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diff --git a/old/52070-0.txt b/old/52070-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index dd5c8bb..0000000 --- a/old/52070-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8460 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Virginia Girl in the Civil War, 1861-1865, by -Myrta Lockett Avary - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Virginia Girl in the Civil War, 1861-1865 - being a record of the actual experiences of the wife of - a confederate officer - -Author: Myrta Lockett Avary - -Release Date: May 15, 2016 [EBook #52070] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIRGINIA GIRL IN CIVIL WAR *** - - - - -Produced by Wayne Hammond and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - A VIRGINIA GIRL IN THE - CIVIL WAR - - - - - A VIRGINIA GIRL - IN THE CIVIL WAR - 1861-1865 - - BEING A RECORD OF THE ACTUAL EXPERIENCES - OF THE WIFE OF A CONFEDERATE OFFICER - - _COLLECTED AND EDITED BY_ - MYRTA LOCKETT AVARY - - [Illustration] - - - NEW YORK - D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - 1903 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1903 - BY D. APPLETON AND COMPANY - - - _Published February, 1903_ - - - - -INTRODUCTION - - -This history was told over the tea-cups. One winter, in the South, I -had for my neighbor a gentle, little brown-haired lady, who spent many -evenings at my fireside, as I at hers, where with bits of needlework -in our hands we gossiped away as women will. I discovered in her -an unconscious heroine, and her Civil War experiences made ever an -interesting topic. Wishing to share with others the reminiscences she -gave me, I seek to present them here in her own words. Just as they -stand, they are, I believe, unique, possessing at once the charm of -romance and the veracity of history. They supply a graphic, if artless, -picture of the social life of one of the most interesting and dramatic -periods of our national existence. The stories were not related in -strict chronological sequence, but I have endeavored to arrange them -in that way. Otherwise, I have made as few changes as possible. Out of -deference to the wishes of living persons, her own and her husband’s -real names have been suppressed and others substituted; in the case of -a few of their close personal friends, and of some whose names would -not be of special historical value, the same plan has been followed. - -Those who read this book are admitted to the sacred councils of close -friends, and I am sure they will turn with reverent fingers these pages -of a sweet and pure woman’s life--a life on which, since those fireside -talks of ours, the Death-Angel has set his seal. - -Memoirs and journals written not because of their historical or -political significance, but because they are to the writer the natural -expression of what life has meant to him in the moment of living, have -a value entirely apart from literary quality. They bring us close to -the human soul--the human soul in undress. We find ourselves without -preface or apology in personal, intimate relation with whatever makes -the yesterday, to-day, to-morrow of the writer. When this current -of events and conditions is impelled and directed by a vital and -formative period in the history of a nation, we have only to follow -its course to see what history can never show us, and what fiction can -unfold to us only in part--how the people thought, felt, and lived who -were not making history, or did not know that they were. - -This is the essential value of A Virginia Girl in the Civil War: it -shows us simply, sincerely, and unconsciously what life meant to an -American woman during the vital and formative period of American -history. That this American woman was also a Virginian with all a -Virginian’s love for Virginia and loyalty to the South, gives to her -record of those days that are still “the very fiber of us” a fidelity -rarely found in studies of local color. Meanwhile, her grateful -affection for the Union soldiers, officers and men, who served and -shielded her, should lift this story to a place beyond the pale of -sectional prejudice. - - MYRTA LOCKETT AVARY. - - NEW YORK, _November 1, 1902_. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I.--HOME LIFE IN A SOUTHERN HARBOR 1 - - II.--HOW I MET DAN GREY 12 - - III.--THE FIRST DAYS OF THE CONFEDERACY 22 - - IV.--THE REALITIES OF WAR 38 - - V.--I MEET BELLE BOYD AND SEE DICK IN A NEW LIGHT 51 - - VI.--A FAITHFUL SLAVE AND A HOSPITAL WARD 59 - - VII.--TRAVELING THROUGH DIXIE IN WAR TIMES 69 - - VIII.--BY FLAG OF TRUCE 83 - - IX.--I MAKE UP MY MIND TO RUN THE BLOCKADE 91 - - X.--I CROSS THE COUNTRY IN AN AMBULANCE AND THE - PAMUNKEY ON A LIGHTER 101 - - XI.--THE OLD ORDER 113 - - XII.--A DANGEROUS MASQUERADE 124 - - XIII.--A LAST FAREWELL 139 - - XIV.--THE LITTLE JEW BOY AND THE PROVOST’S DEPUTY 144 - - XV.--I FALL INTO THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY 150 - - XVI.--THE FLOWER OF CHIVALRY 172 - - XVII.--PRISONERS OF THE UNITED STATES 188 - - XVIII.--WITHIN OUR LINES 211 - - XIX.--MY COMRADE GENERAL JEB STUART 230 - - XX.--“WHOSE BUSINESS ’TIS TO DIE” 244 - - XXI.--RESCUED BY THE FOE 263 - - XXII.--WITH DAN AT CHARLOTTESVILLE 285 - - XXIII.--“INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH” 297 - - XXIV.--BY THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH 315 - - XXV.--THE BEGINNING OF THE END 330 - - XXVI.--HOW WE LIVED IN THE LAST DAYS OF THE - CONFEDERACY 349 - - XXVII.--UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES 365 - - - - -A VIRGINIA GIRL IN THE CIVIL WAR - - - - -CHAPTER I - -HOME LIFE IN A SOUTHERN HARBOR - - -Many years ago I heard a prominent lawyer of Baltimore, who had just -returned from a visit to Charleston, say that the Charlestonians were -so in the habit of antedating everything with the Civil War that when -he commented to one of them upon the beauty of the moonlight on the -Battery, his answer was, “You should have seen it before the war.” I -laughed, as everybody else did; but since then I have more than once -caught myself echoing the sentiment of that Charleston citizen to -visitors who exclaimed over the social delights of Norfolk. For really -they know nothing about it--that is, about the real Norfolk. - -Nobody does who can not remember, as I do, when her harbor was covered -with shipping which floated flags of all nations, and her society was -the society of the world. Milicent and I--there were only the two of -us--were as familiar with foreign colors as with our own Red, White, -and Blue, and happily grew up unconscious that a title had any right -of precedence superior to that of youth, good breeding, good looks, -and agreeability. That all of these gave instant way to the claims of -age was one of the unalterable tenets handed down from generation to -generation, and punctiliously observed in our manner and address to the -older servants. The “uncle” and “aunty” and “mammy” that fall so oddly -upon the ears of the present generation were with Southern children and -young people the “straight and narrow” path that separated gentle birth -and breeding from the vulgar and ignorant. - -My girlhood was a happy one. My father was an officer of the Bank of -Virginia, and, according to the custom that obtained, he lived over the -bank. His young assistant, Walter H. Taylor (afterward adjutant to -General R. E. Lee), was like a brother to Milicent and me. Father’s -position and means, and the personal charm that left him and my mother -cherished memories in Norfolk till to-day, drew around us a cultivated -and cosmopolitan society. Our lives were made up of dance and song and -moonlit sails. There were the Atlantic Ocean, the Roads, the bay, the -James and Elizabeth rivers, meeting at our very door. And there were -admirals, commodores, and captains whose good ships rode these waters, -and who served two sovereigns--the nation whose flag they floated and a -slim Virginia maiden. In all the gatherings, formal and informal, under -our roof, naval and military uniforms predominated. Many men who later -distinguished themselves in the Federal and Confederate armies, sat -around our board and danced in our parlors; others holding high places -in Eastern and European courts were numbered among our friends and -acquaintances. - -Some years after Commodore Perry through a skilful mixture of gunpowder -and diplomacy had opened the ports of Japan to the commerce of all -nations, Ito and Inouye--not then counts--had brought into existence -an organized Japanese navy which sailed out of these same ports to -the harbors of the world on tours of inspection. One of my most vivid -memories is of the Japanese squadron which lay at anchor in our harbor, -of the picturesque dress and manners of these Eastern strangers, and -the polished courtesy of the two men whose names are now a part of -history. - -But the handsomest sailors I ever saw were the Prussians. When the -Prussian navy was in its infancy two Prussian vessels, the frigate -Gaefion and a corvette, dropped anchor in Norfolk harbor; they, too, -were visiting the ports of different nations on tours of inspection. -All the officers on these vessels, including the midshipmen, were -noblemen, and all of them were magnificent-looking men. Then, too, -their brilliant uniforms and the state and ceremony with which they -invested every-day life made them altogether charming to a young, -romantic girl. I shall never forget how they used to enter the room. -They would appear in full regimentals, march in military form, the -frigate’s captain in command, and salute Milicent before they -permitted themselves to talk, dance, and sing. Upon leaving, the same -order was observed. They went out into the hall, donned their hats, -sword-belts, and swords, returned, saluted, and withdrew in military -form. At this time I was a little girl who played on the piano for -grown-up people to dance. On formal occasions we had military bands, -but for the every-evening dance my playing did well enough. When the -Prussians were our guests, one of them always sat by me while I played. -Baron von der Golz, since Admiral of the German navy, was the gentleman -who was oftenest kind enough to turn over my music. I play now, for my -children to dance, a Prussian gallop he taught me, with some of the -music I played for those officers, and some which they used to play -when they took my place at the piano that I might have my share of the -dancing. Another Prussian officer of whom I was very fond was Count von -Monts, afterward Admiral of the German navy, Von der Golz succeeding at -his death. - -I shall never forget the day my Prussian friends sailed away. From -the roof of our residence over the bank, there was a good view of -the harbor and river: Milicent, Emily Conway, and a number of girls -who wanted to see the last of the gallant, handsome Prussians went -up on the roof, and I was permitted to go with them. We turned our -spy-glasses on their ships as they sailed toward Hampton Roads, and -there were our friends on deck, their glasses turned upon the housetop -where we stood in the full glare of the midday sun. Even I was visible -to them. Milicent placed me in front of our spy-glass, and I looked -through and singled out Baron von Golz, to whom I waved my handkerchief -vigorously. A little snow-storm fluttered on the deck, and the baron -not only waved, but saluted. According to the fashion of the time, -young ladies wore low-necked dresses in the middle of the day--never, -however, at any hour, so low as ladies at the opera wear them now. -Milicent and her friends who went to the housetop were bare-necked, and -the sun blistered their throats and shoulders; and mother had to bathe -Milicent with buttermilk all the afternoon to make her presentable for -the dance that night, which, by special permission, Count von Monts -attended, coming up from Fortress Monroe to escort Milicent. They made -a pretty picture when they danced their last dance together. The Count -would not permit their friendship to cease with that last dance, and -a correspondence was long kept up between them. At parting, she gave -him her little Catholic prayer-book with her name on the fly-leaf, and -years after, when revisiting Norfolk, he had that prayer-book and tried -to find her; but times were changed, and Norfolk no more our home. Many -a titled sailor sought my sister’s favor, but in our day Virginia’s -daughters, undazzled by coronets, were content to wed Virginia’s sons. - -The almost limitless hospitality of those days made all the sharper the -distinction between “open house” and open hand. In the forties, the -reserve of the American girl was more like that of her English sister -than it is at the present day. Society did not sanction the freedom -which it countenances now. The gentlewoman of the old South was a past -mistress in the art of tact, but had little knowledge or practise in -it to further her own private ends. Its office, as she understood -it, was to relieve painful situations not her own, to contribute to -the comfort and pleasure of others. To rid herself of a disagreeable -third person to secure a _tête-à-tête_ with a lover was not within its -province. Lovers had to make their own opportunities--indeed it was -not her part even to conceive that they wanted to make opportunities. -Taking all this into consideration, the freedom with which Southern -children entered into the social life must have often made them thorns -in the flesh of their elders. I have often wondered since those happy -days if my favorites among my sister’s visitors did not find me a great -nuisance in spite of the caresses they lavished upon me. - -The New Year’s reception of that period was not an afternoon and -evening affair. It began in the morning and lasted all day; it meant -pretty girls fluttering in laces and ribbons and feathers and sparkling -with jewels and smiles; stately matrons who, however beautiful and -young they were, never indulged even in the innocent coquetry that -neither deceives a man nor wounds a woman--the married belle was -unknown to Virginia; and gallant men, young and old, ready to die -for them or live for them; it meant the good things to eat for which -Virginia is famous, and, I am sorry to say, often more than enough of -good things to drink. I remember one of these New Year’s days when the -ardor of my affections prevented a young officer who had come to bid -us good-by from exchanging a word with anybody unhampered by my close -attendance. I was brimful of nine-year-old love for him. I proposed -to him and was promptly accepted; I made him drink punch with me -dipped from the old punch-bowl that had been presented to father by -the military companies of Norfolk, and I told him how Admiral Tucker -had made the presentation with flags flying and bands playing and wine -flowing, and how the admiral tried to ride his horse up the front steps -into the house, and how the sober animal wisely and firmly refused to -perform the feat. Through a long day he did not once escape me. This -young officer was Lieutenant John L. Worden. He was one of the gallant -“boys in blue” who made my sister’s girlhood happy. A most charming -gentleman he was, and everybody in my father’s house loved him. - -Another young sailor--the handsomest of them all, whom everybody in -my father’s house loved--was Captain Warren. How well I remember that -evening when the order came bidding him report at once to his ship, -which was to set forth on a long cruise in Eastern waters! Shall I -ever forget the look in his eyes as he turned them upon Milicent! How -beautiful she was that night! How gracious and sweet, how greatly to be -desired! And how many desired her! - -Milicent had been married several years and I was in the raptures of -my first winter in society when my father died, and mother decided -that we should leave Norfolk--Norfolk where river and bay and ocean -had sung our cradle-songs--and go to Petersburg to live. In this day -of independent women it sounds absurd to say that it was scarcely -considered wise or delicate for women to live without the protection -of a male relative in the house, and to add that as far as possible -they were shielded from the burden of business responsibilities. Uncle -Henry considered it imperative that we should be under his care; he -could not come to Norfolk, so we went to him. We could scarcely have -been strangers anywhere in Virginia, and in Petersburg we had many -friends. The Lees and the Randolphs, the Pegrams and the Pages, the -Stringfellows, the Hamiltons, the Witherspoons, the Bannisters, the -Donnans, the Dunlops, and a score of others made it easy to exercise -the genius for friendship which in Virginia hands down that relation -from generation to generation. - -It was in Petersburg that my trousseau was made. Much of it was the -work and embroidery of loving, light-hearted girls whose feet were set -to music and dancing, and most of it was worn by women who trod instead -fields red with the blood of their friends and kinsmen. During the -long, dreary years in which the Northern ports were closed, and the -South clothed itself as best it could, or went in rags, that trousseau -constituted my sole outfit, and it reinforced the wardrobes of some -comrades in war and want. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -HOW I MET DAN GREY - - -“Have you met Dan Grey?” - -Charlie Murray and I were galloping along a country road. - -“I haven’t, Charlie. I met his brother Dick in Norfolk, and didn’t like -him at all.” - -“Well, Nell, you’d like Dan--everybody does. I wonder you haven’t met -him. Dan never fails to meet every pretty girl that comes here.” - -I had heard that before. Indeed, I had heard a great deal about Dan -Grey that made me long to get even with him. Everybody had a way of -speaking as if Petersburg wasn’t Petersburg with Dan Grey left out. - -“You ought to meet Dan Grey,” Charlie repeated. - -“I don’t think so,” I rapped out. “I think I can get along very nicely -without meeting Dan Grey”--Dan Grey seemed to be getting along very -nicely without meeting me--“I know as many nice men now as I have time -to see.” - -So I dismissed Dan, whipped up my horse, and raced Charlie along the -old Jerusalem Plank Road--that historic thoroughfare by which the -Union troops first threatened Petersburg, and near which Fort Hell -and Fort Damnation are still visible. We ran our horses past the old -brick church, built of bricks brought from England to erect a place -of worship for the aristocratic colonists, past the quiet graves in -Blandford; and turning our horses into Washington Street, slackened -their pace and, chatting merrily the while, rode slowly into the city -toward the golden sunset. A few years later I was to run along this -street in abject terror from bursting shells. - -“You ought to meet Dan Grey.” - -It came from George Van B---- this time. George was the poet laureate -of our set. Afterward he was Colonel Van B----, and as gallant -a soldier as ever faced shot and shell. I had been playing an -accompaniment for him; he was singing a popular ditty of the day, -“Sweet Nellie is by my Side”; I wheeled around on the piano-stool and -faced him. - -“What is the matter with that man? He must be a curiosity?” - -“He is just the nicest fellow in town,” George asserted with mingled -resentment and amusement. - -“He must be something extraordinary. One would think there was just one -man in town and that his name was Dan Grey.” - -Before the week was out I heard it again. This time it was Willie. He -spoke oracularly, and as if he were broaching an original idea. Page, -the best dancer in our set, repeated the recommendation, looking as if -I were quite out of the swim in not knowing Dan Grey. (If Governor ---- -reads this chapter, will he please overlook the familiar use of his -name? Boys and girls who have played mumble-peg together and snowballed -each other, do not attach handles to each other’s names until they are -more thoroughly grown up than we were then.) - -“I am sure it must be my duty to meet Dan Grey,” I said gravely. “I am -continually being told that I ’ought to meet Dan Grey’ just as I might -be told that I ought to go to church.” - -“Dan isn’t a bit like a church, Nell,” laughed Willie. “But he is a -splendid fellow, generous to a fault--and then, you know, Dan is the -handsomest man in town.” - -“Oh, no!” I retorted, “I left the handsomest man in town in Norfolk.” - -I can’t begin to tell how terribly tired I got of “You ought to meet -Dan Grey,” “Haven’t you met Dan Grey?” Evidently Dan Grey was in no -hurry to meet me. I knew that he was the toast of our set and that -he ignored me as completely as if I were not in it--and I had never -been ignored before. I also knew, without being continually told, that -he was a broad-shouldered, magnificent-looking fellow, fair-haired, -blue-eyed, and “the handsomest man in town.” My girl friends talked -about him almost as much as the men did. And I did not even know the -lion! I took great pains not to want to know him. I impressed it upon -Willie and Charlie and George and the rest that they were not to bring -Dan Grey to see me. - -“Why, what will we say if he asks us to bring him? You are -unreasonable, Nell. How did you ever pick up such a prejudice against -Dan? Nobody can object to Dan Grey. If he asks any of us to bring him, -I don’t know what we can do.” - -“Oh, of course you can’t be rude. If you are asked to bring him, you -will have to do as you are asked, but I don’t think you will be asked. -I’m sure I hope you won’t, for I have heard of Dan Grey until I am sick -of the very name.” - -Meanwhile I resolved privately if I ever did lay my hands on Dan Grey I -would wreak a full vengeance. He says that I have done it. - -A Catholic fair was to be held in Petersburg, but as dearly as we loved -Father Mulvey (all Petersburg loved him), and as much as we longed to -do everything possible for our poor little Church of St. Joseph, we -could not go to the fair rooms and sell things and make merry. We were -in deep mourning; mother said that our going was out of the question. -Then her old friend, Mrs. Winton, came out to persuade and convince. - -“I really can not let the girls go,” mother protested. “They can make -fancy articles and send them to the fair, or do any home work that you -can put them to; we are willing to help just as much as we can. I will -send pickled oysters and shrimp salad after my Norfolk recipes, and -cake and cream and anything you like that I can make.” - -“We want the oysters and the salad and the cake and everything else you -choose to send, but above all things we want the girls. I didn’t come -here for your pickled oysters and shrimp salad, if they are the best -I ever tasted. I want Milicent and Nell--I want Nell for my booth and -Milicent for Mrs. Lynn’s. Mrs. Lynn has set her heart on Milicent--but, -there! Mrs. Lynn may do her own begging. Do let me have Nell.” - -“My dear, I don’t see how I can.” - -“Oh, you must! We really need them. You know how few girls there are in -our little congregation.” - -Mother was too good a Catholic not to yield--Milicent and I were given -over to the cause of St. Joseph’s. - -“But they are to work, not to amuse themselves,” she stipulated. “They -are not to promenade--just to stand behind tables and sell things.” - -“Just send them,” pleaded Mrs. Winton. “I’ll promise not to let them -enjoy themselves. I’ll keep Nell busy, and Mrs. Lynn will do her duty -by Milicent.” - -But work is fun when you are young enough, and there was plenty of -both in getting the booths ready. The old Library Hall on Bollingbrook -Street was a gay and busy scene for several days before it was formally -opened to the public who came to spend money and make merry. - -On one never-forgotten morning the hall was filled with matrons and -maidens weaving festoons of pine-beard, running cedar, and ivy. I had -purposely donned my worst dress, and was sitting on the floor Turkish -fashion, with evergreens heaped around me, when I saw a party of -gentlemen entering the hall. - -I tried to sink out of sight, but they saw me, demolished my barricade, -and began to tease me. The quartet were Charlie Murray, George Van -B----, Willie, and Page. Behind them came a fifth gentleman, and -before this fifth gentleman and I knew what was happening we were being -presented to each other. And that is how I met Dan Grey--sitting on the -floor in my shabbiest dress and half hidden by evergreens. I soon had -the whole party hard at work festooning the hall, and what a good, if -late, laborer, Dan Grey made in my vineyard! - -“You see how useful I am,” he said--he was standing on a box and I was -handing up wreaths of cedar which he was arranging on the wall. “Now, -why didn’t you let me come to see you?” - -“Me?” I asked in utter bewilderment. - -“Yes, ‘me’!” - -“Why, I never had a thing to do with your not coming to see me.” - -He gave George, Charlie, and Willie a withering look. - -“I reckon somebody else didn’t want me to.” - -The boys looked dumfounded. - -“I heard,” said Dan from his box, “that you didn’t want me to come to -see you, that you had an unaccountable prejudice against me because you -didn’t like Dick, that you asked all your friends by no means to bring -me to see you.” - -I was as mad as I could be with George, Willie, and Charlie. - -“Why,” I said, “you are not your brother Dick. And then, I don’t -dislike Dick at all.” - -Again the trio looked at me as if they doubted the evidence of their -senses. - -“Nell, what did you tell such a story for?” George asked me privately -later. - -“Why, I didn’t tell any story at all,” I declared. “He isn’t his -brother Dick, is he? And I don’t dislike Dick now.” - -The night of the fair I wore a black bombazine, cut low in the neck and -with long angel sleeves falling away from my arms above the elbow to -the hem of my dress, and around my neck a band of black velvet with a -black onyx cross. I sat or stood behind Mrs. Winton’s booth, and Mr. -Grey haunted the booth all the evening, and bought quantities of things -he had no use for. - -After the fair he saw me or reminded me of his existence in some way -every day. Mother took me, about this time, on a visit to some cousins -in Birdville, and every day Mr. Grey rode out on Dare Devil, the horse -that he was to ride into his first fight. There was another fair. I -went in from Birdville to help, and had the same coterie of assistants. -“Ben Bolt” was a great favorite then. It was a new song and divided -honors with “Sweet Nellie is by my Side.” My assistants used to sit on -a goods box that was later to be converted into an ornamental stand, -and sing, “O don’t you Remember Sweet Alice, Ben Bolt?” - -Well, to make a long story short--as Dan and I did--we were married in -exactly four months and a half from the day on which he was introduced -to me as I sat cross-legged among the evergreens; and when Willie and -George and Charlie came up to congratulate us, every wretch of them -said, “Didn’t I tell you you ought to meet Dan Grey?” - - - - -CHAPTER III - -THE FIRST DAYS OF THE CONFEDERACY - - -Soon after my marriage my brother-in-law moved to Baltimore, and my -mother decided to go with Milicent and her little boy. I had never -really been separated from them before; I was only seventeen, a spoiled -child, but though I loved them dearly, after the first I scarcely -missed them. I had my husband, and ah! how happy we were--how glad we -both were that I had met Dan Grey! - -We did not go to housekeeping at once. In the first place, I did not -know anything about housekeeping and I didn’t want Dan to find it out; -in the second place, we wanted to look around before we settled upon -a house; and in the third, and what was to me the smallest place, the -country was in a very unsettled condition. - -The question of State’s rights and secession was being pressed home to -Virginia. The correspondence between the commission at Washington and -Mr. Seward was despatched to Richmond, and Richmond is but twenty miles -from Petersburg. There were mutterings that each day grew louder, signs -and portents that we refused to believe. Local militia were organizing -and drilling--getting ready to answer the call should it come. Not that -the people seriously thought that it would come. They believed, as they -hoped, that something would be done to prevent war; that statesmen, -North and South, would combine to save the Union; that, at any rate, we -should be saved from bloodshed. As for those others who prophesied and -prayed for it, who wanted the vials of God’s wrath uncorked, they got -what they wanted. Their prayers were answered; the land was drenched in -blood. But for the most of us--the Virginians whom I knew--we did not, -we would not believe that brothers could war with brothers. - -Then something happened that drove the truth home to our hearts. -The guns of Sumter spoke--war was upon us. But not for long; the -differences would be adjusted. Sumter fell, Virginia seceded. Still -we befooled ourselves. There would be a brief campaign, victory, and -peace. North and South, we looked for anything but what came--those -four long years of bloody agony; North and South were each sure of -victory. In Virginia, where the courage and endurance of starving -men were to stand the test of weary months and years, we scoffed at -the idea that there would be any real fighting. If there should be, -for Virginia who had never known the shadow of defeat, defeat was -impossible. - -One day my brother-in-law, Dick, walked in. - -“I’ve come to tell you good-by, Nell--I’m off to-morrow.” - -“Where?” - -“Norfolk.” - -“What for?” - -“Infantry ordered there. The Rifles go down to-night, the Grays -to-morrow.” - -I looked serious, and Dick laughed. - -“Don’t bother, Nell, we’ll be back in a few days. There won’t be any -fighting.” - -Dick was a good-looking fellow, and I liked him much better than I had -once said I did. He was the dandy of the family, and on the present -occasion was glorious in a new uniform. - -“Dick,” I said, “please don’t get in a fight and get shot.” - -“Not if I can help it, Nell! There won’t be any fighting. We’re going -to protect Norfolk, you know. Just going there to be on the spot if -we’re needed, I suppose.” - -He went away laughing, but I wasn’t convinced. When Dan came, I was -almost too weak with fear to ask the question that was on my tongue. - -“Is Norfolk to be bombarded?” - -“No, I think not,” he spoke cheerily. “The boys will be back in a few -days.” - -Oh, I hoped they would! Many of my friends were among “the boys.” - -“Do--do you think your company will have to go?” - -I was only seventeen; mother and Milicent were away; my young husband -was my life. - -“The cavalry have not been ordered out,” he said. “I don’t think we -will be sent for. Cheer up, Nell! The boys will be back in a few days, -and won’t we have a high old time welcoming them home!” - -The Rifles went down one day. The Grays went down the next. The day -after my husband came in, looking very pale and quiet. - -“Dan,” I said, “I know what it is.” - -“The cavalry are ordered to Norfolk,” he said in a low voice. “It’s -only a few days’ parting, little wife. I don’t think there will be any -fighting. Be brave, my darling.” - -I had thrown myself into his arms with a great cry. - -“I can’t, Dan! I can’t let you go!” - -He did not speak. He only held me close to his breast. - -“Mother and Milicent are gone,” I cried, “and I can’t let you leave me -to go and be killed! I couldn’t let you go if they were here.” - -There was silence for a little while, then he said: - -“I belong to you, little wife--I leave it to you what I shall do. Shall -I stay behind, a traitor and a coward? Or shall I go with my company -and do my duty?” - -I couldn’t speak for tears. I felt how hard his heart beat against mine. - -“Poor wife!” he said, “poor little child!” - -When I spoke, I felt as if I were tearing my heart out by the roots. - -“I--I--must--let--you--go!” - -“That is my own brave girl. Never mind, Nell, I will make you proud of -your soldier!” - -“Oh, Dan! Dan!” I sobbed, “I don’t want to be proud of you! I just -don’t want you to get hurt! I don’t want you to go if I could help -it--but I can’t! I don’t want fame or glory! I want you!” - -He smoothed my hair with slow touches, and was silent. Then he spoke -again, trying to comfort me with those false hopes all fed on. - -“I still doubt if there will be any fighting. But if there is, I must -be in it. I can’t be a coward. There! there! Nellie, don’t cry! I hope -for peace. The North and the South both want peace. You will laugh at -all of this, Nell, when we come back from Norfolk without striking a -blow!” - -“Dan, let me go with you.” - -“Dear, I can’t. How could you travel around, with only a knapsack, like -a soldier?” - -“Try me. I am to be a soldier’s wife.” - -I was swallowing my sobs, sniffling, blowing my nose, and trying to -look brave all at once. Instead of looking brave, I must have looked -very comical, for Dan burst out laughing. The next moment we were -silent again. The chimes of St. Paul’s rang out upon the air. It was -neither Sabbath nor saint’s day. We knew what the bells were ringing -for. Not only St. Paul’s chimes, but the bells of all the churches -had become familiar signals calling us to labor as sacred as worship. -Sewing machines had been carried into the churches, and the sacred -buildings had become depots for bolts of cloth, linen, and flannel. -Nothing could be heard in them for days but the click of machines, -the tearing of cloth, the ceaseless murmur of voices questioning, -and voices directing the work. Old and young were busy. Some were -tearing flannel into lengths for shirts and cutting out havelocks and -knapsacks. And some were tearing linen into strips and rolling it for -bandages ready to the surgeon’s hand. Others were picking linen into -balls of lint. - -“I must go make you some clothes,” I said, getting up from Dan’s knee. - -“But I have plenty,” he said. - -“It doesn’t matter. I must make you some more--like the others.” - -Before the war was over I had learned to make clothes out of next to -nothing, but that morning, except for fancy work, I had never sewed a -stitch in my life. I could embroider anything from an altar cloth to an -initial in the corner of a handkerchief, but to make a flannel shirt -was beyond my comprehension. Make it, however, I could and would. I -never hinted to Dan that I didn’t know how, for I was determined that -nobody but me should make his army shirts--I must sew them with my own -fingers. I went down town and bought the finest, softest flannel I -could find. Then I was at my wits’ ends. I looked at the flannel and -I looked at the scissors. Time was flying. I picked up my flannel and -ran to consult my neighbor, Mrs. Cuthbert. She showed me how to cut and -fashion my shirts, and I made them beautifully, feather-stitching all -the seams. - -Next day came and Dan made me buckle on his sword. - -“If you stay long in Norfolk may I come?” I sobbed. - -Poor Dan didn’t know what to say. - -“I’m a soldier’s wife,” I said with a mighty effort to look it. “I can -travel with a knapsack--and,” with a sob, “I can--keep--from crying.” - -“I’m going to have you with me if possible. There! little wife, don’t -cry, or you’ll make a fool of me. Be brave, Nell. That’s it! I’m proud -of you.” - -But there was a tremor in his voice all the same. He put me gently -away from him and went out, and I lay down on the sofa and cried as -if my heart would break. But not for long. Captain Jeter’s wife came -for me; her eyes were red with weeping, but she was trying to smile. -We were to go to the public leave-taking--there would be time enough -for tears afterward. Everybody was on the streets to see the troops go -off, and I took my stand with the others and watched as the cavalry -rode past us. We kept our handkerchiefs waving all the time our friends -were riding by, and when we saw our husbands and brothers we tried to -cheer, but our voices were husky. The last thing I saw of my husband he -was wringing the hand of an old friend who was not going, tears were -streaming down his cheeks and he was saying, “For God’s sake, take care -of my wife.” - -They were gone, all gone, infantry and cavalry, the flower of the city. -But they would be back in a few days, of that we were sure--and some of -them never came back again. - -I was in a city of mourning and dread, but my own suspense measured by -days was not long, though it seemed an age to me then. A week had not -passed when I got a telegram from Dan: - - “Come to Norfolk. We are camped near there.” - -It was near train time when I got it. I snatched up my satchel, put in -a comb and brush and tooth-brush--not even an extra handkerchief--and -almost ran to the depot. I could not have carried all my clothes, I -know, for part of them were with the laundress, and packing a trunk -would have taken time; but why on earth I did not put a few more -articles into my satchel I can not tell. It is a matter of history, -however, that I only took those I have named. The first thing Dan did -was to get me some handkerchiefs. - -“Why, Nell,” he said, “you are taking this thing of being a soldier’s -wife too seriously.” - -It was delightful to be in my old home once more. Friends and kindred -crowded around me, the river and bay and ocean sang my old cradle-songs -to me again, and, above all, Dan was near and came in from camp as -often as he could. Then he was ordered away to Suffolk, which is twenty -miles from Norfolk, and there, of course, he could not ride in to -see me. But that was not so bad as it might have been. I could hear -from him regularly, he had not yet been in any actual engagement, my -fears were subsiding, or I was getting accustomed to them. I had, of -course, telegraphed to Petersburg for my baggage and had made myself as -comfortable as possible. An old uncle had taken it into his head to -become quite fond of me, and altogether I was very far from unhappy. -This uncle was eccentric and had eccentric ways of comforting me when I -had the blues. - -“Why, Nellie, my dear,” he used to say, “you ought to be playing dolls, -and here you are a wife, and if Dan gets killed you will be a widow.” - -On the heels of which cheerful observation this despatch came from -Suffolk: - - “Come by next train. Dan slightly hurt. - - “JACK.” - -When I got to Suffolk four of the company met me. - -“Don’t be alarmed, Miss Nell,” said the great fellows, sympathy and -desire to cheer me blending in their eyes. “Dan will pull through all -right.” - -Then Jack Carrington took me aside and explained as gently and tenderly -as if he had been my brother: - -“It happened yesterday, Miss Nell, but we wouldn’t let you know because -there was no way for you to get here then. We thought it wouldn’t -be so hard on you if we waited and sent the telegram just before -train time. Your uncle got one before you did, but we told him not to -tell you till just before train time, and he wired us back to tell -you ourselves, that he couldn’t tell you. Dan is getting all right -now--he’ll soon get well, Miss Nell, indeed he will. But the doctor -said I must warn you--Miss Nell, you must be brave, you see--or I can’t -tell you at all. The doctor said I mustn’t let you go in there unless -you were perfectly calm. The wound is nothing at all, Miss Nell.” - -Poor Jack was almost as unnerved as I was. He mopped my face with a wet -handkerchief, and made somebody bring me some brandy. - -But the words ringing in my head, “A soldier’s wife,” pulled me -together more than the brandy, and I made Jack go on. - -“It’s nothing but his arm. We were out on vidette duty yesterday and we -got shot into. You see, Miss Nell, you _must_ be brave or I can’t tell -you!” - -I pulled myself together again and insisted that I _was_ brave. - -“You don’t look like it, Miss Nell. I declare you don’t.” - -“But I am. See now.” - -Jack didn’t seem to see, but he went on, looking scared himself all the -time. - -“The real trouble was Dare Devil. You see, after Dan’s arm got hurt--I -wish it had been me or George who had caught that shot, but, hang the -luck! it was Dan. You know Dare Devil’s old trick--catching the bit in -his teeth. Well, he did that and ran away. Dan held on with his good -arm until that d--d horse (excuse me, Miss Nell!) wheeled suddenly and -dashed into the woods. The limbs of the trees dragged Dan out of his -saddle, and his foot caught in the stirrup and Dare Devil dragged him -(take some brandy, Miss Nell) until the strap broke. We picked Dan up -insensible; he was delirious all night, and we thought for a time that -he was done for, but, thank God! he’s all right now. I hate to tell -you, Miss Nell, but--you’ll see how his head is--and the doctor said we -mustn’t let you go in if you couldn’t be calm.” - -“I understand,” I said, “I will be very careful----” - -And to prove how careful I could be, I broke down crying. - -They didn’t know what to do with me, poor fellows. They begged me not -to cry, and then they said crying would do me good, and I had four -pairs of broad shoulders to cry on. They were all as gentle and pitiful -with me as a mother is with a baby. One of them got out his nice fresh -handkerchief and wiped my eyes with it. I had come off the second -time without a change of handkerchiefs, and this time without even a -tooth-brush. When I had cried my trouble out and was quite calm, I told -them I was ready to go to my husband. They took me to the door and I -went in quietly, and seeing that he was awake, bent over him. - -“I am here, Dan,” I said smiling. - -He tried to smile back. - -“Take my head in your hands, Nell,” he whispered, “and turn it so I can -kiss you.” - -I laid my hands softly and firmly on each side of his head and turned -it on the pillow. As I did so, a quantity of sand fell away. - -I don’t know whether his head had been properly dressed or not, but I -know that for a number of days the sand fell away from it whenever I -took it into my hands to turn it. - -“After I fell,” he told me, when he was allowed to talk, “my head was -in the dirt, of course, and it was beat first against one tree and then -against another. When I felt my senses leaving me, I clasped my arms -tight around my head. I don’t know how I managed it, but I got hold of -my crippled arm with my good one, and when I was picked up my arms were -locked in some way about my head. That is all that saved me.” - -I took the law into my own hands. Before Dan got well Dare Devil had -been shot. