“In a few days Gen. Anderson was adjudged by the Surgeon to be strong enough to travel. He was granted an indefinite leave of absence by Gen. Silent, who regarded him very highly as an able officer. Gen. Anderson, myself, Jackson, James Whitcomb (now lieutenant), and Ham started for Allentown. On arriving at home the family were overjoyed, surprised, and grieved all at the same time--overjoyed at our return, surprised that they had not heard of the General being wounded, and grieved at his suffering. “Lieut. James Whitcomb was introduced to the family, who were delighted to see him. He left the same evening for his home in Detroit, and we were together once more, save two sons, Peter and Henry. The meeting between Ham and Aunt Martha was very affecting. Their manner and queer remarks were laughable. Soon Aunt Martha came in to see her Marsa Gen'l Tom. She hugged him and got down on her knees and prayed for him, and then said to me: “'Uncle Daniel, I bress de good Laud, for you bring Marsa Tom back. I cure him, sho. I knows what to do; de Laud tell me, he do. He not goin' to let Marsa Genl Tom die; no he not! He want him to whip de Sesh, he do. I knows; de Laud tell me bout dat in de dream. He not fool dis old 'oinan; he neber do. Ham, he dream 'bout dat when he down to de fight. He say he sick when dey fight. How is dat, Uncle Daniel? Did Marsa Tom tell you? Was he sick? He awful coward, Ham is, but if he sick, den all right; but when he not been sick he must stay wid Marsa Gen'l to keep he things all right. Ham say he do dat. I 'spect he do; he say so.' “We told Aunt Martha that Ham was all right, and that pleased her, poor old woman. She was pure gold; God never made a better heart under any white skin than she had under her black one. “Gen. Anderson had the best of attention, and improved daily until he could walk about without pain, but he was not fit for duty for a considerable time. The two children were delighted, and were full of questions of all kinds. One day when they were trying to entertain the General, his little daughter asked him who shot him. I saw the tears come into his eyes, and he arose and walked out on the porch without making any answer.” Just at this moment Mrs. Wilson came into the room, and Uncle Daniel took her on his knee and kissed her, saying: “Jennie, you are my all and only hope, save my poor grandson, that I now have left. My time will soon come, however, when I can quietly quit this world of trouble and care and find a home where works will have due consideration; where those who serve in the army of the Lord will at least be considered the equal of those who have been in rebellion against him. “My good friends,” said Uncle Daniel, “you may think strange of my melancholy mood; but why should I desire to live longer and see what I do and feel as I do constantly on account of the manner in which things are now being conducted.”