"  Having  completed  this,"  she  says,  "  I  lay
down  again  and  fell  asleep,  but  not  without


64  TWO  NOBLE  LIVES

feeling  that  something  of  importance  had  hap-
pened to  me."

Something  of  importance  indeed,  not  to  her
alone,  but  to  her  whole  country.  The  Battle
Hymn  of  the  Repubhc  was  printed  in  the
Atlantic  Monthly.  Most  people  were  too  busy
just  then  to  read  poetry,  but  my  mother  heard
that  her  verses  were  making  their  way  into  the
camps  and  being  sung  by  the  soldiers,  and  she
was  well  content.  Among  those  who  read  them
was  Chaplain  McCabe,  a  good  and  earnest  man,
who  was  about  to  devote  his  time  and  strength
to  the  service  of  his  country.  He  was  so  much
impressed  by  the  poem  that  he  learned  it  by
heart.  Soon  after,  he  went  to  the  front  with  his
regiment,  was  taken  prisoner  at  Winchester,
while  caring  for  the  wounded,  and  sent  to
Libby  Prison.  Here  he  was  confined,  with  many
other  Union  soldiers,  in  a  large  bare  room,  like
a  loft  in  a  warehouse;  there  was  no  furniture
in  it;  the  prisoners  sat  on  the  floor  by  day,  and
slept  on  it  by  night,  without  mattress  or  pillow.
One  evening,  the  officer  in  charge  of  them  told
them  that  the  Union  armies  had  just  sustained
a  terrible  defeat.    This  filled  them  with  sorrow,


IN  WAR  TIME  65

and  they  gathered  together  in  little  groups,
some  sitting  on  the  cold  bare  floor,  some  stand-
ing by  the  narrow  windows  to  get  a  little  hght,
and  talked  over  the  sad  news  with  heavy  hearts.