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -THE REALITIES OF WAR - - -When Dan recovered I returned to Norfolk, and there I stayed for some -time, getting letters from him, taking care of uncle and developing -a genius for housekeeping. One day I was out shopping when I saw -everybody running toward the quay. I turned and went with the crowd. We -saw the Merrimac swing out of the harbor--or did she crawl? A curious -looking craft she was, that first of our ironclads, ugly and ominous. - -She had not been gone many hours when the sound of guns came over the -water followed by silence, terrible silence, that lasted until after -the lamps were lit. Suddenly there was tumultuous cheering from the -quay. The Merrimac had come home after destroying the Cumberland and -the Congress. - -“Well for the Congress!” we said. Her commander had eaten and drunk of -Norfolk’s hospitality, and then had turned his guns upon her--upon a -city full of his friends. Bravely done, O Merrimac! But that night I -cried myself to sleep. Under the sullen waters of Hampton Roads slept -brave men and true, to whom Stars and Stripes and Southern Cross alike -meant nothing now. The commander of the Congress was among the dead, -and he had been my friend--I had danced with him in my father’s house. -Next day, the Monitor met the Merrimac and turned the tide of victory -against us. Her commander was John L. Worden, who had been our guest -beloved. - -During all this time I had been separated from my husband. He had been -detailed to make a survey of Pig Point and the surrounding country, and -it was not until he reached Smithfield that he sent for me. We were -beginning now to realize that war was upon us in earnest. There was -the retreat from Yorktown; Norfolk was evacuated. Troops were moving. -Everything was bustle and confusion. My husband went off with his -command, the order for departure so sudden that he had not time to plan -for me. - -As Northern troops began to occupy the country, fearing that I would -be left in the enemy’s lines and so cut off from getting to him, I -took the matter into my own hands and went in a covered wagon to Zuni, -twenty miles distant, where I had heard that his command was encamped -for a few days. After a rough ride I got there only to find that my -husband had started off to Smithfield for me. We had passed each other -on the road, each in a covered wagon. There was nothing to do except to -wait his return that night. - -As my husband’s command had been ordered to join the troops at Seven -Pines, I took the train for Richmond the next day, stopped a few hours, -and then went to Petersburg. When I got there the Battle of Seven Pines -was on. For two days it raged--for two days the booming of the cannon -sounded in our ears and thundered at our hearts. Friends gathered at -each other’s houses and looked into each other’s faces and held each -other’s hands, and listened for news from the field. And the sullen -boom of the cannon broke in upon us, and we would start and shiver -as if it had shot _us_, and sometimes the tears would come. But the -bravest of us got so we could not weep. We only sat in silence or spoke -in low voices to each other and rolled bandages and picked linen into -lint. And in those two days it seemed as if we forgot how to smile. - -Telegrams began to come; a woman would drop limp and white into the -arms of a friend--her husband was shot. Another would sit with her hand -on her heart in pallid silence until her friends, crowding around her, -spoke to her, tried to arouse her, and then she would break into a cry: - -“O my son! my son!” - -There were some who could never be roused any more; grief had stunned -and stupefied them forever, and a few there were who died of grief. -One young wife, who had just lost her baby and whose husband perished -in the fight, never lifted her head from her pillow. When the funeral -train brought him home we laid her in old Blandford beside him, the -little baby between. - -Now and then when mothers and sisters were bewailing their loss and we -were pressing comfort upon them, there would be a whisper, and one -of us would turn to where some poor girl sat, dumb and stricken, the -secret of her love for the slain wrenched from her by the hand of war. -Sometimes a bereaved one would laugh! - -The third day, the day after the battle, I heard that Dan was safe. -Every day I had searched the columns of “Killed and Wounded” in the -Richmond Despatch for his name, and had thanked God when I didn’t find -it. But direct news I had none until that third day. The strain had -been too great; I fell ill. Owing to the general’s illness at this -time his staff was ordered to Petersburg, and Dan, who was engineer -upon the staff, got leave to come on for a day or two in advance of -the other members of it; but while I was still at death’s door he was -ordered off. When I at last got up, I had to be taught to walk as a -child is taught, step by step; and before I was able to join my husband -many battles had been fought in which he took part. I was at the -breakfast-table, when, after months of weary waiting, he telegraphed me -to come to Culpeper Court-house. - -This time I packed a small trunk with necessary articles, putting -in heavy dresses and winter flannels. The winter does not come early -in Petersburg; the weather was warm when I started, and I decided -to travel in a rather light dress for the season. I did not trouble -myself with hand-baggage--not even a shawl. The afternoon train would -put me in Richmond before night; I would stop over until morning, and -that day’s train would leave me in Culpeper. Just before I started, -Mr. Sampson, at whose house I was staying, came in and said that an -old friend of his was going to Richmond on my train and would be glad -to look after me. I assented with alacrity. Before the war it was not -the custom for ladies to travel alone, and, besides this, in the days -of which I write traveling was attended with much confusion and many -delays. I reached the depot a few minutes before train time, my escort -was presented and immediately took charge of me. He was a nice-looking -elderly gentleman, quite agreeable, and with just a slight odor of -brandy about him. He saw me comfortably seated, and went to see after -our baggage, he said. He did not return at once, but I took it for -granted that he was in the smoking-car. Traveling was slower then than -now. Half-way to Richmond I began to wonder what had become of my -escort. But my head was too full of other things to bother very much -about it. The outlook from the car window along that route is always -beautiful; and then, the next day I was to see Dan. Darkness, and -across the river the lights of Richmond flashed upon the view. Where -_was_ my escort? I had noticed on the train that morning a gentleman -who wore the uniform of a Confederate captain and whom I knew by sight. -He came up to me now. - -“Excuse me, madam, but can I be of any assistance to you? I know your -husband quite well.” - -“Do you know where my escort is?” I asked. - -He looked embarrassed and tried not to smile. - -“We left him at Chester, Mrs. Grey.” - -“At Chester? He was going to Richmond.” - -“Well--you see, Mrs. Grey, it was--an accident. The old gentleman got -off to get a drink and the train left him.” - -I could not help laughing. - -“If you will allow me, madam,” said my new friend, “I will see you to -your hotel. How about your baggage?” - -“Oh!” I cried in dismay, “Mr. C------ has my trunk-check in his pocket.” - -My new friend considered. “If he comes on the next train, perhaps that -will be in time to get your trunk off with you to Culpeper. If not, -your trunk will follow you immediately. I’ll see the conductor and do -what I can. I’m going out of town to-morrow, but Captain Jeter is here -and I’ll tell him about your trunk-check. He’ll be sure to see Mr. -C------.” - -I was to see Dan the next day, and nothing else mattered. I made -my mind easy about that trunk, and my new friend took me to the -American, where I spent the evening very pleasantly in receiving old -acquaintances and making new ones. - -But with bedtime another difficulty arose: I had never slept in a room -at a hotel by myself in my life. Fortunately, Mrs. Hopson, of Norfolk, -happened to be spending the night there. I sent up a note asking if -I might sleep with her, and went up to her room half an hour later -prepared for a delightful talk about Norfolk. When we were ready for -bed, she took up one of her numerous satchels and put it down on the -side where I afterward lay down to sleep. - -“I put that close by the bed because it contains valuables,” she said -with an impressive solemnity I afterward understood. - -Of course I asked no questions, though she referred to the valuables -several times. We were in bed and the lights had been out some time -when I had occasion to ask her where she had come from there. - -“Oh, Nell!” she said, “didn’t you know? I’ve been to Charlottesville -and I’ve come from there to-day. Didn’t you know about it? John” (her -son) “was wounded. Didn’t you know about it? Of course I had to go to -him. They had to perform an operation on him. I was right there when -they did it.” Here followed a graphic account of the operation. “It was -dreadful. You see that satchel over there?” pointing to the one just -beneath my head on the floor. - -“Yes, I see it.” - -“Well, John’s bones are right in there!” - -“Good gracious!” I cried, and jumped over her to the other side of the -bed. - -“Why, what’s the matter?” she asked. “You look like you were scared, -Nell. Why, Nell, the whole of John wouldn’t hurt you, much less -those few bones. I’m carrying them home to put them in the family -burying-ground. That’s the reason I think so much of that satchel -and keep it so close to me. I don’t want John to be buried all about -in different places, you see. But I don’t see anything for you to be -afraid of in a few bones. John’s as well as ever--it isn’t like he was -dead, now.” - -I lay down quietly, ashamed of my sudden fright, but there were cold -chills running down my spine. - -After a little more talk she turned over, and I presently heard a -comfortable snore, but I lay awake a long time, my eyes riveted on the -satchel containing fragments of John. Then I began to think of seeing -Dan in the morning, and fell asleep feeling how good it was that he was -safe and sound, all his bones together and not scattered around like -poor John’s. - -I reached Culpeper Court-house the next afternoon about four o’clock. -Dan met me looking tired and shabby, and as soon as he had me settled -went back to camp. - -“I’ll come to see you as often as I can get leave,” he said when -he told me good-by. “We may be quartered here for some time--long -enough for us to get ourselves and our horses rested up, I hope; but -I’m afraid I can’t see much of you. Hardly worth the trouble of your -coming, is it, little woman?” - -“Oh, Dan, yes,” I said cheerfully; “just so you are not shot up! It -would be worth the coming if I only got to see you through a car window -as the train went by.” - -A few days after my arrival a heavy snow-storm set in. As my trunk -had not yet come, I was still in the same dress in which I had left -Petersburg, and, though we were all willing enough to lend, clothes -were so scarce that borrowing from your neighbor was a last resort. I -suffered in silence for a week before my trunk arrived, and then it was -exchanging one discomfort for another, for my flannels were so tight -from shrinkage and so worn that I felt as if something would break -every time I moved. - -During this snow-storm the roads were lined with Confederate troops -marching home footsore and weary from Maryland. Long, hard marches and -bloody battles had been their portion. In August they had come, after -their work at Seven Pines, Cold Harbor, and Malvern Hill, to drive Pope -out of Culpeper, where he was plundering. They had driven him out and -pressed after, fighting incessantly. Near Culpeper there had been the -battle of Cedar Mountain, where Jackson had defeated Pope and chased -him to Culpeper Court-house. Somewhat farther from Culpeper had been -fought the second battle of Manassas, and, crowding upon these, the -battles of Germantown, Centreville, Antietam--more than I can remember -to name. Lee’s army was back in Culpeper now with Federal troops at -their heels, and McClellan, not Pope, in command. Civilians, women, -children, and slaves feared Pope; soldiers feared McClellan--that is, -as much as Lee’s soldiers could fear anybody. - -I found our tired army in Culpeper trying to rest and fatten a little -before meeting McClellan’s legions. Then--I am not historian enough to -know just how it happened--McClellan’s head fell and Burnside reigned -in his stead. Better and worse for our army, and no worse for our women -and children, for Burnside was a gentleman even as McClellan was and -as Pope was not, and made no war upon women and children until the -shelling of Fredericksburg. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -I MEET BELLE BOYD AND SEE DICK IN A NEW LIGHT - - -The tallow candles were lighted on each side of my bureau--the time -came when I remembered those _two_ tallow candles as a piece of -reckless and foolish extravagance--when there was a rap at my door and -Mrs. Rixey entered to ask if I would share my room with a lady who had -come unexpectedly. A heavy snow was falling, and the wind was blowing -it into drifts. The idea of sending anybody out in such weather was not -to be thought of for a moment, so saying yes I hurried through with my -dressing and went down to the parlor. Mrs. Rixey’s house was filled -with Confederates who were there either because it was near the army -or because they were awaiting an opportunity to run the blockade. Our -evenings were always gay, and when I entered the parlor this evening -there was as usual a merry party, and, also as usual, there were -several officers of rank in the room. I was so busy-sending messages to -mother and Milicent by a little lady who meant to run the blockade to -Baltimore as soon as possible, that I did not catch my roommate’s name -when Mrs. Rixey introduced her. - -She seemed to be nineteen, or, perhaps, twenty--rather young, I -thought, to be traveling alone. True, I was not older, but then I was -married, which made all the difference in the world. What made her an -object of special interest to every woman present, was that she was -exceedingly well dressed. It had been a long, long time since we had -seen a new dress! She was a brilliant talker, and soon everybody in -the room was attracted to her, especially the men. She talked chiefly -to the men--indeed, I am afraid she did not care particularly for the -women--and at first we were a little piqued; but when we found that she -was devoted to The Cause we were ready to forgive her anything. She -soon let us know that she had come directly from Washington, where she -had been a prisoner of the United States. She showed us her watch and -told us how the prisoners in Washington had made the money up among -themselves and presented it to her just before she left. I wish I had -listened better to her account of her prison life and her adventures; -but I was on the outer rim of the charmed circles, my head was full of -Milicent and mother, Dan was at camp, and I couldn’t see him. I got -sleepy, slipped quietly out of the room, and went upstairs and to bed. -My roommate undressed and got to bed so quickly that night that I did -not wake. The next morning when the maid came in to make the fire, we -woke up face to face in the same bed, and then she told me that her -name was Belle Boyd, and I knew for the first time that my bedfellow -was the South’s famous female spy. When we got up she took a large -bottle of cologne and poured it into the basin in which she was going -to bathe. It was the first cologne I had seen for more than a year, and -it was the last I saw until I ran the blockade. - -That day, while we were at dinner, a servant, behind my chair, -whispered: - -“Somebody out dar wan’ ter see you right erway, mistis--er solger.” - -When I went out into the hallway, there stood the most abject, -pitiable-looking creature--a soldier, ragged and footsore! He was at -the end of the hall farthest from the dining-room, and looked as if he -didn’t wish to attract attention. - -He wore gray trousers patched with blue--or were they blue patched -with gray?--and a jacket which had as much Federal blue as Confederate -gray in it. From the color of his uniform, he belonged equally to both -armies. His trousers were much too short for him, and altogether too -small. His shoes were heavy brogans twice too large for him, and tied -on with strings. He was without socks and his ankles showed naked -and sore between trousers and shoes. He had on a bedticking shirt, -a tobacco-bag of bedticking hung by a string from a button of his -shirt--a button which, by the way, was doing more than double duty--and -an old slouch hat was pulled over his face. - -“You wanted to see me, sir?” I asked, stopping at a short distance from -him. - -He looked up quickly. - -“How do you do, Nell?” he said. “I got leave to come from camp to see -you to-day. My company got in from Maryland yesterday.” - -“Dick!” I cried in amazement; and then I burst into tears. Dick, our -dandy, to look like this! Laughter mingled with weeping. - -“Good gracious, Nell! what is the matter?” he said. - -“Dick, Dick, how you look!” - -“Hush, Nell! Good gracious! You’ll have everybody in the dining-room -out here to look at me.” - -Then I began to beg incoherently that he would go in and dine with me. -I think Dick was hungry, but he was not _that_ hungry. In his present -garb starvation would not have driven him into a dining-room where -ladies were. He looked toward the door with abject terror, and tried -to hide himself behind the hat-rack. I was puzzled to know what I -should do with him. As a young lady was my roommate it was out of the -question to take him to my room, and he positively refused to go into -the parlor. While we debated, the dining-room door opened and the -ladies filed out into the hall. Unkempt, unshorn, patched, ragged, and -dirty, a very travesty of his former foppish self, Dick went through -the introductions with what grace he might. - -Fortunately my friends who surrounded him were in sympathy with the -threadbare Confederate soldier, and ready to help him to the extent -of their power. One friend, whose husband had a shirt to spare, gave -that to him; another lady found him a pair of socks; some one else -contributed a pair of homespun drawers. I was drawn aside and consulted -as to the best and most graceful way of conveying these presents to -him. They feared that he might be wounded and insulted if the matter -were not delicately managed. But Dick was past all that. He accepted -the goods the gods provided in the spirit in which they were bestowed, -and was radiant with his good luck, and with gratitude to the fair -donors. While we held council he had been in Mrs. Rixey’s and Miss -Boyd’s hands, and had had a good dinner. - -As he stood in the hall ready to go back to camp, Belle Boyd came down -the staircase, carrying a large new blanket shawl. - -“You must let me wrap you up, lieutenant,” she said, putting the shawl -around Dick’s shoulders and pinning it together. - -Dick blushed and demurred. A shawl like that was too much--it was a -princely gift, a fortune. - -“I can’t let you go back to camp in this thin jacket,” she said, “while -I have this shawl. It is serving our country, lieutenant, while it -protects her soldier from the cold. I may need it? No, no, I can get -others where this one came from.” - -There was nothing for him to do but to accept it. He looked at me with -something of his old humor in his eyes as he started off. - -“I’ll be sure to come to see you again, Nell,” he said. - -After he left the house we saw him stoop, take off his shoes, and walk -off with them in his hands. His feet left marks of blood in the snow. -Shoes had been dealt out to the army only that morning, and his feet -were so sore that his heavy, ill-fitting brogans were unendurable. - -I have heard of many generous deeds like this done by Belle Boyd. -Once, when riding out to review some troops near Winchester, she met -a soldier, a mere boy, trudging along painfully on his bare feet. She -took off her own shoes and made him put them on; they were fine cloth -gaiters laced at the side, and trimmed with patent leather. Some one -remonstrated; the shoes would not last the boy long enough to pay for -her sacrifice. - -“Oh,” she said, “if it rests his poor young feet only a little while, I -am repaid. He is not old enough to be away from his mother.” - -She did not spend another night with us. She seemed to feel that she -had the weight of the Confederacy on her shoulders, and took the -afternoon train for Richmond. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -A FAITHFUL SLAVE AND A HOSPITAL WARD - - -Not long after this I had to give up my room to Governor Bailey of -Florida and his family. They had come on in search of their son, -whom they had for months believed to be dead, and who, they had -only recently learned, was alive and in the mountains near Culpeper -Court-house. - -It seems that young Bailey had been shot at the battle of Cedar -Mountain and left on the field for dead. An old negro, his -body-servant, had carried him off by stealth to a hut in the woods, and -there, with such simple resources as he had, had dressed and bandaged -the wound. The hut was a mere shell of a house, a habitation for bats -and owls; it had been unused so long that no paths led to it, and Uncle -Reuben’s chief object in carrying his master there was to hide him -from the Yankees. He had no medicine, no doctor, no help, the master -was ill for a long time from his wounds and with a slow fever, and -through it all Uncle Reuben never left him except at night to forage -for both. Food in the Confederacy was far from plentiful, and under -the circumstances almost impossible to get. The hardships they endured -seem inconceivable to-day. Afraid to show himself lest in doing so he -should turn his master over into the hands of the dreaded Yankees, -the faithful old servant saw no way of communicating with the family. -He was in a strange country; he could not leave his charge, alone -and desperately ill, long enough to seek advice and assistance, and, -besides, how was he to know the friend who would help him from the man -who might betray him? He knew but one token--the Confederate uniform, -and that was not always to be trusted, for spies wore it. - -Confederate troops must have passed near his hiding-place several -times, but in his anxiety to save his master from the Federals, the -negro hid him from the Confederates as well. - -It happened at last that a party of skirmishers who had frequently -deployed along the obscure roads intersecting the country, noticed, -rising from the depths of the forest, a thin streak of smoke suggesting -deserters or spies, and began to investigate. So, it happened that they -came upon the hut, and a poor, old, half-starved negro watching what -seemed to be little more than a human skeleton. When convinced that his -discoverers were really Confederates, his joy and eagerness knew no -bounds. - -“Ef any uv you gentlemen will jes send a ’spatch to Ole Marster,” he -said tremulously, “Ole Marster’ll be hyer toreckly. He’ll be hyer jes -ez quick ez de kyars kin git him hyer. We ain’t got no money. But Ole -Marster’ll pay fur de ’spatch jes ez soon ez he comes. Ole Marster’s -rich. He’ll pay fur anything anybody do fur Mars Hugh, an’ be thankful -ter do it. Ole Marster’ll come arter Mars Hugh jes ez quick ez I kin -git him word. He’ll pay anybody fur evvything.” - -The soldiers hardly knew what to do; perhaps they never considered that -they could do anything but what they did: ride away and leave behind -them the pair in the hut. Perhaps, poor fellows, there was nothing -else they could do. Comfortable hospitals for Southern soldiers were -scarce, and the Confederate soldier had little to give to any one, even -to his sick comrade. - -The negro, the guardian in this instance, was not anxious to have his -charge moved. His whole concern was “to git word to Ole Marster.” - -“I kin take kyeer uv him,” he insisted, “jes lak I bin doin’ ’twell -Ole Marster come. Den he’ll know what to do. Mars Hugh ain’t fitten to -move now. Ef twarn’t done jes right, he couldn’t stan’ it, case he’s -too weakly. ’Twon’t do fur no strange folks to tech him nor ’sturb him, -lessen dey knows how. Mars Hugh jes same ez er baby.” - -They gave the negro the rations they had with them, and the whisky -in their canteens--it was all they had to give except their scant -clothes--and rode on to Culpeper Court-house, where one of them sent -the despatch to “Ole Marster,” according to the directions Uncle Reuben -had given. And our Florida party was “Ole Marster” and his wife, and -poor Hugh Bailey’s young wife and her uncle. - -It was well into the night after their arrival when four soldiers -carried up to my room a stretcher holding a skeleton of a man. A gaunt, -ragged old negro followed. - -The next day the party started for home, but they never got poor Hugh -as far as Florida. They stopped in Richmond at the Exchange, and there -Hugh Bailey died the next day. - -And now began for me the nursing in hospital wards that made up so -large a part of our lives during the war. - - “Jeter shot, perhaps fatally. Go to the hospital and see what - you can do for him. I have telegraphed to his wife and mother. - - “DAN.” - -The orderly who brought me this message from my husband said that -Captain Jeter’s command had been in a skirmish that day, and that the -captain had fallen, mortally wounded, it was thought. - -I went to him at once. He was lying unconscious across the bed as if -he had fallen or been dropped there, dressed in full uniform with his -coat buttoned up to his throat, breathing stertorously, and moaning. -There was a small black hole in his temple. I thought he must be -uncomfortable with his clothes on, and proposed to the nurse that we -should try to undress him, but she said he was dying and it would -only disturb him. All that day and until late that night I stayed -with him, changing the towels on his head, wiping the ooze from his -lips, listening to that agonizing moaning, and thinking of the wife -and mother who could not reach him. About ten o’clock he seemed to be -strangling. - -“It’s phlegm in his throat,” the nurse said. She ran her finger down -his throat, pulling out a quid of tobacco that had been in his mouth -when he was shot and that had lain there ever since. - -He died at midnight, and his mother came the next day at noon. I don’t -know which was the hardest to stand, her first burst of agony or her -endless questions when she could talk. - -“Did he suffer much, Nell?” - -“Not much, I think. He was unconscious from the time he was shot.” - -“Nell, did he send me any message? Did he call for me?” - -“He was unconscious,” I repeated gently, “and we must be thankful that -he was. If he had been conscious he would have suffered more.” - -“Yes, yes; I reckon I am thankful. I don’t know how I am now. But I’m -trying to submit myself to the will of the Lord. Nellie, you don’t know -what a sweet baby he was! the prettiest little fellow! as soon as he -could walk, he was always toddling after me and pulling at my skirts.” - -I turned my head away. - -“Last night I dozed for a minute and I dreamed about him. He was my -baby again, and I had him safe in my arms, and there never had been -any war. But I didn’t sleep much. I couldn’t come as soon as I got the -telegram. I had to wait for a train. And I was up nearly all night -cooking things to bring him.” - -She opened her basket and satchel and showed me. They were full of -little cakes and crackers, wine jellies and blanc-mange, and other -delicacies for the sick. - -“Do you think if I had gotten here in time he could have eaten them?” -she asked wistfully. - -“He could not eat anything,” I said, choking back my tears. - -“You don’t think he was hungry at all, Nell? The soldiers have so -little to eat sometimes--and I have heard it said that people are -sometimes hungry when they are dying.” - -“Dear Mrs. Jeter, he looked well and strong except for the wound. You -know the troops had just returned from the valley, where they had -plenty to eat.” - -“I am glad of that. I was just getting a box ready to send him full of -everything I thought he would like. And I had some clothes for him. I -began making the clothes as soon as I heard the troops had come back to -Culpeper. You say he was wounded in the head?” - -Neither of us closed our eyes that night. She walked the floor asking -the same questions over and over again, and I got so I answered yes or -no just as I saw she wanted yes or no and without regard to the truth. - -Several months after this I saw Captain Jeter’s widow. She was -surrounded by his little children--none of them old enough to realize -their loss. - -“Nell,” she said, “you remember the day in Petersburg when we stood -together and watched the troops start off for Norfolk--and everybody -was cheering?” - -“Yes.” - -“Well, war does not look to me now as it did then. God grant it may -spare your husband to you, Nell!” - -I shivered. - -I called on another widowed friend. Her husband--a captain, too--had -been sent home, his face mutilated past recognition by the shell -that killed him. Her little ones were around her, and the captain’s -sword was hanging on the wall. When I spoke to her of it as a proud -possession, her eyes filled. His little boy said with flashing eyes: - -“It’s my papa’s s’ode. I wants to be a man. An’ I’ll take it down and -kill all the Yankees!” - -“H-sh!” his mother put her hand over his mouth. “God grant there may be -no war when you are a man!” she said fervently. - -“Amen!” I responded. - -“Oh, Nell,” she said, “when it’s all over, what good will it do? It -will just show that one side could fight better than the other, or had -more money and men than the other. It won’t show that anybody’s right. -You can’t know how it is until it hits you, Nell. I’m proud of him, and -proud of his sword; I wouldn’t have had him out of it all. I wouldn’t -have had him a coward. But oh, Nell, I feel that war is wrong! I’m -sorry for every Northern woman who has a circle like this around her, -and a sword like that hanging on her wall.” - -The little boy put his arm around her neck. “Mamma,” he said, “are -_you_ sorry for the _Yankees_?” - -“My dear,” she said, “I am sorry for all little boys who haven’t got a -papa, and I’m sorry for their mammas. And I don’t want you ever to kill -anybody.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -TRAVELING THROUGH DIXIE IN WAR TIMES - - -Our troops had to get out of winter quarters before they were well -settled in them. I am not historian enough to explain how it was, but -the old familiar trip “On to Richmond” had been started again, Burnside -directing it. Every new Federal commander-in-chief started for Richmond -as soon as he was in command. There was a popular song called “Richmond -is a Hard Road to Travel.” They always found it so, though they got -there eventually. - -The cavalry, as usual, were on the wing first. General Rooney (W. H. -F.) Lee’s division was sent to Fredericksburg in November, I think. -My husband, of course, went with it. I was to go to Richmond and wait -until I heard whether it would be safe for me to join him. - -From Richmond I ran over to Petersburg, saw many old friends and ran -back to Richmond again, fearful lest a message should come from Dan and -I should miss it. I looked for a telegram every day, and kept my trunk -packed. It was well that I did. - -One morning my door was burst open unceremoniously and Dan rushed in. - -“Ready to go, Nell?” - -“Yes.” - -“Come. Now.” - -I put on my bonnet, caught up my satchel, stuffed brush, tooth-brush, -and comb into it and was ready. Dan had stepped into the hall to call -a porter to take the trunk down. We followed it, jumped into the -omnibus, and it rolled off--all this in about five minutes from the -time he burst my door open. On the omnibus, among other passengers, -was a gentleman who had a brother in Dan’s command. This gentleman had -so many questions to ask about the army, and so many messages to send -his brother that Dan and I hardly exchanged a dozen sentences before -we were at the depot. He established me in my seat, got my baggage -checked, sat down, and then exclaiming: - -“Good gracious! I forgot that bundle for General Lee. It’s on top of -the omnibus, Nell. I’ll be back in a minute,” and darted off. - -At the next station, when the conductor came for my ticket, I said: - -“See my husband, please. He must be in the smoking-car.” - -A gentleman across the aisle remarked: - -“Excuse me, madam, but I think the gentleman who came in with you got -left. I saw him get off the omnibus with a bundle in his hand and run -after the car, but he missed it.” - -“Then I don’t know what to do,” I said in despair to the conductor. “I -haven’t a ticket, and I haven’t any money.” - -“Where are you going?” he asked kindly. - -“I don’t know!” I gasped. - -The conductor looked blank. I explained the manner of my starting to -him. - -“Do you know where your husband’s command is stationed?” - -“No, I don’t know that either. You see,” I explained, “as he belongs to -the cavalry it is much harder to keep up with his whereabouts than if -he were in the infantry.” - -“What division is he in?” - -“General Rooney Lee’s.” - -“Do you know what brigade?” - -“Chambliss’s.” - -“All right. I know what to do with you, then. You stop at Milford. Your -husband will come on the freight this afternoon--at least, that’s what -I expect him to do. Your best plan is to wait at Milford for him.” - -When we reached Milford the conductor took me out and introduced me to -the landlord of the tavern, and I was shown into what I suppose might -be called by grace the reception-room. It was literally on the ground -floor, being built on native brown earth. The ceiling was low, the room -was full of smoke, and rough-looking men sat about with pipes in their -mouths. I asked for a private room, and was shown into one upstairs, -but this was so cold that I went out into the porch which overhung -the street and walked up and down in the sun to keep myself warm. -Very soon the gong sounded for dinner. I went down, sat with a rough -crowd around a long table, swallowed what I could, and went back to my -promenade on the porch. After a time an ambulance drove up and stopped -under the porch, and an orderly sang out: - -“Adjutant of the Thirteenth here?” - -I leaned over the railing. - -“I am his wife,” I said. - -He saluted. “Can you tell me where the adjutant is, ma’am?” - -“He will be here on the next train.” - -“That might be midnight, ma’am, or it might be to-morrow. My orders -were to meet the adjutant here about this time.” - -“The adjutant got left by the regular passenger. But a freight was to -leave Richmond soon after the passenger, and the adjutant will come on -that.” - -“The freight?” the orderly looked doubtful. “Maybe so.” - -“What do you mean?” I asked. - -“Well, ma’am, all trains are uncertain, and freight trains more so. -And sometimes freight trains are mighty pertickular about what kind of -freight they carry.” - -I laughed, but the orderly did not see the point. Dan’s body-servant -was to drive the ambulance back, so the orderly, turning it over to a -man whom he picked up in the tavern, went back to camp according to -instructions. As soon as he was out of sight I began to repent. If Dan -_shouldn’t_ come on that freight, what would I do with myself and that -strange man and the ambulance and the mules? It was getting late when -the welcome sound of a whistle broke upon my ear and the freight came -creeping in. On the engine beside the engineer stood my husband, with -that abominable little bundle of General Lee’s in his hand. - -“Josh got left somewhere,” Dan said of his servant, “the man will have -to drive.” - -At last we were off, Dan and I sitting comfortably back in the -ambulance. I was very cold when I first got in, but he wrapped me up -well in the blanket and I snuggled up against him, and began to tell -him how nice and warm he was, and how thankful I was that there was no -possibility of his getting left from me between here and camp. - -“I had a time of it to come on that freight,” he said. - -“The orderly said you would.” I repeated the orderly’s remark, and Dan -laughed. - -“He told the truth. I had to do more swearing to the square inch than I -have been called upon to do for some time. I knew you didn’t even know -where you were going, and that I _must_ get here to-night. As soon as -I heard about the freight, I went to the conductor. He said passengers -couldn’t be taken on the freight, it was against orders. ‘I belong to -the army as you see,’ I urged, ‘I am an officer and it is important for -me to rejoin my command.’ He insisted still that I couldn’t go, that -it was against orders. I told him that it was a bundle for General Lee -that had got me left, and I pictured your predicament in moving colors. -He was obdurate. ‘If the freights begin to take passengers,’ he said, -‘there would soon be no room for any other sort of freight on them.’ -I felt like kicking him. It was then that I told him that orders were -not made for fools to carry out, and the swearing began. I threatened -to report him. He looked uneasy and was ready to make concessions which -politeness had not been able to win, but I walked off. Evidently, -like a mule, he respected me more for cursing him. I had my plan laid. -Just as the train moved out of the station I swung on to the engine, -and politely introduced myself to the engineer. He had overheard my -conversation with the conductor--the first part of it, not the part -where the swearing came in--and he invited me to get off the engine. -While we were debating the engine was traveling. I saw that he was -about to stop it. - -“Quick as a flash I had my pistol at his head. - -“‘Now,’ I said, ‘drive on with this engine, or I’ll kill you and run -it myself!’ I am not telling you _all_ the words I used, Nell, you’ll -forgive me this time, I had to get to you, and honest English is wasted -on fools and mules. ‘Hold off!’ he said, ‘and don’t put that d--d thing -so close to my head, and you can ride up here and be d--d to you.’ The -invitation was not very polite, but I accepted it. I gave him some good -tobacco, and we got to be friends before I got off.” - -The short day was done. I was tired and warm and sleepy and went to -sleep while Dan was talking. I don’t know how long I had dozed when -the driver doubled up suddenly and turned head over heels backward into -my lap. I struggled from under him, and Dan gave him a push that helped -to free me and at the same time jumped on to the driver’s seat and -caught up the lines. - -“Lord-a-mussy on me!” I heard the man groaning, “dat ar d--n mu-el! she -have kicked me in de pit er my stummick!” - -He gathered himself together in a corner of the ambulance, and -continued to express forcible opinions of the mule. - -“Dan,” I said, “please get away from there! That mule might kick you.” - -“Don’t be silly, Nell! Somebody’s got to drive.” - -“But, Dan, if you get kicked, you _can’t_ drive.” - -“I won’t get kicked. I know how to talk to a mule. Just shut your ears, -Nell, if you don’t want to hear me. I’ve got to convince this mule. -She’s just like that engineer and conductor. As soon as I get through -giving her my opinion in language she can understand, she’ll travel all -right.” - -Presently Dan called out: “You can unstop your ears now, Nell--I think -she understands.” - -“Dan,” I said, “are you cold out there?” - -“Not a bit of it! This isn’t anything to a soldier. But a soldier’s -wife, eh, Nell? Getting to be rather hard lines, isn’t it?” - -“Dan,” I said, my teeth chattering, “don’t it seem that I have had more -adventures in one day than I am entitled to?” - -“Rather! By the way, Josh got on that same freight. How he managed it, -the Lord only knows! Worked himself in with the brakeman, I suppose. -But he got off--to look around, I reckon--just like him!--at some -station before Milford and got left. He’ll come straggling into camp -to-morrow. You see there’s another accident you can credit your account -with. Josh could have driven these mules instead of that fool white man -over there who don’t know what to do with a mule. Then I would have -been back there entertaining you, and you would have been complimenting -me by going to sleep.” He drove on singing: - - “Sweet Nellie is by my side!” - -We caught up with another ambulance. In it were an army friend of -Dan’s with his wife, and she proved the straw that broke the back of -my endurance. She played the martyr. She had rugs, and shawls, and -blankets. I cross-examined her and made her show that she hadn’t been -left on a car by herself without a ticket or a cent of money, and with -no knowledge of where she was going, that the driver of her ambulance -hadn’t been kicked in the stomach and tumbled himself backward into -her lap and nearly broken her bones, and that my case was far worse -than hers. But in spite of it, she complained of everything, and had -Dan and her husband sympathizing so with her that they had no time to -sympathize with me. I sat, almost frozen, huddled up in the one shawl -that answered for shawl, blanket, and rug, and tried to keep my teeth -from chattering and myself from hating that whining Mrs. Gummidge of a -woman. - -At last our ambulance drew up in front of the Rev. Mr. McGuire’s, -where we were to stop. There was a hot supper ready, in parlor and -dining-room cheerful flames leaped up from hickory logs on bright -brass fire-dogs, and our welcome was as cheery as the glow of the fire. -As our ambulance had driven into the gate a few minutes in advance -of the other, and as Dan had also engaged board for me several days -before, I had a right to the first choice of rooms. One of these was -large with a bright fire burning in the fireplace, and a great downy -feather-bed on the four-poster; the other was small, and had neither -fireplace nor feather-bed. Of course “Mrs. Gummidge” got the best room. -Dan had to go back to camp. I slept on my hard bed in my cold room and -cried for Milicent and mother; and the next morning I broke the ice in -my bowl when I went to take my bath. I was very, very miserable that -morning. I was not out of my twenties, I had been a spoiled child, I -had not seen Milicent or mother since my marriage, I had nearly lost -my husband, and I had been ill unto death. Following my husband around -as I did, I yet saw very little of him, and I endured hardships of -every sort. I was in the land of war, and in spite of all his efforts -to protect me life was full of fears and horrors. I do not mean that -it was all woe. There were smiles, and music, and laughter, too; my -hosts were kind, Dan came over from camp whenever he could, and life -was too full of excitement ever to be dull. During the day I managed -fairly well--it was at night that the horrors overwhelmed me. My -room was cheerless, my bed was hard and cold--I wanted Milicent, I -wanted mother. I felt that the time had come when I _must_ see them -and I couldn’t: there was no way! The longing grew upon me the more -I struggled against it, until there was no risk I would not have run -to see them. I was sitting in the parlor one night thinking with -indescribable longing of the happy, care-free days in Norfolk, and -seeing dissolving pictures of home in the hickory fire. Tears were -rolling down my cheeks, for while I was living over those dear old -days I was living in the present, too. Suddenly I heard a voice in the -hall--Dan’s and another’s! - -I sprang up. And there was Dan, and behind him in the doorway stood a -graceful figure in a long wrap. And a face--Milicent’s face--pale and -weary, but indescribably lovely and loving, was looking toward me with -shining eyes. - -“Millie!” - -“Nell!” - -That was one time I forgot Dan, but he didn’t mind. He stayed with -us as long as he could, and after he left Milicent and I talked and -talked. Milicent--she was a widow now--had come all the way from -Baltimore to see me--she had left mother and Bobby to come to see me! -My little bed wasn’t hard any more, my room wasn’t cheerless any more; -I didn’t mind having to break the ice for my bath. Ah, me, what a night -that was and how happy we were until Dan’s command was moved! - -Millie and I--Catholics--wish to pay tribute to the sweet piety of -that Protestant home which sheltered us. Every evening the big Bible -was brought out and prayers were held, the negro servants coming in to -share in the family devotions. