[Illustration: _EMANCIPATION STATUE BOSTON, MASS._]
The children and I spent a delightful time, as I remember well, on the 26th of April, 1864, reading the glorious accounts in the papers of the grand march, the day before, past the White House at Washington, of the mighty army destined for the conquest of Virginia, and the destruction of the entire slave-holders' rebellion. That never-to-be-forgotten show-day was indeed one of the red-letter days for the army of the Union, among whom were thousands of colored soldiers who marched gaily past, and hurrahed lustily for "Father Abraham," who was smiling down upon them from the balcony of the White House. Although they were not yet declared American citizens, still these brave young men were going to fight for the star-spangled banner. They had often heard the name of Abraham Lincoln, but this was the first time they ever saw him, and they swung their caps around their heads, clapped their hands, and shouted aloud for joy, "Hurrah, hurrah, hurrah for Mr. Lincoln! Three cheers for the President!" Long and loud were the rejoicings, as regiment after regiment marched past; powerful, enthusiastic men, who were once slaves, but now freemen, with steady step and even ranks moved in splendid order down the street past the White House on their venturesome way to the seat of war. The President had never seen a general review of colored troops before, but he was greatly pleased, indeed, and heartily acknowledged their enthusiastic shouts by bowing and waving his hand to them, and making himself agreeable and pleasant to them, as they marched past.
Thus the whole army under review passed on, crossed "yon long bridge" over the Potomac river, and entered the State of Virginia. Poor, brave fellows! Many of them never returned alive, but they were the bravest of the brave, and performed their glorious mission.
The grand march was past at Washington. It was like the ball and dance before the battle of Waterloo, when the British and allied armies had that glorious night's revelry before they marched to the field to meet the French under Napoleon. And so some 20,000 men of African descent met on the soil of Virginia to contend with Lee and his Confederate veterans. It would require a whole volume to itself to relate all the marching and counter-marching of the next twelve months; the battles in the woods, the advancing and retreating, and the fighting at the fords of the rivers of Virginia. General Grant, poor fellow, lost many brave men, for the rebels were bold and courageous; they were on their own soil, and, worst of all, were fighting for slavery. The evolutions of the contending hosts these last twelve months of the war, remind me somewhat of a great "circus," where the horse and their riders fly along in one unending whirl, whilst Grant seemed to stand in the middle of the circus, and direct the evolutions of both riders and steeds. The colored troops came in for their full share of the work, bravely performed their duties every time, but, alas! there was many a brave man who was laid under the sod! Yes, it would take a whole volume to recount all the deeds that our brave brothers did, marching and fighting month in and month out, in summer's heat and winter's cold. It was in the end of September, 1864, that General Butler, at the head of a strong force of colored troops, carried the New Market Heights, and utterly defeated the rebels. Our loss was considerable, but our own men were completely successful. Many other instances of devotion and bravery might be given; but it would be nothing but an endless task. General Grant and all the other commanders had nothing but good words for our heroic brothers.