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Updated: May 26, 2025
He knew as well as we that our cause was weak; it hung by a single thread a missing witness, Mr. Barnhart. This man had acted as bookkeeper when the bills were paid, but he had been sent away, and the prosecution or persecution had thus far succeeded in keeping his where-abouts a secret.
Barnhart, first sergeant of the troop, who accompanied me, proposed to make inquiry at once, and ran up the stone steps of a comfortable-looking brick house opposite the ambulance and rang the bell. In a moment the door opened and a pleasant voice inquired what was wanted.
These, often forsaking paths more profitable, lend their skilled assistance, not seeking to impose the ancient outworn forms upon the Newness, but by a transfusion of consciousness permitting it to create forms of its own. Such a one, in architecture, Louis Sullivan has proved himself; in music Harry Barnhart, who evokes the very spirit of song from any random crowd.
Thinking that in any case it could be got ready while the regiment was being mounted, I allowed my own horse to be unsaddled and hitched him by the halter to a sapling in front of my shelter tent which was quickly pitched, Barnhart, the acting adjutant, and an orderly pitching theirs by the side of it.
But the climax was as stunning to our enemies as it was unexpected. As Lawyer Douglass finished his last ringing period, the missing witness, Mr. Barnhart, hurried into the court-room. He had started for Leavenworth upon the first intimation that his presence there was needed, and had reached it just in time.
Who comes there?" was the challenge. "Major Wells and a portion of the First Vermont cavalry," was the reply. He advanced and was recognized and for the remainder of the night we jointly looked after the rear until a camping ground was found near Old Church about daylight the next morning. An amusing thing happened after Barnhart and the orderly pulled me out of the tent.
And Barnhart, taking me in his arms, carried me into the house and, guided to the second floor by the same lady who had met him at the door, deposited his burden on a couch in a well furnished apartment and we were bidden to make ourselves at home.
That night after a refreshing bath, with head pillowed in down, I stowed myself away between snowy sheets for a dreamless sleep that lasted until the sun was high up in the eastern heavens. Barnhart was already astir and soon brought a surgeon to diagnose the case and decide what disposition should be made of the patient.
"Will she be at the ball, Terrence?" "To be sure. It's mesilf as heard it, and thin if ye'll look over the Baltimore papers, ye'll see her name Morgianna Lane, the daughter of Captain Felix Lane of Mariana, whose entree into society is to be the ninth, chaperoned by Madame Barnhart." Terrence Malone evinced a wonderful ability at picking up information on any question that took his fancy.
A second piece of artillery added to the tumult. I did not hear it. Shells hurtled through the trees, over the camp and the waves of sound did not disturb my ear. At last partial consciousness returned. There was a vague sense of something out of the usual order going on. Then I found that Barnhart and the orderly were pulling me out of the "pup" tent by the heels. That sufficed.
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