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -BY FLAG OF TRUCE - -_Milicent tells how she got from Baltimore to Dixie._ - - -The War Department of the United States issued a notice that on such -a date a flag-of-truce boat would go from Washington to Richmond, and -that all persons wishing to go must obtain passes and come to that city -by a certain date. - -I had not heard from my sister, Mrs. Grey, for some time. We were very -anxious about her, and I determined to seize this opportunity to get to -her. - -I was fortunate in making one of a party of three ladies, one of whom -was Mrs. Montmorency, the widow of an English officer, and the other -Mrs. Dangerfield, of Alexandria, Virginia. On our arrival at Washington -late at night, we found all the hotels crowded and were told that it -would be impossible to get a room anywhere. Fortunately for us, Mrs. -Dangerfield was acquainted with the proprietor of one of the hotels -where we inquired, and here, after much difficulty, we secured two -small rooms. As he left us the old lady said triumphantly: - -“Now, see what’s in a name! If my name hadn’t been Dangerfield none of -us could have gotten a place to sleep in to-night.” - -The next morning we started for the flag-of-truce boat. Immediately -upon our arrival our baggage was weighed and all over two hundred -pounds refused transportation. The confusion was indescribable. As soon -as the steamer cleared the wharf every stateroom was locked, and the -five hundred passengers on board, with the exception of the children, -were subjected to a rigid examination--their persons, their clothing, -their trunks were all thoroughly searched. We were marched down two by -two between guards, and passed into the lower cabin, where four women -removed and searched our clothing; our shoes, stockings, and even our -hair were subjected to rigid inspection. - -Mrs. Dangerfield being the oldest lady on board was by courtesy -exempted. As for myself, I fell into the hands of a pleasant woman, -who looked ashamed of the office she had to perform. She passed her -hand lightly over and within my dress, and over my hair; touched my -pockets and satchels, which I willingly showed her, and dismissed -me with a smile and the kind remark, “Oh, I know you have nothing -contraband,” while around me stood ladies shivering in one garment. - -I had tea and sugar, both contraband articles, in a large satchel -upstairs in the care of the provost marshal. I out-Yankeed the Yankees -this trip. As soon as I had heard that we were to be searched and have -our things taken from us, I had walked up to the provost marshal, -told him I had tea and coffee--a small quantity of each--and asked to -be allowed to use them. In the gruffest manner he bade me bring them -immediately to him. My dejected looks must have inspired him with some -pity, for when I went off and brought back my satchel and handed it to -him, he turned and said in the kindest manner: - -“Now I have saved them for you. After the search is over come to me -and I will return them to you.” - -I thanked him and hurried off to impart the good news to my friend Mrs. -Dangerfield. I found her in a most animated discussion with an officer -who had just pronounced her camphor-bottle contraband. The old lady was -asserting loudly her inability to stand the trip or to live without her -camphor-bottle. After much argument and persuasion she was allowed to -retain it. - -The scenes on deck at this time were too painful to dwell upon. -Mothers who had periled everything and spent their last dollar in -buying shoes for their children had to see them rudely taken away. -Materials for clothing, and pins, needles, buttons, thread, and all the -little articles so needful at home and so difficult to obtain in the -Confederacy at that time were pronounced contraband. Men went about -with their arms filled with plunder taken from defenseless women who -stood wringing their hands and pleading, crying, arguing, quarreling. - -By this time we were far down the Potomac. Weak, hungry, and seasick, -we were glad when dinner-time drew near. The official notice had -stated that food would be provided, which we, of course, had construed -into three meals a day of good steamboat fare. The bell rang out -loudly at last, and we all rushed to the cabin, where to our utter -consternation we saw nothing whatever to eat, no set table, and nothing -that looked like eating. Coming up the steps was a dirty boathand with -a still dirtier bucket and a string of tin cups. He deposited these on -a table and then called upon the ladies to help themselves to atrocious -coffee, without milk, sugar, or spoons. Down he went again, and came up -laden with tin plates piled one on the other, and containing what he -called a sandwich. This sandwich was a chunk--not a slice--of bread, -spread with dreadful mustard, a piece of coarse ham and another chunk -of bread. Each person was generously allowed one of the tin plates and -one sandwich. The very thought of swallowing such food was revolting, -and more particularly so because we were tantalized with odors of -beefsteak and chicken and other appetizing delicacies prepared for the -officers’ table. - -How thankful I was to the provost for confiscating my tea and coffee -and sugar and crackers and ginger-cakes! Each of our party had -something to add. Down upon the lower deck we had seen an immense pile -of loaves of bread, and near them a large stove. We coaxed the sailor -in charge to get us a clean loaf from the center of the pile and to put -our tea on his stove to draw. In a few moments we disappeared to enjoy -in our stateroom the luxury of a cup of tea! How others fared I do not -know. We were the only people, I think, who had saved any tea. Almost -every one had brought a few crackers, or cakes of some kind which -they had managed to keep, and these they must have lived on with the -abominable coffee. - -When we reached the boat that morning only one stateroom was vacant, -and this we contrived to secure. It was crowded comfort for three -persons, but we were thankful. When night came our less fortunate -fellow travelers were scattered in every direction on the floor, their -only accommodations filthy camp mattresses without sheets, pillows, or -covering of any kind except their own cloaks and shawls. - -We traveled slowly and cautiously, fearing that in the night our flag -might not be distinctly seen and we might be fired upon. The provost -and his officers were in most things polite and kind. The men got up -a little play between decks for the amusement of the ladies; but our -party was too ultra-Southern even to look on. - -We remained off Fortress Monroe all night, only starting at daylight -for the James River. The trip up the James was accomplished in safety -and without incident of special interest, if we except a very sudden -and desperate love affair between a Southern girl and a Federal officer -and the amusement which it afforded us. - -As our boat neared the wharf at City Point, on all sides were heard -cries of: - -“Here we are in Dixie!” - -As soon as we were landed a rush was made for the cars, and after -everybody was seated the provost marshal came through bidding us -good-by, shaking hands with many and kissing the pretty young girls. -He had been very kind, and, as far as lay in his power, had done so -much for the comfort of all and for the pleasure of the young people -that most of us felt as if we were parting from a friend. Indeed, -some were so enthusiastic that before we reached City Point they went -among the passengers begging subscriptions to a fund for purchasing -the provost a handsome diamond ring as a testimonial. Many, however, -refused indignantly, declaring that they did not feel called upon to -reward the provost for confiscating every article possible, and for -giving us for seven consecutive meals spoiled bacon, mustard, and -undrinkable coffee. - -In Petersburg little or no preparation had been made for us, although -the hotel proprietors knew the truce boat was expected that afternoon -at City Point. We were scarcely able to secure an ordinary supper, and -had to sleep, eight or ten in a room, on mattresses laid on the floor, -and which, though clean and comfortable enough, were without covering. -The next day we parted to go in different directions. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -I MAKE UP MY MIND TO RUN THE BLOCKADE - - -Late one day we saw an ambulance driving up to the gate through the -pouring rain. A few minutes after, Patsy, the housemaid, came in to say -that the adjutant had sent for his wife and her sister. We supposed -that the two men with the ambulance were rough and common soldiers--one -of them, in fact, the one who had given the message to Patsy, was a -negro driver--and sent them around to the kitchen to warm and dry -themselves. Very soon Aunt Caroline, the cook and a great authority, -came in hurriedly and attacked Mrs. McGuire. - -“Law, mistess! Y’all sholy orter ax one er dem men in de house. He -sholy orten ter bin sont to de kitchen. He ain’t got no bizness in de -kitchen. He’s quality. You orter ax him to come to de parlor. He specks -you gwine ter ax him to come to de parlor, case he done bresh hissef -up, and he’s puttin’ sweet grease on his har, and he say he kin play on -de orgin.” - -Such accomplishments as these changed the whole situation. Aunt -Caroline was sent to fetch him. When she threw open the door and -announced him and he entered, bowing low and gracefully, we could -hardly restrain a laugh, for we had a good view of the top of his head, -and it was fairly ashine! He was Lieutenant Dimitri of New Orleans, my -husband’s courier, who had been sent as our escort. A most efficient -and agreeable one he proved. - -If I had only been a young lady following my father or brother around, -how interesting these memoirs might be made, for Lieutenant Dimitri was -only one of many charming men I met. Available heroes pass through, -bow, and make their exits. And I am afraid of boring my friends with -the one hero who remains because he is my husband; consequently I keep -him as modestly as possible in the background. He had risen steadily -in rank, and I was proud of him, but I must say that my memory is less -vivid as to his deeds of gallantry than it is to what might have been -reckoned minor matters by an older woman. The greatest crosses of my -life were separation from my mother and sister, telling my husband -good-by, and beholding him in a hopelessly shabby uniform. The greatest -blessings of my life were found in the little courtesies and kindnesses -of life and in getting my husband back to me, safe and sound. - -When morning came it was still raining, and the roads in such a -condition that Mr. McGuire, fearing our ambulance would break down, -opposed our going. But I knew that the men and team must return to camp -according to orders, so we started off in spite of the weather and Mr. -McGuire’s protest. - -We had not gone far when our driver was halted by a vidette who barred -the way. - -“Is Adjutant Grey’s wife in the ambulance?” - -“Yessuh.” - -“Turn back. Smallpox ahead.” - -The driver turned another road. It was only a short distance before we -were halted again. - -“Adjutant Grey’s wife in the ambulance?” - -“Yessuh, she sho is.” - -“Turn around. Smallpox this way.” - -“Lord! how _is_ I ter go?” groaned the driver. - -At the next fork the driver paused with a look of utter distraction. - -“I don’t kyeer whicherway we go, dar’ll be smallpox in de road sayin’ -we can’t go datter way.” And he drove recklessly on the way the mules -seemed to prefer. The mules struck it. - -A vidette halted us again, but it was to say that we were traveling in -the right direction and to give minute directions for the rest of our -journey. There was a village and its neighborhood to be avoided, and we -had to make a wide detour before the driver put us down, according to -orders, at Mr. Wright’s. - -Dan came in quite soon, looking as shabby as one of his own orderlies, -but glad enough to see me. For some time here I was in a fool’s -paradise in spite of the war and the fact that mother was far away in -Baltimore, ignorant of what might be happening to us, for camp was -very near, there were no active hostilities, and Dan came to see me -every day. - -Then the cavalry received marching orders. The night after I heard -it I determined to tell Dan of a decision I had come to. Milicent -had not spoken, but I knew the drift of her thoughts and purposes. -We had not heard once from mother and Bobby since she left them in -Baltimore. Milicent was going to them, and I had made up my mind to -go with her. There was no return to Baltimore by flag of truce; the -only way to get there was to run the blockade, a most dangerous and -doubtful undertaking at this period of the war. But Milicent’s boy was -in Baltimore, and mother was there. She had come to me; she would go to -them, and I intended to go with her. - -My heart was set on seeing mother. To be left alone now by both -Milicent and Dan would drive me crazy; for Milicent to run the blockade -alone would serve me as ill. Besides, I wanted some things for myself, -some pins and needles, and nice shoes and pocket handkerchiefs and -a new hat and a new cloak, and I wanted a new uniform for Dan. Dan -had had no new uniform since his first promotion, a long time ago. -He was an officer of high rank, and he was still wearing his old -private’s uniform. He had traveled through rain and snow and mud, -and had slept on the ground and fought battles in it. Though I had -many times cleaned that uniform, darned it, patched it, turned it, -scoured it, done everything that was possible to rejuvenate it, my -shabby-looking soldier was a continual reproach to me. When Dan would -come to see me I used to make him wrap up in a sheet or blanket while -I worked away on his clothes with needle and thread, soap and water -and smoothing irons. I was ready to run the blockade for a new uniform -for Dan if for nothing else, but to tell him that I was going to run -the blockade--there was the rub! Evening came and Dan with it, and the -telling had to be done somehow. - -“Dan,” I began, patting the various patches on his shabby knee, “I want -you to have a new uniform.” - -“Wish me a harp and a crown, Nell! One’s about as easy as the other. -You’ll have to take it out in wanting, my girl.” - -“I expect I could buy Confederate cloth in Baltimore.” - -“Maybe--if you were there.” - -“Dan, I think I’ll slip across the border and buy you a Confederate -uniform, gold lace and all, from a Yankee tradesman, and then slip back -here with it, and behold you in all the glory of it. Wouldn’t that be -nice, Dan?” - -“Rather!” - -Dan took in his patches at a glance, perhaps by way of mental -comparison between himself in this and himself in the imaginary new -uniform. But I saw he did not understand me at all--I had to make -things plain. - -“Dan,” I said, “I am going to Baltimore.” - -“What?” he thundered. - -“I am going to run the blockade with Millie.” - -“Have you lost your senses?” - -“No, Dan. But I’m going to run the blockade with Millie--to get you a -new uniform.” - -“Nell, don’t be a goose!” - -“And some shirts and some socks and some pins and needles--and I want -to see mother--and Bobby--and--I’m going.” - -“I’m not going to allow you to attempt such a thing!” he said gravely. - -“I want to see mother--and to get a new uniform--and other things.” - -Dan looked at me as if he thought I was crazy. - -“Milicent is going--and I think I ought to go with her.” - -“I don’t want Millie to go--I don’t think she ought to try it; and I -won’t permit you to go off on such a wild-goose chase.” - -I was silent a minute, trying to think how to tell him as respectfully -as I could that I differed with him on this point. It all ended by my -repeating in a stupid, poll-parrot fashion: - -“I’m going with Millie to Baltimore.” - -Dan looked at me as if he would like to spank me! Here was his -obedient, docile girl-bride blossomed into a contumacious, rebellious -wife! - -I was ready to cry--nay, I was crying--but I still affirmed that I -must go to Baltimore. Dan reasoned and argued, but that didn’t do -any good. Then he swore, but swearing didn’t alter the case. The -case was, indeed, beyond Dan, but he made a long and hard fight, and -didn’t surrender for a long while. I cried all night, and he reasoned -all night. When he saw that the case was hopeless, he started us to -Petersburg under suitable escort. We had to go first to Petersburg in -order to get the money which we wished to take North to exchange for -all the goods and chattels we might be able to smuggle South. - -Dan detailed a driver and an ambulance for our service and Lieutenant -Johnston to act as escort. The morning we started it looked cloudy. Dan -tried to dissuade us. I said I had always been a good weather prophet -and I didn’t think it would rain. Millie reinforced me. - -But when it actually came to telling Dan good-by, I broke down. His -threadbare clothes plead with me both ways. I hung around his neck and -did so much crying that he got sorry for me and helped me off. - -“When I get you a new uniform, Dan--” I sobbed, as he tucked the old -blanket shawl about me where I sat in the ambulance. - -“Uniform be ----!” growled Dan. Then, seeing my crestfallen look, “I -reckon I’ll like it well enough, Nell--when it comes. Good-by, girls. -You’re mighty big geese. God bless you! If you change your minds in -Petersburg--but, Lord! an earthquake wouldn’t change you! Good-by, my -darling--God bless you! I reckon you’ll get along all right.” - -The rusty coat-sleeve was out of sight, and I was on my way. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -I CROSS THE COUNTRY IN AN AMBULANCE AND THE PAMUNKEY ON A LIGHTER - - -As we traveled along farther and farther from Dan, I kept on crying -softly to myself now and then, turning my face from Milicent. Presently -her arm stole around me. - -“Do you feel so badly, darling?” - -“I hate to leave Dan--I can’t bear it!” - -“Then we’ll turn back, Nell.” - -And our astonished driver and escort received orders to turn back -toward camp. - -“But in a few days,” I sobbed, “Dan--will--be--gone. And you--will -be--gone. And I can’t stand that!” - -And to the further confusion of escort, driver, and mules, we were -turned again. - -“Better not to do dat too offen, lessen we won’t git nowhar!” our -driver muttered to himself. “Dese mules is clean upsot in dar min’s.” - -I was upset in my mind, too. I continued to cry in a helpless, hopeless -fashion, and was feeling that nothing on earth could make me more -wretched than I already was when it began raining. Lieutenant Johnston, -who had the soul of Mark Tapley, prophesied a shower and refused to -leave his seat with the driver, but in a little while he was driven -inside with us. It rained harder and harder--it poured. The ambulance -began to leak and the straw on the floor got wet. Milicent and I -huddled together under the old blanket shawl and drew over that a -ragged piece of oilcloth; but the rain soaked through. Where Lieutenant -Johnston sat there was a steady dripping, bursting now and then into a -stream. But he was not to be daunted by discomforts or difficulties. -He invented a trough for carrying off the water by making a dent in -his broad-brimmed hat, pulling the brim into a point, and sticking it -through a rent in the ambulance cover; and he was so merry over it all, -and so convinced that things might be far worse and would soon be much -better, that we were beginning to laugh at our own expense, when a -sullen rushing and roaring reminded us that the worst of our troubles -were still before us. We looked out of our ambulance upon the swollen -waters of the Pamunkey River. - -The thing on which we were to cross it was moored to the bank by a -great chain. It was a lighter crowded with men and horses. There were -soldiers at the ends and sides holding long sticks which they used as -poles to direct and govern the craft. Our ambulance and mules were -driven on along with other teams, and we walked into the midst of -rearing and plunging horses, that threatened every minute to back off -the lighter into the river and drag us with them, while our craft was -making its slow way to the opposite bank. - -I stood between two horses that reared and plunged the whole time. The -men who held them had hard work to control them, and, I must add, that -they swore roundly, and confess that this was the one occasion of my -life when I did not undervalue that accomplishment or wish to put any -restraint upon its free exercise. The truth is I was so scared that I -was ready to help along with either the work or the swearing, if I had -only known how. - -As one of the men was trying his best to keep the horse he was holding -from plunging and kicking itself into the river, or plunging and -kicking itself on me, he caught my eye in the middle of an oath, and -interrupted himself to begin an apology. The horse took advantage of -this to make more vigorous demonstrations. - -“Oh! oh!” I cried in terror, “finish--finish what you were saying to -the horse! He’s going to jump on me, and I’ll have to say it myself if -you don’t!” - -I didn’t realize what I was saying until I heard a chuckle from the -men within hearing distance. They knew that I was beside myself with -terror, and did their best to smother their laughter. But I was past -caring for public opinion. I was in an agony of terror. There was no -other place for me to stand--horses, kicking, plunging, rearing horses -were crowded everywhere. A lighter is the rudest excuse for a boat. -Ours was made of planks crossed and nailed together, and between their -wide spaces, just under my feet, I saw the swollen waters, upon which -we seemed to be tossed, and careened, and whipped about without the -control or guidance of those on board. Never before or since, never -during any period of the war, was I in such a state of helpless fright -as on that day when I crossed the mad Pamunkey on a lighter with -swearing men and kicking horses around me and the water bubbling up -against my feet. - -Appearances to the contrary, our soldiers with the poles were directing -our craft and turning the will of the tide to our profit, and at last -we were on the shore. Safe in our wet ambulance, we started on our way -again. I was never so cold, so wet, so everything wretched in my life, -and what should Lieutenant Johnston do but propose to go out of our way -to see St. Peter’s Church. - -“An old colonial relic,” he said. “You ladies ought not to miss it now -that you are so near.” - -“I don’t want to see any relics,” I answered promptly. “The only thing -I want to see is a fire and something to eat.” - -But he would drive out of our way to show us that old church. I was -too wretched and miserable to look at it with proper interest. I don’t -remember how it looked--I only know that I had to go there and see it -whether I would or no. George Washington had done something or other -there--got married, I believe. I think the church had some very fine -ivy on it, but I am not sure. I thought it was old and small, and that -it might do very well in summer, but that under present circumstances -Washington himself would forgive me for being wholly in the thought of -getting to a fire. Hunger and cold, cramped positions and rain dripping -in on me had blunted everything in me except longings for creature -comforts. The lieutenant drove all around the church religiously before -starting on our way again. - -“I don’t believe you saw it at all,” he said to me with real concern. - -“Oh, yes, I did!” I answered promptly, terrified lest we should be -turned back to look at it again, “I saw it thoroughly.” - -Of course, Milicent had looked the old church over and talked -intelligently about it, but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember -whether it was made of brick or wood. And I didn’t care, either. - -The rain had dwindled into a drizzle, night was coming on, and I began -to grow more and more anxious to find a stopping-place. - -“I do hope we shall get into a place where they keep good fires,” I -said. “If we should get into a place where they burn green pine, I -should lie down and die. Wet, green pine,” I continued dolorously, -“that smokes and never burns, and raw, clammy biscuit is about what -we’ll get to-night.” - -The lieutenant looked as if he was very sorry for me. - -“I wish,” he said unhappily, “I wish I knew how to tell a place where -they burn green pine.” Suddenly he brightened. - -“I have it!” he exclaimed. “We won’t stop at any house where there -isn’t a big wood-pile. We don’t stop anywhere until we find a big white -house, a big wood-pile and a nigger chopping wood.” - -We passed several dwellings, but the lieutenant wouldn’t stop. “I don’t -see any wood-pile,” or “The wood-pile ain’t big enough,” he would say. - -At last we came upon what we wanted--a large white house, a wood-pile -nearly as high as the house and a negro man chopping wood for dear life. - -Through a big front yard full of shrubbery, a wide graveled walk and -circular drive-way led up to the house, and in a few minutes our -ambulance was in front of the veranda. The lieutenant sprang out and -went up the steps. - -A gray-headed negro butler answered his knock. - -“Wanter see master, sah? Yes, sah. Won’t you step right in, sah?” - -“I haven’t time to stop a minute unless I can get lodgings for the -night. I have ladies in the ambulance. Ask your master if he will be -good enough to see me at the door for a minute.” - -Sambo bowed, made haste backward, and almost immediately an old -gentleman appeared. - -“Certainly, sir, certainly,” he said, interrupting the lieutenant in -the middle of his application. “Bring the ladies right in, sir.” - -And he helped to bring us in himself. Servants of all kinds appeared as -if by magic from all quarters, and took charge of our trunks, satchels, -ambulance, and driver. - -The Virginia gentleman of those days was hospitable, as men are -truthful, for his own sake first. His hospitality was spontaneous, -unconscious, and free as heaven itself with its favors. All it asked in -return was that you should come when you pleased, go when you pleased, -stay as long as you pleased, and enjoy yourself to the top of your bent. - -The house was a house of spindle-legged chairs, spindle-legged piano, -brass fire-dogs, fine dark woodwork, candelabra of brass and crystal, -and tall wax candles. Through the gloom the eyes of old portraits -looked down upon us. In the wide fireplace of our bedroom crackled -a mighty fire of oak and hickory; over the fire hung a bright brass -kettle singing merrily; there were the ever-present fire-dogs and -fender of burnished brass, and on the mantle two wax lights burning in -silver candlesticks. Two smiling negro maids stood ready to minister to -us. - -In opposite corners of the room stood two large, canopied, mahogany -bedsteads, with great, downy feather-beds and counterpanes, sheets and -pillows as white as snow and smelling of lavender. The undiminished -length of the table at which we sat down that night bore testimony -not only to the good cheer it had given, but to that which it was -ready to give. It was of dark rich mahogany, polished to the fineness -of a mirror, that reflected the tall silver candlesticks holding wax -candles. The silver service and beautiful old china rested on white -mats that were not visible except where encircling fringes of gleaming -damask suggested nests of snow. On a quaint buffet stood cut-glass -decanters holding topaz and ruby wines and brandy and whisky. - -The great mahogany sideboard--a small house in itself--nearly reached -the ceiling. The upper half was a cabinet with glass doors shaped like -the doors of a Gothic cathedral. The lower half had drawers with white -knobs, and bellied doors of the most beautiful dark wood, reflecting, -like the table, the glow of the wax lights. The glass cabinet glittered -with silver and crystal, and here and there was clouded with the rich -maroon and saffron of rare old china. Our hostess was a stately and -beautiful old lady in black silk (much worn), with fichu and cuffs of -real old lace. Our host wore fine black broadcloth, threadbare and of -ancient cut. - -Such a soft, shining picture as that supper-room was! I wish I could -paint it as I saw it that night! And what a delicious supper! There was -tea, sure enough; tea of delicious aroma; and sure enough sugar, too, -in fine white lumps which had to be picked up with silver tongs. There -were little tea-cakes and fairy-like puffs and wafers, and delicious -hot rolls! creamy and velvety, and light as a breath. - -In crystal dishes gleamed the rich, clear red and amber of preserved -fruits, and crystal-clear sweetmeats were set before us in crystal -dishes. These were cut in designs of leaf and flower, fish and bird, -squirrels, rabbits, and acorns--really too elaborately cut and too -beautifully transparent to be eaten. And then there was Virginia fried -chicken--of such a delicate rich brown! and such juicy sweetness! At -last we each lay covered up in a great downy bed, and went to sleep, -and slept as if we never expected to wake up. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -THE OLD ORDER - - -We found fresh straw and hot bricks in the bottom of our ambulance -when we were ready to leave the next morning, an excellent luncheon -and two bottles of wine. Soon after we started the wind changed, the -clouds disappeared, and the sun came out. By the time we reached the -Chickahominy there was sunshine in plenty--and wind, too. - -Not a boat was in sight, and no figure on either bank of man or beast. -I thought the lieutenant and the driver would split their lungs -hallooing, but there was no response. Nobody answered and nobody came. -We waited on the bank an hour without seeing anybody. Then an Indian -came by in a skiff and we hailed him. He paddled to the shore, and we -asked him if he knew where we could get a boat and some one to put us -across. He knew of nothing and nobody of the kind within reach. - -“I must hire your skiff then,” said the lieutenant. - -The Indian grinned. - -“You no get cross in it. You spill out.” - -“Never mind that, so you get paid for your skiff. I am an old sailor.” - -Powhatan didn’t think the lieutenant could manage that skiff; however, -he got his price and gave in. - -When he saw the three of us squeezing ourselves into the skiff he -remonstrated again. - -“Squaws spill out. Squaws git sick,” he insisted. He told the -lieutenant that we would be frightened out of our lives before we got -across the river. He didn’t know that Millie and I had been brought up -on the coast and were as used to water as ducks. - -Whoever has rowed an Indian skiff may have some idea of what a -cockle-shell it was that took us across the Chickahominy. I sat in one -end, Milicent in the other, and Lieutenant Johnston in the middle, -paddle in hand, while our little craft switched and wriggled and -rocked itself about in a manner that was as extraordinary as it was -dangerous, and that was nearer perpetual motion than anything I ever -saw. - -At last the lieutenant stood up and straddled the boat to balance her. -How he ever balanced himself I can’t say, but he stood with one foot -on each of her sides and managed her somehow. No one but an old sailor -could have done it. I expected every minute to see him fall over into -the water. - -The sun was shining down, silvering the waters of the Chickahominy. -The strong winds churned the waves and blew our hats and veils almost -off our heads, and almost blew our breath away--when the rocking skiff -left us any. And out on the wide, turbulent, bright river we tossed and -tumbled, and laughed and got wet and came near drowning. I never had -more fun in any sail. But at last we were safely across, and waiting -by the York River Railroad for our train. The half-breed gave us our -trunks, and took back his skiff and our money. In a few hours we were -in Richmond, where the lieutenant saw us to our hotel, and left. I -sent a letter by him to Dan, begging Dan’s pardon for having my own way. - -The next day found us in Petersburg. Our business here was to provide -ourselves with money with which to buy Yankee goods--particularly a -Confederate uniform--in Yankeeland. I wanted as much gold as our broker -could let me have, but he advised me against taking more than enough to -make the trip with, and a small margin for contingencies. - -“It will be in your way and increase your danger,” he said. -“Confederate notes will get you to the Potomac. From there you need -a little gold to take you to Baltimore. After you are there I will -contrive any sum you want to your trustees in Norfolk. They, being -inside the Yankee lines, can send it to Baltimore.” - -Our next objective point was Mrs. Rixey’s in Culpeper. Blockade-runners -were continually setting out from there, and we thought we would have -no difficulty in attaching ourselves to a party. After a rest in -Petersburg of a day and a half, we started for Culpeper, reaching Mrs. -Rixey’s at nightfall. We told her husband that we wanted to join a -party of blockade-runners. - -“Mrs. Otis and her two daughters start north to-morrow; perhaps you can -go with them,” he said, and went out to see about it. - -Unfortunately--or fortunately--the Otis party was complete--there was -no vacant seat in their wagon. - -“I will be on the lookout for you,” Mr. Rixey said. “Somebody else will -be along soon.” - -Before breakfast he knocked at our door. - -“There are two gentlemen downstairs who are going north,” he said, when -Millie stuck her head out. “They give their names as Captain Locke and -Mr. Holliway, and they seem to be gentlemen. That is all I know about -them. You might see them and talk the matter over.” - -We finished dressing hurriedly and went down to the parlor, where we -met Captain Locke and Mr. Holliway, and after a brief talk decided to -go with them. - -The best vehicle we could get was a wagon without springs, and instead -of a body four planks laid across the axles, one plank set up on each -side, and no ends at all. - -Over the rude floor we had a quantity of straw piled, and two chairs -were set up for Milicent and me. The gentlemen seated themselves on our -baggage, which consisted of two small trunks into which we had crowded -a few articles for each of them. The wagoner, a rough mountaineer, sat -on a plank which had been laid across the two uprights at the sides. - -It was a bitterly cold day. Milicent and I wore thick cloaks, and -the wagoner supplied a blanket which we wrapped about our feet. In -addition, the gentlemen contributed a large blanket shawl which they -insisted upon folding about our shoulders, declaring that their -overcoats protected them sufficiently. Now and then they got out of the -wagon and walked and stamped to keep their legs from getting stiff with -cold, and at last Milicent and I were reduced to the same device for -keeping up our circulation. We got so stiff we couldn’t move, and the -gentlemen had to lift us out of the wagon, pull us about, and drag us -into a walk and a run. - -It was dark when we reached the house at which it had been suggested we -should stop. Lights were in every window and we could see much moving -about. Mr. Holliway went in to ask for lodgings. - -He returned quickly and jumped into the wagon, saying to the wagoner: - -“Drive on.” - -Milicent and I were almost freezing. - -“What’s the matter?” we asked in keen disappointment. - -Just then the wagon made a turn, and we saw distinctly into the house -through an uncurtained window. There was a long white object in the -middle of the floor and over it stood a weeping woman. - -“Why,” I exclaimed, “somebody’s dead there.” - -“Yes, I didn’t want to tell you,” he said. “It’s a dead soldier. -I was afraid it might make you feel badly. Ladies are sometimes -superstitious, and I feared you might take it as a bad omen for our -journey.” - -But we found out afterward that it was he who had taken it for a bad -omen. He was going north to see his family, and he was so anxious -about them that he talked of little else. Captain Locke’s mission was -not so clear. He called it business--we little knew what dangerous -business it was!--and we troubled our heads no further about it. - -It was very late when we at last came upon a tumble-down farmhouse, -where we were taken in for the night. The family who lived there did -their best for us, but they were far from being comfortable themselves. -By this time, however, any quarters and any fare were acceptable. We -slept in the room with a goodly company, all fortunately of our own -sex, and the gentlemen, as we heard afterward, in even more crowded -quarters. - -Our poverty-stricken hosts did not wish to charge us, but before we -left the next morning we insisted upon paying them. - -That morning a little Jew boy was added to our party. Just how, or -when, or where we picked him up, I can not recall, and I should -probably never have thought of him again if he had not impressed -himself upon me most unpleasantly afterward at Berlin. - -Our second night we spent according to our program, in Fauquier -County, with Mr. Robert Bolling, a friend of my husband’s. - -“I am astonished at your trying to run the blockade, Mrs. Grey,” he -said. - -“Why?” I asked. “And why are you more astonished at me than at -Milicent?” - -I had been hearing similar remarks, and was becoming curious. - -“Because you look like a little girl. I am surprised at such nerve in -so youthful a lady.” - -“I want a new uniform for Dan,” I said. “He’s promoted.” - -Mr. Bolling laughed heartily. - -“And I am quite as brave as Milicent,” I insisted. - -“Well, I am surprised at you both. It is a dangerous undertaking.” - -Our wagoner was invited to take supper with us. He was rough and -ill-clad, and he felt out of place, but Mr. Bolling charmed him into -ease and talked over our prospective journey with him. - -“It is well for you to be on good terms with your wagoner,” he said to -us privately, when he sent out the invitation. - -Mr. Bolling was old and gray-haired, or he would have been in the -field. His home was one of the most celebrated country-seats in -Fauquier, and he himself full of honors and one of the best-known men -in the State. - -The night we spent at this old Virginia homestead was repetition of -a night previously described, with variations. Here were the same -old-fashioned mahogany furniture with claw feet and spindle legs, and -wax lights in brass and silver candelabra, and rare old china, and -some heirlooms whose history we were interested in. Several of these -had come with the first Bollings from England. There was a sword which -had come down from the War of the Roses, and on the wall, in a place -of special honor, hung the sword of a Bolling who had distinguished -himself in the Revolution. Mr. Bolling took it down and laid it in -Milicent’s outstretched hands with a smile. - -“I am a believer in State’s rights, and I am a Secessionist, I -suppose,” said the old man with a sigh, as he hung the sword back in -its place. “But--I hate to fight the old flag. I hate that.” - -Above the sword was the portrait of the Bolling who had worn the sword, -a soldierly looking fellow in the uniform of a Revolutionary colonel. - -“He saved the old flag once at the cost of his life,” the aged man -said, sighing again. “He is buried out yonder in the graveyard, -wrapped in the folds of the very flag he snatched from the hands of -the British. If we were to open his grave to-night, we would find his -bones and ashes wrapped in that flag he died to save. Yes, I am sorry -to fight the old flag.” - -“Then,” I said innocently and without thinking, “it is well that you -are exempted from service in the field.” - -His eyes flashed. - -“Ah, no, my dear! Since fighting there is, I wish I could be in it. -If I were young enough and strong enough I’d take that sword down and -follow Robert Lee. Virginia is invaded.” - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -A DANGEROUS MASQUERADE - - -The night of our third day found us at the wagoner’s cottage on the top -of the Blue Ridge Mountains. As we climbed our slow and painful way -up to the ruddy little light that beckoned us from its wild and eerie -perch, moonlight and starlight fell upon snow-capped cliffs and into -deep valleys, touching them into solemn, mystical beauty. It was as if -we had lost ourselves in the clear, white stillness of the enchanted -Snow Kingdom that had enthralled and terrified us in the happy days of -fairy tales. But there was nothing magical about the cottage when we -finally got there, or the welcome, or the supper. Instead of fairies -and cowslip dew and bread of lily pollen, we had a delightfully -wholesome, plump Virginia housewife, a Virginia welcome, and, above -all, a Virginia supper. - -The cottage was plainly furnished, but it was neat as a pin. The -mountaineer’s wife and mother served us, the one waiting on us, the -other cooking. We sat at table in the kitchen, and such a feast as we -had! There was nice apple-butter on the table, and delicious milk and -cream, fresh eggs and hot buckwheat cakes, and genuine maple sirup, of -course. I have never tasted such buckwheats anywhere. And how fast the -old lady fried them, and the wife handed them to us, piping hot! and -how fast we ate! and how many! - -The furniture in our bedroom, as everywhere else, was exceedingly -plain, but so deliciously clean. And such a bed! such a downy, fragrant -bed! The sheets were snowy, the coverlet was spotless. As I went to -sleep I had an idea that the feathers in that bed must have come from -the breasts of mountain birds that had never touched the earth. In the -morning the mountaineer took us to a point near his house, where we -could stand and look into--I have forgotten how many States, and out -upon snowy peaks, and mountain streams, and lovely shadowed vales. - -We lost our Confederate captain when we started down the mountain that -day; Mr. Holliway had all along been in civilian’s dress, and now -Captain Locke changed his uniform for citizen’s clothes, leaving the -uniform at the cottage, to be called for on his return. - -The fourth night we reached Berryville. - -Here it was necessary to hold a council with closed doors, for the -presence of the little Jew boy had for several days prevented us from -talking freely. - -He seemed to have eyes and ears all over him, and we felt vaguely -that he would use both to our disadvantage. So we shut him out of -the little room at the inn in Berryville where we held our secret -council. The morrow would find us inside the Federal lines--it was -necessary to prepare our story. We agreed that Captain Locke was to be -our brother, because he had fair hair and blue eyes like ourselves. -Mr. Holliway was of too entirely different a type to be claimed for -a nearer relationship than that of cousin. We were young ladies of -Baltimore who had been visiting at Mr. Robert Bolling’s in Fauquier, -and our brother and cousin had come south to take us home, not being -willing that we should undertake such a journey alone. Captain Locke -gave Milicent some papers to be concealed in the lining of her muff. I, -too, had some papers to hide for him. Fortunately we did not know until -afterward that Captain Locke was a Confederate spy, and that the papers -we carried were official documents of importance to the Confederacy, -and that if discovered the captain would be strung up in short order -and every one of us sent to prison. - -If we had known what he was and the nature of the papers, I think our -patriotism would have risen to the occasion, but we should have been -more nervous and more likely to betray ourselves. So I think he was -wise to take the liberty of counting on our patriotism, and also to -keep us in the dark as a safeguard for both ourselves and the papers. - -The next forenoon we reached the Potomac River, and found ourselves in -Federal lines. Our wagoner bade us good-by and left us there on the -bank. In the river below lay the lighter on which we were to cross -the Potomac. It was crowded with Federal soldiers. There was no way -to reach it except to slide down the bank, and the bank was steep. To -slide down, it was neither a graceful nor a dignified thing to do. I -drew back. The captain took me by the hand to pull me over. I still -drew back. I did not want to slide down that bank. - -“Come on, sister!” he exclaimed with brotherly crossness. - -I grinned broadly, but the captain, his back to the lighter, gave me -such a serious look that I sobered in an instant. - -“Sister, come along! Don’t be a goose!” he said, and giving me a jerk -pulled me over. - -The Federal soldiers on the lighter could see and hear. One blunder now -and we were lost. I yielded to the inevitable and slid down the bank -with the captain; Mr. Holliway followed with Milicent. Another minute, -and we stood on the lighter in the midst of Yankee soldiers and Yankee -horses. A horse’s nose was over my shoulder the whole way. Soldiers -were crowded up against me, there was ample occasion for swears, but I -don’t think I heard an oath the entire distance, and they were courtesy -itself to Milicent and me. - -Landing at Berlin, we walked into the office of the provost marshal. -The provost was out, and the deputy who was at his desk looked at us -with cool, inquisitive eyes. He put the usual questions and received -ready-made answers. - -“Who are you?” he asked Captain Locke in a very suspicious tone. - -“Charles D. Moore, of Baltimore.” - -“Occupation?” - -“I am studying law.” - -“Humph!” with a glance that made me keenly alive to the lameness of -that story told by the martial-looking captain. - -“What are you doing down here?” - -“Taking my sisters back home.” - -“Humph! Who are you?” turning to Mr. Holliway. - -“William H. May, of Baltimore.” - -“Studying law too?” - -“No. I expect to study medicine.” - -“Are you taking these ladies back home too?” - -“I am accompanying them, certainly,” said Mr. Holliway with asperity. - -“Who _are_ these ladies?” - -“My sisters,” said Captain Locke firmly, “and I am here to protect them -on their way back home.” - -“Where have they been?” - -“They are from Mr. Robert Bolling’s in Fauquier County, Virginia. They -have been visiting at his house. We wished them to return to Baltimore, -and I came south for them. My cousin, Mr. May, joined us.” - -“And you--what are you doing down here?” with a touch of irony to -Holliway. - -“Got caught this side by the war, and am trying to get back home.” - -“Ah, yes, of course. I can’t pass you. Take seats, please. The marshal -will be in directly.” - -Our evidence was too smooth. - -It was plain the deputy didn’t believe in us, and we felt uneasy and -miserable to the soles of our boots--except Captain Locke, who looked -thoroughly at his ease. - -It was an hour or longer before the marshal came in. It seemed a great -deal more, yet I can’t say that I longed to see him. - -“What’s all this?” he asked his deputy as he took in our party, braced -up against the wall. - -“A party who crossed from Virginia this morning. They have been -visiting in Fauquier--_they say_--and want to get back to Baltimore. A -lame tale, I call it. I would send them straight back if I had my way -with them.” - -The provost’s eyes had rested first on me, as I happened to be more -conspicuously placed than the others. I have been accredited with a -most ingenuous countenance. I returned his gaze with a regard utterly -“childlike and bland,” looking up into his face with eyes as frank -and trusting as a baby’s. Past me his gaze went to Milicent--I have -said before that Milicent had the face of a Madonna; then the manly -and straightforward eyes of Locke held him; and last Mr. Holliway’s -reserved and gentlemanly countenance met his scrutiny with a quiet -dignity that disarmed suspicion. He began by interviewing Milicent and -me. When he questioned me I said plaintively: - -“I have been here an hour, sir, and I am very tired. I would be so much -obliged if you would send us on home. I am almost sick with the journey -I have taken, and I should so like to get home to-night.” - -“That is impossible,” he said; “but,” he continued kindly, “I do not -think you will be detained later than to-morrow morning.” - -He conversed in a low tone with his deputy, and then I heard him -say: “Let them spend the night at the old German’s on the hill, and -to-morrow we will see about it.” - -Then turning to us, he said that an orderly would conduct us to a place -where we would be lodged for the night. When an officer asked about our -baggage, I extended my keys quickly, saying: - -“We have two small trunks.” - -He took the keys with an apology. As I was passing out of the door I -turned back and held out my satchel. - -“I forgot that you have to examine this.” - -“It is not necessary, miss,” he said, smiling. - -The old Dutchman was out, but his wife received us and made us -comfortable. While we were at supper he came in. “I speeks mit you -after supper,” he said solemnly, and sat in silence until we had -finished. - -Then he took us into a room, closed and locked the door, came close to -us, and whispered: - -“I knows dat you haf run te plockate. You bees in ver’ mooch tancher. -Town te stdreet I hears you vas at mine house, unt I hears ver’ mooch -talk, unt I lis’en. I vill help you if you vill let me.” - -He now addressed himself particularly to Captain Locke and Mr. Holliway: - -“You, shentlemen, mus’ leave mine house, shoost as soon as you can, or -you vill be daken brisoners. I vill help you to get avay.” - -“We can’t do it,” said Locke promptly. “I can not leave my sisters -alone and unprotected.” - -Milicent and I were trembling with fear. - -“Brother,” said Milicent, “you and Cousin William must leave us and -save yourselves.” - -“Please go,” I begged. I could not keep my eyes off the door. I -feared every moment to hear the rap of the sergeant come to arrest -our friends. But the captain and Mr. Holliway reiterated their -determination not to leave us in our present situation. If I had -not been scared almost to death I could have laughed at the perfect -brotherliness of Locke’s protestations. - -“Tere is tancher, shentlemen. I hears te talk town te street,” urged -the Dutchman with every appearance of earnestness and good-will. - -“What did you hear?” asked Locke nonchalantly. - -“Oh, tey tinks you haf not tolt vat you vas. Tey tinks you be -Secesh--unt I ton’t know vat tey tinks.” - -“I can’t help what they think,” said Locke. “I am going to protect my -sisters.” - -“How you brotect tem ven you be brisoners, _hein_?” - -“I don’t know,” answered Locke, smiling, “but I certainly shall not -leave them.” - -“Vat goot you do? I vill take care of te ladies. Nopody vill hu’t tem, -unt I vill see dat tey gets off all right. Tere is no tancher for tem.” - -“Thank you, my friend,” said the captain simply and heartily. “But we -can not accept your kind offer. We must take my sisters home ourselves.” - -“I ver’ sorry,” said the Dutchman sadly. - -As soon as the door closed behind him, we began to plead. - -“Captain,” said Milicent, “you and Mr. Holliway must go. We will not -consent to anything else.” - -“We should be regular deserters to do that,” said Locke contemptuously. -“I think the old fellow is exaggerating. Or maybe he is pumping us. -Holliway and I will walk down the street and see.” - -We thought this was madness, and we were miserable from the moment they -left until they were safely back. Captain Locke was, as always, at his -ease, but Mr. Holliway was very pale. He knew, as Milicent and I did -not, the risk we were all running, and he was more concerned perhaps -for Locke’s safety than for his own. For him arrest meant prison at -the worst--for Locke, a halter. - -“The Dutchman is right,” he said in answer to our questions. “We -stopped outside several places and heard them talking about us and our -arrest. We are practically prisoners.” - -He tried to speak cheerfully and as if it would be a sure and easy -matter to find some way out of our predicament; but the truth was that -he had been struggling all along against great depression of spirits; -his health was bad, the incident of the first night of our journey had -impressed him, and he had evidently felt himself under a cloud ever -since our experience at the provost’s. - -“That talk doesn’t amount to much,” said Captain Locke carelessly. - -The room in which we were sitting was that which had been taken for -Milicent’s and my bedroom. Captain Locke got up, walked to the door and -locked it. - -“You have needles and thread, I think, ladies?” - -Milicent and I immediately produced them and slipped on our thimbles. -He handed Milicent his open knife. - -“Rip the papers out of your muff, Mrs. Norman, and you, little madam, -let me have those I gave you.” - -The two I had were hidden in my sleeve. While Milicent and I were -getting the papers out, I heard Mr. Holliway say: - -“Burn those papers, Locke. You can never get them to Baltimore, and you -know in what fearful peril they keep us.” - -“I might as well turn back if I burn them,” said the captain. “I take -those papers to Baltimore, or I die trying--and I won’t die.” - -“Excuse the trouble I give you, ladies,” he said, leaning back in his -chair and putting his feet on another. “Will you open the hems of my -trousers and sew those papers inside? It is a great favor.” - -We ripped each hem, folded the papers inside as flat as possible, and -sewed the hems up again. I had not made over Dan’s old uniform for -nothing, and Milicent was always a skilful needlewoman--our hems looked -quite natural and not at all “stuffed.” But we were so nervous that we -worked very slowly, for we felt that a wrong stitch might cost Captain -Locke his life. - -He had worn his trousers turned up around the bottom to keep them out -of the mud. When we had finished he carefully turned them back again, -Mr. Holliway looking on gloomily. - -“Now, ladies,” said the captain cheerfully, “we will all retire and get -a good night’s rest. You have had a hard day and I am sure you must be -tired.” - -“Aren’t you going away?” we asked anxiously. “What did you take the -papers for?” - -He smiled. - -“Little madam,” he said, “you had best go to bed and get a good night’s -rest. That is what I am going to do. Mrs. Norman, make this poor child -go to bed. And you will promise me to try to rest too, won’t you?” - -There was a rap on the door. