Free After the Rain: My America 2 by Mary Pope Osborne Page A

sickness is a natural part of carrying a baby. I know that is true. But the fact is that my mother died when I was born. And that, I think, is why I worry so.
    November 5, 1864
    The presidential election is only three days away. Tonight President Lincoln's supporters carried torches through the streets and cheered for him.
    The race between the President and General McClellan is heating up. McClellan wants peace with the South, even if it means that slavery will not end. President Lincoln wants to end slavery forever.
    We went to a small church on P Street. Then we bought fresh bread at the bakery. Jane Ellen and I made a good dinner of bread, potatoes, and roasted chicken.
    All the gray afternoon, a fire blazed in the hearth. Pa played his violin. Jed read from The DeathofKing Arthur. We are in sore need of a new book. We have read this one so many times.
    But it was wonderful for all of us to be together. We need nothing more -- except our baby to be born healthy in the spring.
    November 7, 1864
    It was drizzly again today. Jane Ellen and I are quite nervous about the election tomorrow. After my Latin lesson, we were restless for a walk. So we carried umbrellas down Pennsylvania Avenue.
    We passed boardinghouses, grocery shops, saloons, and restaurants.
    We passed peddlers selling fish and newsboys selling war news.
    We passed geese and hogs and cows and sheep.
    We were almost to the President's mansion when it began thundering and lightning. We turned back and slogged home through a sea of mud.
    Ambulance wagons plowed by us. They sloshed the mud all over our skirts. By the time we were home, our boots and clothes were nearly ruined.
    I do not complain, though. The soldiers in the wagons were far more forlorn than we.
    Sick and wounded soldiers lie in hospitals all around the city, Jed says. He told us that President Lincoln sometimes visits them. The President goes from man to man, touching each, and saying, "God bless you."
    The President has no concern for his personal safety, Jed says.
    November 8, 1864
    Before dawn
    It pours rain outside. I am wide awake.
    The election is today. I am trembling with nerves. President Lincoln is my greatest hero. Ever since I saw him speak in Gettysburg, I've felt he has been touched by the hand of God.
    I worry, though, that the muddy streets might keep his supporters away. He has many enemies, Jed says, who wish he would not be reelected.
    Afternoon
    Pa said crowds of men are making their way through the foggy, wet streets. Many have rolled up their trousers to wade through the mud. They all seem determined to vote.
    At dinner, Jed said that Lincoln supporters are gathering outside the telegraph office to wait for the voting count.
    I begged Pa to take me there. And he has said yes! He and Jed and I will leave soon, so we can hear the news with the crowd.
    Evening
    We have won! President Lincoln has been reelected. Hurrah!
    The vote has not been completely counted. But outside the telegraph office, word came that the President has most certainly won.
    The cheering crowd marched through the streets of Mr. Lincoln's Washington.
    We marched straight to the President's House. Standing on his lawn, we sang "The Battle Cry of Freedom."
    Soon President Lincoln and his wife appeared at a window. Through the mist, he seemed a dream figure -- tall, dignified, dressed in a black suit. He made a short speech, giving thanks to the Almighty.
    Pa, Jed, and I nearly danced home through the foggy, rainswept streets. Right now, as it starts to grow light, I still cannot sleep.
    Isn't it amazing? We live only a short distance from the President of the United States!
    This city is dirty and muddy. Our rooms are small and shabby. Pa has not found a job yet. Jed needs a raise. Jane Ellen is sick. But at this moment, there is nowhere on earth I would rather be.
    November 10, 1864
    Pa looked for work today at Ford's New Theatre and Grover's National Theatre. But the managers of both said that they do not need