?" 
 
 "Certainly," said she. "Though it will be sad 
 in some respects, yet I am anxious to see the old 
 town, the old house, and the spot where mother 
 lies." 
 
 "Can we go to-morrow?" 
 
 "O, yes, I am ready whenever it suits you, Al- 
 fred," she responded. 
 
 Next day they took the boat, and in due time 
 reached the vicinity of Galliput. As the familiar 
 old hills and valleys came into view, one after 
 another, gladness and sadness commingled equally 
 in her mind — gladness that she should revisit the 
 home of her childhood under such changed and 
 improved conditions, and sadness as thoughts of 
 her mother took possession of her memory and 
 emotions. Now the steamer has sighted Gram- 
 ercy, and now it is "rounding in" for the landing, 
 to put them ashore. As they set foot on land, and 
 are waiting for their luggage to be brought ashore, 
 a bevy of seedy-looking men on the bank are ob- 
 serving them. One of these, clad in Confederate 
 gray, said: 
 
142 THE LAST MAN 
 
 "Say, fellows, if there isn't Alena Long ! Look 
 at that face and them eyes. And so she's got 
 back, too. I wonder where's she's been, and who 
 that big fellow is?" 
 
 "No, it isn't her, neither," said another. "Alena 
 Long had curls, and that girl hasn't, don't you 
 see?" 
 
 "Go up and speak to her, Jim, and find out," said 
 a third. 
 
 Jim, hat in hand, came up and, bowing in a rus- 
 tic fashion, said : 
 
 "Isn't this Alena Long?" 
 
 The young wife, looking kindly at the man said : 
 
 "Yes, I am she that used to be Miss Long." 
 
 "That's what I told them fellows, and they said 
 it wasn't you. But if you ain't Miss Long now, 
 who are you?" inquired Jim. 
 
 "This gentleman's wife," replied she. 
 
 The luggage having come ashore, Jim proffered 
 to carry it to the hotel where they were to abide 
 during their visit. For the service Boyd rewarded 
 him liberally, and within an hour he and his friends 
 celebrated the occasion by becoming uproariously 
 intoxicated. 
 
 The news of Alena's return spread through the 
 village with lightning-like rapidity, and before din- 
 ner was over a number of women, old and young, 
 came to see the brave girl who had dared and sur- 
 vived perils that might appall the heart of the 
 bravest man. 
 
 As they listened to the story of her flight from 
 
THE FIERY FURNACE 143 
 
 home, by night, over the mountains, in mid-winter, 
 of her services to the sick, wounded and dying; of 
 the many eyes she had closed in death ; of the cru- 
 cifixion of her hopes for the triumph of secession; 
 of her almost penniless condition at times ; and of 
 her heroic maintenance, through all, of her wo- 
 manly soul and all its attributes, the little audience 
 shed copious tears of sympathy for her sufferings 
 and of gladness for her wonderful deliverance. 
 
 Alena had studiously avoided any reference to 
 Colonel Boyd in her narrative. He, at the time, 
 was outside, walking about, and the visitors, by 
 their looks at him, by their glances at each other, 
 and hints to Mrs. Boyd, indicated that they were 
 overcharged with curiosity to know who he was, 
 when and where she became acquainted with 
 him, how they came to fall in love, if, indeed such 
 a thing had happened, when and where they were 
 married, if, indeed, that had taken place, and where 
 they were living, or were going to live. For all 
 had heard through loquacious Jim that she was 
 this man's wife. Alena knew intuitively what they 
 desired to know, but the interview closed without 
 the coveted information. The audience, though 
 small, was too miscellaneous to be made the re- 
 cipients of her heart's history. But during the 
 sojourn there she related to a few chosen old-time 
 friends the whole story of their love, and taking 
 several of them with her to the old house, now de- 
 serted, she said, sweetly : "Here it began, but 
 neither of us knew then that it was the beginning." 
 
144 THE LAST MAN 
 
 A sad incident — the only sad one of their visit — 
 occurred at her mother's grave. There it was, 
 with nothing but a fast-decaying wooden head- 
 board to mark the spot beneath which reposed 
 those sainted ashes ! No husband, no child, no 
 relative was buried there. The floodgates of the 
 loyal daughter's tears were opened, and she wept 
 long and bitterly, while her sympathizing husband 
 stood with his strong arm about her swaying form 
 and silently mingled his tears with hers. When 
 all was over and they walked away slowly and 
 sadly, he said soothingly that the grave should be 
 enclosed and cared for. A beautiful marble monu- 
 ment now surmounts the spot, and the lot is en- 
 closed by a substantial, tasteful iron fence. 
 
 While on this visit a chance, or what seemed to 
 be a chance, presented itself to Boyd to engage in 
 business in the valley of the Great Kanawha River. 
 Operations in the mining and sale of coal, and the 
 manufacture and sale of salt offered flattering in- 
 ducements. New companies were organizing, and 
 old ones preparing for more extensive business in 
 these seemingly lucrative and permanent enter- 
 prises. When the visit to Gramercy ended, Boyd 
 and his wife took steamer for Charleston, West 
 Virginia, and, on arriving, he visited several of the 
 companies, yet in the formative stage, studied their 
 plans, prospects and inducements, and became a 
 member and stockholder in one of them, deposited 
 several thousand dollars in the concern, and was 
 elected treasurer. 
 
THE FIERY FURNACE 145 
 
 Then, after a brief visit to his mother and sisters, 
 they returned to the Kanawha Valley and became 
 residents of the village of Melrose. 
 
 The company immediately began the boring of 
 salt wells, building of tanks and sheds for the 
 manufacture of salt, and the opening of mines of 
 coal. Outlays of money were great, but before 
 midwinter the company was able to exhibit quan- 
 tities of newly made salt, and to ship consignments 
 of it to distant points on the Ohio and Mississippi 
 Rivers, together with a fleet of flats laden with 
 coal. Prices were good, the demand exceeding the 
 supply furnished by all the companies, and all 
 made money rapidly. As their profits came in 
 they decided to invest them in a further extension 
 of the business. Thus matters ran for some years, 
 in an apparently prosperous condition. Well 
 would it have been for Boyd and his company had 
 they sold out their entire plant at the high figures 
 offered them several times during this period. 
 
 The bitter and the sweet in life are often won- 
 derfully commingled. When fortune in money- 
 getting is uniformly favorable, and fame or great- 
 ness is "thrust upon one," without effort and 
 without thought of others, less fortunate or un- 
 fortunate, he is liable to become a tyrant, misan- 
 thrope, or nonentity. 
 
 When all is unfavorable, bitter, and unrelenting, 
 "and man is made to mourn," the individual is 
 likely to become either a suicide or a lunatic. When 
 fortune smiles, then frowns ; when gains and losses 
 10 
 
146 THE LAST MAN 
 
 alternate; when pain and happiness contend for 
 possession of the human soul, man seems to de- 
 velop, grow strong, and confident in his power and 
 prowess. 
 
 In this season of prosperity there had come to 
 the house of Boyd a bright-eyed baby boy, the 
 image of its father, and the cup of maternal joy 
 and paternal pride ran over. 
 
 The house of Boyd now had an heir. The 
 young mother lost none of her sweetness in the 
 duties of her new function, and the father donned 
 his new dignity so easily that he gained additional 
 respect and consideration from the whole com- 
 munity. And when the little son had begun to 
 talk, and walk, and play, another cherub in the 
 form of a little girl came to enlarge the charmed 
 circle, and again there was unbounded felicity in 
 the house and in all hearts. Aunt Milgrove had 
 come, some weeks before the advent of the little 
 girl, to pay a long-promised and long-expected 
 visit to the Boyd family, and her presence, dignified 
 and cheery as ever, added richly to the gladness of 
 the occasion. 
 
 All the wealth of her highly endowed nature 
 seemed to center about and expend itself upon the 
 family, especially the little ones. The little girl, 
 the image of its mother, became Mrs. Milgrove's 
 idol and was worshiped. The aunt's financial condi- 
 tion was now easy, as she had sold one of her Vir- 
 ginia farms at a good price, and the other was still 
 under lease at a good rental. Near the close of 
 
THE FIERY FURNACE 147 
 
 her stay she called Boyd aside one day and re- 
 vealed to him her intention of making a will and 
 of naming him as the executor. He urged reasons 
 why he should not serve, but she overcame his 
 objections, and insisted so earnestly that he at 
 length consented. "Upon my arrival at home," 
 said she, "I shall make my will, have it witnessed, 
 sealed up, and deposited in some one of the city or 
 county ofhces, where you can get it and proceed to 
 your duties as executor." 
 
 "Why this hurry, Aunt?" asked he. "You may 
 outlive me — then what would happen?" 
 
 "I should appoint another executor," said she. 
 "But I have had a presentiment that I am not to 
 live long. Not that I am sick, or suffering from any 
 disease ; on the contrary, I have been enjoying re- 
 markably good health for some years past. But 
 there comes to me a feeling, as strong as convic- 
 tion, that the end is not very far off, and so I am 
 decided to make all needful preparations." Thus 
 the matter was agreed upon, just before she re- 
 turned to Richmond. 
 
 Now came, too, the crucial test of manhood and 
 womanhood for Mr. and Mrs. Boyd. Forerun- 
 ners of ill fortune for the company began to appear. 
 New fields for the production of salt were opened 
 and operated. The supply became greater than 
 the demand. The market was glutted and prices 
 declined. Competition was fierce, and the com- 
 pany was driven to sell at yet lower figures. Un- 
 less larger sales could be made, they must eventu- 
 
148 THE LAST MAN 
 
 ally suspend operations, or sell out at a great sac- 
 rifice. At a meeting of the officers and principal 
 stockholders it was decided to send active can- 
 vassers to certain large cities to work up new busi- 
 ness and strengthen the old, and Boyd was ap- 
 pointed as one of the agents to accomplish this. 
 In obedience to the mandate he repaired to his sta- 
 tion, St. Louis. Months passed and he had gained 
 substantial advantages for the company, when sud- 
 denly there came a telegram to come home, as 
 there was serious sickness in his family. Within 
 thirty hours he crossed the threshold of his home. 
 His son was in the clutches of scarlet fever, which 
 had reached the second stage, when a hope of 
 recovery is all that remains. Vain hope ! The 
 malady completed its fatal errand, and "the pretty, 
 darling boy was slain." Sadly, O, how sadly, the 
 stricken parents laid him away ! But the end~^was 
 not yet. Within the next two days the infant 
 daughter was attacked by the disease and within a 
 week the little innocent darling was dead ! The 
 twice-smitten parents were well-nigh bereft of rea- 
 son. Sad days and long, weary, dismal nights of 
 sorrow and weeping ensued. In no language 
 known to earth can the utter loneliness, the painful 
 vacuum, the aching void, the lacerated heart- 
 strings of those parents be depicted. Useless were 
 the words of friends ; vain were their kind offices ; 
 and sights and sounds, formerly grateful and en- 
 joyable, only served to grate harshly upon the ears 
 and feelings of the bereft, childless parents. 
 
THE FIERY FURNACE 149 
 
 Misfortunes rarely come singly. Sometimes 
 they come in troops, in relays. Ere the poignancy 
 of the parents' grief for the loss of their darlings 
 had ceased, the pecuniary weakness of the company 
 became apparent through its failure to meet obli- 
 gations to banks and employees. The banks com- 
 bined against and sued it; judgments with costs 
 were decreed, and, faiUng to comply with the terms, 
 the entire property was levied upon, offered for 
 sale, and bought by the banks themselves at fig- 
 ures so low that, when judgments and costs were 
 satisfied and wages of employees were paid, there 
 was left for the company but a moiety of the capi- 
 tal originally invested. The company was dis- 
 solved, and Colonel Boyd had suffered a loss of 
 several thousand dollars and years of unrequited 
 labor. 
 
 Such a result is nothing unusual. Along the 
 shores of the great deep of business are strewn the 
 wrecks of fortunes whose ample millions could 
 have purchased the wealth of a world. Lives, 
 health and happiness have been sacrificed on 
 the shores and shoals of the same treacherous sea. 
 As it has been, so will it continue to be. There is 
 no compass nor polar star to point out with uner- 
 ring instinct the cardinal points, and no deep sea 
 lead that can be relied on to indicate the rocks and 
 quicksands that underlie the business sea. 
 
 Discouraged by losses and sorrows, there was 
 yet left to them one priceless boon which neither 
 misfortune nor death could wrest from them — 
 
150 THE LAST MAN 
 
 their love and devotion to each other. Love as 
 fresh and new as when they stood at the altar, and 
 devotion even more complete than during- the 
 honeymoon were theirs. Especially was this true 
 of Mrs. Boyd. So long as business had prospered 
 and children had claimed her care, she had not felt 
 the necessity of exerting herself to promote her 
 husband's happiness, as his radiant face, cheery 
 voice and quick, buoyant step indicated that he was 
 supremely happy. But now she saw and felt, with 
 quick womanly intuition, that he was under a cloud 
 whose baneful effects might seriously impair, if not 
 destroy, those masterful qualities of mind and soul 
 by the employment and exercise of which he had 
 attained an enviable rank among men. Putting 
 aside her own grief, she gave herself to the new 
 and angelic task of delivering him from the prison 
 of gloomy thought and foreboding, and leading 
 him again into a state of freedom and the enjoy- 
 ment of subjects and objects to which he as well 
 as herself had hitherto been strangers. 
 
 There was another source of happiness which 
 came to these chastened souls, and that was the 
 acquisition of genuine heart religion. Not that 
 kind of religion which consists solely of adherence 
 to certain ecclesiastical dogmas that the believer 
 does not understand, or, understanding, does not 
 believe, though he may subscribe to them as a for- 
 mula. 
 
 Their faith accepted the plain, unperverted state- 
 ments of the Bible, which they regarded as the 
 
THE FIERY FURNACE 151 
 
 direct, complete, and only revelation of God to 
 man. Such faith inevitably led them to a personal 
 appropriation of all the conditions and provisions 
 for man's restoration to his original status with the 
 Divine One, and preparation to meet Him in peace 
 and safety "when life's fitful fever is over." 
 