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -A LAST FAREWELL - - -Mr. Holliway opened it to admit the Dutchman. - -“Shentlemen,” he began earnestly, “tey haf got te leetle Chew poy trunk -mit giffin’ him visky, unt he haf tolt everyding. I pe your vrent. You -mus’ get avay pefore mitnight.” - -“The little Jew knows nothing to tell,” said the captain. “His drunken -babble is not worth attention. We can not leave my sisters.” - -“How you help tem by stayin’? I gif you my vort dat tey vill get to -Paltimore all right. I hates to see tem Yankees takes you up in mine -house.” - -Milicent and I believed in the German. So I think did both gentlemen -by this time, but we had come this far under their care, and they were -loath to leave us unless entirely convinced that it was for our safety -as well as their own. Mr. Holliway was no less concerned about us than -Captain Locke was, but he took a darker view of the situation. He drew -Locke aside and they talked together in low tones. I caught the word -“reckless” and “those papers,” and “a disadvantage to them,” “safer -without us.” When they turned back to us Captain Locke said: - -“We leave the question in your hands, ladies. Perhaps we--and more -particularly I--endanger you by remaining. But I hate to leave you -alone this way, and I am not afraid of anything that can happen to -me. If the worst came to the worst, and we were arrested, I have some -influence in the North which might still be of benefit to us all.” - -“Use it for yourself and Mr. Holliway,” we said, “and go.” - -“Think well, ladies. You want us to go now, but when we are gone and -you are here alone, won’t you feel desolate and deserted?” - -“We will only be glad you’re gone,” I said. - -“I don’t think I ever heard such a polite speech in my life,” said -Captain Locke, laughing. “Holliway, I think we had better leave -immediately.” - -He stood cool and smiling, but Mr. Holliway, whose health was not -robust, and upon whom the hardships of the journey and the excitement -had told, was ghastly. Not that he lacked courage. He would have -stayed and died for us, as far as that was concerned; but his physical -endurance was not great, and from the first he had been oppressed with -a presentiment of evil. - -Milicent had drawn Captain Locke aside, and was urging him to go, as -I knew, and, as I think, to destroy the papers which Holliway felt -imperiled him. He gave her a smiling negative. - -“You must go yourself, and please help us make the captain go,” I was -saying to Mr. Holliway. - -“You will have to do that,” he replied. “I have said what I could. -It is madness for us to stay, as I am thoroughly convinced now. You -would be safer without us. Locke doesn’t think so, but I know it. His -character and the papers he carries increase the danger for us all.” - -Captain Locke and Milicent had finished their conference. - -“We will go,” he said quietly. “A pen and ink, my friend,” to the -Dutchman. - -“Make haste and go,” we pleaded. - -But he waited for the pen and ink. - -“We have time enough,” he said, consulting his watch very coolly. “It -is not yet half-past eleven.” - -He wrote a note and gave it to the Dutchman to be mailed that night. - -“If you get into any trouble,” he said to Milicent, “telegraph to this -address.” - -And he gave her a slip of paper on which was written: “ Gov. ----, -Baltimore, Md.” - -“The letter is to my uncle, and if you are in any trouble he will help -you out. The Governor will be advised of your situation, and a telegram -to him will be understood.” - -“Good night, ladies, and _au revoir_,” he said gaily, bowing over our -hands. “We will meet in Baltimore.” - -“I echo that,” said Mr. Holliway with assumed cheerfulness. “It has -been a great pleasure and privilege to know you, ladies. With all its -shadows, this journey will always be one of my sweetest memories.” - -We might never see them again. We knew it as we looked into Locke’s -bonnie blue eyes and Holliway’s dark sad ones. They had been our -brave and gentle knights, shielding us and enduring all the hardships -cheerfully. One of them was weaker, we knew, because he had given his -blanket to keep us warm. We looked bravely back into the two brave -faces that looked into ours--one sign of faltering and they would not -leave us. - -“I will say a ‘Hail Mary’ for each of you every night,” I said. - -“I, too,” said Milicent softly. - -“Thank you,” there was a quiver in each voice now. “We will try to -deserve your prayers, dear ladies.” - -Then they bowed themselves out with smiling faces. One of them we never -saw again. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE LITTLE JEW BOY AND THE PROVOST’S DEPUTY - - -The Dutchman went with them to show them the way he said they must -take. His wife came in and gossiped with us. - -According to her account, it was a miracle that we had passed through -the provost’s hands as well as we had. - -“If de vimmins had peen dere, dey vould haf pult your close off, unt -dey vould haf search you all ofer. I ton’t know as you haf anyding you -not vant dem to see, but if you haf anyding, tey pe zhure to fint it. -Te vimmins tat haf to pe dere to-tay vas gone avay somevare. If she had -peen dere, you vas haf harter times tan you vas haf.” - -I thought with a shudder of our muffs and satchels, our pictures in -Confederate uniform, and those papers. - -“Mine man say some volks vas arrested town te river to-tay. Dere vas -dree laties unt von shentleman. Tey dry to cross at de Boint of Vrocks -[Point of Rocks] unt tey vas took up unt sent pack.” - -“What were their names?” we asked eagerly. - -We remembered that the Otis party consisted of three ladies and one -gentleman. We had kept in sight of their ambulance for some time. -But at the parting of our ways, when they had taken one road and we -another, our driver had said: “They are going to try to get across at -the Point of Rocks, and they’ll sure be turned back or took up, one.” - -“I ton’t know vat dere names,” said the Dutchwoman. “Mine man vill -know. He forgets notding.” - -When he came in he thought a little, and then he said he thought the -name was “Odis.” So we had been luckier than we thought in the chance -that prevented us from joining their party. - -The old German had directed our friends as best he could, and -started them on their way. They were to keep to the woods and walk -to Frederick, from where, he thought, they might reach Baltimore. -He told us that they had not gone away immediately after leaving us, -although he had urged them to do so. They had said they wouldn’t go -away until they saw how we took being left alone. They had gone around -to the window of the room in which we were sitting, and had spied upon -us. When they saw us gossiping with the old woman, they had gone off -satisfied that we would not break down after their departure. - -“Tey vas not so vraid vor her,” he said, indicating Milicent. “It vas -you, te leetle matam, as he call you, dat he vas vraid vor. He vraid -you vould cry pecause you vas so leetle, unt pecause you vas so ver’ -younk. I ask him vat he do if you cry, unt I dry to make him come avay, -unt he say: ‘If she cry I von’t go. I vill go in tat room unt I vill -dake her up in mine arms unt I vill not stop until I put her safe in -Captain Grey’s arms! Dot is vot I vill do.’ He titn’t leaf you off,” to -Milicent, “put he dort you pe mo’ prave.” - -If he had been at the window then he would have seen tears in our eyes. -But I bore a grudge. - -“Milicent,” I said, as soon as we were alone, “I don’t see why people -should make of me just the exception that they always do. I may be a -little younger, but I am married, and I have got just as much sense -about some things and I’m just as brave as you are. I’m a soldier’s -wife, the wife of a Confederate officer. I wonder how I have behaved -that everybody expects _me_ to be a coward.” - -And Milicent comforted me. - -The next morning an orderly rapped at the door of the German’s house -and asked for us. - -The German answered. - -“Tell the _ladies_,” with an emphasis on the word, “the provost says -they can go on. The train leaves in fifteen minutes. They will find -their baggage at the station. Here are their keys.” - -“You see it is vell tat te shentlemen tit not vait vor bermission,” -said the German as we hurried into our wraps. - -We heard afterward that following our departure a sergeant-at-arms -called for the “shentlemen.” Our train was late coming in. As we stood -on the platform waiting we saw that wretched little Jew boy fooling -around and watching us. We pretended not to see him. Suddenly I felt a -tremor in Milicent’s arm which was linked in mine. - -“Do you see who is on the platform talking with the little Jew boy? No, -don’t turn your head--don’t look suddenly--don’t look at all. It is the -provost’s deputy who didn’t believe in us yesterday.” - -Oh, if the train would only come, and we were on it and gone! As it -rolled up beside the platform we had to restrain ourselves from getting -on it too eagerly. But we were at last in our seats; the whistle blew, -and the train moved out of the station. - -The station was behind us, out of sight, and we were leaning back -enjoying ourselves, when Milicent glanced behind her. I was looking out -of the window when I felt her hand on my arm. - -“Don’t look suddenly. But when you can, glance behind us.” - -Three seats behind us sat the provost’s deputy. He was reading a paper, -or, rather, watching us over a paper which he held up before him. He -kept us under close observation the whole way. We had no opportunity -to consult about the difficulties of the situation, but we felt that -we were to elude our shadow in Baltimore or not at all. Carriages -stood thick around the depot. Drivers were cracking their whips and -importuning the public for patronage. We stepped off the platform into -the midst of them, got to haggling about prices, and found ourselves -mixed up in a lot of carriages, the yelling and screaming drivers -having closed up behind us around the platform to which they had turned -their attention. There we saw the deputy’s hat revolving rapidly, as if -he were turning himself about to catch sight of us. Chance stood our -friend. We happened to stand between two carriages, the doors of which -hung open. A party of two ladies stepped into one. Instantly we took -the other. - -“Drive fast to No. -- Charles Street,” Milicent said to the driver. -Several carriages rolled out of the depot with our own, and before we -reached Mrs. Harris’s we felt that we had escaped the deputy. Once with -mother and Bobby we forgot him. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -I FALL INTO THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY - - -Mrs. Harris kept a select and fashionable boarding-house. There were -many regular boarders and a stream of people coming and going all -the time. She was a Southern sympathizer, and her house was a hotbed -of sedition and intrigue for both sides. Among her guests were three -Yankee officers, whom I made up my mind--or, rather, my mind needed no -making up--to dislike. Uniform and all, I objected to them. The day -after we came Mrs. Harris was chatting with us in mother’s room. - -“I must introduce you to those Federal officers who are in the house,” -she remarked. - -“I beg you will not!” I replied indignantly. “I will have nothing to do -with them.” - -“Then you will make a grave mistake, my child. That course would betray -you at once. You’ve put your head into the lion’s mouth, and prudence -is the better policy until you get it out again. If you meet these -officers and are civil to them they may be of assistance to you when -you want to go back.” - -Accordingly, when our household met as usual in the parlors that -evening, Captain Hosmer, Assistant Adjutant-General William D. Whipple, -of Schenck’s command, and Major Brooks--also, I think, of Schenck’s -command--were presented to me. - -Major Brooks had such a keen, satirical way of looking at me that I -immediately took a violent prejudice against him, though I tried hard -to conceal it. Schenck’s adjutant I did not like much better. Captain -Hosmer was objectionable on general principles as a Yankee, but he was -really a handsome fellow and a most charming gentleman, and though I -had hard work overcoming my prejudices sufficiently to be quite civil -at first, I ended by becoming warmly attached to him. My impulse was to -avoid these gentlemen and to show my colors in a passive way. I say in -a passive way, because anything approaching discourtesy Dan would have -condemned. On duty, he would have shot a Yankee down quickly enough; -off duty, he would never have failed in politeness to a gentleman in -any uniform. As I could not well appear here as a Confederate officer’s -wife, I was introduced to these gentlemen as Miss Duncan. The day -after our arrival we mailed Captain Locke’s picture, which he had -given us for the purpose, to his sister in Harrisburg, and called to -see Mr. Holliway’s mother and sisters. They were charming women, and -entertained us in true Baltimore fashion. - -Indeed, I soon found myself in a whirl of gaiety. Mrs. Harris’s house -was a merry one. Of course, being in Baltimore, its politics were -mixed, as we have said, but as far as social position and culture were -concerned, the guests were above reproach. The parlors in the evening -reminded one of those of a fashionable pleasure resort. - -Next door was another boarding-house. Mother’s windows overlooked the -entrance, and we amused ourselves--according to boarding-house custom -and privilege--by watching our own and our neighbors’ callers and -guests, and by nicknaming them. There was one of the next-door boarders -who entertained us greatly. We dubbed him “the Professor.” He had a -funny way of wearing his green goggles as if they were about to fall -off his nose. He had long, snaky curls which looked very greasy and -glossy, and he walked with a slight stoop, using a gold-headed cane; -and he always carried a book under his arm. - -In our own house were two ladies who afforded us much amusement. They -were sisters, as Captain Hosmer took occasion to inform me early in our -acquaintance, but they were politically so opposed to each other that -they did not speak. - -Mrs. Bonds was a black Republican, Mrs. Lineman a red-hot rebel. This -latter fact we discovered by degrees. Women did not gossip in those -days--not to talk was a necessary evil--very evil and very necessary in -a boarding-house of mixed politics in Baltimore during war times. - -Mrs. Harris kept a private parlor for herself and daughters, and here -we poor rebels met every now and then with a little less restraint, -though even here we had to be very careful. One day a note was brought -me. - - “Happy greetings, dear friends! Can you arrange without - inconvenience to yourselves for me to call, and will you allow - me that pleasure? Do not hesitate to decline if you feel so - disposed. I will understand. - - “L.” - -There was no other signature, but we knew the hand. Thank God! He was -alive and well! We took the note to Mrs. Harris. Of course we would see -him if we could make a way. After a little consultation it was arranged -that we receive him in the little parlor upstairs. We addressed an -envelope to ourselves, put a blank sheet of paper in it, sealed it, and -enclosed it in a note to the captain. The latter we did not know how to -address; we were merely to give it to his messenger, who was waiting. -We wrote: - - “Delighted. Come to side entrance at half-past eight; present - enclosed and you will be shown up. - - “N. & M.” - -At half-past eight we were waiting in Mrs. Harris’s private -parlor--there were several ladies there beside ourselves. Of all -nights, why couldn’t they keep away this night?--when Mrs. Harris’s -maid brought up the envelope we had addressed to ourselves. - -“Show him up,” we said. - -Why in the world wouldn’t those other women go? And would there be any -callers in the private parlor to-night? - -“Dr. Moreau!” announced Mrs. Harris’s maid. - -Into the room walked the “Professor,” green goggles and all. Who in -the world was _he_ coming to see? What was he doing here any way? And -on this night of all nights when we were looking for Captain Locke and -wishing for as few witnesses as possible! Through the open door behind -the “Professor,” we caught a glimpse of Mrs. Bonds out in the hall, -following him with curious eyes. If we could only slip down-stairs and -keep the captain from coming up to-night! And why didn’t the girl bring -the captain in? Milicent was rising to go out into the hall, when the -“Professor,” having glanced around the room, approached us. - -“I was invited to call on some ladies here this evening? Am I in the -wrong room?” said a perfectly strange voice, the voice you would expect -to hear from a fossil. - -We looked up in confusion. If we could only get him out of the way -before the captain entered! He waited while we pondered how to answer. - -“What ladies do you wish to see?” I asked. - -“Well, this _is_ good! Little madam, may I take this seat beside you?” - -He dropped into the chair between us and we caught for an instant his -old merry laugh, “nipped in the bud,” it is true, for we gave him -a warning glance. Mrs. Harris was considerate and tactful, and we -not only had our corner to ourselves, but attention and observation -diverted from us as much as possible. We were much amused at Captain -Locke’s “make-up,” and he was evidently very proud of it. - -“It must be very clever for _your_ eyes not to have seen through it,” -he said. “I have been looking up at your window and watching you -every day. I saw, too, that you made merry at my expense. It was a -great temptation to speak to you many times, but I didn’t want to make -advances nor to ask permission to call until I knew something about how -the land lay over here.” - -“You don’t know how anxious we have been about you, or how glad and -thankful we are to see you,” we assured him. “We have been very uneasy -at not hearing from you. Where is Mr. Holliway?” - -“God knows!” he answered gravely. “He was afraid to follow my fortunes, -I think. He left me at Frederick. He ought to be here by now, but if he -is he is keeping very close.” - -“He is not here,” we answered. “We have been to see his mother and -sister, and they know nothing of him.” - -“Then something is wrong. He had an idea that we might be tracked to -Frederick very easily from Berlin, and from Frederick to this place if -we came by the direct route; so he branched off into West Virginia, -intending to reach Baltimore by a more round-about route than mine. -Poor Holliway! he was not well, and he was nervous and unstrung over -this trip from the first. He felt that I was reckless and that I was -throwing away my own chance and his.” - -Some one in the room came near us and we returned to generalities. Very -soon after Captain Locke made his adieux, promising to call again when -we could arrange it. - -Captain Hosmer had sought opportunities for showing special courtesies -to me, but I had rather repelled him. He was good enough, however, to -ignore my bad manners and to persist in turning my music for me. We -had dances very often in the evenings, I playing the same tunes for -folks to dance by that I played for the Prussians and that I play for -my children. One night, I had the audacity to rattle off the Virginia -reel, and they danced it with spirit, every Yankee of them. My fingers -were just itching to play Dixie, and I don’t know what foolhardiness I -might have been guilty of if Captain Hosmer, who was turning my music, -had not bent over me and said: - -“I would like to have a little private talk with you, Miss Duncan. I -know who you are. You are from the South and you have run the blockade. -Your position is not free from danger. You are suspected. Pray be -careful. When you have finished this, go upstairs and I will follow -you.” - -His manner was so serious that it took all the saucy daring out of -me. Perhaps it saved me from playing Dixie. As soon as I could do so -without attracting observation, I got Milicent to take my place, and -went up-stairs to the private parlor. - -I had hardly taken my seat when he came in. - -“I was sorry to attack you so suddenly,” he said, “but you were so shy -of me that it was my only chance.” - -I had learned to like and to trust him; he was honest and kind, and I -told him my situation frankly. Of course I didn’t explain Captain Locke. - -“It is not so bad as it might be,” he said, “But you must have a care -about your associates. People in this house are always more or less -under observation, and arrest on charge of treason is not an unknown -thing in it.” - -“I am married--” When I came to that part of my confession the captain -looked surprised indeed. - -“Didn’t you guess from the dignity I have displayed that I was a -matron?” - -“I never dreamed it! I don’t mean that you were not dignified,” he -added quickly, and in some confusion. - -“My husband is a staff-officer in the rebel army,” I added proudly. - -“Lucky fellow!” - -“I think he is a lucky fellow to be a staff-officer in the rebel army.” - -“To be your husband, I meant.” - -“I wonder if he would agree with you there!” We were on a subject very -interesting to me now. - -“I will show you his picture in the morning,” I volunteered. - -“Better not,” Captain Hosmer said promptly. - -I suppose I must have shown how hurt I was, for he added quickly: “Of -course I’ll be glad to see his picture. Don’t forget to bring it down -at breakfast.” - -But he had frozen me for the time being. I could not talk about Dan to -him when I saw it bored him to listen, so we went back to the original -subject of our conversation. Among other persons he spoke of Mrs. -Lineman. - -“I see that you are inclined to form an intimacy there. Mrs. Lineman -is in perfect sympathy with the South, but, as you know, her sister is -not. They do not speak now, but family differences are frequently made -up. Then confidences ensue. And Mrs. Bonds is really a political spy -for the North. She thinks the mystery about you is deeper than it is, -and you will do well to be on your guard before her and my brothers in -arms whom you meet in this house. Major Brooks already has suspicions -about you.” - -“I don’t like him,” I said viciously. - -“Disguise that fact a little better if you can. I don’t think any of -the gentlemen whom you meet here are malicious, or that they will go -out of their way to harm you, but it is good policy to temper your -cold civility toward them with a little more warmth.” - -“You are very good,” I said humbly, “and I really mean to act according -to your advice.” - -He smiled. “You are not good at playing the hypocrite, are you?” - -“I must improve. But I really must tell you--I don’t need to be a -hypocrite with you, you know--I believe Major Brooks is malicious.” - -He laughed outright. “Be careful not to offend him, then. Ah, I am -afraid my first lesson in diplomacy will only have skin-deep results.” - -The next morning I did not forget Dan’s picture. I brought it down with -me, and slipped it into Captain Hosmer’s hand as I passed behind him to -my seat at the breakfast table. I was very much pleased later when he -told me what a fine fellow he thought Dan must be, and that he thought -the picture very handsome. Then I talked about Dan again until he was -bored--when I shut up. After this I saw a great deal of Captain Hosmer. -He was always so thoroughly well-bred that his attentions were very -agreeable to me in spite of his uniform, and I formed a warm personal -friendship and attachment for him. We were also seeing a good deal of -Captain Locke. - -I thought him very reckless in visiting us as he did, and I told him -so frankly. He had doffed his disguise, wig and all, and appeared now -every day, and sometimes oftener, at Mrs. Harris’s in his own proper -person, dressed in citizen’s clothes. He came openly to the parlor in -the daytime immediately after breakfast or lunch; and he was always -there after dinner when the parlors were thronged. Several times he had -joined the dance, selecting, by the way, Mrs. Bonds for a partner more -than once. In fact, he singled this lady out for a number of pleasant -courtesies. I could not keep him out of the way of the Yankee officers, -and Major Brooks was always starting up at us somewhere like a Banquo’s -ghost. His eyes got sharper and sharper until I thought they would cut -me in two. In halls and by-ways I was always coming upon him and always -getting out of his way, and I was always surprising a cynical little -grin on his face. One day I encountered him on the first landing of -the stairway, squarely face to face. He addressed me, wishing me good -morning gruffly, and standing in such a position that I could not pass -him without rudeness unless he moved to one side. He did not move, and -I was at bay. - -“I know who you are, Miss Duncan,” he said mischievously. “You are a -good rebel now, aren’t you?” - -“Yes, I am a good rebel, as you call it. I’m a Virginian--and a rebel -like Washington was, and like Lee is.” - -“I thought so. And you ran the blockade to get here.” - -“That’s so, too. I got across at Berlin.” - -“I wish you’d tell me how.” - -I told him how. I sat down on the stairs to talk, and my enemy sat down -beside me. Captain Hosmer came in, looked up, and saw the confidential -and apparently friendly situation, laughed, and went on to breakfast. - -“I don’t call that running the blockade,” he said. “I call that -storming it. I didn’t think it possible to cross at Berlin or, -indeed, at any other point. Our line at the Potomac has been greatly -strengthened and the rules are very rigid and inspection most thorough.” - -“I managed to cross at Berlin because you had such a nice provost -marshal there. He knew two little women couldn’t do any harm.” - -“Humph! He doesn’t know women as I do, then!” - -“Perhaps he had always known only very lovely ladies,” I said with the -softness of a purring cat. - -He grinned. “You’ll be wanting to run back soon, I dare say.” - -“I reckon I will. I wish you’d help me. Can’t you tell me how?” - -He laughed outright. “You _are_ cool!” he said. - -“You know what my duty is?” he added after a pause. - -“Yes,” I answered. “To fight on the right side, but I’m afraid you’ll -never do that. Now, I have been wanting to play Dixie ever since I’ve -been here, and I’m afraid of nobody but you. To-night I mean to play -it.” But I did not. That afternoon a card was brought up to Milicent -and me. Major Littlebob, U. S. A., was sorry to disturb us, but would -we please step down a minute. “Major Brooks came in with him,” said the -servant who brought the message. - -“Major Brooks is going to have us arrested,” I thought in terror. -Milicent also was frightened by the message and by a call from an -unknown officer of the United States army who came accompanied by Major -Brooks. Mother followed us in fear and trembling to the parlor door as -we went in to behold--Milicent’s own curly-headed Bobby, all rigged out -in Major Brooks’s regimentals! There he was, all swallowed up in sash, -sword, and hat of a United States major of cavalry; beside him was the -major, laughing merrily. Milicent, in her relief, bent over and kissed -again and again the fairest, softest, cutest, sweetest Major Littlebob -that ever wore the regimentals of the U. S. A.; and it is needless to -say that after this we were never again afraid of Major Brooks. - -“So, the whole purpose of your running the blockade was a visit to your -mother?” Major Brooks had asked. - -“And to accompany my sister. And--to buy a few things--needles, pins, -and so forth,” I added in confusion. - -Again the major laughed at my expense. Should I confide the Confederate -uniform to him and Captain Hosmer? I decided to draw the line at this, -as I had drawn it at Captain Locke. Of course, Captain Locke’s story -was his, not mine, and the uniform--well, the uniform was Dan’s, or, -rather, I hoped it would be. It was never out of my mind. I would -have failed in half my mission if I did not buy it and get it across -the Potomac to Dan. To buy shoes, gloves, ribbons, etc., was an easy -matter, but to buy, a Confederate uniform in Yankeeland, that was a -more delicate affair. It was Captain Locke who helped me out. He told -me where I could buy it, and offered to get it for me himself, but he -was taking so many risks on his own account that I was determined he -should take none on mine. He directed me to a tailoring establishment -on the corner of Charles and St. Paul’s Streets. The head of this -establishment sympathized with the South and had supplied many Southern -uniforms, and his store had a convenient double entrance, one on St. -Paul’s and one on Charles Street. One morning I went in at the Charles -Street entrance. I had chosen an early hour, and I found no one in but -the tailor. - -“I want to buy a Confederate uniform,” I said. “Captain Locke referred -me----” - -“Walk straight on out at the other door,” he whispered. “I see two -soldiers coming in from the Charles Street side.” - -Without looking behind me I walked straight on as if I had merely -passed through the store to get to the other sidewalk. I heard some one -coming rapidly behind me, and then I was joined by Captain Hosmer. - -“What are you in such a hurry for?” he asked. “Wait a minute and I can -walk home with you. I have a commission to execute back here.” - -Accordingly I returned to the store with him, was introduced to the -friend accompanying him, and after a few moments walked home between -the two. But the tailor had given me a hint--I was to come still -earlier next day. - -The next morning, however, he signaled me to pass on as I was about to -enter. At last one morning I caught him alone long enough to get my -uniform. - -“I have to be very careful lately,” he apologized for waving me off the -previous day. “These Yankees suspect me and are always on the lookout. -Now we will get the uniform in a hurry. I have several pieces of fine -Confederate cloth just in that I will show you. Is your husband a -private?” - -“Oh, no-o!” I exclaimed indignantly. - -“I thought not,” he said suavely. “What is his rank?” - -“He is a captain of cavalry now. That is--he was when I left home. But -I haven’t heard from him since. He may be major or colonel by now. -Can’t you fix up a uniform that would do for him if he is a captain or -a colonel or a major when I get back, or--that would do for a general?” - -“Certainly, certainly, madam. Very wise of you to think of that.” - -He showed me several pieces of very fine and beautiful cloth of -Confederate gray, and I made my selection. - -“The question is, how are you to get it across the line. In what way -will you carry it?” - -“Ah, that I don’t know. Captain Locke advised me to consult you.” - -The tailor, who seemed to have had a liberal experience in such -matters, considered for a moment. - -“Are other ladies going with you?” - -“My mother.” - -“It is easy then. I will cut this cloth into lengths that will be all -right for the tailor who makes the uniform. You and your mother can -make it into two Balmoral skirts. That’s the way you get your cloth -home. Now for the buttons and gold lace. Will you travel in the wrap -you have on?” - -“In one like it; I shall pack this in my trunk. The inspectors will not -be so likely to condemn this if they find it in a trunk as they would -be to condemn a new one. So I will get a new cloak South; mother will -wear another.” - -“I see.” He was impressed with the scheme and made a mental note of it. -“Send me your cloaks and I’ll fix the buttons all right.” - -Cloaks of the period were long, sacque-like affairs, double-breasted -and with two rows of buttons. The tailor changed the buttons on our -cloaks for Confederate brass buttons covered with wadding, and then -with cloth like the wrap. The gold lace was to be folded flat and -smooth. Mother was to rip the lining from the bottom of her satchel, -lay the lace on the bottom, and carefully paste the lining back. We -wanted to take Dan some flannel shirts, and again fashion favored us. -Ladies wore wide plaid scarfs passed around their necks and falling -in long ends in front. We got seven yards of fine soft flannel in a -stylish plaid and cut it in two lengths. Mother, being quite tall, -could wear a longer scarf than myself, so, between us, we managed to -carry around our necks two good shirts for Dan. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THE FLOWER OF CHIVALRY - - -In the meantime we were growing more and more uneasy about Captain -Locke. We felt that he was suspected and covertly watched, but he -laughed at our fears. - -He and I had begun to discuss ways and means of getting back to -Virginia. One day, as usual, he was sitting beside me in the parlor -after dinner, and, as usual, we were talking together in low tones, -and again, as usual, the parlors were full. At one end of the room sat -Major Brooks and Colonel Whipple, honoring us now and then with the -covert and curious observation to which I could never become hardened. -Captain Hosmer was walking restlessly up and down the floor, and -casting uneasy glances toward us. He was too much of a gentleman to -catechize me about my friend, but I knew he was not only curious but -concerned in regard to my intimacy with Captain Locke. - -Captain Locke was saying to me that he was in favor of our taking some -schooner going down the bay and landing somewhere in Gloucester County, -when I became so painfully conscious that the eyes of the enemy were -upon us that I could not attend to what he was saying. - -“What is the matter with you?” he asked. “You are not thinking at all -of what I am saying. I reckon your mind is on Dan Grey.” - -“I am thinking about you,” I said, on the verge of tears. “If you are -not more careful, you won’t get back home at all, I’m afraid.” - -“Why?” he asked innocently, and as if he were the most prudent person -in the world. - -“Only what Milicent and I have been telling you all along. You come -here openly and boldly in the presence of all these Yankees. You visit -us, and we feel responsible for any misfortune that might come to you -through it. It is well known now, I think, by everybody in the house -that we are Southerners and blockade-runners. No one in the house -except ourselves and Mrs. Harris knows who you really are. Don’t you -suppose people wonder?” - -He had been introduced several times to ladies as Mr. Moore, but we -had not introduced him generally. We did not know what to do with -him. For ourselves, we felt safe by this time, but I never sat on -that sofa by Captain Locke’s side without the fear in my heart that a -sergeant-at-arms might walk in and lay hands on his shoulder. - -“Don’t you see,” I went on, “how Captain Hosmer is watching you?” - -For Hosmer was watching him with a scrutiny which could be felt in -spite of all his courteous efforts at concealment. “And can’t you see -with what suspicious looks those officers across the room regard you?” - -“That’s so. You must introduce me to some of these people.” - -I was dumfounded. So this was the result of my caution! - -“By which of your names shall I call you?” I asked satirically, but -the satire was lost on him. - -“The last one. That is a good name. It is nearly as common as Smith. -Besides, I really have a right to it. I came by it honestly. I have a -friend in New York by that name and he has kindly lent it to me for -emergencies. So if anybody wants to write or telegraph to New York -about it, they will find me all right. My cousin in New York--who -really _is_ my cousin many degrees removed--will acknowledge me. He is -well known in business circles there.” - -“Whom shall I introduce you to?” - -“I would rather meet those officers.” - -“Good gracious!” - -He smiled. “They can give me more, and more accurate, information than -anybody else, and of just the kind I want.” - -“You are going to get yourself shot before you start home. I won’t be -responsible for you.” - -“They don’t shoot spies--they hang ’em,” he said cheerfully. - -I believe his cheerful ease carried us safely through this -conversation under the eyes of the enemy, as it had done before. - -“Those gentlemen would hardly think me entitled to the courtesy of a -bullet,” he went on with the utmost _sang-froid_. “A rope is more in -accordance with my expectations if I am caught. But I do not expect to -be caught. Really, little madam, the frank and open plan is the best. -If I were to visit you clandestinely it would create more suspicion. -Don’t you see the fact that you haven’t presented me to those gentlemen -is in itself suspicious? Call those officers up and do the honors.” - -“I will call Captain Hosmer,” I said faintly. “I really haven’t the -nerve to summon the other two.