GDG- Sue Elizabeth Stoever - July 4

[Ginny Gage]

Saturday, July Fourth.

            Friday night the family went to rest‹but they were later roused
by a sound within the house.  Heavy feet were mounting the stairs.  A band
of Rebels had entered through the front cellar door, beaking open the lock,
and, after a diligent search, discovered the concealed soldiers.  After the
noisy party withdrew, the family once more settled themselves to a pretense
of sleep. At length a commotion was heard in the yard.  The Doctor went out
on the upper balcony.  Several Rebels stood below.

            ³Come down, we want to see you,² said the spokesman.

            The Doctor calmly replied, ³I am near enough to hear any
communication you may wish to make.²

            ³Well,² replied the soldier, ³I reckon you may as well know that
you are wanted by our Colonel.  I have orders to take you prisoner.  You¹ve
been harboring Yankee soldiers in your cellar and you have to answer for the
offense.²

            Still the Doctor was unperturbed.  His little wife stood by his
side crying. The children realized that their dear father was in danger, but
they heard his reassuring voice.

            ³I cannot accompany you at this hour of the night and leave my
family unprotected, but I give you my word of honor that I will go in the
morning.²

            After a little further parleying the Confederates left to seek
respite from their commanding officer.  Meanwhile the honest Doctor made his
preparations for the journey.  Stout shoes were in readiness, and suitable
clothing for a possible march, and the anxious wife dared not think of a
Southern prison, the children deprived of their devoted father and her own
desolate heart.   

            This darkest night (although the moon was full and shining) had
its dawn, and the Fourth of July brought the joyous cry, ³The Union men are
in town!²

            It was indeed true.  The victory was with the North.  Yet
breakfast was scarcely over, when a masterful knock was heard, and the use
of the house for sharpshooters demanded, because it was one of the tallest
in the town.  It would not be safe for the family to remain there.  A valise
was hastily packed with a few necessary articles. As Dr. Godfrey looked
about him, he saw his prized photograph album, then a recent invention.  He
would find room for that and still keep near him the faces of his friends,
although his valuable library must be left behind.

 

            The sorrowful little procession passed up the street, not
knowing when return to their dear home might be possible. A kind towns-woman
invited them to spend the day with her.  In the evening they went to a
relative¹s, and the next week were able to come back to the old house built
by the maternal grandfather.  What an unusual life it now presented.  The
guest-chamber was occupied by two Philadelphia women devoting their days to
nursing the soldiers.  Dr. Godrey¹s broad hospitality, as well as his
connection with the Christian Commission, opened wide the doors to those
engaged in ministering to the sick and dying, and every evening home from
the field, a noble company, George H. Stuart and Phillips Brooks among the
number, gathered in the same dining-room which a few days before had heard
the groans of the wounded; and upstairs a dozen men slept on the parlor
floor.  Dr. Godrrey¹s nightly duty being to ³count heads² that no one be
locked out.

            Many were the sad sights throughout the town‹public buildings
and private houses filled with the suffering; embalmers and commissary
departments occupying the stands of the merchants.  Pathetic and humorous
were the meetings of friends and relatives, who, having been separated by
the strange adventures of war, laughed and cried as they recounted their
varied experiences.

            In the years that followed, many strangers visited the
battlefield, some of whom deemed themselves fortunate to sit beside Dr.
Godfrey in his study, and see as well as hear word-pictures drawn from his
rich experience.  The scenes of those three days in July, 1863, had not been
coveted, but the retrospect was worth all the suspense and anxiety, and
strengthened not only faith, but also patriotism, and broadened sympathy and
human knowledge.

                                                Sue Elizabeth Stoever

                                                Mount Airy, Pa.

Ginny Gage