 To distinguish themselves from the careless, the 
 wicked, the profligate, they allied themselves with, 
 and became parts of, a Christian church. Thence- 
 forth, in words and deeds of loyalty to the Master, 
 and love and charity for humanity, they tasted the 
 ineffable sweets of the new life which tends, not 
 only to elevate one above "the ills that flesh is 
 heir to," but to take hold of the certainties, as well 
 as the mysteries, of the eternal future. 
 
 At the same time, little by little, through atten- 
 tions so delicate and unobtrusive that he did not 
 perceive the motive, Alena assisted her husband to 
 float safely on the crest of waves which otherwise 
 would have engulfed him. 
 
 Under such conditions both grew, intellectually 
 and spiritually, as they never would have grown 
 had continuous prosperity and ultimate wealth 
 been their sole aim and possession. It is only 
 when the flower is crushed that it yields its essen- 
 tial perfume. It is only through the ministry of 
 suffering that the human soul is purified. 
 
 Woolsey never would have attained a moral 
 plane high enough to utter his inimitable address 
 to Cromwell, had he not felt "the stings and arrows 
 of outrageous fortune," and realized that "had he 
 
152 THE LAST MAN 
 
 served God with half the zeal with which he had 
 served his king, he would not have been left deso- 
 late in his old age." 
 
 This change in Colonel Boyd, from sadness and 
 discouragement, required time and the employ- 
 ment of many devices by Mrs. Boyd to turn the 
 current of his thoughts and emotions into a safe, 
 healthful channel. One of these incidents merits 
 a complete description. 
 
XIV. 
 "THE HAWK'S NEST." 
 
 The only stream of considerable size that flows 
 northward through the Blue Ridge and Allegheny 
 Mountains is New River. Rising in the moun- 
 tainous portion of North Carolina, and flowing 
 through the upper part of the celebrated Valley of 
 Virginia, it finally forms a junction with the 
 Gauley River at the western base of the Allegheny 
 range, becoming the Great Kanawha, which dis- 
 charges its waters into the Ohio River at Point 
 Pleasant, West Virginia. 
 
 The location, bed and trend of New River are 
 the result of a mighty prehistoric upheaval and 
 fracture of the Blue Ridge and Allegheny ranges 
 at nearly a right angle with their direction. A 
 deep, ragged, tortuous cafion or ravine was thus 
 formed, through which many small mountain 
 streams in North Carolina found a new outlet, 
 instead of flowing directly southeastward to the 
 Atlantic Ocean, as they had doubtless done 
 through previous ages. To this stream the In- 
 dians had given a name signifying "the river of 
 the broken-backed mountain." Some French ex- 
 plorer, who had discovered it before the English 
 came, gave it the name "Noie" River, which, later, 
 was anglicized into its present form. 
 
154 THE LAST MAN 
 
 If some competent master of Indian lore and 
 legends would collect, translate and publish a 
 treatise of Indian names of lakes, streams and 
 mountains, together with the facts, resemblances 
 and legends which gave rise to the names, it would 
 be a valuable contribution to geography and eth- 
 nology. For all these names are self-significant 
 words, within which are often concealed valuable 
 history and interesting legends. As a race, the 
 Indian will soon cease to be, and all that remains 
 to tell that he ever existed will be books, and these 
 names of permanent physical objects. 
 
 Of several travels and excursions planned by 
 Mrs. Boyd, one was a visit to the "Hawk's Nest," 
 a mighty overhanging cliff on New River, some 
 thirty miles above its junction with the Gauley. 
 
 Leaving home, they drove leisurely up the 
 Kanawha Valley, passed and contemplated the 
 great falls, just below the junction of the two 
 streams, crossed the Gauley bridge, and began 
 ascending the mountains. Owing to their steep- 
 ness, two days were necessary to complete the 
 journey, when they reached the little inn near the 
 ledge. Next morning they visited the cliff, lay 
 down and crawled to the brink, and peered over 
 and down, nine hundred feet, into the river at the 
 bottom, which, at such a distance, seemed no wider 
 than an average brook. Invited to throw a stone 
 across the stream, Boyd tried again and again to 
 perform the feat, but in vain, the missiles seeming 
 to approach the cliff in their descent, and striking 
 
'THE HAWK'S NEST" 155 
 
 the rocks and pebbles far on the hither side of the 
 water. 
 
 Mrs. Boyd peered over and looked down the 
 face of the cliff for a hawk's nest, and calling the 
 hotel man and asking where it was, he pointed to 
 a little projection on the face of the cliff, some five 
 hundred feet below, and said that was the spot 
 where the nest had been. 
 
 "And is it not there now ?" asked she. 
 
 "No, I have never seen a hawk, or a nest 
 either," he replied. 
 
 "Then why is it called the 'Hawk's Nest?' " per- 
 sisted she. 
 
 "The story is a long one, but if you want to hear 
 it we will come over here after supper this evening 
 and I will tell it as I have heard it." 
 
 At the hour agreed upon they carried chairs 
 over to the cliff, and, when seated, the hotel keeper 
 said : 
 
 "Before I tell the story, I want to remind you 
 that the cliff is nine hundred feet high, and that the 
 top projects at least fifty feet beyond the base. 
 Notice the turbulent condition of the water, caused 
 by the steep incline of the bed of the river and the 
 surging of the water between and around the rocks, 
 varying from the size of a haycock to a small hill. 
 That the river can ever be rendered navigable for 
 water craft is simply ridiculous. And yet a stand- 
 ing source of fun and revenue for us up here is that 
 Congress makes an annual appropriation of thou- 
 sands of dollars 'to impove the navigation of New 
 
156 THE LAST MAN 
 
 River,' The money comes regularly, and we 
 mountain people earn and get it by taking powder, 
 fuse, drills and crowbars and blowing to pieces 
 some of these big boulders down there ! Ha, ha, 
 ha! 
 
 "Now I will give you the 
 
 " 'legend of the hawk's nest.' 
 
 "Thousands of moons ago there lived and 
 hunted in the country on this side of the river a 
 powerful tribe of Indians, whose chief, Towanda, 
 had a beautiful daughter, Agalla, 'she of the pout- 
 ing lips.' Her eyes, black and sparkling, her hair 
 reaching to the ground, and her limbs lithe and 
 active as a roe, she attracted may suitors. 
 
 "On yonder side of the river lived, hunted and 
 fished another tribe, whose chief had a son, Illo- 
 gah, 'the swift of foot,' who was trained in all In- 
 dian craft, cunning and lore, and who, when his 
 father should die and go to the land of the Great 
 Spirit, would become chief of the tribe. The two 
 chiefs, owing to the existence of frequent disputes, 
 feuds, lights and forays between the members of 
 their tribes, had held many pow-wows looking to a 
 union of the tribes, which would settle all these 
 troubles and render the new tribe the most power- 
 ful in all this mountain region. All plans for a 
 union had failed, when it suddenly occurred to 
 both chiefs that the marriage of the daughter of 
 one to the son of the other would bring about 
 
"THE HAWK'S NEST" 157 
 
 the desired union. In token of their approval of 
 the plan, they each pledged the other his influence 
 and assistance to bring about the marriage, and 
 they shook hands and smoked the pipe. 
 
 "From that day Illogah became a suitor for the 
 heart and hand of Agalla. But she, like many 
 other maidens before and since, refused the ad- 
 vances and presents of Illogah, because she loved a 
 young warrior of her own tribe, was plighted to 
 him, and would marry him as soon as she could 
 gain her father's consent. 
 
 "When her father, intent upon the marriage to 
 Illogah, would try to show her the advantages of 
 such an alliance, and that she would become queen 
 of the united tribes, her heart would sink, her 
 eyes would droop, her tongue would refuse to 
 speak, and her whole frame would tremble. The 
 father was annoyed at her behavior, non-committal 
 as it was. She who never before had failed to re- 
 spond with joyous alacrity to his requests, and 
 even his unspoken wishes, now stood silent, still 
 and unmoved. Either she loved some other one, or 
 she had an uncontrollable distaste for Illogah. 
 Which was it? He set spies — old squaws — to 
 watch her goings and comings, but no sign, word 
 or movement betrayed that she loved, or who the 
 lover was, if one existed. The father, concluding 
 that her mood was alone due to an aversion for 
 Illogah, determined that such a feminine fancy and 
 weakness, as he regarded it, should not longer pre- 
 vent the consummation of his design. At the 
 
158 THE LAST MAN 
 
 same time, despite the watchfulness of her father 
 and the spies, the lovers would meet, at dead of 
 night, when all others slept, and exchange words 
 and tokens of regard, the skin of a fur-bearing ani- 
 mal from him, or a pair of beaded moccasins from 
 her. lUogah now pressed his suit with greater 
 vigor, but she flung his presents at his feet and 
 turned from him in disgust and anger. Her father, 
 from being kind and reasonable, now became harsh 
 and dictatorial, and swore that she should marry 
 Illogah, and fixed the day for the marriage. He 
 invited the young man's father, and the principal 
 braves, and his own braves to be present. That 
 night Agalla saw her lover, told him the sad 
 tidings, and vowed never to wed Illogah. She 
 would either kill him or kill herself. She would 
 try first to kill him. Next evening the unwelcome 
 suitor came, as usual, and reminded her of their 
 approaching marriage, and besought her to love 
 him. She hesitated, smiled, looked upon him as 
 never before, and said : 'Illogah, I have never 
 thought I could love you, but if you will do what 
 I ask, I will try to love you.' He sprang forward 
 and begged her to name it. There is a hawk's 
 nest in the face of the cliff yonder,' said she, 'about 
 half way from top to bottom, and young hawks, 
 almost ready to fly, are in the nest. I would hke 
 to have them for their feathers and claws.' 'But 
 how can I get them,' he asked. 'Make a ladder of 
 grape vines long enough to reach from the top of 
 the cliff to the nest below,' said she ; 'come, some 
 
"THE HAWK'S NEST" 159 
 
 dark night, when the camp and the hawks are still, 
 fasten the ladder at the summit of the cliff, drop 
 it over the ledge, go down the ladder, get the 
 birds, climb up the ladder, and I will be at the top 
 to receive them.' 
 
 "To this adventurous but daring plan Illogah 
 assented gladl}^, enthusiastically. He would do 
 this or die in the attempt. 
 
 "About a week later he stole quietly into the 
 camp at night, carrying a great load of vines, made 
 into a ladder. She was there, and together they 
 hid the structure in a clump of thorn bushes, to 
 wait for a darker night. It came soon, and he 
 and the maiden strolled to a point near the con- 
 cealed ladder, no one paying attention to them, as 
 he had been there so often. They waited an hour, 
 two hours, till all was quiet, except an owl that 
 shouted at intervals from a tree near by, 'Who ! 
 who ! to who who !' 
 
 "Looking about cautiously, they felt sure that 
 no one saw them. Then he drew from its hiding 
 place the ladder, dragged it to a point on the cliff 
 which he had previously marked in daytime, 
 fastened the two strong strands to saplings two 
 or three feet apart, and dropped the ladder over 
 the ledge. Then tying a blanket about his shoul- 
 ders, he boldly began his descent. Agalla, and 
 another, lay listening intently. At last they hear 
 the screaming of the birds below, old as well as 
 young. The supreme moment has come. The 
 gleam of two tomahawks, sharp and keen, flashes 
 
160 THE LAST MAN 
 
 through the darkness; the weapons fall with ter- 
 rible force, and their edges sever in twain the 
 strands of the ladder, which disappears over the 
 clifif with lightning-like velocity. The next mo- 
 ment there comes upward a prolonged, agonizing 
 shriek, then the noise of a dull crash, and all is 
 silent, save the voice of the owl that again shouts, 
 'Who ! who ! to who who !' The maiden and her 
 lover spring to their feet, flee lightly and swiftly as 
 deer pursued, and before morning have placed be- 
 tween them and their tribe a full day's journey. 
 
 "When morning came the camps of both tribes 
 were in terrible commotion. The young man, 
 Illogah, had not returned to his chieftain father 
 from his last night's visit to Agalla, across the 
 river. Where was he? Had anything befallen 
 him? The maiden Agalla was missing. Where 
 was she? One of the warriors of her tribe was 
 missing. Where was he? A rapid, vigorous 
 search was made in each camp. No ponies nor 
 blankets had disappeared. Only the apparel of 
 the maiden, and the tomahawk, bow and arrows 
 and blanket of the missing warrior had vanished. 
 
 "A deputation from the other tribe came over 
 in search of Illogah. No one had seen him since the 
 previous evening, in company with Agalla. No 
 trace of him could be found. A wider and more 
 thorough search was ordered. On the second 
 day a party of searchers came to the spot at the 
 bottom of the cliff where lay the crushed, mangled 
 body of Illogah, amid a mass of grape vines. 
 
"THE HAWK'S NEST" 161 
 
 around his neck and shoulders was a blanket, and 
 within its folds were several young dead hawks, 
 and above, circling about, disconsolate and scream- 
 ing, were the parent birds. 
 
 "Evidently the young brave had constructed the 
 ladder, fastened it at the top, climbed down it and 
 captured the birds, when the ladder broke and he 
 fell and was killed. How happened all this, and 
 why ? Ah, wait ! One of the searchers examines 
 the ends of the ladder. The vines had not broken, 
 but had been cut by a sharp instrument. Light 
 began to dawn. Who cut off the vines ? Tliey 
 reported the result of their search to their chief. 
 He sent runners to the camp of Chief Towanda to 
 inform him of the event, and urge him to hunt for 
 and find the murderer of his son, 
 
 "Chief Towanda ordered a most exhaustive 
 search to be made for the missing warrior and his 
 daughter, but nevermore did he learn whither they 
 had gone, or what became of them. 
 
