We marched , and camped , and fought , and suffered , but we never ran away , and when at last a Minie ball came smashing through the red cushion -LRB- which Dick often carried in his pocket as a sort of charm to keep him safe , for men seldom use pins -RRB- , I nearly lost my head , for the stuffing flew out , and we were all knocked about in a dreadful way . The cushion and the old wallet together saved Dick 's life , however , for the ball did not reach his brave heart , and the last I saw of him as I fell out of the hasty hand that felt for a wound was a soft look in the brave bright eyes , as he said to himself with a smile , -- '' ` Dear old mother has n't lost her boy yet , thank God ! ' `` A colored lad picked me up , as I lay shining on the grass , and pins being scarce in those parts , gave me to his mammy , who kept me to fasten her turban . Quite a new scene I found , for in the old cabin were a dozen children and their mothers making ready to go North . The men were all away fighting or serving the army , so mammy led the little troop , and they marched off one day following the gay turban like a banner , for she had a valiant soul , and was bound to find safety and freedom for her children at all risks . `` In my many wanderings to and fro , I never made so strange a journey as that one , but I enjoyed it , full of danger , weariness and privation as it was ; and every morning when mammy put on the red and yellow handkerchief I was proud to sit aloft on that good gray head , and lead the forlorn little army toward a land of liberty . `` We got there at last , and she fell to work over a washtub to earn the bread for the hungry mouths . I had stood by her through all those weary weeks , and did not want to leave her now , but went off pinning a paper round some clean clothes on a Saturday morning . '' ` Now I wonder what will come next ! ' I thought , as Thomas Jefferson , or ` Jeff , ' as they called him , went whistling away with the parcel through the streets . `` Crossing the park , he spied a lovely butterfly which had strayed in from the country ; caught and pinned it on his hat to please little Dinah when he got home . The pretty creature soon writhed its delicate life away , but its beauty attracted the eye of a pale girl hurrying along with a roll of work under her arm . '' ` Will you sell me that ? ' she asked , and Jeff gladly consented , wondering what she would do with it . So did I , but when we got to her room I soon saw , for she pinned the impaled butterfly against a bit of blue paper , and painted it so well that its golden wings seemed to quiver as they did in life . A very poor place it was , but full of lovely things , and I grew artistic with just looking about me at the pictures on the walls , the flowers blooming on plates and panels , birds and insects kept for copies , and gay bits of stuff used as back-grounds . `` But more beautiful than anything she made was the girl 's quiet , busy life alone in the big city ; for , she was hoping to be an artist , and worked day and night to compass her desire . So poor , but so happy , I used to wonder why no one helped her and kept her from such hard , yet patient , waiting . But no one did , and I could watch her toiling away as I held the butterfly against the wall , feeling as if it was a symbol of herself , beating her delicate wings in that close place till her heart was broken , by the cruel fate that held her there when she should have been out in the free sunshine . But she found a good customer for her pretty work , in a rich lady who had nothing to do but amuse herself , and spent much time and money in fancy-work .
`` I know all about it ; for , one XXXXX an order came from the great store where her designs were often bought , and she was very happy painting some purple pansies upon velvet , and she copied her yellow butterfly to float above them .
Dick Dinah Jeff Minie day fancy-work fro night privation washtub