SEARCHING FOR THE DEAD.
A LADY from Philadelphia searched for days over the wide battle-field of Shiloh for the grave of her only child—a bright, beautiful, Christian boy, only eighteen. A detail of men was sent from the regiment to help search for the grave. She was quartered on our Sanitary boat, and I went with her. “They are all buried side by side—all we could find of our regiment,” said the sergeant who had charge of the squad of men sent out to help us search. We scattered, keeping in sight of each other, and in calling distance, and searched thoroughly; but it was not till the second day that we found the grave.
The mother found it first of all. The name was written with a pencil on a bit of board at the head. She gave a call, and waved her handkerchief, and then fell on her knees, with her arms over the mound of earth above her boy. He was all she had on earth; for he was the only child of his mother, and she was a widow. As we gathered about the grave, and saw her frail form convulsed by the sobs of agony she tried to conceal, theroughest and bravest of the men turned away to hide their tears. “He was a good soldier; a good Christian; we had few like him in the regiment,” were the kindly comments that were made by his companions in arms. As I lifted her away from the grave, her eyes, though full of tears, caught sight of a passion flower at the edge of the mound.
She plucked it and took it away as a keepsake, saying, “God is good to give me this token of his own love and passion.” The body was to be taken up and placed in the burial-case she had brought for the purpose. They did not wish her to see it. Officers came and tried to dissuade her. No, she must see him.
“No matter how mangled, I shall know him; and I must know that it is my son.”
And she had her way. He was brought up; and when the blanket which was his only coffin was unrolled, there he was as natural as life.
She clipped a few locks from his wealth of brown hair, and kneeling by her dead, thanked God that he had given her back the body of her son, and for the hope that animated her that they should meet again in heaven. If by any possibility these lines should fall under the eyes of that lady, whose name I have forgotten, she will recognize the story, and I am sure she will be glad to renew the acquaintance with the strange lady who helped her find her boy’s grave.