 "Undoubtedy the missing warrior had cut the 
 grapevine ladder and he and Agalla had run away. 
 Towanda reported the facts to the other chief, the 
 bereaved father, but, none the less, he accused 
 Chief Towanda and his tribe of the murder of his 
 son. Cruel, unrelenting war between the two 
 tribes followed, and, after twenty years, the chiefs 
 and nearly all the warriors were dead, and both 
 tribes became extinct. 
 
 "Agalla and her lover traveled many nights, and 
 hid through the days, following along the eastern 
 11 
 
162 THE LAST MAN 
 
 base of the Blue Ridge, in a southwesterly course, 
 hoping at length to reach some other tribe, far 
 away, where they would be safe from pursuit and 
 capture by parties which they surmised would fol- 
 low them. 
 
 "After forty or more days and nights of travel, 
 fear and fasting, footsore and exhausted, they 
 reached one of the lodges of the Cherokees, a pow- 
 erful family of Indians in northern Georgia and 
 Alabama. They were admitted as members, and 
 their children's children formed part of that sad 
 procession which, a generation ago, made a forced 
 and unwelcome migration to what is now known 
 as the Indian Territory. Their descendants now 
 form an integral part of the Cherokee Nation." 
 
 The narrator ceased. 
 
 "Well, sir," said Colonel Boyd, "that is one of 
 the most thrilling Indian stories I ever heard or 
 read. Can you vouch for its truthfulness?" 
 
 "No," said the hotel man, "I have heard it often 
 as 'The Legend of the Hawk's Nest,' and have 
 given it to you as I received it." 
 
 Said Mrs. Boyd: 
 
 "It is very interesting, but very cruel, though. 
 What do you regard as the moral, or lesson, of the 
 story ?" 
 
 "Can't say as to that, madam, but mebbe one 
 lesson is this — that a designing man may, now and 
 then, trap a trusting woman, but a designing wo- 
 man can always trap a man." 
 
 Though a hearty laugh followed this sally. 
 
"THE HAWK'S NEST" 163 
 
 the little woman was equal to the occasion, and 
 retorted : 
 
 "There are hosts of men trying to entrap women, 
 to one woman who tries to entrap a man. Men 
 don't need to be entrapped. They just come and 
 are caught, without trap, bait or decoy." 
 
 Another shout of laughter greeted this womanly 
 defense, and with it the sitting ended. 
 
 As they rose to return to the hotel, in the dusk 
 of the evening, an owl, perched on a lofty tree 
 close at hand, shouted, "Who ! who ! to who ! 
 who !" 
 
XV. 
 
 LIGHT AHEAD. 
 
 Another influence that aided Boyd in returning 
 to a primal, rational condition was derived from 
 active participation in the work of the Grand 
 Army of the Republic. In the years of his pros- 
 perity he had joined that body, and had filled, in 
 succession, all the higher official positions in his 
 post. The discharge of his duties, though faithful 
 and according to the ritual, was perfunctory rather 
 than heartfelt. But now, since he had drunk to 
 the dregs the cup of bitterness and loss, he saw and 
 felt the force of the cardinal principles, "Frater- 
 nity, Loyalty, and Charity." Especially was he 
 moved by the last, "Charity." "But the greatest 
 of these is Charity" became a living, active, domi- 
 nating force, impelling him to deeds in behalf of 
 needy comrades and the widows and orphans of 
 those who had fallen. Not a day passed that he 
 did not seek opportunities to fulfill this obligation, 
 and his name and fame became known throughout 
 the entire State. "Virtue is often its own reward," 
 but in this case it brought other rewards. 
 
 If it be true that 
 
 "There is a tide in the affairs of men, 
 Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune," 
 
LIGHT AHEAD 165 
 
 it is quite as true that there are times in the lives 
 of some men when they seem to come to the close 
 of their careers. As a traveler through a dense 
 forest follows the road, broad, plain and well 
 beaten at first, until, little by Httle, it becomes nar- 
 row, dim and untraveled, and at last fades out 
 altogether, and he is lost, and without compass, 
 chart or guiding star, so it had been with Colonel 
 Boyd. What to do, in what to embark, how to 
 earn a livelihood, became the foremost topics of 
 his thoughts and conversations with his wife. He 
 had reached the end of the road and was lost. 
 
 At this juncture a committee of delegates to a 
 county convention to nominate candidates for vari- 
 ous offices asked to put Boyd's name in nomina- 
 tion for representative to the Legislature. He de- 
 clined at first, but, won over by their importuni- 
 ties, he consented, was nominated on the first bal- 
 lot, and elected by a large majority. When he 
 came home and told Mrs. Boyd, she was too full 
 to speak, but flung herself upon him and wept 
 tears of gratitude to God and man. "I always 
 knew," said she, when she could speak, "that you 
 were looked up to by men, and this is the proof of 
 it, and I think it is the beginning of a grand ca- 
 reer." In such manner loving wives think and 
 speak of their husbands, going even farther than 
 this at times. If the talents and abilities of hus- 
 bands are not appreciated and rewarded, wives are 
 prone to think and say that it is owing to envy or 
 inexcusable stupidity. 
 
166 THE LAST MAN 
 
 At the appointed date the Legislature met, and 
 its session progressed and closed without any note- 
 worthy occurrence. It is needless to say that 
 Colonel Boyd did his whole duty to the State, to 
 his constituents, and to himself, in the order 
 named. Thus did the great heroes of antiquity, 
 and of modern times, and thus did the fathers of 
 the Republic. But recently a new era of thought, 
 motive and action has begun. Now the rank and 
 order of motives and acts of many — too many — 
 Representatives, and even Senators, of the United 
 States is, first, self; second, their constituencies; 
 and third and last, the country and its interests. 
 Herein consists the distinction between a states- 
 man and a politician : 
 
 A statesman is, first of all, a patriot ; next, he is 
 possessed of natural and acquired abilities above 
 the average of his fellow-men ; lastly, he has given 
 much time and profound thought to the underly- 
 ing principles of human governments in general, 
 and of his own government in particular, including 
 all its policies in behalf of the people and toward 
 foreign nations ; and, in all, he "would rather be 
 right than be President." He joins and co-oper- 
 ates with a political party because it professes and 
 adheres to certain principles which he regards as 
 essential to the existence and perpetuity of the 
 government and the interests and vested rights of 
 the people. 
 
 A politician is a man of average, or less than 
 average, natural and acquired abilities, but en- 
 
IJGHT AHEAD 167 
 
 dowed with a certain kind of smartness which leads 
 him to espouse the alleged beliefs of one or another 
 political party, for the purpose of securing office, 
 or emoluments through the votes or influence of 
 the party. His principal talent is that of the "hand- 
 shaker," the "good mixer," or the "spellbinder." 
 If he secures the coveted office, whether by fair or 
 foul means, he hesitates not to misrepresent, de- 
 ceive and defraud his constituents when his per- 
 sonal ends and interests run counter to the inter- 
 ests of the people. Almost any man can be a poli- 
 tician ; only one man in a million can be a states- 
 man. Heaven creates a statesman ; political par- 
 ties make politicians. 
 
 All this, and more, Boyd soon saw and felt. To 
 be a statesman he knew he was lacking in several 
 indispensable requisites ; to become a mere politi- 
 cian, he was sincerely indisposed. So that when 
 his friends wished to re-elect him he firmly and 
 positively declined, showing by that step alone that 
 he was not a politician. 
 
 Directing his attention once more to his finan- 
 cial condition, and studying several enterprises 
 which invited capital, his friend Boone and he de- 
 cided to risk some money and labor in prospecting 
 for petroleum. Securing leases on two small farms 
 in the oil territory, they bought the outfits and 
 began "putting down" two wells, one on each 
 farm. Thus, if one should prove a success and the 
 other a failure, they would be the gainers. After 
 weeks of toil and expense, suddenly the ponderous 
 
168 THE LAST MAN 
 
 drill in one of the wells dropped several feet, a 
 mighty volume of gas rushed up through the ori- 
 fice, carrying with it the drill and all its attach- 
 ments, and, after several hours, there flowed forth 
 a stream of petroleum mingled with water, spout- 
 ing many feet above the top of the well. 
 
 Men engaged on the other wells in the vicinity 
 came to the assistance of Boyd and Boone's men, 
 and with picks, shovels and hands a strong dam 
 of wood, stone and earth was constructed across 
 the ravine below the well. Within the next two 
 days the owners had a fortune, and fierce excite- 
 ment pervaded the entire section of country. The 
 well continued to flow at a rate almost equal to 
 its initial product, and money flowed into the cof- 
 fers of the owners. Stranger still, because un- 
 looked for, and unexpected, the other well "came 
 in," and, though not a "gusher," was prolific 
 enough to be a fortune in itself. 
 
 The tide had evidently turned in Boyd's favor. 
 With money came respect, and what the world calls 
 honor. What a greedy age is this. Ages of hero- 
 ism, of conquest, of art and letters, the grandest 
 the world has ever seen, or may see, have come and 
 gone. But the present age, especially the present 
 century, has witnessed the most gigantic strides in 
 inventions and improvements in the domestic and 
 the useful arts and sciences, beyond all record in 
 past centuries. And yet, coupled with this, and 
 seemingly a part of it, is a ravenous, insatiable 
 spirit of greed, never before existing. In nearly 
 
LIGHT AHEAD 169 
 
 every undertaking the paramount question is, 
 "Will it pay?" while that other question, "Is it 
 honest and legitimate?" is partially, if not totally, 
 ignored. The almost universal appetite is for 
 money, or property, which is the key to social 
 standing, power, influence, and undemocratic hau- 
 teur and exclusiveness. So widespread and all- 
 controlling is this false notion, that it condones the 
 deeds of the scoundrel, the mountebank, and the 
 criminal ; elevates to positions of honor and respon- 
 sibility — where brain, culture and principle alone 
 are essential requisites — the ignorant, insolent mil- 
 lionaire; and, not halting at that, even seats in the 
 high places of the temples of God men whose char- 
 acters are besmirched with foul deeds and esca- 
 pades, and their reputations notorious and mal- 
 odorous. 
 
 Money — its possession — is not an evil. It is 
 "the love of money," for what it will purchase, that 
 is "the root of all evil." A man is not the worse 
 for being the owner of millions, honestly acquired 
 or inherited. Controlled by right motives, he is 
 the better for having wealth. To develop the re- 
 sources of a country; to organize and promote 
 industries ; to cause two blades of grass to grow 
 where only one had grown; to make "the wilder- 
 ness blossom as the rose," and, by such measures 
 and means, increase the sum of human happiness — 
 these are laudable objects to which a wealthy man 
 may devote his money and his attention. But to 
 make, or hoard money, for itself, is, per se, an act 
 
170 THE LAST MAN 
 
 indefensible from any standpoint, whether of ethics, 
 philanthrophy, or good citizenship. 
 
 Somewhat of these views began to occupy and 
 engross Boyd's attention. The quahties of the 
 man and his convictions inspired him to do some- 
 thing for humanity. He knew from sad experience 
 what was the pinch of poverty; now kind heaven 
 was showering upon him afifluence. He had now 
 in possession far more than he and his wife would 
 require, however long they might live. What 
 should he do with the residue, and with future accu- 
 mulations? Half-formed plans on the subject be- 
 gan to present themselves. But first, and properly, 
 too, he chose to buy and furnish a comfortable, 
 perhaps elegant home. Mrs. Boyd was consulted 
 in this matter, and she, happy woman, recalling the 
 time and place of their marriage, favored the Capi- 
 tal as their permanent home, with which choice he 
 coincided. For this purpose they visited Wash- 
 ington, examined several properties, and selected 
 and bought a residence surrounded by a spacious 
 lot, upon an elevation overlooking the whole city. 
 Southward could be seen miles of the Potomac, the 
 hills of Virginia, from Great Falls to Mount Ver- 
 non, the historic home of the Lees at Arlington, 
 the spires of Alexandria, the eastern branch of the 
 Potomac, Anacostia, Providence Hospital, and 
 Saint Elizabeth beyond ; and to the northeast, the 
 Soldiers' Home, the Catholic University, and the 
 beautiful suburb of Brookland. And in the center 
 of this extensive panorama rose that square, 
 
LIGHT AHEAD 171 
 
 white, silent shaft, Washington's Monument. It 
 is an inspiring picture ; not wild, it is true, nor 
 tame, it is equally true, but rich, rare, and gratify- 
 ing to the senses and to the most exalted aesthetic 
 taste. Home at last ! "Home, sweet, sweet 
 home !" When June came with its roses and bird 
 songs they entered this earthly paradise, wherein 
 for years, hospitality, ease, elegance, and, above all 
 these, charity, in its broadest, sweetest sense, were 
 illustrated and personified. 
 
 Now that the domestic problem was solved, came 
 up that other subject — what to do for the age and 
 humanity. In the discharge of his duties as an 
 officer in the Grand Army, Colonel Boyd had often 
 seen, among the ex-soldiers, and widows, and 
 orphans, suffering, want, disease, and penury. 
 
 It came to him slowly, but not the less convinc- 
 ingly, that something more, something new, per- 
 haps, should be done to enable thousands of these 
 partly infirm and almost penniless men to maintain 
 themselves. Many of them were young farmers, 
 mechanics and laborers when the country's call 
 summoned them to her defense. Disease, wounds, 
 loss of limbs, and impairment of vital powers had 
 forever disqualified them for successful competi- 
 tion in the struggle of life and participation in the 
 more lucrative pursuits. True, there were "Sol- 
 diers' Homes," both State and National, but to be 
 an occupant and beneficiary of these or any other 
 eleemosynary institution is almost certain death to 
 all honorable ambition. "Abandon hope all ye 
 
172 THE LAST MAN 
 
 who enter here" might well be inscribed over the 
 portals of all such institutions. 
 