--Captain Hosmer!” I called. - -He came instantly, and I saw that he was glad to be called. - -“Captain Hosmer, let me introduce you to my friend, Mr. Moore.” - -“Mr. Moore” rose, and the two gentlemen bowed and shook hands with each -other. Then they sat down, the Federal captain on one side of me, the -rebel captain on the other, and we had a pleasant chat. Captain Hosmer -asked “Mr. Moore” if he was related to Henry P. Moore, of New York, -and “Mr. Moore” replied in the affirmative. Captain Hosmer knew this -gentleman very well. Captain Locke was introduced to Major Brooks and -Colonel Whipple, and it ended by Captain Locke and Schenck’s adjutant -walking down the street together. Captain Hosmer and I watched them -from the window as they strolled past, smoking their cigars. - -“Your friend is a very handsome man,” he said. - -“You think so? Dan is ever so much handsomer.” - -“No doubt of it,” he laughed. - -The next day I said to Captain Locke: “You--you wouldn’t have to use -information received from these gentlemen in any way that might ever -hurt them, would you? We wouldn’t have to do that, would we?” - -“Dear little madam, it is not probable that they will honor me with -too much confidence. No hurt could ever come to one who is kind to you -through me. My first duty is to the South; so is yours. But honor -between man and man is honor, and friendship is friendship, even in war -times. In my life it has sometimes been very hard to know the line.” - -And there rested on his face at this moment the nearest thing to a -shadow that I had ever seen there. - -“I don’t want you to think I have been reckless of your safety in -coming here to see you. I am quite sure of my ground. You are not -involved in any of my operations. And if anything _were_ to happen, I -have friends here who could extricate you even if they could not save -me. The principal thing I wish to find out, now, from your Federal -friends here is how you may get back to Virginia safely--since you -will go. If I find out that my attendance on you will be to your -disadvantage, little madam, we must give that up.” - -It was I who had shown most anxiety that we should go together. While -we were talking Captain Hosmer came in, and I made room for him on the -other side of me. The two men greeted each other cordially. They had -taken a liking to each other, and the rebel captain said to the other: - -“My friend here has just been consulting me as to the route she had -best take in getting home. I suggested that you might advise her to -better purpose.” - -“I deplore Miss Duncan’s determination to go,” said Captain Hosmer. -“Almost any route is unsafe just now--if possible. However, I will be -glad to do anything I can. Have you any plan under consideration?” - -“Wait a minute, captain,” I said, rising. “I will go and get a little -map I have, and show you the route which Mr. Moore advised me to take.” - -I went out, leaving the two officers together. When I returned I -resumed my seat between them, spread the map open upon my lap, and they -bent over it, Federal and Confederate heads touching, while I traced -the route with my finger. - -“You see, Mr. Moore thinks I might go down the bay in a schooner and -land somewhere here in Gloucester County.” - -“No! no! you mustn’t go that way!” exclaimed Captain Hosmer quickly. -“You are sure to be taken up if you try that. With all due deference -to you, Mr. Moore, my knowledge of the position of our forces convinces -me that that is impossible.” - -“Of course, as an officer in the army, you must be better informed than -I am,” Captain Locke said simply. “That is why I advised Miss Duncan to -consult you.” - -“Your best plan is to go by Harper’s Ferry. It is a difficult matter to -get through anywhere now, but if you get to Virginia at all I think it -must be by way of Harper’s Ferry.” - -Major Brooks and Colonel Whipple joined us, and the matter ended as on -the previous day, by Captain Locke and Colonel Whipple walking off down -the street together. - -“Moore is a splendid fellow,” Captain Hosmer said to me, when we had -the sofa to ourselves. “I am glad you introduced us. Your not doing so -looked suspicious, and I was troubled for fear he would get you into -some scrape or other.” - -Dear, generous fellow, how I hated to deceive him, and how it was -on the tip of my tongue to tell him who Captain Locke was, until I -remembered what his duty would be if I told him! And Captain Locke’s -secret was mine to keep. He had been ready to risk his life rather than -leave me alone at Berlin! Then, too, poor fellow, he had such a slender -chance, I thought, of getting home alive that not even an enemy would -care to make it worse. I used to look at his bonnie white throat and -shudder. - -“God bless you,” he said to me once, “for all your goodness to a poor, -lonely, stray fellow! You shouldn’t be afraid for me. You say your -‘Hail Marys’ for me, you know.” - -I had been telling him I was afraid for him, and he had, as usual, -tried to reassure me and to laugh me out of it. He was never afraid for -himself--I believe he would have stood up to be shot with a laugh on -his lips. I wonder if he _was_ laughing when they shot him--my dear, -brave friend! - -In the meantime we had heard that Mr. Holliway had been arrested in -West Virginia, was lying in prison somewhere, and that his friends were -trying to get him out, and before I left Baltimore we heard that he -had died in prison just as an exchange had been arranged. - -My return to Virginia was the subject of daily discussions between -me and my two captains, and in this way Captain Locke continued to -find out ways that he must not go, and eventually that we must not go -together. It was he who first said it. - -“I should be no earthly good, but a disadvantage to you, little madam. -Hosmer is going to see you through this thing all right.” - -Then, seeing my downcast look, he went on cheerily: “I’ll get through -somehow all right, sooner or later, and we’ll meet in Old Virginia. -Don’t bother your dear little head about me.” - -Captain Hosmer tried in vain to dissuade me from going. He felt that -the journey under present conditions would be uncomfortable and unsafe, -and that it was in every way advisable for me to stay where I was. -But I was beginning to be very uneasy about Dan. I had heard from -him only once since reaching Baltimore. Then his letters came in a -batch, and I received them through the kindly agency of Mr. Cridland, -British consul at Richmond, who had been my father’s personal friend -and frequent guest, and who had dandled a small person named “Nell” on -his knee many times. Captain Hosmer still insisted that I must go by -Harper’s Ferry if I went at all, and he said that a pass was necessary. - -“How on earth am I to get it?” I asked. - -“I must arrange that for you,” he said. - -I think one reason that Captain Hosmer was so good to me was because -his wife was a Southern woman. Her parents were Southern, her brothers -were in the Southern army, and her husband was a Federal officer. -They loved each other, but somehow they were separated, she living -South with her parents. Under the pressure of the times there was a -sectional conscience, and people did things which they did not wish to -do, because they thought it was right. I don’t know what I should have -done then if I had been situated as Mrs. Hosmer was, but I know that at -the present time I should stick to Dan, no matter what flag he fought -under. Perhaps we are not as great or good in peace as in war times. - -The captain had a beautiful country-seat several miles out of town. We -had heard much of this place and its old-time hospitalities; and we -also heard that it had been virtually closed since Captain Hosmer’s -separation from his wife. The captain went there frequently alone, and -occasionally with a few friends, but the place had known no festivity -since its mistress had gone away on that visit from which, by the way, -she returned before we left Baltimore. - -But before she came back there was a stag party at the captain’s -country place, given in honor of General Fish, the provost marshal at -Baltimore, and other prominent officers. - -The next time I saw Captain Hosmer he had a smile for me. - -“You will get your passes,” he said. “I have spoken to General Fish for -them.” - -Milicent had decided that she could not risk little Bobby on such a -journey and at this season, but mother was to go with me. The day -before we were to start she and I went down to General Fish’s office. -He was out, but an orderly told us rather rudely to sit down and wait, -which invitation or command we humbly acted upon. Presently General -Fish entered. We stated our case. - -“We are Southerners, general, and we wish to go south by way of -Harper’s Ferry.” - -“Mrs. and Miss Duncan, I think you said?” - -“Yes, general.” - -“You are the ladies I heard of from Captain Hosmer, then?” - -We gave him a note from Captain Hosmer. - -“Excuse me, ladies, while I read this, and I will see what I can do for -you.” - -He finished the note and then said: - -“That’s all right. I will make out your passes, ladies,” and in a few -minutes the important papers were in our hands. - -“These will take you to General Kelly at Harper’s Ferry. There my power -ends. You will find General Kelly courteous and considerate, though I -make no promises for him, understand. I will furnish you an escort to -Harper’s Ferry, and an officer will be sent to your boarding-house -this afternoon to examine your baggage. Your address, please.” He wrote -a few words rapidly, and called the orderly: - -“Take that order,” he said. - -The orderly saluted and got as far as the door, then he turned. - -“Do these women go?” he asked of the general. - -“These _ladies_ go. Obey my order, sir!” - -Upon which the orderly went quickly about his business. - -When the officer came to examine our baggage I was on thorns. I had -come north intending to make certain purchases, and I had made them, -and the fruit of my money and labors was in those two trunks of -mother’s and mine. Mother’s trunk was quite a large one, and both of -those honest-looking trunks to which I yielded the keys so freely were -crammed with dishonest goods--that is, dishonest according to blockade -law. I had paid good gold for them, and anxiety enough, Heaven knows, -for them to be properly mine. - -I had shoes in the bottom of those trunks, and on top of the -shoes cloth made into the semblance of female wear and underwear; -and, lastly, I had put in genuine every-day garments. There were -handkerchiefs, pins, needles, gloves, thread, and all sorts of odds -and ends between the folds of garments, here, there, and everywhere -in those trunks. They were as contraband trunks as ever crossed into -Dixie. But, again, my Yankee was a _gentleman_. - -“This is an unpleasant duty, miss,” he said when I handed him my keys, -“but I will disarrange your property as little as possible. It is only -a form.” - -The orderly lifted the trays and set them back again, scarcely glancing -underneath. What a dear, nice Yankee, I thought! He locked the trunks -and sealed them. - -“Will those seals be broken anywhere, and my trunks examined again?” I -asked in some trepidation--this examination was so satisfactory to me -that I wanted it to do for one and all. - -“I can not tell, miss. They may be at Harper’s Ferry. But I hardly -think so. I think this seal will carry you through.” - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -PRISONERS OF THE UNITED STATES - - -The officer who had examined our trunks the previous day took the -trunks to the depot in a wagon, mother and I going in a hack. After -we got on the train, our officer, Lieutenant Martin, joined us, and -made himself very agreeable. The beginning of that journey was most -pleasant. The scenery along the road to Harper’s Ferry is at all times -beautiful, and as we drew nearer to the ferry our car ran by the side -of the Potomac, so that from one window we looked across the river to -the Virginia Heights, and from the other to the Heights of Maryland. It -was afternoon and growing dark when we reached Harper’s Ferry. - -There we found something like a riot going on, shouting and noises of -all sorts, and the town full of drunken soldiers. We were told that -there had been fighting in the valley, that the Federals had won, -and that the men had just been paid off, and were celebrating victory -and enjoying pay and booty in regular soldier fashion. Through this -shouting, rowdy mob mother and I passed under our Federal escort to the -tavern. - -When we reached the tavern, a miserable little place full of drunken -soldiers, our kind escort told us that his duty was at an end, and that -he must take the return train to Baltimore. I think he hated to leave -us under such unsafe circumstances, but he scarcely had time to settle -us in the reception-room, shake hands, and catch his train. Here mother -and I sat, debating what we should do. Of course, we were extremely -anxious to get out of the place. We called a waiter and asked him if he -could tell us where we could hire a vehicle to take us a part of our -journey, or the whole of it. He knew of nothing that we could get. Then -we went out on the porch, disagreeable as this was, and made inquiries -of everybody who seemed sober enough to answer, but to no purpose. We -could find no way of getting out of Harper’s Ferry that night. - -Thoroughly frightened, we asked to be shown to the commanding officer -of the place, and were ushered into General Kelly’s office, which, -fortunately, was attached to the tavern--really a part of it. - -General Kelly rose when we entered, saw us seated, and was as courteous -as possible, while we stated the case and asked his advice. He heard us -patiently, and was very sympathetic. - -“I don’t know what to say, ladies. I have no authority to send you on.” - -“Then what _will_ we do, general?” - -“I can not say. I can, of course, give you passes, but you will find it -impossible to hire anything here to travel in just now. The best you -could get would be an ox-cart or a broken-down wagon, and the roads are -almost impassable for good strong vehicles. And, besides, it is not -safe for you to travel except under military escort, which, as I have -said, I have no authority to furnish. There has been a great deal of -fighting in the valley, and the roads are lined with stragglers. If you -were prisoners now I could put you under escort and send you through -our lines easy enough, but as it is I don’t see what I can do.” - -We felt inclined to cry. - -“And this is not a fit place for you to spend the night in, as you can -see for yourselves,” he pursued, very much in the manner of a Job’s -comforter. “The tavern is thronged with drunken men, and the whole town -is overrun with them.” - -“Would it not be best for us to return to Baltimore?” we asked humbly. -We had almost made up our minds to going back. - -“That would be best, certainly--if you _can_.” - -“Why, can’t we go back? We had no idea that we wouldn’t be allowed to -go back if we wanted to.” - -“Well, you see, ladies, you are in the position of Southerners sent -south. The policy of the Government encourages the sending of all -Southerners in Maryland south to stay. I am only explaining, that you -may understand that it may be difficult for me to assist you, in spite -of my willingness to do so. I can not send you back without authority -from General Fish. I will telegraph to him at once, and do my best for -you. My orderly will see you back to the tavern. And I will notify you -when I hear from General Fish.” - -So we returned to the reception-room of the tavern. Among the groups -thronging the tavern were a few graycoats who had been captured the day -before. One of these prisoners, a tall, handsome man, walked restlessly -up and down the room where we sat, his guard keeping watch on him. As -he passed back and forth I looked at him sorrowfully, putting into my -eyes all the sympathy and encouragement I dared. - -There was something in his look when he returned mine that made me -think he wanted to speak to me. Every time he passed I thought I saw -his eyes growing more and more wistful under their drooping lids. - -Without seeming to notice him I moved about the room until I got to -a window which was in the line of his restless beat. I stood there, -my back turned to him, apparently looking out of the window, until I -disarmed the suspicion of the guard. Then I settled down into a seat, -my side to the window, my back to the guard, my face to the prisoner -when the turn in his beat brought him toward me. A swift glance showed -him that I was on the alert. Not a muscle of his face changed--he was -facing the guard--but when he turned and came back, as he passed me he -dropped these words. - -“Going south?” - -He walked to the end of the room and turned. Coming back, he faced me -and the guard. As he passed I said: - -“Yes.” - -When he came back, he said--always with his head drooped and speaking -below his breath and so that his lips could hardly be seen to move: - -“Take a message?” - -When he passed back I said: - -“Yes.” - -Returning: “Get word to Governor Vance of North Carolina----” - -To the end of his beat, turning and passing again in silence, then as -he walked with his back to the guard: - -“You saw Charlie Vance here----” - -To the end of beat one way, to the end another, and back again: - -“Prisoner--captured in fight yesterday----” - -Several beats back and forth in silence, then: - -“Carried north----” - -Again: - -“Don’t know where.” - -This was the last he had opportunity to say. I saw the orderly coming -in. Before Lieutenant Vance was near enough to catch another word from -me, the orderly stood before me, a telegram in his hand. It was from -General Fish to General Kelly: - - “The ladies were sent south at their own request. I decline - further connection with the matter.” - -“Why--why,” I cried in desperation, “we can’t go south, we can’t go -north, and we can’t stay here!” - -There was a pert little Yankee in the room who had been watching us for -some time. He, like everybody else around us, understood by this time -our dilemma. - -“I’ll tell you how to get sent on, if you will listen,” he said. - -“I will,” I said clearly and firmly, and looking straight into the eyes -of Lieutenant Vance, who was then passing close by me. - -The little Yankee was staggered by the unnecessary amount of resolution -expressed in my reply. I kept my eyes focused on the spot where Mr. -Vance had been for some seconds after he had passed. Then I turned to -my little Yankee. I had snubbed him severely heretofore, but I was -humbled by extremity, and willing enough now to listen if he could tell -us how to get away from this place. - -“Tell us how we can get sent on,” I asked. - -“Just step out there in the street and holler for Jeff Davis, and -you’ll get sent on quick enough!” - -We withered him with a stare, and then turned our backs on him, and at -the same moment two ladies entered the room whom we recognized. They -were Mrs. Drummond and Miss Oglesby, whose acquaintance we had made in -Baltimore, and they, too, were going south. They explained that they -had been in this wretched place since yesterday, and that they were not -allowed to return to Baltimore and were unable to go home. They had -been out trying to find a conveyance of some sort, but had been able to -secure only the promise of an ox-cart, and hearing that we were here -had come in to consult with us. During all this time the orderly, whom -I had detained, was waiting impatiently. We decided to go with him and -make another appeal to General Kelly. Accordingly the whole party filed -into General Kelly’s office again. - -“What _are_ we to do, general?” I cried out in desperation. “We can’t -go back, we can’t go on, and we can’t stay here!” - -The kindly general did honor to the stars he wore--he was a gentleman, -every inch of him. It happened later that he was captured and held in -Libby Prison in Richmond, and I was in Richmond and didn’t know it. I -have held a grudge against fate ever since. If I had only known, he -would have been reminded by every courtesy that a Southern woman could -render of how gratefully his kindness was remembered. - -“I hardly hoped for a different answer from General Fish, ladies. The -regulations on this point are very stringent. And I can not return you -to Baltimore unless you take the oath of allegiance.” - -“What?” we asked eagerly. - -“If you take the oath of allegiance, I can send you back.” - -We decided to do this. - -We didn’t know exactly what the oath was, but we thought we could -take anything to get us out of our scrape. We told General Kelly we -would take it, and we were conducted into another room, which I can -only remember as being full of Federal soldiers. We were marched up -to a desk where a man began reading the oath to us. It was the famous -“ironclad.” We did not wait for him to get through. Without a word each -of us turned and marched back into General Kelly’s office, as indignant -a set of women as could be found. - -He was looking for us--doubtless he knew by previous experience the -effect the reading of that oath produced upon Southern women--and he -burst out laughing as our procession filed back into his room. - -“Why, general,” we began, “we couldn’t take that horrid thing! We are -Southerners, and our kinsmen and friends are Southern soldiers.” - -“I almost knew you wouldn’t take that oath, ladies, when I sent you -there.” - -“General,” I said, “this is the most remarkable position I ever knew -people to be in--where you can’t go back, and can’t go forward, and -can’t stay where you are. I don’t know what you are to do with us, -general, unless you hang us to get us out of the way.” - -He laughed heartily. - -“I must do something a little better than that for you. My orderly will -take you back to the tavern, and you will hear from me in an hour.” - -We went with Mrs. Drummond and Miss Oglesby to their room. Before the -hour was up we were escorted to another interview with General Kelly. -The general beamed on us. - -“Here is a telegram I received in your absence,” he said, handing it to -us: - - “Mrs. and Miss Duncan are dear friends of mine. Can you see - them through? If not, tell them I will be in Harper’s Ferry - to-night. Answer. - - “HOSMER.” - -“Here is my answer,” said the general: - - “Stay where you are. Will see them through all right. - - “KELLY.” - -“How could he have found out the trouble we were in?” we asked in -wonder. - -“I don’t know. News of the fighting in the valley and the condition of -things here reached Baltimore soon after you left there. Hosmer perhaps -got an idea of your situation through General Fish. He may have gone to -Fish’s office to inquire. Hosmer is a capital fellow and an old friend -of mine. I had about determined on what to do for you before I heard -from him, but I thought it would please you to know of his message. I -will ask you to return to the tavern, ladies, and exercise a little -further patience. You will hear from me soon.” - -This time we waited only a little while before an orderly rapped at -the door to say that an ambulance was in waiting for us below. We -hurried down with him, and in ten minutes were inside the ambulance, -and prisoners of the United States. - -Behind us into the ambulance stepped a dashing young officer, all brass -buttons and gold lace. - -“I am Captain Goldsborough,” he said, saluting, “commissioned by -General Kelly to attend you.” - -Our escort consisted of five soldiers who followed us, sitting in a -wagon on our baggage. That afternoon we passed through Charleston, and -Captain Goldsborough pointed out to us the house in which John Brown -had lived--an ordinary two-story frame house. - -As well as I can remember we reached Berryville about nine o’clock. Our -ambulance drew up in front of the tavern, and Captain Goldsborough went -in to see about getting accommodations for us. He came out quickly and -said, “This is no fit place to-night for you, ladies. I am informed -that there is an old couple on the hill who may take us in. I hear, -too, that they are good Confederates,” he added mischievously. Of -course lights were out and everybody asleep when we drove up, but our -driver went in and beat on the door until he waked the old people up. -They received us kindly, and the old lady got a supper for us of cold -meats and slices of loaf bread, butter, milk, preserves, and hot coffee -which she must have made herself as no servants were in the house at -that hour; and we had a comfortable room with two beds in it. The old -lady came in and chatted with us awhile, telling us all she knew about -our army’s movements, and listening eagerly to what people in Maryland -had to say about the war. We were very tired, but I am sure it must -have been one o’clock when we went to sleep. At daybreak there came a -great banging at the front door. Mother put her head out of the front -window and inquired who was trying to break the door down. - -It was our driver, and there at the gate stood our ambulance. The -driver hurried us desperately, saying we had not a moment to lose. The -noise had aroused our hosts, and when we got down the old lady had -spread us a cold lunch and made us a cup of coffee. - -“I was hoping to have you a nice hot breakfast,” she said, “but since -you must go in such a hurry this is the best I can do. If I had known -you were going to make such an early start I would have got you a hot -breakfast somehow.” - -We swallowed our food hurriedly, but this did not satisfy our driver. -Every few minutes he came down on the door with the butt end of his -whip. Finally we left off eating, ran up-stairs, and gathered up our -bags. As we hurried down, almost falling over each other in our haste, -we saw a magnificent-looking soldier standing in the hall. He was in -the full uniform of a colonel of cavalry, glittering with gold lace, -with gauntlets reaching his elbows, and high military boots. - -“Mrs. Duncan and Miss Duncan, I suppose,” he said with a sweeping bow, -“and----” - -“Mrs. Drummond and Miss Oglesby,” we said of the ladies who came behind -us. - -“I am Colonel McReynolds, commandant at this place, and at your -service, ladies,” he continued. “I have to apologize for not paying -my respects to you last night upon receipt of General Kelly’s letter -asking me to take charge of you. The lateness of the hour must be my -excuse. At the time Captain Goldsborough presented it I had a number of -important despatches to attend to, and I supposed you were tired out -and in need of rest.” - -We expressed our appreciation of his courtesy and General Kelly’s -thoughtfulness. - -“What is all this?” he asked, pointing to our ambulance, baggage wagon, -and impatient driver. - -We explained that they were the conveniences furnished us by General -Kelly. - -“But you surely do not propose starting off in such weather as this, -ladies?” - -I have neglected to say that it had been storming since daybreak. - -“The driver has been beating on the doors since before day,” somebody -said. - -“He has, has he? Then he has exceeded his instructions. He had no right -whatever to disturb you, ladies. I will see that he is reported.” - -He called the driver and reprimanded him sharply. - -“Pray don’t feel that you must leave us in such weather as this, -ladies,” he continued with the utmost kindness. “Stay here a week if -you like. That ambulance and wagon and those men and horses are at your -service as long as you choose to keep them here, and we will be glad to -do whatever we may for your comfort or pleasure until it suits your own -convenience to leave us.” - -We hardly knew how to thank this princely young enemy, but we insisted -that the driver should not be punished, and that we should be allowed -to proceed on our journey, as we were anxious to reach our friends and -kindred. - -He rode in our ambulance with us to his headquarters, where we were -joined by our other charming enemy, and, making our adieux to the -gallant and handsome colonel, continued our journey. - -During the day something happened to Captain Goldsborough’s watch, and -it stopped running, much to his annoyance. - -“I should like to know what time it is,” he said. - -I pulled my watch out and held it open for him to see the time. I -could have told him what hour it was. I don’t know what made me such a -reckless little creature in those days. The watch I held to him had a -tiny Confederate flag pasted inside. My companions had either secreted -their watches or were not traveling with them. I had been urged to do -the same, but had openly worn my watch ever since leaving Baltimore. -Captain Goldsborough saw the hour, and he saw the flag also. He stared -at me in utter amazement. - -“You are brave--or reckless,” he said. - -“I know this is contraband goods, and, according to your ideas, -treasonable. Will you confiscate it?” quietly holding it out again. - -His face flushed. - -“Not I! but some one else might. You are not prudent to wear that -openly.” - -And I was so ashamed of myself for hurting his feelings that I made -amends in rather too warm terms, I am afraid, considering that he -didn’t know I was married and a privileged character. - -“You are traveling in the wrong direction, _I_ think, Miss Duncan,” he -ventured to say after awhile. “You shouldn’t leave the North and go -south now.” - -“Why?” - -“I--I shouldn’t think you would receive the attention there just -now that is your due. You are young and fond of society, I imagine. -And--there are so few beaux in the South now--I shouldn’t think you -would like that.” - -“Really?” - -“I mean that I wish you would stay up North where it is pleasanter. -It’s so--uncomfortable down South. You are so young, you see, you -ought to have a chance to enjoy life a little. I--I wish you were up -here--and I could add a little to your happiness. I--I mean,” catching -a glance which warned him, “it is must be dull for you in the South--no -beaux--no nothing.” - -“All the beaux are in the field,” I retorted, “where they ought to -be. I wouldn’t have a beau who wasn’t, and if I were a Northern girl -I wouldn’t have a man who didn’t wear a uniform--though, I think, it -ought to be gray.” - -“I expect you have a sweetheart down South whom you expect to see when -you get home. That is why your heart has been so set on getting back.” - -“If I had a sweetheart down South I couldn’t see him when I got back -home, for he would be in the field.” - -“So, your sweetheart is a Southern soldier?” wistfully. - -“I wouldn’t have a sweetheart who wasn’t a soldier--a Southern soldier.” - -In the other side of my watch I had pasted a small picture of Dan in -uniform. I opened this side and held it out to my companion. - -“That’s my sweetheart’s picture.” - -He looked at it long and hard. “A good-looking fellow,” he said, “and I -have no doubt a gallant soldier. If I ever meet him in battle--he will -be safe from _my_ bullet.” - -Behind our wagon all the way from Harper’s Ferry had come a party -equipped like ourselves. They were Jews, and, as we were informed, -were prisoners of the United States. They had an ambulance like ours, a -baggage wagon like ours, and a similar escort of five infantry perched -on trunks. Their escort who rode inside, however, was not so attractive -as ours. We felt and expressed much commiseration for them because they -were prisoners--“those poor Jews,” we called them. - -We were all suffering the consequences of late and early hours, and -of the worry and excitement at Harper’s Ferry. I felt almost ill, and -when Miss Oglesby, whose home was in Winchester, invited us to spend a -week with her, we concluded that we would accept her hospitality until -better able to continue our journey. - -Winchester was the most difficult of all places for Southerners to pass -through at this time, and we could not possibly have gotten through -if we had been left to our own resources. Milroy was commandant, and -his name was a terror. He belonged to the Ben Butler of New Orleans -type. Some time near the middle of the day we drew up in front of -Milroy’s headquarters. Immediately behind us came the Jews and their -belongings. They did not go in with us, and I supposed they were -awaiting their turn. General Milroy was absent, off on a fight, and we -fell into the hands of his adjutant, a dapper little fellow. We heard -him talking to Goldsborough of the recent fight and victory, and heard -him making arrangements for our transportation. - -Here we thought it proper to inform him that we were going to remain a -week in Winchester. - -“You can not remain here,” he said. “You go on immediately.” - -“Oh, no!” we said, “we’re not going on now. We are going to stop here -for a visit and until we are rested.” - -“You are prisoners and under orders. You go at once--” he began bruskly. - -“Oh, no!” we interrupted, eager to enlighten him, for we saw he had -made a very natural mistake. “_We_ are not prisoners. Those poor Jews -out there, _they_ are prisoners. We are going to stop here on a little -visit.” - -“You don’t stop here an hour. This is Miss Oglesby’s destination, and -she stops, but the rest of you go on--now.” - -He looked as if he thought us demented. Goldsborough kept making faces -at us, but we were so anxious to correct the adjutant’s mistake that we -had no attention to bestow elsewhere. We thought we had never seen so -stupid a man as that adjutant. - -“_We_ are not the prisoners,” we insisted. “Those Jews out there----” - -Here he told Captain Goldsborough to conduct “these prisoners” -down-stairs and into the ambulance provided for them. “You will not -go far before you meet a detachment of cavalry on their way to this -place,” he informed Captain Goldsborough, and then instructed him to -turn back of these a sufficient escort for our party. - -We were in a perfect rage as Captain Goldsborough led us down-stairs. -We thought Milroy’s adjutant the very rudest and stupidest person we -had ever seen. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -WITHIN OUR LINES - - -After leaving the saucy and peremptory adjutant we were shown into the -handsomest ambulance I have ever seen. I suppose the one we had been -using was returned to Harper’s Ferry or left at Winchester for the -horses to rest until Captain Goldsborough’s return. At any rate, we -were in new quarters, and very elegant ones they were. The sides and -seats were cushioned and padded, and it was really a luxurious coach. -It was drawn by four large black horses with coats like silk. There -was a postilion on the seat, and beside him sat a small boy who kept -peeping behind us and into the woods on all sides, and as far ahead -as possible. I didn’t know what he was trying to see or find out, -but I came to the conclusion that he was there to “peep” on general -principles. - -As soon as we were seated we asked Captain Goldsborough what -upon earth that impertinent adjutant meant by referring to us as -“prisoners,” and ordering us about so. - -Whereupon he explained with much embarrassment and many apologies that -we were really prisoners--that General Kelly could not have sent us -through without the formality of putting us under arrest. - -“I wish,” he said in an aside to me, “that I didn’t have to release -you.” - -Of course we were perfectly satisfied to be General Kelly’s prisoners -under such circumstances. In fact, we charged Captain Goldsborough to -tell him how nice we thought it was to be put under arrest by him. - -We withdrew our charges against the adjutant, and even acknowledged -that there was kindness in the pert little Yankee’s telling us to -“holler for Jeff Davis and we’d get sent on quick enough.” - -Six miles from Winchester we met the detachment of cavalry to which -Milroy’s adjutant had referred. It was a magnificent-looking body of -men, handsomely uniformed and mounted. As they were about to dash past -us Captain Goldsborough halted them, gave an order, and instantly -thirty riders wheeled out of line and surrounded the ambulance, -the others riding on without a break in their movements. Captain -Goldsborough had gotten out of the ambulance some minutes before we -met the detachment of cavalry, and was sitting with the driver, having -sent the little boy inside. It sounds rather a formidable position -for a Southern woman, a blockade-runner, in a Yankee ambulance, and -surrounded by thirty Yankees armed to the teeth; but I was never safer -in my life. The little boy was in a state of terror that would have -been amusing if it had not been pitiful. - -“What are all these men around the ambulance for?” I asked. He didn’t -look as if he could get his wits together at once. - -“Are they afraid we will get away?” I continued. - -“Oh, no’m! no’m!” he answered, his eyes as big as saucers. “There’s -been lots of fightin’--an’ there’s rebels all along here in the -woods--and they’d come out and take this here ambulance an’ these here -horses--an’ we all, an’ you all, an’ all of us!” - -A novel position, truly, Yankees protecting us against our own -soldiers! We met another company of soldiers, and alas! we could turn -back none of them. They were not mounted, they were not handsomely -uniformed. From the windows of our ambulance we looked out on them with -tearful eyes, and waved our handkerchiefs to them; but their heads -were bowed, and they did not see us. They would hardly have believed -we were prisoners if they had seen us, for our escort of Union cavalry -the whole time they guarded us treated us as if we were queens. Not one -profane word did we hear--not a syllable that breathed anything but -respect and kindly feeling. - -At Newtown we were released and were Union prisoners no longer, -but Southern travelers close to the Southern lines and on our own -responsibility. Captain Goldsborough bade us adieu, saying that he -was sorry he could not take us farther, but that his orders compelled -him to turn back here, and we poured out our gratitude to him and to -Colonel McReynolds and General Kelly by him. He put a little sentiment -into a farewell pressure of my hand, and I am afraid I put a great -deal too much gratitude and penitence into my eyes. My genius for -friendship had asserted itself, and I was fast learning to give him a -companion niche in my heart with Captains Hosmer and Locke. Another day -with him, and I would have told him I was married, showed him Dan’s -picture, bored him with Dan, and found in him all the better friend and -good comrade. - -Our hearts sank as our gallant bluecoat, our cozy ambulance, and our -cavalry guard left us, three lonely women in the tavern at Newtown. -We spent the night there, and the next morning secured, with much -difficulty, a small, uncovered, one-horse wagon to take us on our -journey. We were very much crowded. Our trunks were piled up in -it--mother’s, Mrs. Drummond’s, and my own. I made mother as comfortable -as possible, and Mrs. Drummond carefully made herself so, while I sat -on the seat with the driver, a trunk sticking in my back all the way. I -had to sit almost double because of the trunk, the wagon being so small -that no other arrangement was possible. - -Rain had fallen plentifully here. The day was one of fogs and mists -with occasional light showers, the roads were, muddy and seamed with -ruts, over which the wagon jogged up and down, and I jogged with it, -feeling as if my back would break in two and almost wishing it would -and end my misery. About nine of that miserable wet night we hailed -with eager, glad, tired hearts and eyes the lights of Woodstock. Here -we knew we should find Southern forces encamped, here we knew we should -be at home among our own people. Just outside the town a voice rang -through the darkness: - -“Halt!” - -A sentry stood in our path. - -“We are Southerners,” we said. “Let us pass.” - -“Where are your papers?” - -“Papers? We haven’t any papers. We are _Southerners_, we tell -you--Southern ladies, and we are in a hurry, and you must let us pass -right now.” - -“I can’t do it. Show your papers or turn back.” - -We set up a wail. - -“Here, we’ve come all the way from Baltimore, and the Yankees have sent -us and have brought us all the way in a fine ambulance and cavalry -escorts and big horses and gold lace and everything, and now we’ve got -home, and our own people won’t let us in! tell us to turn back!” - -The sentry seemed impressed. Rags and musket, he was a pathetic if -stern figure as he stood in that lonely, muddy road in the glare of our -driver’s lantern. - -But he was firm. He told us that he was obeying orders and could not -let us by since we had no passes. - -“I’m so tired, and my back is almost broken with this trunk sticking -into it,” I moaned. - -“That _ain’t_ comfortable,” he admitted, but his resolute position in -the middle of the road showed that we couldn’t pass, all the same. - -“Look here,” I said, plucking up some of my accustomed spirit, “do you -know that my husband is an officer in the Confederate army? My husband -is Captain Grey.” - -“Can’t help it. Got to obey orders.” - -“And _my_ brother,” said Mrs. Drummond, “is a _colonel_ in the -Confederate army. To think that _I_--I, the sister of Colonel ----, am -told that I can’t pass here!” - -“Law, ma’am! that’s my colonel!” said the man. “I tell you what I’ll -do, ladies. I’ll send a note in to the colonel and see what _he_ says -about it.” - -So we waited till he found a passer-by who would be a messenger; and -then we waited until the messenger replied to the note, and we were -permitted to pass. - -Soon after we reached the tavern the news of our arrival and exploits -got abroad and soon the little tavern parlor was filled with people -listening to the tales of the blockade-runners who were just from -Yankeeland, bringing a trunk or two full of clothes. The news of our -doughty deeds spread from house to house, and soldiers gathered in -front of the tavern and gave us ringing cheers, and welcomed us home -with all their lung power. Poor, ragged fellows! how I did wish that -mother and I had worn home a hundred or two more Balmorals! - -The next morning we left Woodstock. - -We were traveling now in a comfortable spring wagon, and made good -time, reaching Harrisonburg in time to take the train for Staunton. - -As we sat in the parlor of the hotel in Staunton who should walk in -but an old friend and cousin of Dan’s, Lieutenant Nelson! But he could -tell me nothing about Dan--he did not even know where he could be -found. This was just before the second battle of the Wilderness, and -the cavalry was being shifted constantly from place to place. But if -Lieutenant Nelson could tell us nothing, he was greatly interested in -our exploits. We told him of the Balmorals with pride. - -“And here are two shirts for Dan,” I said, pulling at our long scarfs. -“Just think of our getting through with a full uniform--cloth, brass -buttons, gold lace, and all!” - -As at Woodstock, the story of our prowess spread. It went from one -person to another until the soldiers got hold of it, and gathered -around the hotel and more ringing cheers were given us. - -The next morning we took the train for Richmond--but we did not get -there. - -At Lindseys Station, just before we reached Gordonsville, a man in the -uniform of the Thirteenth got on. - -I called him to me. - -“Can you tell me where the Thirteenth is?” - -“Yes’m. We lef’ ’em ’bout the aige of Culpeper, yistiddy. Lor’m! we’ve -had times!” - -“What was the matter?” - -“We been havin’ a heap o’ fightin’. The kurnel, he warn’t thar at -Beverly Ford, an’ we didn’t have but one squadron, an’ the adjutant, -he led the charge an’ he sholy come mighty nigh gittin’ killed. Lor’m! -what’s the matter with ye?” - -“Nothing! Go on! Make haste, tell me--make haste. The adjutant----” - -“His horse got shot under him, an’ his courier ridin’ right ’longside -o’ him got killed, an’ the adjutant warn’t hurt, not a mite. But, -Lor’m! that was sholy a narrer _es_cape! An’ they say that the -adjutant’ll git promoted.” - -Didn’t I say so? Didn’t I think of that when I got the uniform? - -“Thank you,” I said to the man. “You bring me the first news I have -had of my husband for a long time.” - -“Good gracious! you ain’t our adjutant’s wife?” - -“Yes, I am. And I am glad to meet one of his soldiers. And you are the -first to tell me good news.” - -“Lor’m, now, ain’t I proud o’ that! An’ you our adjutant’s wife. You -don’t say! An’ I jes been a-tellin’ you how it was a’mos’ a mi-racle -that you warn’t a widder ’oman! An’ you never let on! But I see you -changed your face, marm, when I tole ’bout his pretty nigh gitting -shot. Yes, marm; the adjutant charged beautiful! he jes rid right squar -into ’em, an’ he made the Yankees git!” - -“How long do you think the Thirteenth will remain in Culpeper?” - -“That I couldn’t say for certain, marm. They mought be thar for a day -or two, an’ they mought be thar longer. You can’t always tell much -’bout what the cavalry gwine to do. But we’s sho proud o’ the adjutant, -marm. Ginral Lee an’ Ginral Stuart an’ Kunnel Chambliss all give him -the praise.” - -It was after this battle that Dan was promoted to the rank of major, -“for gallant conduct.” - -I bade the soldier a hurried good-by and went to the conductor. - -“My husband’s regiment is in Culpeper,” I said; “I have just heard it -from one of his men, and I want you to put me off at Gordonsville. I -have decided not to go on to Richmond, but to take the next train to -Culpeper.” - -“The next train to Culpeper, ma’am--I think the next train for Culpeper -passes Gordonsville at four in the afternoon. There’s no train before -that, I know, and I am not sure that there’s one at four. There’s no -tavern nor anything to put you down at--I’ll just have to set you out -on the roadside.” - -And it was on a red roadside that we and our baggage were set down, on -a bank of red mud, and there sat we on top of them as the train rolled -away. The conductor left us regretfully. - -“Maybe you might get accommodations at that house up there, ma’am,” -he had said, pointing to the only house in sight, a two-story white -dwelling about a quarter of a mile distant. “I don’t know what else -you’ll do if that train don’t come along at four.” - -This was ten o’clock in the morning. Four o’clock came, but no train. -We waited faithfully for it, but it did not come at all. At last we -gave up hope and paid a boy to carry our trunks to the house on the -hill. I shall never forget our reception at that house. At first they -refused to take us at all. After arguing the point with them and -placing our necessities before them, and promising to pay them anything -they might wish, we were thankful to get a gruff: - -“Come in.” - -We were shown to a room and shut in like horses. There was not even a -fire made for us. We had been warmer sitting on the roadside in the -sunshine. I will pass over the supper in silence. We had had no dinner -and were hungry, and we ate for our part of that supper the upper crust -of a biscuit each. A hard bed, the upper crusts of two biscuits, no -fire--this was what we got at that house. The next morning we left -before breakfast and went back to our mud-bank in the sun, first asking -for our bill and paying it. It was two dollars apiece in gold! - -The train came along early, however, and we were on it, and off to -Culpeper, all our troubles forgotten, for every mile was bringing us -nearer to Dan. As soon as we got off I saw quite a number of soldiers -belonging to Dan’s command. Many of them were known to me personally. -They came up and welcomed me back to Dixie, and congratulated me on my -husband’s gallantry and probable promotion, and I sent word to Dan by -them that I was there. - -He came--the raggedest, most widowed-looking officer! But weren’t we -happy! - -“Oh, Dan!” I cried, after the first rapture of greeting, “I got it so -it would do for a captain or a major or a colonel or a general. Didn’t -I do right?” - -“What are you talking about, Nell? Got what?” - -He looked as if he feared recent adventures had unsettled my intellect. - -“Your uniform, Dan,” I answered, but my countenance fell. - -“My--uniform.” - -Just like a man! He had forgotten the principal thing--next to seeing -mother, of course--that I had gone to Baltimore for. - -“Your uniform, Dan. I’ve got it on. Here it is,” and I lifted my -skirt and showed him my Balmoral. “Isn’t it a beautiful cloth? And I -have kept it just as nice--not a fleck of mud on it. And here are the -buttons on my cloak, and I have the gold lace in mother’s satchel, -and----” - -“Nell, dear, I haven’t time to talk about uniforms now. You will sleep -here to-night. To-morrow I will try to get a room for you at Mr. -Bradford’s. I will come in the morning or send you word what to do. -I am so sorry to go, but I can’t stay a minute longer. Good-by, my -darling.” - -I was waked the next morning by a voice under my window calling: - -“Miss Nell! O Miss Nell!” and looking out I saw Dan’s body-servant, -Sam, successor to poor Josh, who had died of smallpox. - -“Mars Dan say, I fotch his love to you, an’ tell you you git right on -dem nex’ kyars an’ go straight on ter Orange Court-house, case dar’s -too much fightin’ ’roun’ here. An’ he gwine notify you dar when you -kin come back. But he say dat if you hear dar’s fightin’ ’roun’ Orange -Court-house, den you go straight on ter Richmond, an’ don’t you stop -untwell you git dar.” - -“But I don’t want to go, Sam.” - -“But Mars Dan he say tell you p’intedly you mus’.” - -“Ain’t he coming to tell me good-by, Sam?” - -“Law, Miss Nell! how he gwine do dat when de Yankees is er--overrunnin’ -de whole yuth? What’s guine ter become uv de country ef de major leave -off fitten de Yankees to humorfy you?” - -I could not for the life of me, sad as my heart was, keep from laughing -at being taken to task by Sam. - -“Is it so bad as that, Sam?” - -“Yes’m, dat ’tis! Mars Dan say he ’fraid de Yankees git in de town hyer -fo’ night. De Yankees is er pressin’ we all close.” - -“I can’t see your master at all before I go, Sam?” - -“Law, Miss Nell; ain’t I done tole you dat? De country will go to de -dawgs ef de major stop fitten de Yankees to humorfy you.” - -“If your master gets hurt, Sam, will you get me word?” - -“Law, yes, Miss Nell! I sholy will.” - -“And you’ll take care of him, Sam?” - -“Dat’s jes what I gwine to do, Miss Nell. _Me_ lef’ de major ef he git -hu’t! shuh!” - -“Good-by, Sam. Tell your master I’m gone.” - -“Yes’m. He’ll sho be p’intedly glad ter heah dat!” - -Just fifteen minutes in which to catch the train. We threw things -pell-mell into our trunks--there was no vehicle to be had--paid a man -to drag them to the depot, and were on our way to Orange in less than -half an hour. And I had seen Dan, all told, perhaps fifteen minutes! - -At Orange we found everything in confusion, and everybody who could -get out leaving the town. The story went that the Yankee cavalry under -Stoneman would soon be in possession of it. We were glad enough to keep -our seats and go straight through to Richmond, and it was well that -we did, for behind us came Stoneman’s cavalry close on our heels and -tearing up bridges as they came. The railroad track at Trevillian’s was -torn up just after we passed over it. Richmond was in a state of great -excitement. Couriers were passing to and fro between the army and the -executive offices, stirring news kept pouring in, and the newspapers -were in a fever. Tidings from the first battle of the Wilderness began -coming in. Lee’s army and “Fighting Joe” Hooker’s were grappling with -each other there like tigers in a jungle. Stuart, our great cavalry -leader, had caught up Jackson’s mantle as it fell, and was riding -around in that valley of death, charging his men to “Remember Jackson!” -and singing in that cheery voice of his which only death could drown: -“Old Joe Hooker, won’t you Come Out of the Wilderness?” Then came news -of victory and Richmond was wild with joy and wild with woe as well. In -many homes were vacant chairs because of that battle in the Wilderness, -and from Petersburg, twenty miles away, came the sound of mourning, -Rachel weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted because -they were not. - -It was from Petersburg that I was summoned to Culpeper by Dan, who -felt that the army might have a long enough breathing spell there for -me to pay him at least a visit. When I got to Mr. Bradford’s, where he -had engaged board for me, I found General Stuart’s headquarters in the -yard. He and his staff were boarders at Mr. Bradford’s, and I ate at -the same table with the flower of the Southern cavalry. Unfortunately -for me, Dan’s command was stationed at a distance of several miles, and -I could not see as much of him as I had hoped. He met me the day of my -arrival, rode by once or twice, took one or two meals with me, and then -it seemed that for all I saw of him I might as well have remained in -Petersburg. - -My seat at table was next to that of General Stuart, and for -_vis-à-vis_ I had Colonel John Esten Cooke. Colonel Cooke was a glum -old thing, but General Stuart was so delightful that he compensated for -everything. In a short time I was completely at my ease with him, and -long before he left I had grown to love and trust him. