John Seely Hart

John Seely Hart

Summary

Portrait of John Seely Hart John Seely Hart Mary Slocumb (1852)

The blind path I had been following brought me into the Wilmington road leading to Moore’s Creek Bridge, a few hundred yards below the bridge. A few yards from the road, under a cluster of trees were lying perhaps twenty men. They were the wounded. I knew the spot; the very trees; and the position of the men I knew as if I had seen it a thousand times. I had seen it all night! I saw all at once; but in an instant my whole soul was centred in one spot; for there, wrapped in his bloody guard-cloak, was my husband’s body!
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of John Seely Hart John Seely Hart Mary Slocumb (1852)

I went to the stable, saddled my mare—as fleet and easy a nag as ever travelled; and in one minute we were tearing down the road at full speed. The cool night seemed after a mile or two’s gallop to bring reflection with it; and I asked myself where I was going, and for what purpose. Again and again I was tempted to turn back; but I was soon ten miles from home, and my mind became stronger every mile I rode. I should find my husband dead or dying—was as firmly my presentiment and conviction as any fact of my life.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of John Seely Hart John Seely Hart Mary Slocumb (1852)

The officer raised his cap, and bowing to his horse’s neck, addressed the lady, with the question—
“Have I the pleasure of seeing the mistress of this house and plantation!”
“It belongs to my husband.”
“Is he at home?”
“He is not.”
“Is he a rebel?”
“No, sir. He is in the army of his country, and fighting against our invaders; therefore not a rebel.”
It is not a little singular, that although the people of that day gloried in their rebellion, they always took offence at being called rebels.
“I fear, madam,” said the officer, “we differ in opinion.
Source: Wikisource

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