 A scheme presented itself which, if feasible, would 
 to a great extent mitigate, and, in many cases, 
 completely remedy the ills of thousands of old sol- 
 diers and their families. If a colony could be es- 
 tablished in a favorable location, with a guarantee 
 as to the safety of personal property rights and in- 
 terests, and at small cost, many would probably be 
 attracted to the enterprise and join it. As Boyd's 
 mind became imbued with the scheme, other ques- 
 tions arose, such as the cHmate, soil, products, the 
 State or Territory in which the colony should be 
 planted, and access to the seaboard, rivers and rail- 
 roads. To found and conserve the wants and in- 
 terests of such a colony would require a large tract 
 of land, well watered, heavily timbered, rich in soil 
 and mineral deposits, and situated in a mild, equa- 
 ble climate, not subject to great extremes of heat 
 and cold, and exempt from floods and seasons of 
 drought. 
 
 To obtain data on these points, a deal of corre- 
 spondence was had with Governors of States, 
 judges. Members of Congress and other intelligent 
 men, and, out of it all, there was evolved a conclu- 
 sion as to the State in which the colony should be 
 established. 
 
 A circumstance connected with the estate of 
 Aunt Milgrove, now deceased, must be intro- 
 duced. On opening her last will and testament it 
 was found that her farm in Alabama had been de- 
 
LIGHT AHEAD 173 
 
 vised to Boyd and his wife. Here was a key to 
 the situation, provided the farm was suitably 
 located, and additional lands could be bought at a 
 moderate price. With the deed and certain corre- 
 spondence in hand, he visited the farm, examined 
 the records, and had them amended to show that 
 he and Mrs. Boyd were now the owners. The farm 
 was situated in the northern central part of the 
 State, a short distance from the foot hills of the 
 Allegheny range. A proposal on the part of the 
 State was before him to sell to responsible parties 
 one hundred thousand acres, more or less, in a 
 solid body, at a low price and on favorable terms, 
 for the founding of a colony. 
 
 In conjunction with several ex-soldiers, pos- 
 sessed of ample means, the purchase was made, and 
 deeds and records of the transaction duly executed. 
 Boyd and his wife then deeded to the company 
 their farm, without price or compensation. 
 
 Several newspapers of wide circulation published 
 the facts in detail, with the names and addresses of 
 the authors and promoters of the colony. A 
 voluminous correspondence between them and 
 thousands of soldiers ensued. The plans of 
 the owners were approved and hailed by all, but 
 especially by those who had been farmers, me- 
 chanics and artisans, and very many announced 
 their intention to become members and residents. 
 Boyd and his partners felt assured of the success 
 of the undertaking, and necessary measures and 
 steps were taken for the surveys, platting, number- 
 ing and recording of lots and famis. 
 
XVI. 
 
 THE WANDERER'S RETURN. 
 
 The inauguration of a President brings an im- 
 mense concourse of people to the Capital. On 
 such occasions from two to three hundred thou- 
 sand strangers have been housed, fed and other- 
 wise accommodated. So wide and unobstructed 
 are the avenues and streets, and so experienced are 
 the keepers of hotels, boarding houses and other 
 hostelries that all visitors are royally treated, and 
 return to their homes to sound praises of the city 
 and its appointments. 
 
 At the designated hour a procession, limited in 
 numbers, conducts the newly elected President 
 and the retiring one, to the Capitol, where the for- 
 mer takes the prescribed oath of office, and then, 
 standing on the east portico of the building, deliv- 
 ers his inaugural address. Now the popular part 
 of the fete begins. The new President and the ex- 
 President return to the White House, followed by 
 a vast procession, composed of detachments from 
 the Army and the Navy, portions of the national 
 guards from several States, veterans of the G. A. 
 R., sons of veterans, and civic organizations with- 
 out number — the entire line often being from five 
 to ten miles in length. The new President, stand- 
 ing on a platform at the front of the White House 
 
THE WANDERER'S RETURN 175 
 
 grounds, reviews the procession, which disbands 
 in sections, after passing and saluting him. 
 
 Of this kind, and on this order, was a certain 
 inauguration in the eighties. After it had ended, 
 and Colonel and Mrs. Boyd and several visiting 
 friends had returned to the house, there came hob- 
 bling up the parking in front a man, supported by- 
 one sound leg and a peg attached to the knee of 
 the other leg, the lower portion of which was want- 
 ing. He was, seemingly, thirty-five or more years 
 old, his hair and beard were long and shaggy, his 
 clothing was shabby and more than half worn, and, 
 surmounting all, was an ancient, broad-brimmed, 
 gray slouch hat. A servant, answ^ering the door 
 bell, was asked by this man whether Colonel Boyd 
 lived there. Being informed affirmatively, he ex- 
 pressed a v^sh to see the colonel. The servant 
 reporting the fact to Boyd was asked what the man 
 wanted and what his name was. "He didn't give 
 his name and didn't tell his business," said the ser- 
 vant. Boyd went to the door and, looking the 
 stranger full in the face, said : 
 
 "Well, sir, what can I do for you ?" 
 
 "Are you not Colonel Boyd that I saw at White 
 House Landing in June, 1864?" asked the man. 
 
 "I am Colonel Boyd, and who are you?" in- 
 quired Boyd. 
 
 "Don't you remember me ?" asked the seedy one. 
 
 Looking at him sharply, Boyd rushed to him, ex- 
 claiming, "As I am living, it is — Bertrand Long, so 
 long lost !" 
 
176 THE LAST MAN 
 
 Grasping an arm and hand, Boyd led him into 
 the hallway, the two men hugged each other, and 
 stood for moments speechless, while dewy eyes 
 attested the depth of emotions ''too big for utter- 
 ance." 
 
 Mr. Long broke the silence. "Where is Sis?" 
 
 "In the house here? Do you know who she is 
 now, Bertrand ?" asked Boyd. 
 
 "No, tell me," said Long. 
 
 "She is Mrs. Boyd — my wife — and you are my 
 brother, Bertrand !" 
 
 "How long ago were you married?" pursued 
 Long. 
 
 "In the fall of 1865. We lived in West Virginia 
 for several years, and have been living here since 
 then. But you want to see Alena." He touched 
 an electric bell, a servant came, and Boyd said, 
 "Ask Mrs. Boyd to come to the library." Then to 
 Long, "Now, Bertrand, when she comes don't 
 speak till I give you a sign or word. Here she 
 comes." 
 
 Stealing a timid glance at the stranger, she 
 waited for Boyd to speak. 
 
 "Mrs. Boyd," said he, "have we a vacant room 
 and bed for this man to-night? He seems ex- 
 hausted and sick, perhaps, and if we can it will be 
 the right thing to shelter and take care of him till 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "Yes," said she, "there are two rooms on the 
 third floor ; give him one of them." 
 
 The stransfer was ill at ease as these words were 
 
THE WANDERER'S RETURN 177 
 
 exchanged between husband and wife, and produc- 
 ing a handkerchief appHed it to his face and eyes. 
 
 "Mrs. Boyd," said the colonel, his voice quiver- 
 ing somewhat, "have you ever seen this man be- 
 fore?" 
 
 "No, I think not," said she. 
 
 "Look at him closely," said Boyd ; "he may have 
 seen you during the war." 
 
 "I do not remember seeing him then, or at any 
 other time," said she. 
 
 "Stranger," said Boyd, "tell her where and when 
 you saw her." 
 
 "Standing in the door of a hospital near Rich- 
 mond, after the battle of Gettysburg," said the man. 
 
 Alena sprang to her feet as though shot up by 
 a charge of dynamite. She stood transfixed. His 
 voice revealed all. Then, with an impulsive bound, 
 she rushed to him, threw her arms about him, 
 kissed him again and again, crying and ejaculating, 
 "O, my dear, dear, long-lost brother! Where 
 have you been all this time? Why didn't you 
 come to us sooner? Oh, Bertrand, what have you 
 been doing ever since the war?" These and simi- 
 lar words, punctuated with kisses, occupied many 
 moments. The men were speechless before this 
 revelation of long-pent-up, despairing, but now 
 ardent, ebullient, sisterly love. 
 
 "Bertrand," said she, "I mourned you as dead 
 long, long ago, and now as I look at you I feel 
 just as though you had been dead, and were now 
 
 12 
 
178 THE LAST MAN 
 
 resurrected." What a meeting! Aye, it was in- 
 deed a resurrection of dead hopes and memories. 
 
 "Come, now, Bertrand," said Boyd, "go Vv^ith 
 me to your room and wash and brush up for din- 
 ner, and this evening you and Alena and I will 
 come here and you will give an account of your- 
 self." Bertrand was soon alone in a room more 
 completely furnished than any he had ever seen. 
 What with the purifying and beautifying influ- 
 ences of soap, water, towels, combs and brushes, 
 the man's appearance was sensibly improved when 
 he returned to the library. The three, Alena lead- 
 ing the brother, repaired to the dining hall and 
 broke bread together for the first time. The 
 guests at other tables wondered and speculated as 
 to the status of the stranger, so unlike the colonel 
 and Mrs. Boyd, in both dress and address. Enough, 
 though, to see that he was in some way intimately 
 associated with them. Dinner over, the colonel 
 made his excuses to the guests for the evening, 
 and returned with the brother and Alena to the 
 library. "Now, Bertrand," said he, "tell your 
 story." 
 
 "Well, Colonel," began the brother, "after I left 
 you at White House, Virginia, we were shipped 
 to New York, and then to Edenton, where we were 
 put into a camp for prisoners, and kept there till 
 March, 1865, when we were shipped back to Vir- 
 ginia again, were exchanged, and rejoined our 
 commands. 
 
 "W'hile prisoners, we had a jolly time, plenty to 
 
THE WANDERER'S RETURN 179 
 
 eat, good quarters, and nothing to do but keep 
 the camp clean and wash our clothes. I hadn't 
 been there a month till my warlike spirit began to 
 weaken, and in two months I began to wish I 
 might never be exchanged, and stand up again to 
 shoot, and be shot at. I learned from the soldiers 
 who guarded us that the Government was deter- 
 mined to put down the 'rebellion,' as they called 
 it, and that there were still a million or more men 
 who had not yet been in the service. They said all 
 this without bragging, and in such a cool, calculat- 
 ing way that my fiery spirit was greatly calmed, 
 and I wished I was done with the war. But the 
 spring of 1865 came, and we were in our camps 
 and forts in and around Richmond, waiting for 
 what was sure to come — for a common soldier is 
 nothing but a pawn on a military chess-board, 
 liable to be lost at the next move. 
 
 "Well, sir, the signs of an attack on Richmond 
 increased and we felt that the man then command- 
 ing the Government armies — God bless him ! — 
 had the Southern Confederacy by the throat, and 
 would never let loose till General Lee's army 
 should be no more. 
 
 "You remember. Colonel, that I said to you, in 
 1864, that 'the Yankee shell or bullet would never 
 be fired that would hurt me,' and you told me I 
 was fooHsh to talk so. And so I was. We were 
 driven out of Richmond, followed, and finally 
 hemmed in near Appomattox. The last fight was 
 going on, and, all at once, I felt a dull shock in 
 
180 THE LAST MAN 
 
 this leg, tottered and fell, and a look showed that 
 my foot and ankle were shattered into fragments. 
 Bye and bye the Yankees came and passed on, and 
 then their surgeons and stretchers and ambulances, 
 and a man accosted me, 'Say, Johnny, do you want 
 to go along with us?' I said yes, for anything 
 was better than to be left there alone. Then he 
 and another man picked me up and put me into 
 an ambulance with a wounded Yankee, and the 
 vehicle moved on. Soon there was a great shout 
 from the Yankee army, and the firing ceased. Gen- 
 eral Lee had surrendered. After some time a 
 surgeon came to our ambulance, looked at the 
 Yankee's wound, put a bandage around his arm, 
 and gave him a drink of whiskey. Then he 
 looked at my foot, bandaged it, gave me a drink, 
 and at leaving said, 'Johnny, do you want to live 
 awhile longer?' I said, T certainly do.' Then he 
 said, 'Then that foot will have to come ofif to- 
 night.' In the evening he returned with two at- 
 tendants, and after putting a new bandage on the 
 arm of the wounded Yankee, they lifted me out 
 of the ambulance, and, placing me on a table, gave 
 me chloroform, and I knew nothing more till I 
 came to my senses again. My foot and ankle were 
 gone, I was very sick and weak, and thought I 
 was going to die. The kindness and care of the 
 Yankee nurses saved my life, and they have never 
 been forgotten. In a few days I was put into a 
 hospital with many wounded Union men, and was 
 treated as well as the best of them. At the end of 
 
THE WANDERER'S RETURN 181 
 
 three months I was quite well, and the surgeons 
 told me I could go. I shook hands with all the 
 boys, and started away on my good leg and this 
 peg, which was made and fastened to my stump 
 by a good-hearted Yankee. Where I was to go, 
 I knew not. I hunted for Aunt and Sis all through 
 Richmond, but failed to find them, and learned 
 that they had gone South somewhere. I tramped 
 all that summer, and was often nearly starved, and 
 was soon almost naked. Sometimes the con- 
 ductor of a freight train would let me ride forty 
 or fifty miles, and give me something to eat. Then 
 I would tramp again for some days. Finally I 
 reached Montgomery, Alabama. I got a place 
 with a man living a short distance out of town, to 
 do light work and chores about the house and 
 barn. It was a slave's place, but I had seen good 
 people at my boyhood home, and over in Ohio, do 
 such work, and I did it cheerfully. In a few 
 months I was trusted with the teams and hauling 
 for the farm, and made myself so useful to the 
 man that he put my wages up several times with- 
 out the asking. By his energy, industry and 
 shrewdness his farm paid him big profits, and he 
 was getting rich, while all his neighbors were 
 poor. I saved some money, which, in a few years, 
 amounted to quite a sum for a poor, lame, work- 
 ing man. But last year Mr. Purvis died, his es- 
 tate had to be settled, the farm, stock and utensils 
 were sold, and I was homeless again. 
 