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -MY COMRADE GENERAL JEB STUART - - -One day General Stuart asked me in a teasing way: - -“You wouldn’t really like to see Dan Grey, would you?” - -“Oh, but I would, general,” I said, in too dead earnest to give -raillery for raillery. - -“I don’t believe you really want to see Dan Grey.” - -“Well, I don’t, then,” a bit sullenly. - -“What a pity! You might see him now, if you really wanted to.” - -I wouldn’t notice such a frivolous remark. - -Dinner over, we went out on the veranda, as usual, and General Stuart -dropped into a chair beside me. - -“I really thought you rather liked Dan Grey, but it seems I was -mistaken. And you really don’t want to see him? Sad--I must tell him -and condole with him.” - -I tried to bury myself in a book I was reading, and to pay no -attention to him. A miserable old book it was--Children of the Abbey, -or something like it--that I had picked up somewhere at Mr. Bradford’s. -Hereafter, if I write “Aunt Sally’s” instead of Mr. Bradford’s, please -understand that one and the same place is meant. Aunt Sally was Mr. -Bradford’s wife, and I reckon the first term best describes the place. - -“You wouldn’t really rather have Dan Grey sitting here in this chair -beside you than me?” continued my tease. - -I lifted to him eyes wet with vexation and longing. - -“I’ll make you smile now!” he said. “_Do_ you want to see Dan?” - -“Yes, I do. I want to see him dreadfully, but I am not going to tell -you so again.” - -“You will if I command you to, won’t you? If you are in the cavalry I -am your superior officer, you know. I can even make Dan mind what I -say, can’t I? If you are refractory, I can command Dan to bring you to -terms.” - -“I’d like to see Dan do it! You may be commander-in-chief of the -cavalry, but you aren’t commander-in-chief of me--you or Dan either.” - -“It seems not,” he commented meekly. “You are the most insubordinate -little rebel I ever saw. I have a great mind to court-martial you--no, -I believe I’ll send for Dan and let him do it.” - -He called a courier, and wrote a despatch in regular form, ordering -Major Dan Grey to report at once to General Stuart. Then he added a -little private note to Dan which had for a postscript: - - “Sweet Nellie is by my side.” - -“That will bring him in a hurry!” laughed Stuart. - -The courier, not knowing but that the fate of the Confederacy depended -upon that despatch, put spurs to his horse, galloped down the road and -out of sight. I suppose he ran his horse all the way, and that Dan ran -his all the way back, for before General Stuart left the veranda Dan -galloped into the yard. - -“I’ll get the first kiss!” said General Stuart, still teasingly. - -He leaped from the porch and ran across the yard, I tearing after him. -I caught up and passed him, and looking back at him from Dan’s arms, -into which I had stumbled, breathless and panting, I laughed out: “I -can beat the Yankees getting out of your way!” - -Perhaps this race and General Stuart’s love of teasing may seem -undignified conduct for the chief of the Southern cavalry, but it is -history and it is fun, and those who knew him did not fail in respect -to Stuart. Many of us loved the ground he walked on. His boyish spirits -and his genial, sunny temperament helped to make him the idol of the -cavalry and the inspiration of his soldiers, and kept heart in them no -matter what happened. - -That was a lovely evening. General Stuart had Sweeny, his banjo-player, -in. Sweeny was a dignified, solemn-looking man, but couldn’t he play -merry tunes on that banjo, and sad ones too! making you laugh and cry -with his playing and his singing. - - “When the sad, chilly winds of December - Stole my flowers, my companions, from me.” - -That was one of his mournful favorites. And you heard the jingle of -spurs in his rollicking: - - “If you want a good time, - Jine the cavalry, - Bully boys, hey!” - -We called for “Old Joe Hooker, won’t you Come Out of the Wilderness?” -and “O Johnny Booker, help this Nigger!” and “O Lord, Ladies, don’t -you mind Stephen!” and “Sweet Evelina,” and--oh! I can’t remember them -all, but if you choose to read Esten Cooke, he will tell you all about -Sweeny’s songs and banjo. Stuart sang “The Dew is on the Blossom” and -“The Bugles sang Truce.” He made Sweeny give, twice over, “Sweet Nellie -is by my Side,” and sat himself down beside me, and tried to tease Dan -because he sat at table with me every day and Dan couldn’t. In spite -of everything I was very happy in those old days at the Bradfords’! I -was not yet out of my teens, you know; so I hope I was not very much -to blame because I was always ready for a romp across that lawn at -Mr. Bradford’s with the commander-in-chief of the Southern cavalry. -His was the gentlest, merriest, sweetest-tempered soul I ever knew. -He was always ready to sympathize with me, to tease me, and to help -me. Whenever he teased me out of conceit with myself or him, he always -would put me in a good humor by saying nice things about Dan, or -sending a courier after him. - -He had an idea that I was very plucky, and in after days when I was -ready to show the white feather, Dan would shame me by asking, “What -would General Stuart say?” - -Mr. Bradford and his wife, “Aunt Sally,” were characters. Mr. Bradford -was a very quiet, peaceable man; Aunt Sally was strong-minded, and had -a tongue and mind of her own. Mr. Bradford had a good deal of property -and stayed out of the army to take care of it. I think Aunt Sally made -him stay out of the war for this reason, but she made home about as -hot for him as the field would have been. I can’t think he stayed at -home to keep out of war, for he was in war all the time. Aunt Sally -continually twitted him with staying at home, although she made him -do it. She was always sure to do this when the table was filled with -Confederate officers. - -“The place for a _man_,” she would say, “is on the field. Just give me -the chance to fight! Just give me the chance to fight, and see where -I’ll be!” - -And General Stuart would convulse me by whispering: “I don’t think she -needs a chance to fight, do you?” - -Sometimes when Aunt Sally’s harangue would begin the general would -whisper, “Aunt Sally’s getting herself in battle array,” or “The -batteries have limbered up,” or “Aunt Sally’s scaled the breastworks,” -and Mr. Bradford’s meek and inoffensive face would make the situation -funnier. He would mildly help the boarders to the dish in front of -him and endeavor feebly to turn the conversation into a peaceful and -safe direction, though this never had the slightest effect upon his -belligerent wife. - -One day--it was about the time of Stuart’s historical grand review--Mr. -Bradford invited all the cavalry generals whose forces were stationed -around us to dine with the commander-in-chief of the cavalry. He would -never have dared to do this if Aunt Sally had been at home, but Aunt -Sally at this auspicious moment was in Washington, where we all hoped -the fortunes of war and shopping would keep her indefinitely. Her -niece, Miss Morse, and I sat down, the only ladies present, at a table -with eighteen Confederate generals. Miss Molly and I were at first a -trifle embarrassed at being the only ladies, but they were all refined -and well-bred, and soon put us at our ease. General Wade Hampton led -me in to dinner, and I sat between him and General Ramseur. General -Ramseur was young and exceedingly handsome, and a paralyzed arm which -was folded across his breast made him all the more attractive. - -“If you sit next me, Mrs. Grey,” he said with a little embarrassment, -“you will have to cut up my dinner for me. I am afraid that will be -putting you to a great deal of trouble. Perhaps I had better change my -seat.” - -“Oh, no!” I said, “I will be very glad--if I can be satisfactory.” - -He smiled. “Thank you. I am always both glad and sorry to impose upon -a lady this service. I am sorry, you know, to tax a lady with it, but -then, she always does it better than a man.” - -I had been studying his face, and now, for want of something more -sensible I said: - -“If I am to feed you, General Ramseur, I must measure your mouth.” - -It happened that there was dead silence at the table when this silly -speech of mine was made. Everybody was listening. - -“Madam,” said the handsome general, blushing and smiling, “I am -entirely willing that you should.” - -I caught a mischievous light in General Stuart’s merry eyes, and -blushed furiously. Then I followed his laugh, and the whole table -roared. - -“I will tell Dan Grey!” cried Stuart. - -“I will tell Dan Grey!” ran around the table like a chorus. - -But I fed my handsome general all the same. - -It was while I was at Mr. Bradford’s that one of the most stirring -events in Confederate history occurred. This was the trampling down of -John Minor Botts’s corn. Very good corn it was, dropped and hilled by -Southern negroes and growing on a large, fine plantation next to Mr. -Bradford’s; and a very nice gentleman Mr. Botts was, too; but a field -of corn, however good, and a private citizen, however estimable, are -scarcely matters of national or international importance. The trouble -was that John Minor Botts was on the Northern side and the corn was on -the Southern side, and that Stuart held a grand review on the Southern -side and the corn got trampled down. The fame of that corn went abroad -into all the land. Northern and Southern papers vied with each other -in editorials and special articles, families who had been friends for -generations stopped speaking and do not speak to this day because of -it, more than one hard blow was exchanged for and against it, and it -brought down vituperation upon Stuart’s head. And yet I was present -at that naughty grand review--afterward writ in letters of blood upon -hearts that reached from Virginia to Florida--and I can testify that -General Stuart went there to review the troops, _not_ to trample down -the corn. - -Afterward John Minor Botts came over to see General Stuart and to -quarrel about that corn. All that I can remember of how the general -took Mr. Botts’s visit and effort to quarrel was that Stuart wouldn’t -quarrel--whatever it was he said to Mr. Botts he got to laughing when -he said it. Our colored Abigail told us with bated breath that “Mr. -Botts ripped and rarred and snorted, but Genrul Stuart warn’t put out -none at all.” - -There had been many reviews that week, all of them merely by way of -preparation and practise for that famous grand review before the battle -of Brandy or Fleetwood, but it is only of this particular grand review -I have many lively memories. Aunt Sally was away, and we attended it in -state. Mr. Bradford had out the ancient and honorable family carriage -and two shadowy horses, relics of days when corn was in plenty and -wheat not merely a dream of the past, and we went in it to the review -along with many other carriages and horses, whose title to respect lay, -alas! solely in the past. - -That was a day to remember! Lee’s whole army was in Culpeper. -Pennsylvania and Gettysburg were before it, and the army was making -ready for invasion. On a knoll where a Confederate flag was planted and -surrounded by his staff sat General Lee on horseback; before him, with -a rebel yell, dashed Stuart and his eight thousand cavalry. There was -a sham battle. Charging and countercharging went on, rebels yelled and -artillery thundered. Every time the cannons were fired we would pile -out of our carriage, and as soon as the cannonading ceased we would -pile back again. General Stuart happened to ride up once just as we -were getting out. - -“Why don’t you ladies sit still and enjoy the fun?” he asked in -amazement. - -“We are afraid the horses might take fright and run away,” we answered. - -I shall never forget his ringing laugh. Our lean and spiritless steeds -had too little life in them to run for anything--they hardly pricked up -their ears when the guns went off. - -How well I remember Stuart as he looked that day! He wore a fine new -uniform, brilliant with gold lace, buff gauntlets reaching to his -elbows, and a canary-colored silk sash with tasseled ends. His hat, a -soft, broad-brimmed felt, was caught up at the side with a gold star -and carried a sweeping plume; his high, patent-leather cavalry boots -were trimmed with gold. He wore spurs of solid gold, the gift of some -Maryland ladies--he was very proud of those spurs--and his horse was -coal black and glossy as silk. And how happy he was--how full of faith -in the Confederacy and himself! - -My own cavalry officer was there, resplendent in his new uniform--I -had had it made up for him in Richmond. Dan was very proud of the way -I got that uniform. He was almost ready to credit himself with having -put me up to running the blockade! He told General Stuart its history, -and that is how a greatness not always easy to sustain had been thrust -upon me. General Stuart thought me very brave--or said he thought so. -The maneuvers of Dan’s command were on such a distant part of the -field that I could not see him well with the naked eye, and General -Stuart lent me his field-glasses. The next morning, just as gray dawn -was breaking, some one called under my window, and gravel rattled -against the pane. I got up and looked out sleepily. My first thought -was that it might be Dan. There was not enough light for me to see very -well what was happening on the lawn, but I could make out that the -cavalry were mounted and moving, and under my window I saw a figure on -horseback. - -“Is that Mrs. Grey?” - -“Yes. What is the matter?” - -“General Stuart sent me for his field-glasses. I am sorry to disturb -you, but it couldn’t be helped.” - -I tied a string around the glasses and lowered them. - -“What’s the matter? Where is the cavalry going?” - -“To Brandy Station. Reckon we’ll have some hot fighting soon,” and the -orderly wheeled and rode away. - -I stayed up and dressed, and thought of Dan, and wished I could know if -he was to be in the coming engagement, and that I could see him first. -But I didn’t see him all day. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -“WHOSE BUSINESS ’TIS TO DIE” - - -In forty-eight hours we knew that the surmise of the orderly was -correct--there was enough fighting. The first cannon-ball which tore -through the air at Brandy was only too grave assurance of the fact. -All day men were hurrying past the house, deserters from both armies -getting away from the scene of bloodshed and thunder as quickly as -possible. Then came the procession of the dead and wounded, some in -ambulances, some in carts, some on the shoulders of friends. - -In the afternoon we began to hear rumors giving names of the killed -and wounded. I listened with my heart in my throat for Dan’s name, but -I did not hear it. I heard no news whatever of him all day--all day I -could only hope that no news was good news, and all day that ghastly -procession dragged heavily by. Among names of those killed I heard of -Colonel Sol Williams. A day or two before the battle of Brandy he had -returned from a furlough to Petersburg, where he had gone to marry a -lovely woman, a friend of mine. The day before he was killed he had sat -at table with me, chatting pleasantly of mutual friends at home from -whom he had brought messages, brimful of happiness, and of the charming -wife he had won! As the day waned I sat in my room, wretched and -miserable, thinking of my friend who was at once a wife and a widow, -and fearing for myself, whose husband even at that moment might be -falling under his death wound. I was aroused by hearing the voices of -men, subdued but excited, on the stairway leading to my room. I ran out -and saw several men of rank and Mr. Bradford on the stairway talking -excitedly, and I heard my name spoken. - -“What’s the matter, gentlemen?” I asked with forced calmness. - -They looked up at me in a stupid, masculine sort of way, as if they -had something disagreeable to say and didn’t want to say it. I could -shake those men now, when I think of how stupid they were! They were -listening to Mr. Bradford, and I don’t think they really caught my -question, nor did my manner betray to them how fast my heart was -beating, but they were stupid, nevertheless. I could hardly get the -next words out: - -“Is Dan hurt?” - -This time my voice was so low that they did not hear it at all. - -“For God’s sake, gentlemen,” I cried out, “tell me if my husband is -wounded or dead.” - -“Neither, madam!” several voices answered instantly, and the officer -nearest me, thinking I was going to fall, sprang quickly to my side. -I gathered myself together, and they told me their business, and I -saw why my presence had embarrassed them--they wanted my room for the -wounded. A funny thing had happened, incongruous as it was, in their -telling me that my fears for Dan were groundless. When I asked, “Is Dan -hurt?” one of them had answered, “No, ma’am; it’s General Rooney Lee;” -and I had said, “Thank God!” I can’t describe the look of horror with -which they heard me. - -“These gentlemen,” began Mr. Bradford, who was always afraid to speak -his mind, “wanted to bring General Lee here, and I didn’t have a place -to put him, and I was telling ’em that I thought that--maybe--you would -give him your room. I could fix up a lounge for you somewhere.” - -“Of course I will! I shall be delighted to give up my room, or do -anything else I can for General Lee.” - -I busied myself getting my room ready for General “Rooney,” but he was -not brought to Mr. Bradford’s, after all; his men were afraid that he -might be captured too easily at Mr. Bradford’s. As night came on the -yard filled up with soldiers. In the lawn, the road, the backyard, the -porches, the outhouses, everywhere, there were soldiers. You could not -set your foot down without putting it on a soldier; if you thrust your -hand out of a window you touched a soldier’s back or shoulder, his -carbine or his musket. The place was crowded not only with cavalry, but -with infantry and artillery, and still they kept on coming. I had not -heard from Dan. It was late supper-time. I had no heart for supper, -and I felt almost too shaken to present myself at the table, but as I -passed the dining-room in my restless rovings I saw General Stuart’s -back, and went in and sat by him. - -“General,” I said, “can you tell me anything of Dan?” - -“He is neither killed nor wounded. I know that much. Is not that -enough?” - -“Yes, thank God! - -“Oh, general! I wish this war was over!” I said again. - -“I, too, my child!” He spoke with more than Stuart’s sadness and -gravity, then, remembering himself, he added quickly in his own cheery -fashion, “But we’ve got to whip these Yankees first!” - -He finished his cup of coffee (the kind in common use, made of corn -which had been roasted, parched, and ground), and then went on telling -me about Dan. - -“He has borne himself gallantly, as he always does, and as you know -without my telling you. I don’t know where he is, but he will be along -presently.” - -And at that moment Dan walked in, without a coat, and with the rest of -that new uniform a perfect fright. He was covered with dust and ashes -and gunpowder, and he looked haggard and jaded. He sat down between -General Stuart and me, too tired to talk; but after eating some supper, -he felt better, and began discussing the battle and relating some -incidents. He took a card out of his pocket and handed it to General -Stuart. - -“A Federal officer who is about done for, poor fellow, handed me that -just now. I don’t know the name. He couldn’t talk.” - -“_I_ do!” General Stuart exclaimed, with quick, strong interest. “Where -did you see him? This is the name of one of my classmates at West -Point.” - -“I saw him on the roadside as I came on to supper. While riding along -I heard a strange sound, something like a groan, yet different from -any groan I ever heard--the strangest, most uncanny sound imaginable. -I dismounted and began to look around for it, and I found a Yankee -soldier lying in a ditch by the roadside. I couldn’t see that any -legs or arms were broken, nor that he was wounded at all. I felt him -all over, and asked what was the matter. He didn’t speak, and I saw -that he had been trying to direct my attention to his face. He tried -very hard to speak, but only succeeded in emitting the strange sound -I had heard before; and on examining his face closely, and moving the -whiskers aside, I found that he was shot through both jaws. He made the -same noise again, put his hand in his pocket, and gave me this card, -with another pitiful effort to speak. I put my coat under his head, -laid some brush across the ditch to hide him, and promised to go back -for him in an ambulance.” - -“Thank you, in my own behalf!” General Stuart said warmly. - -“Perhaps, poor fellow,” said Dan, “he took chances on that card’s -reaching you. Seeing my uniform of major of cavalry, he may not have -considered it impossible that you should hear of his condition through -me.” - -“When you have finished your supper, major, we will go after him.” - -Tired as they both were, they went out and attended personally to -the relief of the poor fellow by the roadside. General Stuart had -everything done for him that was possible, smoothed his last moments, -and grieved over him as deeply as if his classmate had not been his -enemy. - -Another sad thing among the sorrows of that supper was when Colonel Sol -Williams’s brother-in-law, John Pegram, came in, and sat down in our -midst. General Stuart went up to him, and wrung his hand in a silence -that even the dauntless Stuart’s lips were too tremulous at once to -break. When he could speak he said: - -“I grieve for myself as for you, lieutenant, but it was a death that -any one of us might be proud to die.” - -Even then the shadow and glory of his own death was not far from him. - -Colonel Williams had been Lieutenant Pegram’s superior officer as well -as brother-in-law. It had been his sorrowful lot to take the body of -his colonel on his horse in front of him, and carry it to a house where -it could be reverently cared for until he could send it home to bride -and kindred. He had cut a lock of hair from the dead, and when the -troops went off to Pennsylvania, he gave it to me for his sister. I -shall never forget that supper hour, or how the unhappy young fellow -looked when he came in among us after his ride with the dead, and I -shall never forget how I felt about that poor young Federal soldier -who was wounded in the jaws and couldn’t speak, and how I felt about -the women who loved him far away; I began to feel that war was an -utterly unjustifiable thing, and that the virtues of valor, loyalty, -devotion which it brings out had better be brought out some other way. -If General Rooney Lee didn’t take my room, I gave it up all the same. -Two wounded men were put into it. There were a number of wounded men -in the house, and, of course, everybody gave way to their comfort. All -but my two were removed in a day or two, but here these two were, and -here they were when Aunt Sally came home. Her homecoming was after a -fashion that turned our mourning into righteous and wholesome wrath. -We were sitting on the porch one afternoon, free and easy in our minds -and believing Aunt Sally away in distant Washington, when we noted a -small object far off down the road. As it crawled nearer and nearer -we perceived that it was an ox-cart; we saw the driver, and behind him -somebody else sitting on a trunk. - -“Good gracious! that’s Aunt Sally!” cried Mr. Bradford in consternation. - -We were all dreadfully sorry, but it couldn’t be helped. - -She climbed off the cart at the gate, and called for some negro to come -get her trunk. Mr. Bradford had already found one, and was running -to the rescue. In fact he had been running in a half dozen different -directions ever since he had spied Aunt Sally. He looked as if his wits -had left him and as if he were racing around in a circle. - -“You orter been on hand to he’p me off o’ that kyart,” she told him. -“It do look like when a man’s wife’s been away this long time he might -be on hand to he’p her off the kyart.” - -As she came up the walk she said the yard looked awful torn and -“trompled down”; that she was afraid she would find it so soon as she -heard that the place had been camping ground for the whole army and -her away and nobody there to manage the army as she could have done. -She greeted me and her niece, and in the same breath told her niece -that there was some mud on the steps which ought to be washed off. Then -she went into the house, taking off her things and remarking on “things -that ought to be done.” Presently there was a great stir in the house; -she had found out the wounded men. She commented on their presence in -such a loud voice that we heard it on the porch, and the men themselves -must have heard it. - -“Just like Mr. Bradford! If I had been here it wouldn’t have happened. -The idea! Turning the house into a hospital! I won’t have it! Nobody -knows who they are. I can’t have ’em on my best beds, and between my -best sheets and blankets. Dirty, common soldiers! I never heard of such -a thing!” - -And she got them out before supper. - -There was an office in the yard and she had them taken to this. -They had to be carried past us, and I can see them now, poor, -mortified, shame-faced fellows! I was as afraid of Aunt Sally as of a -rattlesnake, but I think I could have shaken her then! - -Little it was that I saw of Dan or any of my army friends after the -battle of Brandy. The cavalry was too busy watching Hooker’s, while -our infantry was pushing on toward Pennsylvania, to spare any time to -lighter matters. Every day the boys in gray marched by on their way -North. - -I watched from the porch and windows if by any means I might catch -sight of Dan. But his way did not lie by Bradford’s. One morning, -however, I saw General Stuart riding by at the head of a large command. -I thought they were going to stop and camp at Mr. Bradford’s, perhaps, -but I was mistaken. As soon as I saw that they were going by without -stopping, I ran to the fence and beckoned to General Stuart. He had -seen me on the porch, and rode up to the fence at once. - -“Aren’t you going to stop at all?” I asked. - -“Not to-day. In fact we’re off for some time now.” - -“Is Dan going?” - -“Yes. He’s ahead now with General Chambliss.” - -“Am I not to see him at all, General Stuart?” I said, trying hard to -keep my lip from quivering--I had a reputation to keep up with him. - -But he saw the quiver. - -“You can go on with the army if you want to,” he said in quick -sympathy. “I will give you an ambulance. You can carry your own maid -along, have your own tent, and have your husband with you. I will do -anything I can for your comfort. You would nurse our poor fellows when -they get hurt, and be no end of good to us. But it would be awfully -hard on you.” - -“I wouldn’t mind the hardships,” I answered, “but you know Dan won’t -let me go. I have begged him several times to let me live in camp with -him. I could nurse the sick and wounded, and take care of him if he -was shot, and I wouldn’t be a bit of trouble; and I could patch for -the soldiers. Oh, I’d love to do it! If you come up with him, General -Stuart, ask him to let me go, and if he says yes, send the ambulance.” - -“I’ll promise him what I promised you,” he said, smiling kindly. -“Good-by now. I’ll ride on and send him back to say good-by to you, if -I can manage it. Then you can talk him into letting you come with us.” - -I climbed up on the fence to shake hands with him and to say good-by, -and I had another word for him. Beneath my dress and next my skin was a -little Catholic medal which had been blessed by my confessor. It hung -around my neck by a slender chain. I unclasped the chain, drew forth -the medal and gave it to him, my eyes brimming with tears. - -“It has been blessed by Father Mulvey,” I said. “Wear it about your -neck. Maybe it will bring you back safe.” - -I was leaning upon the horse’s neck, crying as if my heart would break. -General Stuart’s own eyes were dim. - -“Good-by,” I said, “and if you can send Dan back I thank you for us -both--I thank you anyway for thinking of it; but--the South and his -duty first. Good-by, and God bless you, General Stuart!” - -That was the last time I ever saw him, the last time that knightly -hand clasped mine. Before he rode away he said some cheerful, hopeful -words, and looked back at me with the glint of merry mischief in his -eyes, threatening to tell Dan Grey that I was losing my good repute -for bravery. Dan did not come back to say good-by. I had a little note -which he contrived to send me in some way. It was only a hasty scrawl, -full of good-bys and God bless yous. - -After saying good-by to General Stuart I returned to the house. Esten -Cooke sat at a table writing. He was preparing some official papers for -General Stuart, I think, and had been left behind for that purpose. I -understood him to answer one of my questions to the effect that he was -going to follow the cavalry presently. - -“Colonel Cooke,” I asked humbly enough, for I was ready then to take -information and advice from anybody, “how long do you think it will be -before the army comes back?” - -“Can’t say, madam.” - -“Would you advise me to wait here until its return?” - -“Can’t say, madam.” - -“Would you advise me to go to Richmond?” - -“Madam, I would advise you to go to Richmond.” - -“You think then it will be some time before the army returns?” - -“I can’t say, madam?” - -I felt like shaking him and asking: “What _can_ you say?” He may have -been a brave soldier and written nice books and all that, but I think -John Esten Cooke was a very dull, disagreeable man. - -I waited several days, but as I got nothing further from Dan than the -little note--which was bare of advice because, perhaps, he didn’t have -time to write more, and because he may not have known how to advise -me--I took John Esten Cooke’s advice and went to Richmond. I stopped -there only a very short time, and then went on to Petersburg, where -mother was. Reunion with her was compensation for many troubles, and -then, too, she needed me. She had not heard from Milicent since my -departure for Culpeper. Then a letter had reached us through the agency -of Mr. Cridland, in which Milicent had stated her purpose of coming to -us as soon as she could get a pass--a thing it was every day becoming -more difficult to secure--for she was determined upon reaching us -before the cold weather came again. Since that letter there had been -absolute silence. - -Then came upon us that awful July of 1863, and the battle of -Gettysburg, the beginning of the end. Virginians fell by hundreds -in that fight, and Pickett’s charge goes down to history along with -Balaklava and Thermopylæ. There were more vacant chairs in Virginia, -already desolate--there were more broken hearts for which Heaven alone -held balm. “When Italy’s made, for what good is it done if we have not -a son?” Again the angel of death had passed me by. But my heart bled -for my friends who were dead on that red field far away--for my friends -who mourned and could not be comforted. - -One of our wounded, whose father brought him home to be nursed, bore -to me a letter from my husband and a package from General Stuart. The -package contained a photograph of himself that he had promised me, and -a note, bright, genial, merry, like himself. That picture is hanging -on my wall now. On the back is written by a hand long crumbled into -dust, “To her who in being a devoted wife did not forget to be a true -patriot.” The eyes smile down upon us as I lift my little granddaughter -up to kiss my gallant cavalier’s lips, and as she lisps his name my -heart leaps to the memory of his dauntless life and death. - -He was shot one beautiful May morning in 1864 while trying to prevent -Sheridan’s approach to Richmond. It was at Yellow Tavern--a dismantled -old tavern not many miles from the Confederate capital--that he fell, -and Colonel Venable, who was serving with him at the time and near him -when he fell, helped, if I remember aright, to shroud him. When he told -me what he could of General Stuart’s last hours, he said: - -“There was a little Catholic medal around his neck, Nell. Did you give -him that? We left it on him.” - -And so passes from this poor history my beloved and loyal friend, my -cavalry hero and good comrade. Virginia holds his dust sacred, and -in history he sits at the Round Table of all true-souled and gentle -knights. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -RESCUED BY THE FOE - -_Milicent’s arrest in Washington as related by herself._ - - -I passed May and a part of the summer of 1863 in fruitless efforts to -get a pass to Virginia. This was when the Civil War was at its whitest -heat, and I was in the city of Baltimore, where a word was construed -into treason, and messages and letters were contrived to and from the -South only by means of strategy. One by one my plans failed. Then -came the battle of Gettysburg, and as I heard of our reverses I felt -an almost helpless lethargy stealing over me--as if I should never -see Nell or mother again. How long the war would last, and what would -be the end of it none could tell. Nell and mother were in a besieged -country, and the blockade between us seemed an impassable wall. The -long silence was becoming unbearable as I slowly realized that it might -become the silence of death and I not know. - -At last came news which I thought affected them, and which startled me -into instant energy. - -One morning my friend, Miss Barnett, a beautiful girl, rushed into my -room, and, throwing herself on the floor beside me, began telling me -with sobs and tears that my brother-in-law, Major Grey, or his brother -Dick, was a prisoner in the Old Capitol at Washington. She begged me -to go at once and see what I could do. If I could not find some way of -helping the prisoner to freedom, I could at least add to his comfort in -prison. - -“You could at least show him that he was remembered,” she said. -“You could take some little delicacies which would be grateful to a -prisoner. I will help you to get them up.” - -Poor Isabelle! It was one of the tragedies of the war. She was too -wretched to attempt any concealment. - -“You see, if I had any right to go myself I would not ask you to go for -me. If I were even engaged to him--but I am not. You see, it couldn’t -be. But, O Millie! I wish there wasn’t any war that I might be my -love’s betrothed and go to him!” - -For a minute her proposition daunted me. To rush into Washington, a -Southern woman, alone and unprotected; to be surrounded on all sides -by the Government officials and spies whose business it was to watch -and report every careless word and act of any one who was known to -be interested in the South or in Southerners--the undertaking seemed -desperate. But there were Isabelle’s tearful eyes, and there was the -fear that Nell’s husband might be the prisoner. I determined to make -the trip at all hazards. - -Together we made purchases of what we considered the most tempting -delicacies to take to an invalid or prisoner. There were cheeses, -crackers, oranges, lemons, jellies; and we did not forget to add to our -stock wine, whisky, pipes, and tobacco. Isabelle herself sent a box -of fine cigars, a costly gift, for the war with the Southern States -affected the price of tobacco. - -The next morning I started off by myself to Washington in fear and -trembling. Taking a hack there, and trusting to a kind Providence for -guidance and protection, I drove first to the office of the provost -marshal for a permit. On entering his office, to my consternation I -recognized in him the judge-advocate under whose protection our truce -boat had gone to Richmond not many months before with the distinct -understanding that her passengers were not to return from Dixie while -the war lasted. But it was too late to retreat. Rallying all my courage -and self-control I greeted him as a stranger, asking whether or not I -was addressing Judge Turner. Answered in the affirmative, I requested -permission to visit the prisoners in the Old Capitol. - -While I was talking he looked up and a glance almost of recognition -lighted his face. It was succeeded by a more scrutinizing regard as I -stood in perfectly assumed unconsciousness before him. Bowing, he asked -me to be seated, and to repeat my petition. Others were waiting their -turn, and his answer was prompt: - -“Certainly, madam. You can see the two prisoners mentioned, or any one -you wish, and take with you what you please.” - -An easy job certainly! - -My heart grew light; I arose to go, thanking the judge cordially. - -He said: “One moment, madam.” - -I went back, and he handed me a pen, ink, and slip of paper, saying: - -“Just sign this, please. It is of no consequence at all--a mere matter -of form--only you can not see your friends without it.” - -There spread out before me was the ironclad oath! - -Without a moment’s hesitation I replied: - -“The oath, Judge Turner! Am I to sign that? I can not! and never will!” - -He smiled apologetically and said: - -“It is of no consequence--only a little form that we have to insist on. -Sign it, and you can go to your friends.” - -“If it is of no consequence to your side, provost, why should it be of -so much to mine that I can not see my friends without it?” - -He smiled, and still held the pen out to me. - -“No! never!” I said. - -“Then I can not help you. I am sorry. You must apply at military -headquarters.” - -He kindly directed me to the same. I hurried down the steps, jumped -into my hack, and drove quickly to the War Department. Here I made my -request again and again met with the same polite consent backed with -the oath. Again I refused and turned to go, when one of the officers -kindly suggested: - -“Make application to the officer at the Old Capitol. He may permit you -to see the prisoners without oath, though I fear not.” - -As there was not much time left before my train would start for -Baltimore, I urged my driver to do his best, and we sped on in haste -until we stopped before the gloomy, formidable-looking prison of the -Old Capitol. With the permission of the guard I entered. The officer in -command received me with kindness and courtesy, and with his consent I -was about to ascend the stairs when he extended his hand, saying: - -“The oath, if you please. I presume you took it at the War Department, -and have your pass.” - -Again I was foiled. This was my last chance. There was no use -pleading, and I was in despair. I leaned on a chair to rest a moment -before leaving the room, defeated. I had not a word to say, and I did -not say a word. I suppose my deep dejection touched him. I was about to -go when he said with great kindness: - -“Wait here near these steps. I will send up an order, and if he is -there, he can come to the railing and you can speak to him, and send -him anything you wish. But you can not go up.” - -An orderly ascended with the message, and I waited at the steps, -watching anxiously for Dan or Dick to appear at the railing. I did not -have many minutes to wait. The orderly returned with the reply that -Lieutenant--not Major--Grey had been exchanged that very morning, and -was now on his way home. Happy for Nell and Isabelle and myself, I -poured out my thanks to the officer in command for helping me to such -good news, and asked his permission to send the large basket of good -things I had brought to the other prisoners. He gave it, and I saw the -orderly again mount the stairs, burdened this time with good wishes -and my still more substantial and acceptable offering. As I went out, -passing again through the prison gates, my driver whispered in the most -excited manner: - -“Lady! lady! do take care! The prisoners are all at the windows, and if -you look up or speak to them we will both be arrested instantly.” - -I seated myself quickly, and then, in spite of all fears and warnings, -glanced up, to see the windows filled with faces, and hands and -handkerchiefs waving to me inside the bars. As we dashed forward, I -leaned out of the window waving my handkerchief in vigorous response. -In the excitement, the enthusiasm of the moment, I lost all sense -of fear or danger--my whole heart was with those desolate, homesick -Confederates behind the bars. Fortunately the driver was frightened out -of his wits and drove like mad, or we should never have gotten to the -train in time. - -I had been fortunate enough to find in my driver a strong, if secret, -sympathizer with the South. As I bade him good-by, and thanked him for -the care and promptness with which he had carried me about, and for -his unheeded warning as well, he said: - -“Oh, lady, lady, you ran a great risk when you waved that handkerchief! -I saw it and drove as fast as I could to get you away from there. It is -a wonder we were not arrested.” - -I stepped on the car, and was taking my seat, when a hand lightly -touched my shoulder from behind, and I heard myself arrested by a name -that was not mine. Behind me stood a sergeant in the United States -uniform, who informed me that I was his prisoner. - -I tried to shrink away from him. - -“That is not my name,” I said. - -Still he kept that light grip on my shoulder. I felt sick. The day -had been a long one of exercise and excitement. I had eaten nothing -since my early breakfast of a cracker and a cup of coffee, and I was -physically weak. The terror of the situation, the full foolhardiness -of my undertaking flashed upon me. Alone in Washington, not a friend -near, and under arrest! For an instant everything whirled around me, -and I fell back against the breast of the sergeant; but as instantly I -pulled myself together and stood erect. - -“You are mistaken,” I said quietly, “I am not the person you have -mentioned.” - -And I threw back my heavy mourning veil and looked my captor full in -the face. - -“Ain’t you? It’s widow’s weeds this time!” - -These words were spoken sarcastically by a man in civilian dress who -was with the sergeant--a detective, I suppose. - -“I am Mrs. Milicent Duncan Norman, of Baltimore,” I said firmly. “You -can telegraph to No. -- Charles Street and see. You will please remove -your hand,” I continued. “If necessary I will go with you, but I am not -the person you wish to arrest. You are making a mistake.” - -I turned my face full to the light, and stood, calm and composed, -though my knees were trembling under me, and I felt as if I should -faint. I saw Bobby at home waiting for me! - -“I must stay over if you insist,” I repeated, “but I hope you will -permit me to convince you of your mistake. It would be extremely -inconvenient to me to be detained here. I left Baltimore this morning, -and my little boy has been without me all day. He will cry himself sick -if I don’t get home to-night.” - -In spite of all I could do my lips quivered. - -“I am sorry, madam,” said my sergeant, more respectfully than he had -hitherto spoken, “but you will have to come with me. If it is as you -say, you can telegraph and satisfy the authorities very quickly.” - -My arrest had attracted some attention. I saw that people in the car -were gathering around me, and I saw curiosity in some faces, sympathy -in some, but among all those faces none that I knew. This was my first -visit to Washington, and there was not a soul to identify me. There was -nothing to do but to go and telegraph--if they would let me. I would -have to miss my train. Bobby was watching from the window for me this -very minute--Bobby would cry all night. I told the sergeant that I -would go, and tried to follow him, and then everything grew dark around -me, my head whirled, and I dropped across the seat nearest me. - -I could not have been unconscious more than a second. The kind -gentleman over whose seat I had fallen had caught me, and was slapping -my face with a wet handkerchief, and assuring the sergeant that he knew -by my face that I was perfectly harmless and ought not to be arrested, -that he would bet anything on it, when a new passenger hurriedly -entered the car and brushed squarely up against us. - -The sergeant was saying: “We must hurry,” and offering me his arm very -courteously. “You will feel better when you get out in the air. And you -will perhaps come out all right, and be able to go on to-morrow.” - -The newcomer looked over the sergeant’s shoulder and saw me. - -“Milicent!” he said, and clasped my hands. - -It was a dear friend whom I had known in my girlhood days as Captain -Warren. - -“What is all this?” he asked quickly of the sergeant. - -The sergeant was staggered, the little man in civilian’s clothes -cringed, the old man who had offered to bet on me was in the majority. - -“We must get out of this, commodore,” said the sergeant quickly, “the -car is moving.” - -The commodore got out with us, lifted me bodily off the train, and -then, as we stood together, while the sergeant explained, supported me -with his arm. I was too weak and ill to hear their talk. I think I was -very nearly in a faint while I stood, or tried to stand upright beside -him. - -He told me afterward that I had been arrested by mistake for some -famous political spy in petticoats. He answered for me, made himself -responsible in every way, lifted me into a carriage, and told the -driver where to take us. I was too nearly dead to listen to what he -said. As the carriage whirled along I tried to sit up, to lift my head, -but every time I attempted it I grew blind and sick. - -“I would not try to sit up just yet, Mrs. Norman,” he said very kindly. -“In a few minutes, perhaps, you can do so without risk, but I’d be very -quiet now. In a little while I will hand you over to my wife--she is a -wonderful nurse.” - -“My little boy is looking out of the window for me, waiting for me; he -has been by himself all day,” I sobbed. - -“Ah! I am so sorry you have had this annoyance and detention. I wish I -had boarded the car earlier; you should have gone on if I had. I was -outside talking with some friends, and I did not jump on the train -until she was about to move off, but I can telegraph to your friends, -and you can go on to-morrow.” - -The ride in the open air had revived me, and I found now that I could -sit up without fainting. - -“_You_ were going to Baltimore to-night,” I said. “I am putting you to -so much trouble.” - -“None at all. And if you were”--with a tremor in his voice--“I should -be glad of it. _Can_ you sit up? Ah! I am so glad you are better. When -I first took you into this carriage I was afraid I would have to stop -with you at the first doctor’s office. We are nearly home now.” - -“You are very good,” I said, still too weak not to speak with tears in -my voice. - -“I am fortunate--but too much at your expense, I am afraid. You forget -how large my debt is. I shall never forget the old days in Norfolk and -the kindness that was shown me by you and yours. I owe you a great -deal, Mrs. Norman, as yourself and as your father’s daughter. I shall -never forget his charming hospitality. I am sorry you can’t go on to -Baltimore, but I am glad of my opportunity.” - -“That is a nice way to put it, commodore.” - -“A true way to put it, Mrs. Norman. Please don’t be too sorry. Where is -Nell?