 "There was nothing to do but to look for 
 
182 THE LAST MAN 
 
 another place. But I found nothing that would 
 compare with the old place. I kept on hunting 
 and drifting further south till I reached New Or- 
 leans. I hoped to get a place in some store or 
 shop, where I would not be obliged to walk much, 
 but I soon found I could not compete with sound 
 men in active pursuits, or in hard labor, and, for 
 want of a business training, I could not secure a 
 place as a salesman. While jogging about, I went 
 into a pawn shop, and was looking at things, when 
 I spied a big, old-fashioned, queer-looking watch, 
 without a case. By permission I examined it 
 closely, and read some words engraved on it, 
 which astonished me. Ah, here it is." He drew 
 from an inside breast pocket a circular case or 
 box, within which were the substantial parts of a 
 watch. Boyd took it into a strong light and read 
 these words : 
 
 ' ' Presented to the Margjiis de Lafayette i7i token 
 of recognition of his distinguished services in the 
 war for the independence of the United States of 
 America. George Washington.'" 
 
 It was now Colonel Boyd's turn to be aston- 
 ished. The workmanship, dates and inscription 
 showed that the watch was genuine and that it 
 must have been presented to Lafayette while he 
 and Washington were still living, probably between 
 1 78 1 and 1799, the year of Washington's death. 
 
 "Bertrand," said Boyd, "this is a great find ; 
 rich, rare, and full of mystery. Keep it safe till 
 
THE WANDERER'S RETURN 183 
 
 we have leisure, when we will try to ascertain the 
 facts and circumstances. At present I want to 
 hear the conclusion of your story." 
 
 "Well," said Bertrand, "there is not much more 
 to tell. I had been hoping all those years to see 
 Washington some time. I was completely recon- 
 structed and Yankeeized, though I didn't dare to 
 say so, and was longing to see the old flag again, 
 and stand beneath its folds as they fluttered in the 
 breeze. I knew, or felt, rather, Sis, that you 
 would marry the Colonel at the end of the war, if 
 you were both alive, and he wanted you, and I 
 began to imagine I might find you here during the 
 inauguration. So I bought a ticket and came on, 
 three days ago. I asked the hotel clerk whether 
 he knew Colonel Boyd. 'Where does he live?' 
 asked he. 'Why, here in this city, I think,' said I. 
 'What is the street and number?' asked he. 'O, I 
 don't know anything about your streets and num- 
 bers,' said I, 'but I thought you might know him.' 
 He opened a big book and turned to a page 
 where there were a dozen or more of the name. 
 'Here's your man, I reckon,' said he. 'Alfred 
 
 Boyd, 223 Street, N. W.' He wrote the 
 
 name and number on this piece of paper, and after 
 the procession was done I started out to find you, 
 and found you I have, thank God ! That's all." 
 
 While he was talking Alena sat close to him, 
 holding his hand, looking fixedly in his face, and 
 often silently weeping. "Now let us go to the 
 drawing room," said Boyd, and entering, Bertrand 
 
184 THE LAST MAN 
 
 was introduced to the guests as a long-lost 
 brother. This led to some conversation about the 
 war, when it transpired that four of those present, 
 Boyd, Bertrand, and two of the guests, had been 
 at Chancellorsville. How they talked, these men 
 of the Blue and the Gray — without animosity, or 
 any feeling but that of a kind of fraternity or com- 
 radery. 
 
 Within a few days all the friends had gone, and 
 Boyd, remembering his obligation and promise to 
 Bertrand, began to devise plans for his advantage. 
 
 The first thing was to ascertain whether an arti- 
 ficial foot and ankle could be supplied and adapted. 
 The efifort was successful, and within two months 
 the man was walking comfortably and with a halt 
 scarcely perceptible — thanks to the advanced state 
 of surgical science and appliances. Soon his phy- 
 sical condition, dress and personal appearances 
 were so improved that he would never be taken 
 for the poor, decrepit cripple who had stood at 
 Colonel Boyd's gate, some months previous, look- 
 ing for all the world like a tramp or vagabond. 
 
 The next step was to devise some vocation by 
 which the man could maintain himself, and thus 
 preserve his self-respect and independence. 
 
 In relation to the watch, Colonel Boyd called 
 upon the Secretary of State, laid before him the 
 circumstances under which the timepiece came 
 into the hands of Mr. Long, and expressed his 
 earnest desire, as well as that of Long, that it 
 should be returned to the rightful descendant, or 
 
THE ^^ANDERER'S RETURN 185 
 
 heir, of General Lafayette. The Secretary, appre- 
 ciating the plain duty of the Government, and the 
 propriety of the suggested return of the watch, 
 proposed to purchase it for the United States and 
 then open correspondence with the French Repub- 
 lic, looking to its return to the rightful owner. 
 But Long declined to set a price upon it, prefer- 
 ring to present it to the Government, on the sole 
 condition that he should receive a certificate from 
 the Secretary of State, detailing the circumstances 
 attending its recovery, which should be stamped 
 with the great seal of the United States. Long's 
 proposal was accepted, and after much corres- 
 pondence through the French Ambassador, with 
 his government, and a laborious search for the 
 descendant of Lafayette to whom the watch would 
 rightfully belong, it was sent to France, and is 
 now in possession of Madam Montpensier, a great- 
 granddaughter of the General. 
 
XVII. 
 THE COLONY. 
 
 The lands of the colony had been thoroughly 
 surveyed, platted, numbered and recorded. A rec- 
 tangle of twelve hundred acres was first located as 
 the site of a city. The surface of this, as well as 
 all the lands, sloped gently southward. Through 
 the middle of the rectangle flowed two large 
 brooks of purest, clearest, soft water, from great 
 perennial springs, miles above, in the mountains. 
 The brooks united just below the southern border 
 of the rectangle, forming a stream of considerable 
 volume, which, a mile or more further down, tum- 
 bled over a ledge some twenty feet in height. The 
 entire area was yet a virgin forest of pine, chest- 
 nut, oak, poplar, cherry and other woods. In its 
 center, above the junction of the brooks, there 
 was described a circle of large diameter, within 
 which should be erected the city hall. In addition 
 to the streets, trending with the points of the com- 
 pass, and crossing at right angles, there were wide 
 avenues, cutting the streets at acute angles, and 
 at their intersections were circles for the planting 
 of statues, trees and flowers. 
 
 Outside the plat for the city, the lands were 
 divided into lots and small farms of five, ten, 
 twenty, and forty acres, the largest being farthest 
 
THE COLONY 187 
 
 from the city, and all so located that every lot had 
 an outlet into a street or highway leading to the 
 city. 
 
 Every alternate lot and farm was reserved by 
 the company for sale in the future, and four-fifths 
 of the lots and farms to be offered were to be sold 
 exclusively to ex-soldiers or their widows. The 
 remaining fifth would be sold to merchants, trades- 
 men and professional men. The price of each lot 
 and farm was fixed, and, on its payment, and the 
 signing of an agreement to erect on the lot either 
 a residence or business house within two years, or 
 forfeit the lot, the purchaser secured his posses- 
 sion through a drawing by lot. 
 
 Visitors, singly and in groups, came to see, to 
 approve, and to purchase on these terms and in- 
 ducements. 
 
 The State laws and municipal regulations of the 
 counties were to be faithfully observed. The orig- 
 inal contract with the State prohibited the estab- 
 lishment or existence of drinking houses, gam- 
 bling dens, and other places of evil resort. For the 
 same good reason, horse racing for money, prize 
 fighting, and the like, were interdicted. Adher- 
 ence to such conditions, it was admitted, would 
 shut out an influx of certain classes of people, but 
 it would as certainly shut out their vices, crimes 
 and misdemeanors. 
 
 Within six months more than a thousand sales 
 had been made. In eighteen months three-fourths 
 of all lots and tracts open to purchase had been 
 
188 THE LAST MAN 
 
 sold. The owners and their famiUes were coming, 
 many of them had come, and the sounds of axes, 
 hammers, saws and anvils rang out in every direc- 
 tion. Buildings rose as if by magic. Forests fell, 
 and farms took their places. A saw mill, a planing 
 mill, a brick manufactory, a machine shop, black- 
 smith and carpenter shops, and other industrial 
 plants were rapidly established. A population of 
 more than two thousand was assured the first year. 
 The second year saw a town of fifteen hundred in- 
 habitants, surrounded by a population of more 
 than five thousand, engaged in farming, gardening 
 and fruit culture. The most improved methods 
 and implements for land culture, first-class seeds 
 and plants, and persevering attention to business 
 showed surprising and gratifying results. Better 
 stocks of horses, kine, hogs and poultry were in- 
 troduced and propagated. A surplus of all pro- 
 ducts in excess of ten per cent, over and above 
 that which was used by the community, demon- 
 strated the success of the enterprise. 
 
 At the end of ten years every lot, and every 
 acre, that could be bought was owned and im- 
 proved, and the population of the city was between 
 thirty and forty thousand. A grand city hall, pat- 
 terned after the Capitol at Washington, a music 
 hall with a seating capacity of several thousand, a 
 free library of many thousands of volumes, a gal- 
 lery of fine arts, four large churches of most mod- 
 ern and complete construction, and a thoroughly 
 equipped, adequate supply of school buildings, 
 
THE COLONY 189 
 
 and a system of graded public schools, conducted 
 on the latest and most approved methods, crowned 
 and glorified the colonial enterprise. 
 
 A literary club of high order was organized and 
 maintained. Lecturers and literati of national re- 
 nown, and musicians of world-wide repute visited 
 and contributed to the culture and entertainment 
 of the people. The post-office — "Boyd" — named 
 after the projector, became what is known as a 
 Presidential office after the second year. Manu- 
 factories of iron, steel, machinery, cotton, and 
 other fabrics sprang up, running their machinery 
 with the water power derived from the falls below 
 the city. Railroad companies extended their fines 
 to the city and soon realized large profits. 
 
 The entire scheme, from start to finish, was a 
 most complete, practical solution and illustration 
 of a semi-co-operative community, united in all 
 things vital to its success, and independent in all 
 else. A multitude of ex-soldiers and their families 
 were rescued from a condition of penury and want 
 and became not merely self-sustaining, but even 
 well-to-do, many having comfortable bank ac- 
 counts. 
 
 One of the finest residences was built and fur- 
 nished by Colonel Boyd, and here he and Mrs. 
 Boyd lived a part of each year. Mr. Bertrand 
 Long was a part of the family, and when Boyd and 
 wife were absent he was in full control. He had 
 been installed in a paying situation in the city hall, 
 and, after a few years, married the widow of a 
 
190 THE LAST MAN 
 
 Union soldier, and thus were the North and the 
 South united a second time. 
 
 There was one thought, or fancy, rather, in 
 Boyd's mind which had not yet materialized. In 
 an age when the memory of great events and great 
 men is perpetuated in bronze, and marble, and 
 monuments, why should there not be a memorial 
 of some description erected to commemorate the 
 existence of the aborigines, who had, for centuries 
 — aye, for ages, perhaps — owned and occupied the 
 country, before the whites came? Here, where 
 the colony now existed, the Cherokees, Choctaws, 
 Creeks, Shawnees and other powerful tribes had 
 roamed, lived and hunted from time immemorial. 
 When the white men of Alabama, Georgia and Mis- 
 sissippi saw that the lands owned by Indians were 
 the very best in these States, a sentiment grew up 
 and became popular that the owners should be, 
 by some means, dispossessed of their holdings. 
 But solemn treaties existed between the Govern- 
 ment and the Indians, guaranteeing- the lands to 
 the latter and their descendants forever, and pro- 
 tecting the whites against the tomahawk and scalp- 
 ing knife of the Indian. What could, and should 
 be done? How long are treaties binding? Just 
 so long as both parties observe them. When, and 
 under the provisions of what treaty, was the In- 
 dian ever protected against the rapacity of the 
 white man? One alone — that between the Qua- 
 ker William Penn and certain tribes. The archives 
 of the Government will show that all other treaties 
 
THE COLONY 191 
 
 have been broken or treated with scant respect by 
 the whites. 
 
 The so-called Indian Territory of to-day is but 
 a remnant of the domain ceded to the red man in 
 exchange for his possessions in the States pre- 
 viously named. Of this, slice after slice has been 
 severed from the original, and even now clandes- 
 tine designs exist to rob the Indian of what yet 
 remains. 
 
 Subscriptions having been secured for the requi- 
 site amount, correspondence was had with a num- 
 ber of sculptors, from whose models one by an 
 eminent artist was chosen. The dedication of the 
 monument was to be made a notable occasion. 
 The governors of three States, with their oflficial 
 families, and the President and his Cabinet, were 
 invited to honor the event with their presence. 
 The journals of the country published the coming 
 festival. The beautiful spring day came, and with 
 it came a motley multitude. In a campus full of 
 native trees was a platform of ample dimensions, 
 upon which sat the guests of honor. In the rear 
 of the platform was a huddle of Indian tepees, 
 within which was a delegation of the descendants 
 of the aborigines, who had come hither in response 
 to urgent friendly invitation and solicitation. The 
 formalities of the day had progressed to the close 
 of an elaborate oration by Colonel Boyd, ending 
 with the words : "I now have the pleasure, fel- 
 low-citizens, of presenting to you some fine speci- 
 mens of the race that formerly owned all this coun- 
 
192 THE LAST MAN 
 
 try, in whose memory we are soon to unveil yon- 
 der monument !" Then to the taps of an Indian 
 drum came on the platform, in single file, a score 
 or more of men, women and children, in native 
 costumes, a chief marching at the head of the line. 
 They stopped, stood stone still for a few moments, 
 gazed at the great, shouting audience, and, at a 
 sign by the chief, assumed a squatting attitude. 
 Boyd then gave a signal, the drapery conceaUng 
 the monument was removed, and there stood, in 
 the bright light, a beautiful square monument of 
 red marble, some eighteen feet in height, by twelve 
 feet at the base. On the summit was a group of 
 lifelike bronze figures of Indians in pursuit of 
 game. 
 
 When the applause had subsided, Colonel Boyd 
 introduced the chief, Miantanomi, President of the 
 Cherokee Nation, Indian Territory. He rose and 
 strode to the front of the platform, standing full 
 six feet four inches tall, of perfect manly mold, 
 and with a tinge of the white man's blood in his 
 face. He spoke in a grand bass voice whose tones 
 entranced his hearers. 
 
 "White people ! In the name of all the red 
 men, women and children, here and in our far-ofT 
 home, I thank you for this great show, on this 
 pretty day, at this happy spot ! I thank the big- 
 h^rted white man who made this everlasting 
 monument to the memory of my people, thou- 
 sands of whom are sleeping beneath the leaves and 
 grass of this beautiful country! This is the only 
 
^UE COLONY 193 
 
 monument of the kind made by the white man. 
 The red man never makes monuments. But he 
 gave names to the mountains, lakes and rivers, and 
 those names are his monuments. If white men 
 will continue to use the names, the unwritten his- 
 tory of the red man will live forever, proclaiming 
 that here once lived and loved a brave, heroic race 
 whose only crime was that their mode of living dif- 
 fered from that of the white man so greatly that 
 both races could not live together, and one or the 
 other must leave the country to the other. The 
 red man was more cunning, but the white man 
 was the stronger, and the red man was compelled 
 to leave the home and the graves of his forefathers 
 and go to a new country, or stay and be killed by 
 the white man. He chose to go, and for nearly a 
 thousand moons has been in his new, and perhaps 
 his last, home, beyond the great river. 
 
 "I who stand before you, white men, am part 
 Indian and part white man. My mother was a 
 daughter of the chief of the Cherokees. A white 
 man who was a great traveler, and very wise, came 
 to us to study Indian modes of living, fell in love 
 with my mother, adopted our habits, lived as In- 
 dians live, and married my mother. I am his son. 
 When my mother died, I became chief. I am 
 proud of my office and my people. But I am 
 more proud of my mother's blood than of my 
 father's. Thousands of moons ago, a young brave 
 and the daughter of the chief of his tribe ran away 
 for love, because her father would not let them 
 13 
 
194 THE LAST MAN 
 
 marry at home. The young brave and the young 
 woman traveled from a river called Kanawha to 
 the Cherokee country, where we now stand. They 
 joined the Cherokees, and their children married 
 members of the tribe. My mother was a descend- 
 ant of that young man and woman, and I am 
 proud of it. 
 
 "White men ! I am glad to have seen the home 
 of my fathers. When I go back, I will tell my 
 people all I have seen and heard here. The Creeks 
 and Choctaws also shall hear of these things. 
 
 "White people ! We may never see each other 
 again. But when the last day comes, which your 
 Great Spirit and our Great Spirit both say will 
 come, when all people, red and white, will come to 
 life again, these hills and valleys will be filled 
 with a great multitude of both colors. Then, and 
 not till then, the red man will have a standing on 
 these lands on equal footing with the white man 
 who took them from him. White people, farewell !" 
 
 The colony still lives, and is Colonel Boyd's liv- 
 ing monument. It flourishes in the midst of a 
 community whose men, formerly armed enemies, 
 are now staunch friends and patrons, mingling and 
 trading with its people, intermarrying with them, 
 and enjoying to the full their many superior 
 advantages. Instead of written or chiseled inscrip- 
 tions, the tongues and voices of thousands of bene- 
 ficiaries and the citizens of an extensive surround- 
 ing country, constitute Boyd's truthful, indelible 
 biography. 
 
XVIII. 
 THE BROKEN LINK. 
 
 Thus had passed years of the choicest sweets 
 and deHghts of human Hfe within the Boyd house- 
 hold. But, about i88 — , Mrs. Boyd was suddenly 
 seized by what seemed to be a slight ailment, 
 which the family physician regarded as a harmless 
 malady that would yield to treatment within a few 
 days. Instead, however, the indisposition in- 
 creased, became serious, and finally excited the 
 apprehension of all, including the physician. Sev- 
 eral weeks passed, and the patient grew steadily 
 worse. Her appetite failed, the color faded from 
 her cheeks and lips, her flesh wasted, her voice lost 
 its strength and resonance, her eyes began to ex- 
 change their sparkling brilliancy for a far-off, 
 steady, introverted look, and, more serious than 
 all else, she began to indulge the thought that, ere 
 long, she should die. Physicians and her husband 
 combated, with rarest skill and unremitting efforts, 
 this phase of her condition. In vain. Daily, al- 
 most hourly, she waned, and at last it became evi- 
 dent that the residue of her life was limited. Her 
 heart had now taken on an abnormal inactivity 
 which presaged the inevitable result. 
 
 She manifested no fear of death, but spoke often 
 of it as an event that must come to her, as it would 
 to all others. 
 
196 THE LAST MAN 
 
 Perceiving that all were aware of her condition, 
 she said to her husband : 
 
 "My dear, where will you choose to bury me?" 
 
 Avoiding the question, he said : 
 
 "I had never thought of it, Alena." 
 
 "But we ought to think of it, and decide about it, 
 dear. Shall we not choose a place where you will 
 come, bye and bye, and sleep by my side?" 
 
 "O, yes, Alena," said he, "I have always wished 
 that we might be interred side by side, but I have 
 thought you would live to bury me." 
 
 "Ah, that can't be," said she ; "it is otherwise 
 ordered, and well ordered. Say, dear, where shall 
 you be buried?" 
 
 "Well," said Boyd, in tremulous tones, "I have 
 always felt a desire to be buried in Arlington." 
 
 "Then in Arlington let it be," said she. 
 
 On another day she said : 
 
 "You will probably marry again after I am gone, 
 dear." 
 
 "Never," said Boyd. "I could never love another 
 woman as I have loved you, Alena, and I would 
 never marry a woman that I did not love with my 
 whole heart." 
 
 "But you would be so lonely that you would 
 better choose some good woman for whom you 
 would have the highest degree of respect, and 
 bring her here to enjoy this beautiful home, and 
 abide with, and comfort you." 
 
 "No, no," persisted Boyd, "I could not, and 
 would not, entertain the thought for a moment. 
 
THE BROKEN LINK 197 
 
 No, I shall remain single, if — you should leave me. 
 But cheer up, dear, we are all hoping you will live 
 many years yet, and perhaps lay me away." 
 
 "Oh, no," said she, "that is settled, and I do pray 
 that you will be ready when the time comes, which 
 is not very far off, at the farthest. I have intima- 
 tions from above that I am wanted there. Be 
 ready, dear, as I am ready, when the angel comes." 
 
 Her face took on a spiritual expression, and her 
 voice, though weak, was cheerful, even musical. 
 
 One afternoon, a few days later, as she reposed 
 on her couch, robed in white, she held out her arms 
 toward Boyd, and the next moment embraced him. 
 With a strange but unspeakably happy expression 
 on her face, and in her eyes, she said : 
 
 "O, my dear love ! Don't be frightened ! The 
 angel is here, and waits for me ! I have only one 
 regret at going, and that is to leave you ! But you 
 will come, too, before long, and then we shall be 
 everlastingly happy and inseparable ! O, how I 
 have loved you, sweet heart ! Never woman loved 
 man more ! And my love for you and our dear 
 sainted babes led me to love God ! I don't think 
 I should ever have loved Him if it hadn't been for 
 you, dear ! You know what a haughty, hateful and 
 hating girl I was when we first met. But, from 
 our first meeting, onward, I felt a strange, sweet, 
 potent spell that calmed my turbulent temper, 
 curbed my restless disposition, aroused prudence, 
 and awakened 'charity for all, and malice against 
 none.' Then, later, when we opened the doors of 
 
198 THE LAST MAN 
 
 our hearts, and let the blessed Christ come in, and 
 abide there, as He has ever since done, — Hark, 
 dear ! A voice, inaudible to you, is calling me ! A 
 vision, invisible to you, beckons me ! I know 
 where I am going, dear ! You know, too ! Don't 
 weep, my earthly idol ! When I am in Heaven, 
 with the children, I will, if I may, still love you as 
 now. Be ready, love, when the voice and the 
 vision come to you !" 
 
 The physician had come in noiselessly and unob- 
 served. A tremor shook the fair sufferer's form ; 
 she drew her husband's face down to hers, gave 
 him one long, last kiss, whispered audibly, "Fare- 
 well, love," and the life was ended. The angel 
 had borne the gentle spirit back to its native 
 heaven and nought remained but the cold, tenant- 
 less tabernacle ! 
 
 Three days later they deposited the sainted ashes 
 in their receptacle at Arlington. 
 
 From this blow Colonel Boyd never fully recov- 
 ered. Not that life was hard or comfortless to him ; 
 not that people were less kind and considerate ; 
 not that there was a dearth of interest in human 
 affairs to occupy his mind and heart ; but ever as he 
 was engaged in efforts for the correction of wrongs 
 and the amelioration of want or suffering, the 
 image of that radiant being who, for so many years, 
 had doubled his joys and halved his griefs, by shar- 
 ing them, would present itself before him and 
 beckon him onward. And the answer of his soul 
 was that he would 
 
THE BROKEN LINK 199 
 
 "So live that when the summons should come 
 To join the innumerable host," 
 
 He could 
 
 "Wrap the drapery of his couch about him, 
 And lie down to pleasant dreams." 
 
 A few weeks after the translation of Alena, in 
 pursuance of a well-considered plan, the first im- 
 portant subject to which Colonel Boyd turned his 
 attention was the "Civil Service of the United 
 States," and certain reported violations of the let- 
 ter and spirit of the law which had been enacted 
 for its reformation and purification. 
 
 "The Civil Service" is a term employed to desig- 
 nate all those necessary official duties and func- 
 tions for the Government which are not included 
 in the military, naval, diplomatic and consular ser- 
 vice. The duties are performed by an army of 
 employees, originally appointed from the masses 
 of the people ; and as the duties are multifarious, 
 they have been classified, for the most part, in ac- 
 cordance with the subject, or class of subjects, to 
 which they relate ; — hence, several departments, 
 such as the "Treasury," the "Interior," and "Agri- 
 culture." At the head of each Department is 
 placed an officer whose designation is Secretary, 
 and who becomes responsible for the performance 
 of the duties and labors of his Department. Un- 
 der his direction a number of subordinates are 
 appointed, such as Comptrollers, Commissioners, 
 and the like ; and, beneath these in rank and sal- 
 
200 THE LAST MAN 
 
 ary, are the great bodies of clerks and other opera- 
 tives, under the immediate personal supervision 
 and control of chiefs of divisions, as they are called. 
 All these subordinates are chosen or appointed 
 ostensibly on the ground that they are qualified by 
 education, general knowledge, and good character, 
 to enter upon, learn and perform with skill the 
 duties of their several offices. 
 
 In the early days of the Republic no exalted 
 officer thought it proper to appoint or nominate 
 for appointment to an office a warm personal 
 friend because of such relation. One of the first 
 four Presidents, when solicited to appoint a person 
 to a place, invariably asked two pertinent ques- 
 tions, "Is he honest?" and "Is he competent?" and 
 upon the answers to these depended the official 
 action. There was nothing of nepotism, and little 
 of politics, in the service then, and so it remained 
 until hunger and greed for offices, great and small, 
 developed what was, and is yet, called the "spoils 
 system," whereby the service was prostituted to 
 the rewarding of political friends, henchmen and 
 backers for their aid and services in political cam- 
 paigns. "To the victors belong the spoils" be- 
 came the motto of the party which succeeded to 
 power, and from that time forward, for nearly fifty 
 years, the civil service was, to a great extent, the 
 refuge, and its perquisites the reward, of many 
 persons whose principal — often their sole — quali- 
 fication for the positions they sought and secured, 
 was that of a devoted and even unprincipled service 
 
THE BROKEN LINK 201 
 
 for a political party. This was the "spoils system," 
 pure and simple, adequately illustrated. No wonder 
 that the service suffered from incompetency, venal- 
 ity, and dishonesty, and that it became a hissing 
 and a by-word. 
 
 Press and people began to enter protests against 
 these abuses, but political bosses and bummers 
 laughed them to scorn. 
 
 "Revolutions never go backward." The good 
 common sense of a large part of the people con- 
 tinued to insist that a service which cost so much 
 should command better talent and better work. 
 The sentiment, like leaven, became so widespread 
 and potent, that in the eighties Congress framed 
 and passed "an Act to regulate and improve the 
 Civil Service," which by the terms of the act, 
 went into immediate effect. Favorable results soon 
 followed, and, ere long, Representatives, and even 
 Senators, became friends of the renovated service. 
 The great political parties inserted in their plat- 
 form a plank favoring "Civil Service reform." The 
 service continued to improve, and yet, at the close 
 of several years, there remained much to be done 
 before it would be a complete system as intended 
 by the law. It was at this juncture that Boyd 
 began his efforts and investigations. 
 
 An incident occurred which served to intensify, 
 and render practical, his opinions and convictions. 
 In all the years of Boyd's widower life, though 
 genial and affable to all, he had quietly but steadily 
 declined to be controlled by the mandates and fol- 
 
202 THE LAST MAN 
 
 lies of society, so called, or to be inveigled in the 
 meshes of any class or "set." Devices to entrap 
 him into an alliance of marriage with this or that 
 "rich, charming widow," or this or that "beautiful 
 young belle, just out in her first season," utterly 
 failed to produce any response. But in a case of 
 suffering or helplessness, or injustice, his sensibili- 
 ties were easily excited, and his efforts in the way 
 of relief spontaneous and energetic. 
 
 The bell rang, and a boy presented a note ad- 
 dressed to Boyd, running thus : 
 
 "No. 943 Street, 
 
 Jan. 8, i8&— . 
 "Dear Colonel Boyd : — 
 
 "Having learned from many sources that you 
 are a good friend to those who are in 
 trouble, though an entire stranger, I venture 
 to request that you will call, very soon, to hear of 
 our trouble, and to see whether anything can be 
 done. My oldest daughter, who for some years 
 past, has been the mainstay and support of the 
 family, — there are five of us, — was dismissed from 
 her office, unjustly as we think, and a great, stout 
 man from a distant State, who knows nothing 
 about the duties of the position, has been put into 
 her place. We are in want. Please come and see 
 us. Very respectfully, 
 
 "Mrs. R. a. Lane." 
 
 Without a moment's hesitancy, Boyd accom- 
 panied the boy to Mrs. Lane's home. Calling the 
 
THE BROKEN LINK 203 
 
 daughter, a bright, accomplished young woman, 
 the mother bade her relate the case. Presenting 
 the letter of dismissal on account of "incompe- 
 tency," as was set forth, Boyd asked her to explain 
 fully the terms of "competency" and "incompe- 
 tency," which she did in clear, lucid terms : 
 
 "A record is kept in every Bureau of the effi- 
 ciency of each employee, as estimated by the terms 
 and conditions ordained by the President in an 
 official order. This record is made out and enter- 
 ed at the end of each calendar month, in books 
 prepared for the purpose, and any employee is en- 
 titled to take and preserve a copy of his record. If 
 he falls below the minimum standard, for several 
 months in succession, he is regarded as 'incompe- 
 tent,' and is liable to reduction of his salary, or 
 dismissal. If, however, he maintains a standing 
 above the minimum, he is to be retained ; and if 
 his average standing is very high, he is regarded 
 as worthy of promotion to a higher salary. This 
 is regarded as 'competency.' Here are copies of 
 my record. Colonel, for every month in the last 
 three years. I have never fallen below the mini- 
 mum, and have nearly always approached the max- 
 imum." 
 
 "How could they dismiss you, Miss Lane, with 
 such a record as this?" inquired Boyd. 
 
 "That is the point. Colonel. I think there must 
 be a mistake. Would you not think so ?" 
 
 "And what of the man who took your place, 
 Miss Lane?" 
 
204 THE LAST MAN 
 
 "O, he is a new-comer, and never did any clerical 
 work before, as I have learned." 
 
 "Do you know of any other cases like yours?" 
 
 "O, yes, several of them, within the past year." 
 
 "Were they all discharged?" 
 
 "Some were dismissed and others reduced in sal- 
 ary." 
 
 "And who took their places ?" 
 
 "Outsiders, mostly ; some of them women." 
 
 "Well, Miss Lane, if you will permit me to retain 
 your papers, I will investigate the subject. I have 
 learned from other sources that there are violations 
 of the law and the Presidential order respecting 
 the civil service, and I propose to look into the 
 matter as every citizen has the right and privilege 
 of doing." 
 
 Needless to say that within a fortnight Miss 
 Lane was restored to her position, and the man 
 who had been foisted into her place and been draw- 
 ing her salary was restored to liberty, and advised 
 to apply to the Civil Service Commission for a 
 certificate of qualifications and eligibility, as he 
 had never passed that ordeal. While investigating 
 Miss Lane's case, Boyd ascertained facts like 
 these : 
 
 That while the Civil Service Commission was the 
 gateway into the service, the commission had no 
 power to keep in place the competent and deserv- 
 ing, nor to remove from the service those whose 
 work or character fell below the standard contem- 
 plated by the law ; 
 
THE BROKEN LINK 205 
 
 That many employees were dismissed or reduced 
 and others were appointed, or promoted, in viola- 
 tion of the spirit, and even the letter of the Presi- 
 dential orders ; 
 
 That many chiefs of divisions had been in the 
 habit of furnishing for the Secretary's eye and ac- 
 tion, a "confidential report" of the standing of 
 their clerks, which was never seen by them, — in- 
 stead of the report entered in the books in obedi- 
 ence to the regulations ; and that this so-called 
 "confidential report" was often the basis upon 
 which dismissals, reductions and promotions were 
 made, as in the case of Miss Lane. 
 
 To say that Colonel Boyd made faithful and un- 
 ceasing efforts for the abatement of these and 
 other wrongs and defects in the civil service were 
 a truism. Nor was he alone. A band of noble 
 compatriots of all parties and creeds participated 
 in the contest. Whether by conferences with Sec- 
 retaries, with the Civil Service Commission, with 
 Presidents, with Senators and Representatives, 
 they ceased not to wage untiring opposition to all 
 these defects and deviations from the letter and 
 spirit of the law, until the last vestige of corruption 
 was exorcised and eliminated from the entire civil 
 service. 
 
XIX. 
 
 LENGTHENING SHADOWS. 
 
 The year 1900 had gone, completing the nine- 
 teenth century, the twentieth century had begun, 
 and Colonel Boyd was now past middle age. He 
 lived without care, except to look after the welfare 
 of his colony, and his brother, Bertrand Long, to 
 each of which he continued to make visits at least 
 twice a year. 
 
 The original colonists began to die rapidly, 
 from age, rather than disease, and their sons and 
 daughters, to whom the properties descended, in- 
 termarried, often with the better class of the natives 
 of the surrounding" country, until in time the popu- 
 lation greatly exceeded all that had been antici- 
 pated. Mr. Bertrand Long became not merely 
 well-to-do, but even wealthy, and lived long 
 enough to enjoy the presence of a family of several 
 children, the youngest of which, in after years, 
 when a young man, came to live with Colonel 
 Boyd at the Capital. 
 
 Boyd lived to see his hope fulfilled, and his 
 efforts, with those of other progressive men, re- 
 warded in the final establishment of a civil service, 
 in fact as well as in name, upon a foundation as 
 immutable as an Article of the Constitution. Un- 
 der its provisions and operations no one properly 
 
LENGTHENING SHADOWS 207 
 
 admitted to the service, true to his oath of office, 
 faithful and efficient in the discharge of his duties, 
 and upright in his habits, was exposed to the terror 
 of removal from office, or reduction of his salary, 
 so long as he remained physically and mentally 
 competent for the service. 
 
 Thus, at last, after a period of more than thirty 
 years, was the civil service restored to the original 
 JefTersonian requirements of honesty and com- 
 petency. 
 
 Government employees, instead of feeling and 
 acting as strangers in a strange land, and living a 
 species of Bohemian life, became staunch, reliable, 
 prosperous citizens, and all kinds of real estate 
 acquired fixed, unvarying values. The Capital 
 grew, because it must grow. Its great public 
 library, for whose establishment and endowment 
 Colonel Boyd and others contributed large sums, 
 became one of the foremost in the land. The pub- 
 lic schools were, as they should be, not only the 
 colleges of the people, but reliable nurseries for 
 the universities. The old-time cheap wooden 
 buildings, as well as the brick structures of a for- 
 mer generation, gave way to elegant, spacious edi- 
 fices, illustrating in their diverse structures all the 
 principal styles of architecture in Europe. 
 
 Years prior to 1920 all the street railways had 
 become rapid transit, and had pushed their lines 
 far into the surrounding States of Maryland and 
 Virginia. The entire city, the Government build- 
 ings, the churches and places of amusement, as well 
 
208 THE LAST MAN 
 
 as hundreds of residences, were brilliantly lighted 
 by electricity, generated at "Great Falls." The 
 supply of water was derived from the same inex- 
 haustible source, and was conducted through great 
 sub-surface tunnels into vast reservoirs, after pass- 
 ing through filters of adequate capacity. 
 
 The beautiful statue of Liberty surmounting the 
 dome of the Capitol had long since exchanged her 
 black, sorrowful garment for a golden one, which 
 glittered and sparkled by day in the sunlight, by 
 night in the moonlight, and at other times, in the 
 absence of sun and moon, her chaste form was 
 rendered visible by a series of electric lights, whose 
 effulgence was concentrated upon her through a 
 system of convex lenses. 
 
 But more wonderful and magnificent than all 
 else was the memorial bridge across the Potomac, 
 uniting the Virginia shore with the Capital. 
 Though only a mile in length, it surpassed all other 
 massive, ornate structures of its kind in the world. 
 On each edge of the bridge, atop the coping, at 
 regular intervals, stood statues of all the principal 
 heroes of the several wars in which the Republic 
 had been engaged, from the Revolution to the date 
 of the construction. Interspersed with these were 
 statues of all the Presidents, and many statesmen 
 of renown. At night the bridge was illuminated 
 by a multitude of incandescent lights, rendering 
 every object plainly visible. At each end an arc 
 of these lights, more than a hundred yards long, 
 rose above and encircled the abutments. Between 
 
LENGTHENING SHADOWS 209 
 
 midnight and morning the floor of the bridge was 
 sprinkled and swept by machines, driven by elec- 
 tric motors. Telephonic connections from shore 
 to shore insured quick and sure transmission of 
 orders and messages, official and otherwise. Above 
 the summit of the arc, at the Capital end, stood a 
 gigantic statue of Liberty, while at the Virginia 
 end was an equally large statue of America, or the 
 American freeman. Surmounting all, and cover- 
 ing the entire structure, was a complete cover or 
 canopy of thick, heavy, transparent glass, enlivened 
 here and there by large historical panels. 
 
 In the midst of such splendid environments, 
 Colonel Boyd lived and grew old, grandly and 
 gracefully, and at last became somewhat superan- 
 nuated physically, though his mental faculties re- 
 mained bright and active. Reminiscences of great 
 men and great events furnished him themes for 
 reflection and subjects for conversation with visit- 
 ors of the younger generation who came habitually 
 and often to hear his wonderful relations of the 
 times now long past. He had been personally well 
 acquainted with many of the military heroes and 
 distinguished statesmen and judges of the preced- 
 ing half-century, among whom were Lincoln, Sew- 
 ard, Chase, Sherman, Thurman, Hendricks, and 
 others whose names and deeds will live forever, 
 and whose fame will shine as stars of the first mag- 
 nitude in the historical firmament of the great Re- 
 public. 
 
 For several years Boyd's nephew, Charles Long, 
 14 
 
210 THE LAST MAN 
 
 the youngest son of Bertrand Long, now deceased, 
 had lived with his uncle to take care of him, miti- 
 gate his loneliness, and perform errands and offices 
 requiring youth and activity. 
 
 The young man was a law student in one of the 
 universities. Reared in the South, he was expert 
 in all the sports and diversions of that section, es- 
 pecially the use of firearms. Thoroughly devoted 
 to his uncle, and completely devoid of fear, the 
 Boyd mansion was as well protected and defended 
 as any residence at the Capital. 
 
 When the arrangements for the spectacle de- 
 scribed at the beginning of this volume were to be 
 made, the old man aroused from his lethargy, be- 
 stirred his limbs and his mind, and rendered most 
 valuable advice to the committees having charge 
 of the preparations. He alone could give authen- 
 tic information regarding many things to be com- 
 memorated on that occasion. And when the fete 
 occurred, he, alone, stood in the presence of three 
 generations to impersonate the heroes and the im- 
 mortal deeds of the Glorious Past. 
 
 Thus far in the progress of this story a seeming 
 omission has occurred, which, though uninten- 
 tional, will now be supplied. 
 
 In the eighties, after Colonel and Mrs. Boyd 
 had established their home in Washington, there 
 came to the Capital a large body of excursionists 
 from Richmond and other cities and towns of Vir- 
 ginia, for the purpose of sight-seeing, with all that 
 the term includes. 
 
LENGTHENING SHADOWS 211 
 
 There were within their ranks many distinguished 
 men and fair women, some of them authoresses, 
 and some the descendants of long lines of illustri- 
 ous ancestries. 
 
 One afternoon a cab drove up and stopped be- 
 fore the gate of the Boyd mansion. A man, seem- 
 ingly of middle age, descended from the vehicle 
 and entered the grounds, leaving the cab in waiting. 
 Dressed in an elegant, light-colored suit, and 
 sporting a becoming, fashionable hat, he reached 
 and ascended the steps to the house, rang the elec- 
 tric bell, and, a servant appearing, inquired for 
 Colonel Boyd. Seating the stranger, the servant 
 informed Mr. Boyd of the call of a strange gentle- 
 man. 
 
 On the colonel's appearing, the stranger arose 
 and inquired whether he was Colonel Boyd. 
 
 "I am he, and whom have I the pleasure of see- 
 ing?" replied the colonel. 
 
 "Do you not remember me?" asked the stranger, 
 as a smile spread over his face. 
 
 Looking sharply for a moment. Colonel Boyd 
 sprang forward, rushed into the stranger's out- 
 stretched arms, almost shouting, "Well, I declare ! 
 You are no other than my dear army surgeon. Dr. 
 Culp ! Of all men, you are the one I have been 
 longing to see for the past twenty years. Come to 
 the library. Doctor, I must have a long, long talk 
 with you." 
 
 "But," said the doctor, "I am obliged to limit 
 my call to a few minutes, as the excursion of which 
 
212 THE LAST MAN 
 
 I am a member will return to Richmond to-morrow 
 evening, and there are yet many things we desire 
 to see." 
 
 "Don't say so, Doctor," said Boyd ; "send away 
 your cab and stay for the evening, and the night if 
 you will. There is another person in the house 
 who, I know, should see you." 
 
 "Who, Colonel?" 
 
 "My wife, Doctor; she has heard a deal about 
 you, and would never forgive me if I should let 
 you leave the house without her seeing you and 
 hearing you talk." 
 
 "I am sure I can't imagine who she may be. 
 Colonel." 
 
 "My wife. Doctor." 
 
 "Well, under such circumstances, I submit, as 
 ladies almost always have their way," said the doc- 
 tor. "I will discharge the cab." Walking to the 
 gate for that purpose, he returned to find a lady of 
 mature age and condition standing by the colonel. 
 
 "My dear," said Boyd, "this is Dr. Culp, the sur- 
 geon who treated me when a prisoner, and of whom 
 I have spoken so often. Dr. Culp, this is my wife, 
 whom you have met before, or may have heard of 
 before." 
 
 The two bowed and smiled, and Mrs. Boyd, ex- 
 tending her hand, said : 
 
 "Doctor, I am so glad to meet you again." 
 
 Hark ! that voice ! And as he gazed with widely- 
 opened eyes, a flash of intelligence overspread Dr. 
 Culp's features and he exclaimed : "As I am a liv- 
 
LENGTHENING SHADOWS 213 
 
 ing man, this is the identical Miss Long, the heroic 
 little girl who was one of our hospital nurses ! Well, 
 well, wonders never cease. I always knew, or felt, 
 I should say, that you two would become one !" 
 
 "Be seated. Doctor," said Mrs. Boyd, "and tell 
 me why you thought and felt so." 
 
 "Because," said he, "I felt that it ought to be 
 so ; Colonel Boyd felt that it ought to be so ; and 
 if you will permit me to say it, I felt that you felt 
 that it ought to be so, madam." 
 
 Hearty laughter greeted the doctor's diagnosis 
 of the case. 
 
 "I always suspected, Doctor, that you suspected 
 my secret — the most charming, sacred secret that 
 a young woman ever has, and the suspicion an- 
 noyed me at the time ; but now that it is all over 
 and gone, I am glad that, if any one should, and 
 did know, it was you, rather than one of my own 
 sex, or some other man who might have put a bad 
 construction on my actions." 
 
 "And I knew," said Boyd, "that you knew the 
 state of my feelings for Miss Long at the time, and 
 felt extremely proud that you did know it." 
 
 Again there was an impromptu trio of hearty 
 laughter. Suddenly the doctor said : 
 
 "By the way, Colonel, I have wondered a thou- 
 sand times what ever became of your sword, sash 
 and revolver, which we could not find when you 
 were leaving us to be exchanged." 
 
 "Excuse me for a moment, Doctor," said Boyd. 
 Returning with the articles, he placed them in the 
 
214 THE LAST MAN 
 
 doctor's hands, saying, "They speak for them- 
 selves." 
 
 Dr. Gulp's eyes sparkled at first, and then grew 
 dim with moisture as he read Miss Long's note, 
 now yellow with age, attached to the hilt of the 
 sword. "Ah, that was just Hke you, Mrs. Boyd. 
 I always ,felt that, somehow or other, you would 
 secure these precious articles. 'Tis another apt 
 illustration of the old adage, 'Where there's a will 
 there's a way.' " 
 
 Said Boyd : "The articles are priceless — not for 
 their inherent value, but for the associations con- 
 nected with them." 
 
 "So mote it be !" said the doctor. 
 
 At their earnest solicitation, he remained over- 
 night, and words of kindness and reminiscence and 
 comradery filled the fleeting hours till long after 
 midnight. 
 
 And when, on the morrow, these three noble 
 souls clasped hands and "good-byes" were spoken, 
 and Dr. Gulp departed, a friendship as strong as 
 life had been crystallized and cemented forever. 
 
XX. 
 
 THE ENDING. 
 
 Several years subsequent to the pageant of July 
 4th, 1926, on that other national anniversary cele- 
 brating the birth of Washington, Colonel Boyd, 
 although quite feeble, participated in a distinguished 
 public function commemorative of the great event. 
 
 Returning home, much exhausted, he retired 
 early and was soon asleep. Young Charles Long 
 came in, and, as was his custom, rested on a couch 
 in his uncle's room. 
 
 The clocks had rung out the midnight hour, the 
 lights in the Boyd mansion were extinguished, and 
 almost perfect silence reigned. Suddenly a suc- 
 cession of reports of firearms — four of them — ap- 
 parently in the colonel's apartments, rang out 
 upon the stillness and awakened the sleeping ser- 
 vants. There was a heavy fall of something in the 
 colonel's room, and, a moment later, another fall 
 outside the room, on the stairway, and then all was 
 silent again. The servants, now fully aroused, 
 turned up the lights in the lower hall and then 
 stood timid and hesitant. 
 
 At the same time two police officers were stand- 
 ing talking at a street crossing, about two squares 
 distant. Hearing the pistol shots, at that time of 
 night, and in the direction of the Boyd mansion, 
 
21b- THE LAST MAN 
 
 they moved with more than ordinary celerity, and 
 reached the grounds in front just as the Hghts were 
 turned up in the hall. Ringing the door bell vig- 
 orously, one of the servants, a colored man, tim- 
 idly ventured to open the door. There stood the 
 policemen, who asked him where the shooting was. 
 
 " 'Deed, I doesn't know, but 'peared to me ez if 
 it war upstairs in de Colonel's room. I was dead 
 asleep, and dunno jist whar it war. I didn't do no 
 shootin'." 
 
 "Where is the Colonel's room?" asked one of 
 the officers. 
 
 "On de next floh above," replied the servant. 
 
 "And where is the Colonel?" asked they. 
 
 "Dunno ; guess he's upstahs in de room with 
 young Mistah Long. I hesn't seed either of dem 
 since afoah dark." 
 
 "And who are these colored people back yon- 
 der?" asked the officer. 
 
 "Dem's de oder sarvants, boss," said he. 
 
 "Well, now, you just stay with us, and don't try 
 to get away; do you hear?" said the officer. 
 
 "Yes, sail, I heahs." 
 
 Then, with revolvers in hand, and the servant 
 pushed ahead of them, they began the ascent of the 
 stairway. 
 
 Ha ! They reached the landing where the stair- 
 way turned at a right angle, and there, in the 
 shadow, lies a man. They bend forward and look 
 closer. The man is either asleep, or dead, or in 
 hiding. They push the servant forward, regard- 
 
THE ENDING 217 
 
 less of his fears and expostulations. The prone 
 figure moves not. In a minute more they are 
 assured that he is dead. They cause the servant 
 to go up to the hall above and turn on the light. 
 Yes, the man is dead, and the ofiicers recognize 
 him as a notorious housebreaker and thief who 
 had eluded the vigilance of the police force of the 
 Capital and other cities for years. His revolver 
 is still held in his right hand. A little pool of blood 
 near his chest shows where the ball had penetrated. 
 They wrest the revolver from his hand and proceed 
 to complete the ascent of the stainvay, one cau- 
 tioning the other to "look sharp" for the dead rob- 
 ber's partner. They reach the second floor, peer 
 cautiously in all directions, then move forward to 
 the door of the colonel's apartment, which is wide 
 open. 
 
 The room is dark, but the ofiicers compel the 
 servant to enter and turn up the light. Horrible ! 
 There lies a young man on the floor, dead, his 
 hand still clasping a revolver ! 
 
 After assuring themselves that the dead robber 
 had no accomplice, or that, if there was one, he 
 had escaped, they return to the young man. There 
 is the small pink spot on his forehead which shows 
 where a ball went crashing into his brain. His 
 death was instantaneous. They turn to the bed 
 on which lies Colonel Boyd, unconscious, but 
 breathing loud and stertorous. His eyes are wide 
 open, but he sees not. All his senses and sensa- 
 tions are suspended, if not destroyed. Away runs 
 
218 THE LAST MAN 
 
 one of the officers for a physician. The physician 
 comes, administers a restorative, and the colonel 
 returns to consciousness. 
 
 Looking about anxiously, his first words are, 
 "Where is Charles — Charles Long?" The physi- 
 cian and officers realize the importance of hiding 
 from him the fate of the young man, and so parry 
 the inquiry. 
 
 "Where was he when you retired, Colonel ?" asks 
 the physician. 
 
 "O, don't trifle with me, Doctor ; I was awake 
 when the robber and Charles fired upon each 
 other, but all at once I lost consciousness. Tell 
 me where Charles is, Doctor," plead the poor, dis- 
 tressed old man. 
 
 "I wasn't here," said the physician ; "can you 
 officers answer the Colonel's question?" 
 
 "No," said one of them, "we were not here, 
 either." 
 
 "Charles and the robber both fired," said the 
 colonel, "and Charles was a dead shot, and so I 
 think he wounded, and maybe killed, the scoun- 
 drel. Have you looked for the robbers?" 
 
 The officers and the physician exchange looks, 
 and one of the officers replies : 
 
 "Yes, Colonel, the robber is killed, and lies out 
 here on the stairway. The young man shot him 
 in the breast." 
 
 "Didn't the robber have a revolver, too?" asks 
 the colonel. 
 
 "O, yes, here it is," said the officer. 
 
THE ENDING 219 
 
 "Well, where is Charles? I demand to know. 
 Is he killed, too?" 
 
 "Now, Colonel Boyd," said the doctor, "you 
 have seen death in many forms in your life, have 
 you not?" 
 
 "O, yes; but tell me, is Charles killed?" asks he. 
 
 "Well, you must not be surprised or shocked at 
 anything, Colonel," said the doctor. 
 
 "Go on ! Tell me the worst Doctor," said the 
 old man. "Is Charles dead?" 
 
 "Yes," said the doctor, "he is dead. The thief 
 shot him in the head." 
 
 "I feared so," said the old man. "O, he was a 
 grand young man, and I had made him heir to 
 most of my estate. Now he's gone. Well, we 
 
 shall'all go soon, and " here he was seized with 
 
 a spasm, and lost consciousness again. In vain 
 did the doctor employ all the means known to 
 medical science to resuscitate him. 
 
 His pulsations weakened, stopped within an 
 hour, and he was dead ! 
 
 The doctor opened the blinds, threw up the win- 
 dows, and the first streakings of the dawn of a 
 midsummer morning stole into the apartment and 
 the hall where lay the three lifeless forms. 
 
 Detectives had been sent for by the police offi- 
 cers, and, on their arrival, proceeded to ascertain 
 and arrange the facts resulting in the triple tragedy. 
 
 The sad intelligence of the death of Colonel 
 Boyd had reached every household and every ear 
 in the city before the morning papers were issued. 
 
220 THE LAST MAN 
 
 The Commissioners of the District issued an extra 
 morning paper, recommending that the flags, 
 which on yesterday had fluttered in joy and peace, 
 should be permitted to remain in their places, and 
 that a service of black crape, the emblem of sor- 
 row, should be attached. The people without ex- 
 ception observed the suggestion, and for the next 
 three days the city was in deep mourning. 
 
 The detectives ascertained the facts and the 
 coroner's jury rendered verdicts accordingly. 
 
 The housebreaker, bent on robbery, and taking 
 advantage of the tired condition of the household 
 and the city, had located the Boyd mansion during 
 the preceding afternoon, with the intention of rob- 
 bery, and murder if necessary. 
 
 Climbing up a ladder at the back of the house, 
 he pried up a window and softly entered. There 
 was one element in the problem of which he was 
 ignorant. He did not know that there was any 
 one in the apartment with Colonel Boyd. Had he 
 known this, he would not have ventured. He 
 entered the apartment, when suddenly some one in 
 the darkness fired upon him and he was wounded 
 in the left arm. A desperate character, he pulled 
 his revolver and fired at the dim figure. Again 
 the colonel's protector fired, and the thief felt that 
 he was mortally wounded, but he summoned up 
 his remaining though fast-failing strength, aimed, 
 and fired again, and had the fiendish pleasure of 
 hearing the man fall heavily. Then he turned and 
 
THE ENDING 221 
 
 hastened to get out of the house, but on reaching 
 the stairway he too fell dead. 
 
 On the third day after these thrilling events a 
 vast and notable procession accompanied the mor- 
 tal remains of the colonel to Arlington. In the 
 grave prepared by the side of his long-since de- 
 parted wife, in that most beautiful and classic of 
 Government cemeteries, they laid him, and filled 
 the grave to the full with fragrant flowers, fitting 
 emblems of the life and qualities of the grand man 
 whose ashes lay beneath. 
 
 There 
 
 "He sleeps his last sleep, he has fought his last battle; 
 No sound can awake him to glory again!" 
 
 Within a short distance from his tomb, less than 
 the flight of an arrow, there is a square, massive 
 granite monument, erected to "The Unknown 
 Dead," on one of whose faces is chiseled that im- 
 mortal quatrain : 
 
 "On Fame's eternal camping ground, 
 Their silent tents are spread; 
 And glory guards, with solemn round, 
 The bivouac of the dead!" 
 
 Of all that mighty host, of all those victorious 
 armies, whose tread extended through twelve 
 States, and was heard around the world ; of all that 
 grand body, once known as the Grand Army of 
 the Republic, — whose banner, bore the words, 
 "Fraternity, Loyalty, Charity," — Colonel Alfred 
 Boyd was 
 
 THE LAST MAN ! 
 
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 The Regeneration. A novel by Herbert Baird Stuipson, 
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 Complete Poems of Colonel John A. Joyce. Author 
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 Vade - Mecum to the Dinner Table. By Edmund, 
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Mr. Billy Downs and His Likes. By Col. Richard 
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 Southern Literary Men,' but the idea of old age never seemed 
 to be a proper one to associate with him ; he was so full of life, 
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 but, most of all, the world had lost the present influence of a 
 noble man." 
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 front rank of American artists. 
 Half cloth binding ; 9 x 12 inches ; 8 full-page dravnngs and 8 
 pages of text. Makes an unusually handsome gift. Price in a ho», 
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 Cupid and Creeds. A novel, by W. J. Newton. In this de- 
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PATRIOTIC SONGS, by W. J. NEWTON. 
 
 The Columbian Anthem. Music by E. Berliner. 
 
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 Revolution at the National Council, February 22, 1897, and on 
 Flag Day celebration of the same year was presented with the 
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 at the Lafayette Square Opera House in Washington, and by a 
 number of Public Schools in Washington and in New York. 
 
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 at the White House Grounds in the presence of President and 
 Mrs. McKinley, on Saturday, September 18, 1897, the Columbian 
 Anthem was selected as the opening number. 
 
 The Baltimore American, commenting on this concert (composi- 
 tions by American composers having been exclusively selected) 
 under date of September 19th, 1897, said : " Among the composi- 
 tions rendered was the Columbian Anthem by E. Berliner. Con- 
 sidering that this country has not a National melody, other than 
 those borrowed from Europe, the Columbian Antherin. has a good 
 chance to be some day selected as our National Melody." 
 Songs From Brambleton Fair. Words and music, in- 
 cluding Love Needs No Language; Say Yes, My Darling; The 
 Best of Friends Must Part ; Wait For Me, Dearest, and all choruses. 
 
 Price, in paper, 60 cents. 
 
 Old Glory. The Blake School Flag Song, music by E. A. 
 
 Varela. 
 Gloria Old Glory. The Brent School Flag Song, music by 
 
 F. Gaisberg. 
 The Flag of Washington. The Abbot School Flag Song, 
 
 music by W. J. Newton. 
 
 Songs For Sale by Music Dealers Only. 
 
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RARE BOOK 
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 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
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