--Mrs. Grey, I suppose I should say. I can’t think of the saucy -little fairy who used to sit on my knee as a madam.” - -“I don’t know just where Nell is, or how. The fortunes of war have -separated me from her, and mother as well.” - -“And you are alone, without kindred, in Baltimore?” - -“Yes, except my baby. I wish you could see Bobby--he is so sweet!” - -“He must be.” - -“He has Nell’s eyes and her golden curls--you remember?” - -“Too well!” - -“And her saucy sweet ways--wilful and almost bad--if he were not so -sweet and true. But I tire you. Mothers who talk about their babies -bore people. I make many good resolves not to talk Bobby, and, break -every one.” - -“You could never tire me. I am charmed to hear about your boy. Maybe -you can find him a little sweetheart in my house. Here we are.” - -He lifted me out of the carriage and led me into the house. - -“This is an old friend of mine, dear,” he said to his wife. “She is -sick and in trouble, and I have brought her to you. Her father’s home -used to be my home in Norfolk. Mrs. Norman is Miss Duncan that was.” - -She had heard of me. He began to explain how he had met me, but she -interrupted. - -“I will come back and hear,” she said, “when I have made Mrs. Norman -comfortable. She looks worn-out. I must take her to her room and see -what I can do to make her more at ease.” While she was talking she had -me in a chair, holding my hand, and giving me a glass of wine. - -Commodore Warren took my Baltimore address, and went out saying he -would send the telegrams at once--a special one to Bobby all by himself. - -Then Mrs. Warren saw me to my room. As we passed through hallways and -up the stairs, our feet sank into soft, thick carpets that gave back no -sound. Through an open doorway I caught a glimpse of her own exquisite -chamber and of a cozy nursery where children’s gowns were laid out for -the night. Everywhere around me were evidences of wealth, luxury, and -refinement. - -After a little rest I felt better. - -As I went down to dinner I heard the street door open, and Commodore -Warren’s voice in the hall. - -Then children’s voices: - -“Papa! papa!” - -He was taking his children in his arms and kissing them, and I heard -the glad murmur of his wife’s welcome. - -Together they took me in to their table, and showered upon me -courtesies and loving-kindness. Such a delightful dining-room it -was--such lovely appointments and such perfect serving! and such -charming hosts they made! The children are beautiful and well trained. -They were brought into the parlor after dinner, and made great friends -with me. You know children always like me, Nell. This trio took -possession of me. They hovered around me, leaned against me, climbed -into my lap, and the youngest went to sleep in my arms, her soft golden -head nestled under my chin. We decided that she is to be Bobby’s -sweetheart. Their parents were afraid that I was not strong enough for -such demonstrations, but I begged that they would not interrupt the -little people, whose caresses really did me a world of good. But the -commodore called the nurse when the baby dropped to sleep, and she took -it to the nursery, the other children following her. By this time I was -quite myself. A telegram had come from Isabelle, saying she was with -Bobby and that Bobby was comforted. - -Commodore and Mrs. Warren suggested that we should go to the opera. -It was rather late to start, but the carriage would take us in a few -minutes, and we should not miss more than the first act. A great singer -was to be heard, and the commodore remembered that I was fond of music. -When I objected on the score that I was not in opera dress and that my -wardrobe was in Baltimore, they explained that they kept a private box, -and that I could hear without being distinctly visible--if I was not -too fatigued to think of going. - -“Oh, no!” I said. “You know I love opera, and, thanks to you both, I am -entirely rested and comfortable about Bobby.” - -Mrs. Warren ran up-stairs to dress while the carriage was being made -ready. As for me, there was nothing to do but to put on my bonnet and -cloak, so I sat still, and Commodore Warren drew up a chair in front of -the sofa where I sat. - -“This is like old times,” he said. - -I tried to keep them back, but somehow I felt the tears starting to my -eyes. - -He got up and walked to the other end of the room, and brought a book -of drawings of queer places and people he had seen in his journeys -around the world. While he was showing them to me he remarked: - -“I’ve a box somewhere of curious toys picked up in various parts of the -world at different times, and I think Master Bobby would be interested -in them. We’ll get Mrs. Warren to look it up, and I’ll ask you to -be kind enough to take it to him with my compliments. It may--in a -measure--recompense him for his mother’s absence to-night.” - -“Bobby will be delighted--if he is not robbing your children.” - -“My children,” he laughed, “have a surfeit of toys from the four -corners of the earth. They have almost lost appreciation of such -things. By the way, has Nell”--he caught himself with a laugh--“Mrs. -Grey, I should say, any little ones of her own?” - -“Bobby is the only baby in the family; but he is enough to go around.” - -“I remember with profound gratitude the many expressions I used to -receive of Nell’s regard in those old days, and seeing you brings them -back. Oh, forgive me--I know there have been many changes.” - -“Don’t apologize,” I said, smiling; “I am always glad to have old days -and old friends recalled. Usually it does not shake me even to talk -about father--it’s a pleasure to think people remember him. In the -first part of this evening I had not quite recovered from my arrest. -But Richard is himself again now. I haven’t forgotten how to be happy, -and I’m going to enjoy this opera.” And I did enjoy it. - -Mrs. Warren took me to my train in her carriage; and there he met us to -say good-by to me, and to tell me that he would see that I had a pass -to Norfolk in a day or two. They both saw me comfortably seated, and -after farewells were said and he had seen his wife to her carriage he -stepped back on the cars with a handful of flowers for me. - -“Is there nothing,” he asked, “nothing that I can do for you? If you -are ever in any trouble when I can help you, won’t you let me know?” - -I bowed my head. - -“And Bobby--if there is ever anything I can do for your child, you will -let me know?” - -“Good-by,” he said, “it is good to meet old friends and find that -neither time nor war changes them. Good-by--we shall see you again some -day.” - -Isabelle was very happy when I told her that Dick was safe, and now -that it was over she regretted having sent me into such dangers and -tribulations. - -“I ought to have gone,” she said. “I could have taken the oath, you -see, if they had asked me. And then, well, papa is known there, but--I -couldn’t ask papa to help Dick. He wouldn’t have done anything for -him.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -WITH DAN AT CHARLOTTESVILLE - - -Milicent always came as a soul comes. - -The day after we got the batch of letters the door opened softly, and -there she stood, holding Bobby by the hand. She had come so quietly -that we did not know it until she stood in our midst. But Bobby was a -veritable piece of flesh and blood. As soon as he saw it was grandma -and auntie, he made a bound for us, and overwhelmed us with his noisy -and affectionate greetings, while his mother submitted to being loved -and kissed, and in her quiet way loved and kissed back again. Then she -told us how she had come from Norfolk to Petersburg. It was a long, -dreary trip. - -“I went on a flag-of-truce train to Suffolk. Dr. Wright’s family were -on the train, and I spent the night with them. Bobby burned his throat -at supper by swallowing tea too hot for him, and he did not rest -well in the early part of the night and slept late the next day, and -I was very anxious about him. This, and the difficulty in getting a -conveyance, kept me at Dr. Wright’s until the afternoon. By that time -I had secured a mule-cart to take me to Ivor Station, on the Norfolk -and Petersburg Railroad. Ivor, you know, is not more than twenty-five -miles from Suffolk by the direct route, but the route we had to take -for safety, as far as the Yankees and mud were concerned, was longer, -and our one mule went slowly. - -“The first afternoon we traveled till late in the night. Bobby would -insist on driving the mule, and the driver humored him. In spite of -the pain in his throat, he stood up against my knee and held the lines -until, poor little tired fellow! he went to sleep holding them. I drew -him on to my lap, covered him up, and we went on, the old negro, old -mule, and baby all asleep. At last we stopped at a farmhouse to feed -the mule. The woman who lived there asked me in. I laid Bobby down on -her bed, dropped across it, and in five minutes was asleep myself. I -don’t know how many other people slept in that bed that night, but I -know that the old woman, Bobby, and I slept in it. When I woke up it -was several hours after daylight. Our breakfast the next morning was -a typical Confederate breakfast. My hostess gave me a drink made of -parched wheat and corn which had been ground, a glass of milk, and some -corn bread and bacon, and I enjoyed the meal and paid her cheerfully. - -“We reached Ivor late that afternoon, my driver got his fee and -departed, and Bobby and I were left to wait for the train. But we were -not the only persons at the station; two other women were waiting at -Ivor. If those two women could have had their way there would never -have been another sunset on this earth. Their two sons were to be shot -at sundown--they were watching for the sun to go down. Up and down, -up and down, they walked in front of a tent where their sons under -military guard awaited execution, and as they walked their eyes, swift -and haggard, shifted from tent to sky and back again from sky to tent. -As my train moved out of the station I glanced back. They were walking -with feverish haste, and the sun hung low in the heavens.” - -“Hush, hush!” I cried, “I can’t stand another word--I shall dream of -those women all night. Tell me how you got here at last!” - -“When I reached Pocahontas I meant to go to Jarrett’s, and stop until -I could find out where you were, but while I was looking around for a -carriage who should I come upon but John, our old hackman. He told me -that you were both out here at Uncle William’s, and I made him drive me -out.” - -Soon after my sister’s arrival we moved into town and boarded at Miss -Anne Walker’s, an old historic house then facing Washington Street, -which runs east and west, paralleling the railroad at Jarrett’s -Hotel--or rather where Jarrett’s used to stand--an ugly old hotel -in the heart of the town. It was beside this railroad that I ran -bareheaded along Washington Street some months later to get out of the -way of the Yankee cannon. I was at Miss Anne’s when Dan gave me leave -to visit him at Charlottesville. His headquarters was a small cottage -in sight of the university and of my window. He came home every -night--home was a student’s room in the university--and very often I -went with him in the morning to his cottage. - -One morning as I sat in the cottage, turning a pair of Dan’s old -trousers, the door opened, and a fine-looking cavalry officer entered. -Surprised to find a lady in occupation, he lifted his hat and started -to withdraw. Then he hesitated, regarding me in a confused, doubtful -fashion. Whereupon I in my turn began to stare at him. - -“Isn’t this John--John Mason?” I asked suddenly. - -“That is my name,” with a sweeping bow. “And are you not my old friend, -Miss Nellie Duncan, of Norfolk?” - -“Yes,” I answered smiling, “but you know I have a third name now.” - -“Of course. Unpleasant facts are always hard to remember. I heard of -your marriage, certainly, but for the moment the remembrance of it -escaped me. You are here with the major?” - -The last time I had seen John was on that day which closed the chapter -of my happy girlhood in Norfolk. He had been with me when the telegram -came telling us that father could not live, and from that day to this I -had never seen him until he surprised me patching Dan’s old trousers in -the cottage at Charlottesville. - -He took the chair opposite, and began talking about the work I was -doing and the evidence it bore to my being a good wife. But so far -from being pleased I was very much mortified, for the old trousers -were in a dreadful state of wear and tear, and he was resplendent in a -new uniform. But after a while we dropped the trousers, and got on the -subject of Norfolk and old times, and had quite a pleasant chat till my -husband came in and he and John turned their attention to business. - -I was seeing more of my husband than at any previous or later period of -the war, and having altogether a delightful time. One of the things I -enjoyed most were our horseback rides. - -Dan had two horses for his own use--Tom Hodges, his old army horse, -and Nellie Grey, a fine new mare that he had christened for me. When -his horse was shot under him in that charge which has been mentioned -before, the people of his native town had sent him Nellie Grey in its -stead. Nellie was a beautiful creature, docile but very spirited, and -I was not often trusted to ride her unless Dan himself was along. Tom -Hodges was not so handsome, but he was a horse of decorous ideas and -steadfast principles. - -I remember well my first ride on Nellie Grey. I had the reputation -of being an excellent horsewoman, and Dan wanted to show me off. He -was inordinately proud of me, to my great delight, but I could have -dispensed with the form his vanity took on that day. - -As we rode in an easy canter down University Avenue he gave Nellie -Grey a cut, without my knowledge, that sent her off like the wind in a -regular cavalry gallop. - -Well, I kept my seat--somehow--and I brought her to her senses and a -standstill, and then I looked back to see Dan beaming with pride and -pleasure. - -“What is the matter with this horse?” I asked. “She’s a fool!” - -Then Dan told me of that secret cut. - -“I knew just what she would do,” he said, “and I knew what you’d do. I -wanted to show the boys over there what pluck my wife’s got.” - -“Dan,” I said solemnly, “it’s not Nellie Grey that’s the fool.” - -I was breathless and vexed, and I had to use the strongest language at -my command to express my opinion of Nellie Grey, but it wasn’t strong -enough to express my feelings toward Dan! I simply had to look my -thoughts! - -“You see, wifie,” he went on apologetically, “you did look so pretty -and plucky that you ought to have seen yourself.” - -Sam had gone home on a furlough, and in his place Dan had a very -magnificent body-servant named Napoleon Bonaparte, and an under-boy -named Solomon. Napoleon Bonaparte brushed the major’s boots, and -Solomon brushed Napoleon’s. Napoleon Bonaparte was a bright mulatto, -Solomon was as black as tar. It was Napoleon Bonaparte’s business -to supply my room with wood, but this task he delegated to Solomon. -Whatever menial work the major ordered Napoleon Bonaparte to do, -Napoleon turned over to Solomon. “Solomon,” he said, “was nothin’ but -a free nigger nohow.” It came to pass finally that Solomon, ostensibly -hired to one master, in reality served two. Of course, Napoleon -Bonaparte feathered his own nest and worked things so that the major -was really paying two men to do the work of one. When the major could -not ride with me, he sent Napoleon Bonaparte to act as groom. This -Napoleon Bonaparte esteemed an honor, and he only appointed Solomon -in his stead when he himself was in demand as equerry for the major. -Napoleon always elected to follow the major in such case, as that was -higher employment in his eyes than riding behind me. One morning I -stood waiting in my habit a long time for the horses. At last when -they appeared Solomon came on a sorry mount, leading Tom Hodges. The -procession moved at a snail’s pace, and Solomon looked dreadfully glum. - -“What makes you so late?” I asked impatiently. - -“Dunno ’zackly, marm. Evvybody in de camp got de debbul in ’em. Major, -he got de debbul in him! ’Poleon Bonaparte, he got de debbul in _him_. -An’ evvybody got de debbul in ’em!” - -“There seem to have been a great many devils in camp. Wasn’t there one -to spare for you, Solomon?” - -“Nor’m, I ain’t had no debbul in me--me an’ Tom Hodges. We’s been de -onliest peaceable people in camp. Ef I hadn’t er kep’ de peace, me an’ -’Poleon Bonaparte would ha’ fit, sho!” - -“I should think you would like to fight Napoleon--I should, if I were -you.” - -“Nor’m, I don’ b’lieve in no fightin’--’cep’in’ ’tis ter fit de -Yankees. I’m er peaceable man, I is.” - -I told Dan what a bad report Solomon had made out against him. - -He laughed. “Solomon has the grumps this morning. He seemed to have -quite a time with your namesake, as well as with the rest of us. -Napoleon Bonaparte sent him to rub Nellie Grey down and saddle her for -me. The mare threw her head up and jerked him about a little, and we -could hear him saying: ‘Whoa! Nellie Grey, whoa! You got de debbul in -_you_ too! Who-a, Nellie Grey!’ Between the two of them I am having -rather a hard time lately,” said Dan. “Solomon blames ’Poleon Bonaparte -directly for all the hard times he has, and me indirectly. If something -isn’t done as it should be, and I take Napoleon to task, he lays it -thick and hard on Solomon. Solomon did have a time of it at camp this -morning. You see, ’Poleon Bonaparte is very particular about the way -the horses are kept, but he makes Solomon do all the rubbing down, and -Solomon doesn’t understand how to manage horses and is a little afraid -of them. ’Poleon Bonaparte found fault with his job this morning, and -made him rub Nellie Grey down twice. It naturally occurred to Nellie -that so much rubbing meant an opportunity for playing. Black Solomon -really was the good angel at camp, for before he and Nellie Grey got us -to laughing, swearing had been thick enough to cut with a knife. I had -turned loose on ’Poleon, and ’Poleon had turned loose on Solomon.” - -“Dan, what _makes_ you keep them both?” - -“Keep them both! I don’t. I don’t want either of them, but I can’t get -rid of them.” - -“Make Napoleon do his work and send Solomon off.” - -“Make! Nell, how you talk! And ’Poleon’s got just as much right to hire -a nigger as I have to own one.” - -And during our stay in Charlottesville Dan’s servants gave him “more -trouble,” he said, “than fighting the Yankees.” But it was a very happy -time in my life. - -The late springtime of ’64 found me again in Petersburg. - -More vacant chairs, more broken hearts, more suffering, and starvation -nearer at hand was what I found there. Milicent was spending her time -in nursing the sick and wounded in the hospital, and winning from them -the name that has clung to her ever since. There are old white-haired -men in the South who still call her “Madonna.” - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -“INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH” - - -One lovely morning mother sat at an upper window shelling peas for -dinner. The window commanded a view of the Petersburg heights and -beyond. Presently she stopped shelling peas, and gazed intently out of -the window. - -“What is that on the heights, Nellie?” she asked, and then, “What men -are those running about on the hill beyond?” - -I came to the window and looked out. The hills looked blue. - -With a sinking heart I got the field-glass and turned it southeast. -The hills swarmed with soldiers in Federal uniforms! Men in gray were -galloping up to the Reservoir and unlimbering guns. We heard the roar -of cannon, the rattle of musketry. The heavens were filled with fire -and smoke. Men in blue were vanishing as they came; they thought -Reservoir Hill a fort. That was the ninth of June, when 125 old men and -boys saved the town by holding Kautz’s command, 1,800 strong, at bay on -the Jerusalem Plank Road as long as they could and long enough to give -Graham’s and Studivant’s batteries and Dearing’s cavalry time to rush -to the front. The Ninth of June is Petersburg’s Memorial Day, her day -of pride and sorrow. - -A few days after--mother was shelling peas again--whiz! whack! a shell -sung through the air, striking in Bolling Square. Whiz! whack! came -another, and struck Mrs. Dunlop’s house two doors from us. Mrs. De -Voss, our neighbor on one side, and Mrs. Williams and her two daughters -who lived on the other, ran in, pale with terror, and clamored to go -down into our cellar. We were like frightened sheep. I half laugh, -half cry now with vexation to think how calmly and stubbornly mother -sat shelling peas in that window. She was bent on finishing her peas -before she moved. Finally we induced her to go with us, and we all went -down into the cellar. There we huddled together for the rest of the -day, and until late into the night, not knowing what went on above or -outside, little Bobby asleep in his mother’s lap, and the rest of us -too frightened to sleep. At last, when we had heard no guns for a long -time, we crept upstairs and lay down on our beds and tried to sleep. -The next morning the shelling began again. Shells flew all around us. -One struck in the yard next to ours; another horrid, smoking thing -dropped in our own yard. We decided that it was time to abandon the -house. - -As the firing came from the south and the east, and the Appomattox was -on the north of the city, we could only turn to the west. Any other -direction and we would have run toward the guns or into the river. -With no more rhyme or reason than this in our course we started up -Washington Street, running west, but without regard to the order of our -going. - -Crossing the railroad at Jarrett’s Hotel, I saw a Confederate soldier -whom I recognized as an old playmate and friend of Norfolk days. We -stopped each other. - -“Where did you come from, Harry?” - -“Where are you running to, Nell?” - -“Why, we were at Miss Anne Walker’s and the shells were bursting in our -yard, and we are getting out of the way.” - -Zip! a shell passed over my head and burst a few yards away. I didn’t -wait to say good-by, but ran along Washington Street for my life. At -last we got to Mr. Venable’s house, which was out of the range of the -guns, and there we stopped with others. Many people had passed us on -our way, and we had passed many people, all running through Washington -Street for dear life. Everybody seemed to be running; in Mr. Venable’s -house quite a crowd was gathered. His family were from home, but their -friends filled the house. We watched from doors and windows, and talked -of our friends who had fallen, of the Ninth of June, and of how Fort -Hell and Fort Damnation got their names. We spoke of a friend who had -kissed wife and children good-by, and gone out that fateful Ninth with -the militia up the Jerusalem Plank Road to Fort Hell. Later in the -day a wagon had come lumbering up to the door, blood dripping from it -as it jolted along. In it lay the husband and father, literally shot -to pieces. His little boy walked weeping behind it. His widow had -shrouded him with her own hands, and trimmed his bier herself with the -fragrant June flowers that were growing in her yard--flowers which -he had loved and helped to tend. She had a house full of little ones -around her. She had never known how to work, and now she was going -about finding tasks to do, bearing up bravely and strengthening her -children, she who had been as dependent upon her husband for love and -tenderness as his children were upon her. - -As the day waned we saw people hurrying past the Venable home bearing -the wounded. I remember one poor fellow who was lying on a stretcher -that was borne by his friends. He seemed to be shot almost to pieces. -Graycoats were passing now, marching into the city. - -As we sat at supper that night--a large party it was at that hospitable -board--a servant brought a message to the three of us. A gentleman--a -soldier--wished to see us. I went into the hall, and there was Walter -Taylor. I don’t think I was ever so glad to see anybody in my life. -Walter was not only “Walter,” but he was General Lee’s adjutant, and -the very sight of him meant help to us. What did mother, Millie, and I -do but throw our arms around his neck and kiss him like crazy women. - -“I can’t stop a minute,” he said. “I heard you were here, and felt that -I _must_ come out to see how you were getting along. But I must go -straight back to my command. Let me know if I can do anything for you.” - -“Walter, where is Dan?” - -“I don’t know, Nell, but I think he will be here to-night--if he is not -here already.” - -We felt like clinging to Walter and holding him back. I for one had -lost my nerve. I was sick of war, sick of the butchery, the anguish, -the running hither and thither, the fear. Soon after supper my husband -came in. I was tremblingly glad to see him again, to touch his warm -living body, to see that he was not maimed and mutilated--yet it hung -over me all the time that he must go away in a few minutes--to come -back, or be brought back--how? I kept my hand on him all the time he -sat beside me. Every time he moved I trembled, feeling that it was a -move to go. - -“What are you doing out here?” he asked; “I thought you were at Miss -Anne’s and went there for you.” - -“We left there.” - -“What for?” - -“The shells were flying all around us, and we were afraid, and ran out -here, I tell you.” - -“Afraid? Why, Nell, _you_ weren’t afraid?” - -“Yes, I am--I’m terrified.” - -“A soldier’s wife--a regular campaigner!” - -“I can’t help it. I’m scared.” - -“After all you’ve been through, like the brave girl you are, to break -down like a coward!” - -“I can’t help what you call me, I’m scared--I’m scared to death.” - -“Nell, I’m ashamed of you.” - -“I can’t help it, Dan; I’m scared.” - -“What would General Stuart say if he could know?” - -“I don’t care what he would think. I’m terrified. I’m going to run from -those shells as long as there is a place to run to. I’m not going -to stand still and let a shell strike me to please anybody. I’m for -getting away from town. If I had my way we’d take to the woods this -night, and let the Yankees have it.” - -“They’d mighty soon find us in the woods.” - -“Then I’d move on. They can have everywhere they come to now, as far as -I am concerned.” - -Dan looked aghast. I was completely demoralized. Knowing he _must_ -go, I summoned all my strength and braced myself for the parting, but -though Dan was sorry for me, my effort to be brave was so comical -that he had to laugh. By morning the range of the guns was changed, -shells were flying all over the city, and our present quarters were not -exempt. Zip! zip! crack! bang! the nasty things went everywhere. - -We piled ourselves, pell-mell, helter-skelter into the first ambulance -we could get and started out Washington Street again as fast as ever we -could get the driver to urge his horses. - -Everybody was racing out Washington Street, still running west. -Pell-mell, helter-skelter, they ran, any way to get out of the range -of the horrid, whizzing, singing, zipping bombs. We met Mr. McIlvaine -driving toward town, that is, in the direction from which we were -running. - -He hailed us. - -“Where are you going?” - -“We don’t know where we are going. We are not going anywhere that we -know of.” - -“Go to my house. My family are away, but I can make you welcome. Quite -a number of people are out there now.” - -We found this to be the literal truth. All the floors were covered with -mattresses--if you rolled off your own mattress you rolled on to some -one else’s, for they were laid so thick that they touched. But things -might always be worse. - -Mr. McIlvaine had an excellent cook. She made delicious rolls and -wonderful muffins and wafers, and as far as skill went our provisions -were turned into delicious food. There was quite a colony--seven -women besides ourselves--and we told Mr. McIlvaine that we could not -expect him to feed us all, that we were thankful enough for shelter -and to have our cooking done, and that we would all throw in and buy -provisions. So we made a common fund, and sent for such things as could -be had by Mr. McIlvaine whenever he went into town. - -My husband came out to see me quite often during the weeks that -followed, and Colonel Taylor and many of our military friends -remembered us by dropping in to tea and spending an evening with us -when they could. There was a piano in the parlor, and our evenings -were often gay with singing, music, and dancing. There was but one -servant on the place as I remember--the cook I have spoken of, and whom -I remember vividly and affectionately for the good things to eat she -set before us. To cook for us, however, was about all she could do. We -had but few clothes with us, and when these got soiled there was no -washerwoman to be had, so when Sue Williams said she was going to wash -her clothes herself we all got up our washings, and went down into the -back yard with her. We found some tubs ands drew our water, and made -up some fire under a pot, as we had seen the negroes do. I can see Sue -now, drawing water and lifting buckets back and forth from the well. -We tied some clothes up in a sheet and put them into the pot to boil; -then we put some other clothes in a tub and began to wash; meanwhile -we had to keep up the fire under the pot. It was dinner hour by the -time we got thus far. The weather was very hot and we were dreadfully -tired, and we hadn’t got any clothes on the line yet. We stopped to -swallow our dinner, and went at it again. The sun was going down when -we had a pile of clothes washed, rinsed, and wrung, ready for the -line. We didn’t know what to do about it. There didn’t seem to be any -precedent that we had ever known for hanging clothes out at sundown. -On the other hand, if we didn’t spread them out they would mildew--we -had heard of such things. If they had to be spread out, certainly there -was no better place to spread them than on the line. So at sunset we -hung out our clothes to dry. There were handkerchiefs on the line and -a petticoat apiece. The rest of the clothes were in the pot and the -tub, and they are there now for aught I know to the contrary. I don’t -know what became of them, but I know we went into the house and went to -bed with the backache and every other sort of ache. I have never in all -my life worked so hard as I worked that day trying to wash my clothes -out; and the next day the clothes on the line looked yellow for all -the labor that was put upon them. I have never known why they looked -yellow--not for lack of work, for we had rubbed holes in some of them. -We did not undertake to iron them for fear we should make them look -still worse, but wore them rough dry. - -Early one morning we waked suddenly, and sprang to our feet and reached -for each other’s trembling hands. There had been a sudden and terrific -noise. The earth was shaking. That awful thunder! that horrible quaking -of the earth! as if its very bowels were being rent asunder! What was -it? We tried to whisper to each other through the darkness of our -rooms, but our tongues were dry and palsied with fear. We feared to -draw the curtains of our windows, we dared not move. That was the -morning of the 30th of July, the morning when the Crater was made--when -an entire regiment was blown into the air, and when into the pit left -behind them Federals and Confederates marched over each other, and -fought all day like tigers in a hole. If you ever go to the quaint old -town of Petersburg, you can drive out the old Jerusalem Plank Road to -Forts Hell and Damnation, and you can turn out of it to a large hole in -the earth which is called the Crater. The last time I was at the Crater -it was lined with grass; some sassafras bushes grew on the sides; down -in the hollow was a peach-tree in blossom, a mocking-bird sang in it, -and a rabbit hopped away as I looked down. - -Soon after the explosion occurred, we saw from our windows that the -McIlvaine place was swarming with soldiers who were throwing up -earthworks everywhere. They were our own soldiers, of course, and we -applied for an ambulance and got one, and went back in it to Miss -Anne’s in town. - -I shall never forget how that deserted house felt when we three women -and little Bobby entered it. The dust was on everything and there was -a musty smell about everywhere. That night Millie had high fever. Such -a wretched night as it was! no servants, no conveniences, little or -no food; Millie in a raging fever, little sleepy Bobby crying for his -mother and his supper; the shock of the Crater still upon us, danger -underneath, overhead, everywhere. The next morning Millie’s fever was -lower, and she seemed better. - -“We must get her away from here, or she will die,” mother said. - -But how? We could hear nothing of Dan, and didn’t know where to find -him. Mother sent a note to General Mahone by a passing soldier asking -for a pass to Richmond. Her reply was an ambulance and a driver who -brought a note from the general, saying that we would be taken outside -of the city to the nearest point to where our trains from Richmond were -allowed to come. We got Millie into the ambulance and were taken to the -Dunlop’s, a beautiful place on the Richmond Railroad. Here we waited -for a train which did not come. Night came on; still we waited, but -no train. We sent into the house and asked for lodgings. Answer came -that the house was full, and no more people could be taken in. Millie’s -fever continued to rise. We sent again, saying how ill she was, and -begging for shelter for the night. The same answer was returned, and -there we were out on the lawn, our shawls spread on two trunks and -Millie lying on them, and looking as if every breath would be her last. - -“Do you know where Colonel Walter Taylor is stationed?” I asked our -driver. - -“Yes, ma’am. I know exactly where he is. His camp is about a mile from -here.” - -“How could I get a note to him?” - -“I will go with it. I’ll take one of the horses out of the ambulance.” - -I scratched off: - - “DEAR WALTER: We are out in the woods near Dunlop’s without any - shelter, and Millie is very ill. Can you help us? - - “Affectionately, - “NELL.” - -The driver took the note and Walter came back with him. - -“I don’t know what to do, Nell,” he said. “There is no train to -Richmond till noon to-morrow, but you can’t stay out here.” - -He went himself to the house, but without effect. - -“I will send you a tent and a doctor,” he said. “That is the best I can -do for you. I wish I could stay here with you all and help take care of -Millie to-night, but I must go back at once.” - -The tent came and with it Dr. Newton, and Millie was made as -comfortable as was possible on the trunks. - -An old negress who was passing saw our strait and brought us her pillow -in a clean pillow-case, and we put that under Millie’s head. We gave -“aunty” some tea that we had with us, and she took it to her cabin and -drew us a cup or two over her fire, and we got Millie to swallow a -little of it. We had picked Bobby up off the grass, and dropped him on -a pile of bags in a corner of the tent. - -At one time that night we thought Millie would die--the doctor himself -was doubtful if she could live till morning. When morning came she was -alive, and that was all. Dr. Newton sent for a stretcher and had her -lifted on it into the train. That was a terrible journey; there were -many delays, and we thought we should never get to Richmond, but we -were there at last. We went into the waiting-room at the station and -sent for Major Grey’s brother. Fortunately, he was quickly found, and -took us to the house at which he boarded and where there was a vacant -room. The city was crowded, and on such short notice it was the best he -could do, but it was a stifling little place. - -The room was small, its only window opened on a little dark hallway, -there was an objectionable closet attached to the room, and the close, -unwholesome air made me sick and faint as we opened the door. We laid -Millie on the bed. Suddenly she gasped, moaned something that sounded -like “I am dying!” and seemed to be dead. - -“Air!” cried mother hopelessly, “she needs air.” - -But there was no window for Dick to throw up. - -He picked her up in his arms, ran down the steps with her, and into the -open street. The ladies in the house all came out to us, offering help -and sympathy, and with us got Millie into the parlor, where we laid -her on a lounge, and where two physicians worked over her for hours -before they were sure she would recover entirely from the attack. They -said it was heart failure. That evening we carried her on a stretcher -to the Spotswood Hotel. She was ill for two weeks. Then Bobby was ill -for five. Our funds ran out. What moneys we had were in the Yankee -lines and inaccessible, and Millie determined to put her education -and accomplishments to use. She set herself to work to find something -to do, and a lady from Staunton who happened to meet us at this time, -learning that she wanted work, offered her a position in a young -ladies’ school. So Millie and little Bobby went to Staunton. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -BY THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH - - -Not long after they left, mother and I came in from a round of calls -one day to find a telegram awaiting me: - - “Dan wounded, but not dangerously. Come. - - “GUS.” - -I hurried into my room and changed my dress--to be careful of wearing -apparel had become a pressing necessity--while mother went out to see -about trains. We found there was no Petersburg train till next day; -there might be one at seven in the morning. I was up at daybreak, got a -cup of tea and a biscuit, looked at mother as she lay asleep, and with -my satchel and little lunch basket in my hand went to the depot. There -were crowds of soldiers there and a train about to start, but no woman -was to go on it--it was for soldiers only. I went from one person who -seemed to be in authority to another, seeking permission to go, but -received the same answer everywhere--only soldiers were allowed on the -train. - -“But,” I said at last, “I am an officer’s wife, and he is wounded.” -I broke down with the words, and in spite of my efforts to keep them -back my eyes filled with tears. It was what I should have done in the -beginning. I at once got permission. I went into the car, took my seat -at the extreme end and shrunk into the smallest space possible. The car -was packed with soldiers and I was the only woman on board. When we -were about half-way a young lieutenant who occupied part of the seat in -front of me said: - -“Madam, if I can be of any assistance to you, please command me. I -suppose you know that our train stops within three miles of Petersburg.” - -“I did not know,” I said, “and I do not know what to expect, or what I -shall do, or where I shall find my husband, although I suppose I shall -be met.” - -“If not,” he said, “I am at your service.” - -No one was waiting for me at the depot; but the lieutenant secured -an ambulance, got in it with me, and directed the driver to take us -to Petersburg. We soon met Gus, Dan’s cousin, coming to meet me in a -buggy. While I was getting out of the ambulance into the buggy I was -plying Gus with questions about Dan. “Dan is at our house,” Gus told -me. “His wound is a very ugly one, but the doctors say that he’ll get -well. At first we thought he wouldn’t. He is shot through the thigh, -and will be laid up for some time--that’s what he’s kicking about now.” - -Our most direct route to Mansfield, where Dan was, lay through -Petersburg, but we could not follow that route. The Yankees were -everywhere about the city, Gus said, so we went through the outer edge -of Ettricks, skirting the city proper. When we reached Mansfield my -husband on crutches met me at the door. He looked pale and weak, but he -was very cheery and tried to joke. - -“He ought not to have got up, Nell,” whispered Grandmamma Grey. “He -thought it would shock you to find him in bed--that is why he got up.” - -Of course I immediately put him under orders. He returned to bed meekly -enough, and from that time I did all I could, and it was all I could -do, to keep him still until his wound healed. We read and sang and -played on the banjo and had a good time. But as soon as he was able -to hobble he would go to camp every day and sit around. General Lee’s -headquarters were about a mile and a half from our house. Colonel -Taylor and a number of old friends were there, and Dan could talk fight -if he couldn’t fight. At last he insisted that he was ready to join his -division, and we set out to reach it in an ambulance drawn by three -mules. - -When we came to Hatchers Run we found that creek very much swollen and -the bridge not visible, but there were fresh tracks showing where a -wagon had lately gone over. - -“That shows well enough where the bridge is,” said Dan, pointing to -where the wagon had left a track close to the water’s edge and visible -for a short way under the water. “Follow that track,” he commanded our -driver, who was three-quarters of a man, being too young for a whole -man and too old for a lad, “the mules will find the bridge. They are -the most sure-footed animals in the world. Just let them have their -heads as soon as they get in the water.” - -Jerry obeyed instructions. Sure enough, the mules got along well -enough. That is, for a short distance. Then, splash! down they went -under the water! We could just see their noses and their great ears -wiggling above the surface as they struck out into a gallant swim -for the opposite shore. Splash! we went in after them, and mules and -ambulance were swimming and floating together. Jerry was terrified, and -began to pray so hard that I got to laughing. All we could see of the -mules were six ears sticking out of the water and wiggling for dear -life, while our ambulance swam along like a gondola. - -But things changed suddenly. Our ambulance was lifted slightly, came -down with a jolt, and wouldn’t budge! The mules strained forward, but -to no good. The ambulance wouldn’t stir, and their harness held them -back. - -“The ambulance has caught on some part of the bridge,” said Dan. - -We were in a serious dilemma. The road was one in much use, and we -pinned our hopes to some passer-by, but as we waited minutes seemed -hours. No one came. Perhaps the wagon that had preceded us had given -warning that the bridge was wrecked. We sat in the ambulance and -waited, not knowing what to do, not seeing what we could do. By some -saplings which stood in the water we measured the rise of the tide, -and we measured its rise in the ambulance by my trunk--I was getting -wet to my knees. Finally I sat on top of my trunk and drew my feet -up after me. The situation was serious enough, and Dan began to look -very anxious--Hatchers Run was always regarded as a dangerous stream -in flood time. Still, no sign of any one coming. The rain continued to -fall and the water to rise. - -“At this rate we are sitting here to drown,” Dan said. “There’s but -one way out of it that I can see. From what I know of the situation -of our army there must be an encampment near here. Jerry, climb out of -this ambulance over the backs of these hind mules till you get to that -leader. Get on him, cut him loose, and swim out of this. Ride until you -find an encampment and bring us help.” - -But Jerry didn’t look at it that way. - -“I’m skeered ter fool ’long dat ar mule. I ain’t nuvver fooled ’long er -mule in de water. I kaint have no notion of de way he mought do wid me. -You kaint ’pend on mules, Mars Dan, ter do jes lak you want ’em ter on -dry land, much less in de water. Arter I git out dar, cut dat ar mule -loose, an’ git on him, he mought take out an’ kyar me somewhar I didn’t -wanter go. I mought nuvver git ter no camp, nor nowhar, Mars Dan, ef I -go ter foolin’ ’long er dat mule out dar in de water.” - -The major caught his shoulders, and turned his face to the stream. -“Have you watched that water rising out there for nothing?” he asked -sternly. “We are sure to be drowned if you don’t do as I tell you--all -of us.” - -Between certain death and uncertain death Jerry chose the latter, -crawled over the hind mules, got on the leader and rode him off. He -took this note with him: - - “Nearest Encampment of any Division, C. S. A.: - - “I am in the middle of Hatchers Run in an ambulance with my - wife. The stream is rising rapidly and ambulance filling with - water. Send immediate relief. - - “DANIEL V. GREY, - “_Adjutant of the Thirteenth_.” - -After the boy was gone there we sat and waited while the water rose. I -got very cold and Dan, who was yet weak from his wound and confinement, -got chilled and stiff. After more than an hour of waiting we heard from -the woods on the other side a noise as of men running, and then there -came rushing out of the woods toward us thirteen men of mighty girth -and stature. They were Georgia mountaineers who had been sent to our -rescue. When they came to the water they didn’t like the look and feel -of it, and evidently didn’t want to get in it. - -“What is we uns to do?” they called across. - -“Something to get us out of this,” Dan hallooed back, “and be quick -about it, or we shall drown.” - -“How is we uns to git to you uns?” - -“Get in the water and swim here.” - -They talked among themselves, but none of them seemed disposed to do -this. - -“Men!” called my husband, “I am hardly well of a wound, I am stiff and -weak. I can not save my wife, who is up to the waist in water. Will you -stand there and see a woman drown?” - -They seemed ashamed, but none of them made the move to go in. Then the -largest of them all--he seemed a mighty giant--stepped forth and took -command. - -“You say thar’s a lady in that ambulance?” - -“Yes, my wife.” - -“Wall, I’m blowed! An’ she ain’t a-hollerin’ and a-cryin’?” - -“Do you hear her?” asked Dan irritably. “She’s braver than some men I -know. But you can count on it that she is wet and cold. We are nearly -frozen!” - -“Wall, I’m blowed! An’ she’s right out thar in the middle er that run, -an’ she ain’t a-hollerin’ and a-cryin’! Tell you uns what I’ll do. I’ll -swim out there and bring her back on my back. An’ then I’ll swim back -agin an’ bring you on my back.” - -“I can’t!” I said. “I’m cold enough to die now, and I can’t get in that -water. I’ll die if I do.” - -The giant gave orders. The men hung back. Then we heard him roaring -like a bull of Bashan. - -“Git into that ar water, evvy man of you uns, an’ swim fur that ar -ambulance! I was put in comman’ er this here expuddition, an’ I means -ter comman’ it. ’Bey orders, you uns is got ter, or you uns’ll git -reported to headquarters ez I’m a sinner. Git in that thar water. -Furrard! Swim!” - -How well I remember the great, good-natured giant as he swam around our -ambulance, bobbing up and down, and taking in our bearings! - -“You see, cap,” he said, “all the bridge is washed away but the -sleepers, an’ that’s what you uns is hung on. Unhitch them mules,” to -some of his men. - -“Now, cap, soon’s them mules is loose we uns’ll lif the ambulance off -er this, an’ pull you uns to shore. Jes you uns make yourse’fs easy, -and we uns’ll git you uns out er this.” - -The mules unhitched were led to shore, and then the men pulled the -ambulance safely to land. I don’t remember what became of the thirteen -mighty men. Nor do I recall clearly the rest of that cold ride when I -shivered in my clothes, but I remember getting to a house where I was -seated in a great chair close to a blazing fire of hickory logs, and -I remember that when I went to get out my night-dress I found all the -clothes in my trunk wet, and that when I went to bed I felt as if I -were going to be ill, and that I rested badly. But the next morning I -was up and on my way again. Again we came to a swollen stream. This -time we could see the bridge, and it wobbled about. Dan thought it was -safe to drive over. But not I! Just then some gentlemen came up behind -us and insisted that I was right. So I got out of the ambulance and -was helped across on some logs or beams or something which stretched -across the stream underneath the bridge, and may have been a part of -it, but whatever they were I thought them more secure than an ambulance -and mules and an uncertain bridge. I made Dan cross this way, too, -though he said it wasn’t best for his leg, and made all sorts of -complaints about it. The ambulance was obliged to cross on the bridge, -and the devoted Jerry drove it, quarreling and complaining and praying -all the way. We had not gone much farther before, lo! here was Stony -Creek, swollen to bursting, rushing and furious, and again a hidden -bridge. - -“I nuvver seed so much high water befo’ in all my life,” said Jerry, -thoroughly disgusted, “nor so dang’ous. Water behin’ an’ befo’. We all -_is_ in a bad way.” - -There was a wagoner on the bank who said the bridge was all right and -but slightly under water. I protested, but Dan made Jerry drive in. I -wanted to turn back. But Dan argued that there was as bad behind us, -and that he _must_ get to camp by the time he was due, and after a -little the mules found their footing and kept it, though the water -swished and whirled over the bridge. We saw a man and a horse swept -down the stream--I thought they might have been swept by the current -off the very bridge we were crossing. The current was too strong for -the horse; he could do nothing against it, and had given up. As they -passed under a tree the man reached up, caught a sweeping branch and -swung himself up in the tree; the horse was drowned before our eyes -before we got across the bridge. - -We left the man in the tree, but promised to send him help. There was -a house two miles from the creek, and to this we drove. It was full of -people; the parlor was full, the halls were full, and the kitchen and -the bedrooms were full of men, women, and children. It reminded me of a -country funeral where people are piled up in the halls, on the steps, -and everywhere a person can stand or sit. Soldiers were always passing -to and fro in those days and stopping for the night at any convenient -wayside place, and as for not taking a soldier in--well, public opinion -made it hot for the man who would not shelter a wayfaring soldier -and share the last crust with him. The house held a large number of -soldiers that night, and in addition a water-bound wedding-party. On -this side the creek was the groom; on the other side the bride. The -groom had on his good clothes--good clothes were a rarity then--but he -looked most woebegone. - -We told the people in the house about the man in the tree; and every -man in the house went down to see about him. - -They called out to him saying they would throw him ropes and pull him -in, but when they tried to throw the ropes out to him they found that -he could not be reached in that way. The tree was too far from the -shore. It was after midnight when they gave up trying to reach him -with ropes. Then they told him to keep his courage up till morning, -and they made a great bonfire on the banks, and some of them stood by -it and talked to him all night. First one party and then another would -go out and stand by the bonfire, and keep it up, and talk to him. The -relieved party would come to the house and warm themselves and go back -again. Nobody slept that night. There was nowhere for anybody to lie -down. When morning came the creek had fallen and they pulled the nearly -frozen man to land. - -The next day found us at our destination, Hicksford. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -THE BEGINNING OF THE END - - -While I was at Hicksford I stayed at General Chambliss’s. I was very -happy there. Dan’s camp was not far off, and he came to see me very -often and every morning sent his horses to me. In my rides I used -frequently to take the general’s little son, Willie, along as my -escort, and one morning, when several miles distant from home and with -our horses’ heads turned homeward, who should ride out from a bend -in the road and come toward us but two full-fledged Yankees in blue -uniform and armed to the teeth. My heart went down into the bottom of -my horse’s heels, and I suppose Willie’s heart behaved the same way. We -did not speak, we hardly breathed, and we were careful not to quicken -our pace as we and our enemies drew nearer and nearer, and passed in -that lonely road a yard between our horses and theirs. We did not turn -back; we crept along the road to the bend, until our horses’ tails got -well around the bend. Then Willie and I gave each other a look, and -took out at a wild run for home. We went straight as arrows, and over -everything in our way. I had all I could do that day to stick on Nellie -Grey, who went as if she knew Yankees were behind--only in her mind -it must have been the whole of Grant’s army. Dan laughed our “narrow -escape” to scorn, and said the two Yankees were probably Confederates -in good Yankee clothes they had confiscated. At this time Confederates -would put on anything they found to wear, from a woman’s petticoat to a -Yankee uniform, but Dan never could convince us that those two Yankees -were not Yankees. - -After this I rebelled less against going out, as I sometimes had to -do, in “Miss Sally’s kerridge.” This was an old family carriage, a -great coach of state with the driver’s perch very high. The driver, -an old family negro as venerable and shaky in appearance as the -carriage, attached due importance to his office. He thought no piece -of furniture on the place of such value as “Miss Sally’s kerridge.” -He cared for the horses as if they had been babies. This part of the -country had not been so heavily taxed as some others in the support of -the two armies, and a little more corn than was usual could be had. -Uncle Rube was sure that his horses got the best of what was going, -and also that everything a currycomb could do for them was theirs. He -himself when prepared for his post as charioteer wore a suit of clothes -which must have been in the Chambliss family for several generations, -and an old beaver hat, honorable with age and illustrious usage. -When we were taken abroad in “Miss Sally’s kerridge,” we were always -duly impressed by Uncle Rube with the honor done us. On the occasion -of a grand review which took place not far from General Chambliss’s -residence, I, with three other ladies, went in the “kerridge.” The -roads were awful--in those days roads were always awful. Troops were -traveling backward and forward, artillery was being dragged over them, -heavy wagons were cutting ruts, and there always seemed to be so much -rain. - -Uncle Rube quarreled all the way going and coming. He sat on his high -perch, and guided his horses carefully along, picking the best places -in the road for “Miss Sally’s kerridge,” and talking at us. - -“It’s jes gwine to ruin Miss Sally’s kerridge takin’ it out on sech -roads as dese hyer.... Nuf to ruin er ox-kyart, dese hyer roads is, -much mo’ er fin’ kerridge.... Well, ’tain’ no use fur me ter say -nothin’.... Jest well keep my mouf shut.... Monstratin’ don’ do er bit -er good.... When dey git it in dar haids dey’s gwine, dey’s gwine, -don’t kyeer what happens.... Ain’t gwine heah nothin’, dey ain’t, not -ontwell dey gits Miss Sally’s kerridge broke up.... _I_ say folks orter -go ter ride when de roads is good, and stay at home when de roads is -bad.... An’ lemme take kyeer uv de kerridge.” - -With these intermittent mutterings and frank expressions of displeasure -Uncle Rube entertained us until we got to the review stand. - -To crown his disgust we were late in starting back home, and at dark -he was leaning forward from his lofty altitude, peering into the road -ahead and seeking vainly “de bes’ place ter drive Miss Sally’s kerridge -along.” He said “dar warn’t no bes’ place,” and was in despair of ever -getting that valuable vehicle home in safety. At last the crash came! -Down went one carriage wheel into a mud-hole! It stuck there, and we -were rooted for the time being. However, I think Uncle Rube would have -got us out but for some untimely assistance. Bob Lee, the youngest -of the Lees, and Bob Mason (the son of the ex-United States Minister -to France, whose home was near General Chambliss’s) came riding by. -They stopped and shook hands with us through the carriage window, and -asserted their gallant intention of getting us out of our mud-hole. -They tried to lead the horses forward, to pull and push “the kerridge” -out, but in vain. Then Bob, to Uncle Rube’s utter amazement and -indignation, made him get down, while he, Bob, mounted the box. Uncle -Rube stood on the roadside, the picture of chagrin and despair. - -“Dar ain’t no tellin’ what’s gwi’ happen now!” he exclaimed. “Mars Bob -don’ know how ter manage dem horses no mo’n nothin’. Don’, Mars Bob! -Mars Bob! don’ whoop ’em! Law-aw-dy!” - -Bob had gathered the lines in one hand and with the other was laying -the whip on Rube’s pets. The horses, utterly unused to the whip, -plunged like mad. There was an ominous sound!--our axle was broken, and -we were helplessly stuck in the mud. - -“Dar now!” wailed Uncle Rube. “What I tole you? I said Miss Sally’s -kerridge gwi’ git ruint! and now it’s done been did. It’s clean ruint, -Miss Sally’s kerridge is. I tole Mars Bob dem horses don’t know nothin’ -’bout a whoop. Dey ain’t nuvver bin ’quainted wid er whoop. I bin -er-sayin’ an’ er-sayin’ all erlong dat de kerridge gwi’ git broke, an’ -it’s done been did. O Lawdy!” - -Our young rescuers borrowed a cart from a farmer near by and got us -home in it. I have forgotten how Uncle Rube managed, if I ever knew. -But I shall never forget the scene when several hours later we all sat -around the fire in the sitting-room, chatting over our adventures, -and Uncle Rube, hat in hand, came to the door and made report to his -mistress of the family misfortune. His eyes were big as saucers. He -laid the blame thick and heavy on “Mars Bob’s” shoulders, exonerating -his horses with great care. - -“Dey’s sensubble horses ef anybody jes got de sense ter manage ’em, dey -is.” - -And then Miss Sally, in spite of her efforts to preserve a gravity -befitting the calamity, broke down like the “kerridge” and laughed -hysterically. - -There was plenty to eat at General Chambliss’s. I always remember that -fact when it was a fact, because it was beginning to be so pleasant and -unusual to have enough to eat. Hicksford hadn’t been raided, and there -were still chickens on the roost, bees in the hive, turkeys up the -trees, partridges in the woods, and corn in the barns. The barn, by the -way, was new, and the soldiers gave a ball in it. We all went and had a -most delightful evening. I well remember that I went in “Miss Sally’s -kerridge,” and that General Rooney Lee and I led off the ball together. -I remember, too, that we had a fine supper: turkeys, chicken-salad, -barbecued mutton, roast pig with an apple in his mouth, pound-cake, -silver-cake, cheese-cake or transparent pudding, “floating island” or -“tipsy squire”; plenty of bread, milk, sure-enough coffee--everything -and enough of it. We danced till morning and leaving our gallant -entertainers in the gray dawn, went off to sleep nearly all day. - -The next ball was in an old farmhouse where some of our cavalry were -quartered. We had another good supper--everything good to eat and -plenty of it--like the first. There were no chairs or furniture of any -kind, as I remember, but there were benches ranged around the barn -for us to sit on when resting during the pauses of the dance. After a -dance with him General Rooney Lee led me back to the room where the -banquet was spread to taste something especially nice which he liked -and which I had not touched--eating a good thing when you could get -it was a delightful and serious duty in those days. There was quite a -circle around us, and we were all nibbling, laughing, chatting away -as if there were no such things as war and death in the land, when a -courier in muddy boots strode across the room to the general, saluted, -spoke a few words, and the general walked aside with him. The music -was enticing, and while the general was engaged with the courier I -went back with some one else to the ballroom and took my place in the -lancers. We were clasping hands and bowing ourselves through the grand -chain when the dance was interrupted. The army was to march. - -There was great confusion, hurried hand-shaking, sometimes no -hand-shaking at all, no time for good-bys. The soldiers could not -stand on the order of their going. I do not remember how I came to the -farmhouse, but I know that my husband bundled me unceremoniously into -a cart with some people I hardly knew, and sent me home, telling me to -pack my trunk but not to be disappointed if he could not take me with -him. I did not lie down at all. I packed my trunk as soon as I got -home, then sat down and waited, and before long my husband came for me -in an ambulance. His courier, Lieutenant Wumble, was with him, and the -ambulance was driven by an Irishman named Miles. The horses were tied -to the back of the ambulance, and frequently my husband and Lieutenant -Wumble rode ahead reconnoitering. It began to rain. “What made you -always start in the rain?” I have been asked by friends to whom I was -relating my campaigns. What I want to know is, what made it always rain -when I started? Let me but step into an ambulance and immediately it -began to rain. My movements had to be regulated by the movements of the -army, not by the weather, though really the weather seemed to regulate -itself by mine. - -We found the roads worse as we advanced. The farther we went the deeper -was the mud. Mud came up to the hubs of our wheels; the mules could -hardly pull their feet up out of the miry mass in some places. At last -we found ourselves regularly “stuck in the mud.” There was no pushing -or pulling the ambulance farther. It was nearly dark, but fortunately -we were near a farmhouse, and at the side of the road where we got -stuck was a stile made by blocks of unequal heights set on either side -of a plank fence. These blocks were simply sections of the round body -of a tree which had been sawed up. On the opposite side of the stile -a pathway led to the house. The mud-hole in which our ambulance was -embedded was about ten yards from the stile. My husband insisted that I -be carried bodily to the stile, and Lieutenant Wumble, who was one of -the most gallant fellows in the world, took it as a matter of course -that he must carry me. He urged that he had been brought along to be -useful and that Dan had never recovered entirely from his wound. But -Dan hooted at the idea! He was very much obliged to the lieutenant, but -really he was used to this sort of thing, and understood lifting ladies -about much better than Wumble. It was not altogether brute strength, -but some science that was required. So Dan stepped out of the ambulance -on to the side of the mud-hole, where of course the ground was not so -muddy as in the center where we were stuck, but where it was rather -slippery, nevertheless. Balancing himself nicely, he took me out, but -just as he poised me on his arm with scientific ease and grace he -slipped and fell backward, sprawling in the mud, and I went over his -head, sprawling, too. - -Whereupon Lieutenant Wumble, laughing, came to pick me up, saying as he -did so: - -“I told you that you ought to let me carry you. Just lie there, major, -and I’ll come back for you as soon as I set your wife down. Keep quiet, -major,” as Dan swore at the mud and slipped again, “and I’ll pick you -up and get you along all right.” - -As Dan dragged himself up he was a perfect mud man, and he had left -the print of himself in the mud behind him. They took us in at the -farmhouse, and sent men to help the driver prize the ambulance out of -the hole. They scraped the mud off me, and a colored woman washed my -clothes and hung them by the fire, so they might be dry by morning. Of -course, this process put me in bed at once. Our supper was poor and the -bed uncomfortable, but it was the best our hosts could do. - -After an uncomfortable night we started off again toward Dinwiddie -Court-house, which was to be our next stopping-place. As we journeyed -on we knew that we were getting into most dangerous quarters. The -nearer we drew to Petersburg the nearer we were to the tangle of -Federal and Confederate lines; the nearer to skirmishers and scouts -from both armies. The night got blacker and blacker--you could not see -your hand before you--and the blacker it grew the more frightened old -Miles became. Out of the darkness where, invisible, he sat astride the -invisible mule he drove, he poured an unceasing stream of complaint. - -“Arrah! the divil a bit can Oi see where Oi’m goin’. It’s so dark ye -couldn’t see a light if there was any. The mules, intilligint crathurs -they are, maybe they know where they be goin’. It’s more than the -loikes of me does. But what Oi’ve got agin a mule is that they don’t -know an honest Amerikin in gray clothes--or mixed rags it is now--from -a nasty, thavin’ Yankee.” - -If we were silent for a few minutes, then Miles spoke out for company’s -sake, or asked unnecessary questions perhaps to find out if we were -there, and that the Yankees hadn’t spirited us away. - -“These woods are full of Yankees,” he said. “It’s chock-full of them, -it is. An’ it’s so dark, it is, they could just come out here an’ kill -us all, they could, an’ we’d never know it.” - -“Shut your mouth up, you fool!” said my husband, who knew that the -woods were full of Yankees. “If we can’t see them they can’t see us, -and how are they to know but we are Yankees unless you tell them, you -blathering idiot?” - -“The divil a bit Oi’ll be tellin’ ’em, the nasty blue thaves. Thrust -Miles O’Flannigan for thet. But they could just come out o’ them woods, -they could, an’ take us all prisoners an’ we’d never know it. An’ the -driver’s the fust man they’d git, sure.” - -At last Dan got out, mounted his horse, and rode in front of the -ambulance. - -“Now,” said he to Miles, “follow me, and if you open your d---- mouth -again, I’ll blow your brains out.” - -Lieutenant Wumble brought up the rear, riding behind the ambulance -with a cocked pistol. And so we rode through the Egyptian darkness of -the night, and the now more than Egyptian silence. Miles’s mouth was -effectually closed. He followed Dan, whom he could not see, by the -sound of his horse’s tread, and as he was careful to keep as close to -him as possible we made better progress. - -We had been in the darkness so long that none of us knew our -whereabouts. Presently we heard the low, deep mutterings of thunder. -It came nearer and grew louder rapidly. Suddenly the sky seemed rent! -There came a sheet of white lightning and with it an awful crash which -made my heart stand still. A tree a few feet from us had been struck. -The lightning had shown us that we were only a few miles from the -Court-house. I have never known such a storm as the one through which -we traveled that night. One peal of thunder did not die away before -another began. One instant we were in thick darkness--a darkness that -could be _felt_--the next, ourselves, the woods, the road, were bathed -in a fierce white light. Between the Yankees and the storm that night I -think Miles would have become a gibbering idiot but for the equalizing -influence of Dan’s pistol. - -“No trouble for the Yankees to rickonize us--ugh!” the rest of the -sentence would be lost in the darkness, but I knew that Miles was -feeling the salutary muzzle of Dan’s pistol against some part of his -face. - -By the time we entered the village the storm had abated. We drove to -the hotel. It was crowded, packed with soldiers; no room for us, nor -food either, and nine o’clock at night! - -“Two miles the other side of town there is a place of entertainment -where you can be accommodated, I think,” the hotel proprietor told Dan. - -“I don’t go any farther to-night with my wife,” Dan said resolutely. - -“It’s not mesilf as wants to be traveling any farther aither,” Miles -put in. “It’s divil a bit of a pleasure ride Oi’m havin’.” - -He was promptly silenced, and was made to drive us around to the -various places in the village that had been mentioned; and in spite of -the discouragements received, he added his earnest solicitations to -ours that we might be lodged for the night. But in spite of our own -pleas and Miles’s eloquence, midnight found us out at the two-miles -place. I don’t know how long it had taken us to make those two miles. -We had toiled over muddy roads, through fierce extremes of light and -darkness, and amid deafening thunder, for the storm had come on again -with renewed fury and was at its height when we stopped at the house to -which we had been directed. In response to my husband’s knock an old -man came to the door--the meanest old man I have ever seen before or -since. He said we couldn’t come in, there wasn’t standing room in the -house, the house was full of soldiers. My husband said he _would_ come -in--that he had a lady with him. I think he would have shot that old -man then and there rather than have carried me farther. But the old man -said if he had a lady with him all the more reason why he should not -come in; the soldiers were drinking, and he whispered to Dan, and I saw -Dan give in. He told Dan that he had a cousin in the village who would -house us, and he directed us how to get to this cousin’s house, so we -turned and drove back to the village we had just left. We made better -time on our return, as we were better directed and took a shorter -route, found the house to which we had been sent, and were taken in. - -It was a strange old house, built in colonial days, with the veranda -that ran all around it supported by tall Corinthian columns. We woke -the owner up--an old man, who came down to the door shivering, candle -in hand, and led us through a latticed room, then into another room and -up a narrow flight of stairs with sharp turns to a bedroom with dormer -windows and ancient furniture. We were welcome to our lodgings, he -said, but he had nothing to eat in the house--we would be welcome to it -if he had. He looked gaunt and hungry himself. - -We had no fire. He left us his candle and went down in the dark himself -and we got to bed as quickly as possible. Lieutenant Wumble, who was -down-stairs looking after Miles and the horses and the mules, got -himself stowed away somewhere. - -Next morning my husband was ill; but the old man’s wife gave him some -of her remedies, and with the help of a little money from me got -something for us all to eat. About noon Dan insisted that he was able -to travel, and that he must reach his command that day. - -When we arrived at Petersburg my husband put me on the train for -Richmond and bade me good-by. It was the last time I saw him before the -surrender. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -HOW WE LIVED IN THE LAST DAYS OF THE CONFEDERACY - - -Though the last act of our heroic tragedy was already beginning I -was so far from suspecting it that I joined mother at the Arlington, -prepared to make a joke of hardships and wring every possible drop of -pleasure out of a winter in Richmond, varied, as I fondly imagined, by -frequent if brief visits from Dan. - -The Arlington was kept on something like the European plan, not from -choice of landlady or guests but from grim necessity. Feeding a -houseful of people was too arduous and uncertain an undertaking in -those days for a woman to assume. Mrs. Fry, before our arrival in July, -had informed her boarders that they could continue to rent their rooms -from her, but that they must provide their own meals. We paid her $25 -a month for our room--the price of a house in good times and in good -money. During my absence in Mansfield, Hicksford, and other places, -mother, to reduce expenses, had rented half of her room and bed to -Delia McArthur, of Petersburg. I now rented a little bed from Mrs. Fry -for myself, and set it up in the same room. - -We had become so poor and had so little to cook that we did most of -our cooking ourselves over the grate, each woman often cooking her own -little rations. There was an old negress living in the back yard who -cooked for any or all of us when we had something that could not be -prepared by ourselves over the grate. Sometimes we got hold of a roast, -or we would buy two quarts of flour, a little dab of lard, and a few -pinches of salt and treat ourselves to a loaf of bread, which the old -negress cooked for us, charging ten dollars for the baking. But as a -rule the grate was all sufficient. We boiled rice or dried apples or -beans or peas in our stew-pan, and we had a frying-pan if there was -anything to fry. - -Across the hall from us Miss Mary Pagett, of Petersburg, had a room to -herself. She worked in one of the departments, and in order that she -might have her meals in time she went into partnership with us. Every -morning she would put in with our rations whatever she happened to have -for that day, and mother would cook it and have it ready when she came. -Down-stairs under our room Mr. and Mrs. Sampson, their daughters Nan -and Beth, and their son Don, all of Petersburg and old neighbors and -friends of ours, lived, slept, cooked, and ate in two rooms, a big and -a little one. They lived as we did, cooking over their grates. - -Sometimes we all put what we had together and ate in company. When any -of us secured at any time some eatable out of the common, if it was -enough to go around we invited the others into breakfast, dinner, or -tea, as the case might be. It must be understood that from the meal -called “tea,” the beverage from which the meal is named was nearly -always omitted. Our fare was never very sumptuous--often it was -painfully scanty. Sometimes we would all get so hungry that we would -put together all the money we could rake and scrape and buy a bit of -roast or something else substantial and have a feast. - -We all bought coal in common. Mother’s, mine, and Delia’s portion of -the coal was a ton, and we had to keep it in our room--there was no -other place to store it. We had a box in our room which held a ton, -and the coal was brought up-stairs and dumped into that box. I can -see those darkies now, puffing and blowing, as they brought that coal -up those many steps. And how we had to scuffle around to pay them! -For some jobs we paid in trade--only we had very little to trade off. -How that room held all its contents I can’t make out. Dan sent me -provisions by the quantity when he could get any and get them through -to me. He would send a bag of potatoes or peas, and he never sent less -than a firkin of butter--delicious butter from Orange County. The bags -of peas, rice, and potatoes were disposed around the room, and around -the hearth were arranged our pots, pans, kettles, and cooking utensils -generally. When we bought wood that was put under the beds. In addition -to all our useful and ornamental articles we had our three selves and -our trunks; such clothing as we possessed had to be hung up for better -keeping--and this was a time when it behooved us to cherish clothes -tenderly. Then there was our laundrying, which was done in that room by -ourselves. - -And we had company! Certainly we seemed to have demonstrated the truth -of the adage, “Ole Virginny never tire.” We had company, and we had -company to eat with us, and enjoyed it. - -Sometimes our guests were boys from camp who dropped in and took stewed -apples or boiled peas, as the case might be. If we were particularly -fortunate we offered a cup of tea sweetened with sugar. The soldier who -dropped in always got a part--and the best part--of what we had. If -things were scant we had smiles to make up for the lack of our larder, -and to hide its bareness. - -How we were pinched that winter! how often we were hungry! and how -anxious and miserable we were! And yet what fun we had! The boys -laughed at our crowded room and we laughed with them. After we bought -our wood it was Robert E. Lee’s adjutant who first observed the ends -sticking out from under the bed; he was heartily amused and greatly -impressed with the versatility of our resources. - -“I confidently expect to come here some day and find a pig tied to the -leg of the bed, and a brood or two of poultry utilizing waste space,” -said Colonel Taylor. - -He wasn’t so far out of the way, for we _did_ get hold of a lean -chicken once some way or other, and we tied it to the foot of the bed, -and tried to fatten it with boiled peas. - -We devised many small ways for making a little money. We knit gloves -and socks and sold them, and Miss Beth Sampson had some old pieces of -ante-bellum silk that she made into neckties and sold for what she -could get. For the rest, when we had no money, we went without those -things which it took money to buy. With money a bit of meat now and -then, a taste of sorghum, and even the rare luxury of a cup of tea -sweetened with sugar, was possible. Without money, we had to depend -upon the bags of peas, dried apples, or rice. - -“If I ever keep house,” said Miss Mary one day when we were getting -supper ready, “there are three things which shall never come into it, -rice, dried apples, and peas.” - -Mother was at the bureau slicing bread, Delia McArthur was setting -the table, I was getting butter out of the firkin and making it into -prints, and Miss Mary with gloves on--whenever she had anything to do -she always put gloves on--was peeling and slicing tomatoes. - -“I never want to _hear_ of rice, dried apples, or peas again!” came -from all sides of the room. - -“If this war is ever at an end,” sighed poor mother, “I hope I may sit -down and eat at a decent table again. And I fervently hope that nobody -will ever set a dish of rice, peas, or dried apples before me! If they -do, I shall get up and leave the table.” - -“Me too,” I piped. “Even if I didn’t hate the things I should feel -sensitive on the subject and take the offering of such a dish to me as -a personal reflection.” - -One day we agreed to have a feast. The Sampsons were to bring their -contributions, Miss Mary and Delia McArthur to put in theirs as -usual, and mother and I to contribute our share, of course. Each of -us had the privilege of inviting a friend to tea. Our room was chosen -as the common supper-room because it had fewer things in it and was -less crowded than the Sampsons’. The Sampsons, in addition to their -coal-box, wood-pile, bags and barrels of provisions, had one more bed -than we had, and also a piano. We had our tea-party and, guests and -all, we had a merry time. - -I never remember having more fun in my life than at the Arlington, -where sometimes we were hungry, and while the country, up to our doors, -bristled with bayonets, and the air we breathed shook with the thunder -of guns. - -For hungry and shabby as we were, crowded into our one room with bags -of rice and peas, firkins of butter, a ton of coal, a small wood-pile, -cooking utensils, and all of our personal property, we were not in -despair. Our faith in Lee and his ragged, freezing, starving army -amounted to a superstition. We cooked our rice and peas and dried -apples, and hoped and prayed. By this time our bags took up little -room. We had had a bag of potatoes, but it was nearly empty, there -were only a few handfuls of dried apples left--and I must say that even -in the face of starvation I was glad of that!--and there was a very -small quantity of rice in our larder. We had more peas than anything -else. - -I had not heard from my husband for more than a week--indeed, there -seems to have been in Richmond at this time a singular ignorance -concerning our reverses around Petersburg. There were hunger and -nakedness and death and pestilence and fire and sword everywhere, and -we, fugitives from shot and shell, knew it well, but, somehow, we -laughed and sang and played on the piano--and never believed in actual -defeat and subjugation. - -Sunday morning, the second of April, as President Davis sat in his pew -at St. Paul’s Church, a slip of paper was brought to him. He read it, -quietly arose, and left the church. - -General Lee advised the evacuation of Richmond by eight o’clock that -night. That was what rumor told us at the Arlington. At first we did -not believe it, but as that spring day wore on we were convinced. The -Sabbath calm was changed to bustle and confusion--almost into riot. The -streets were full of people hurrying in all directions, but chiefly in -the direction of the Danville depot. Men, women, and children jostled -each other in their haste to reach this spot. Loaded vehicles of every -description rattled over the pavements. - -During the day proclamation was made that all who wished could come -to the Commissary Department and get anything they wanted in the way -of provisions--without pay. I for one, in spite of my loathing for -dried apples and peas, and a lively objection to starvation, would -not entertain the thought at first. But the situation was serious. -We discussed it in council, sitting around our room on beds, chairs, -trunks, and the floor. We could not foresee the straits to which we -might be brought. We considered that the evacuation of Richmond implied -we knew not what. Unless we provided now by laying in some stores -we might actually starve. Besides, Mrs. Sampson said she was just -_bound_ to have a whole barrel of flour, and she was going for it. That -declaration wound up the conference. Mother said she would go with -Mrs. Sampson, and I must needs go, I thought, to protect mother. We -put on our bonnets--home-made straw trimmed with chicken feathers--and -started. Such a crowd as we found ourselves in! such a starveling mob! -I got frightened and sick, and mother and Mrs. Sampson were daunted. -We had not gone many squares before we changed our course, and went to -Mrs. Taylor’s (Colonel Walter Taylor’s mother) and I ran up the steps -and asked her to lend us Bob, her youngest son, who was at home then, -for our escort. - -She and Bob explained regretfully that he could not serve us. Walter -was to be married that day, and Bob had his hands full at home. - -“Married?” I cried in astonishment. I had known of his engagement, and -that he expected to be married as soon as possible, but marrying at -this crisis was incredible. - -“Yes,” said Bob. “I took the despatch to Betty while she was at church -this morning. He told her to be ready and he would come to Richmond -this afternoon for the ceremony. You see, General Lee is going to move -the army west, and nobody knows for how long it will be gone, nor what -will happen, and if Betty is married to Walter she can go to him if he -gets hurt.” - -Of course, as Bob had to make all the necessary arrangements for the -event his escort at the present moment was out of the question. - -Somehow Mrs. Sampson managed to get her barrel of flour and have it -brought to her room, but we didn’t get anything. - -That afternoon as I sat at my window I saw Walter ride up to the -Crenshaws’, where Betty was staying. He remained in the house just long -enough for the ceremony to be performed, came out, sprang on his horse, -and rode away rapidly. - -President Davis and his Cabinet left Richmond that afternoon in a -special train. Everybody who could go was going. We had no money to go -with, though we did not know where we would have gone if the money had -been forthcoming. - -As darkness came upon the city confusion and disorder increased. People -were running about everywhere with plunder and provisions. Barrels and -boxes were rolled and tumbled about the streets as they had been all -day. Barrels of liquor were broken open and the gutters ran with whisky -and molasses. There were plenty of straggling soldiers about who had -too much whisky, rough women had it plentifully, and many negroes were -drunk. The air was filled with yells, curses, cries of distress, and -horrid songs. No one in the house slept. We moved about between each -other’s rooms, talked in whispers, and tried to nerve ourselves for -whatever might come. A greater part of the night I sat at my window. - -In the pale dawn I saw a light shoot up from Shockoe Warehouse. -Presently soldiers came running down the streets. Some carried balls of -tar; some carried torches. As they ran they fired the balls of tar and -pitched them onto the roofs of prominent houses and into the windows -of public buildings and churches. I saw balls pitched on the roof of -General R. E. Lee’s home. As the day grew lighter I saw a Confederate -soldier on horseback pause almost under my window. He wheeled and -fired behind him; rode a short distance, wheeled and fired again; and -so on, wheeling and firing as he went until he was out of sight. Coming -up the street from that end toward which his fire had been directed and -from which he had come, rode a body of men in blue uniforms. It was -not a very large body, they rode slowly, and passed just beneath my -window. Exactly at eight o’clock the Confederate flag that fluttered -above the Capitol came down and the Stars and Stripes were run up. We -knew what that meant! The song “On to Richmond!” was ended--Richmond -was in the hands of the Federals. We covered our faces and cried aloud. -All through the house was the sound of sobbing. It was as the house of -mourning, the house of death. - -Soon the streets were full of Federal troops, marching quietly along. -The beautiful sunlight flashed back everywhere from Yankee bayonets. I -saw negroes run out into the street and falling on their knees before -the invaders hail them as their deliverers, embracing the knees of -the horses, and almost preventing the troops from moving forward. It -had been hard living and poor fare in Richmond for negroes as well as -whites; and the negroes at this time believed the immediate blessings -of freedom greater than they would or could be. - -The saddest moment of my life was when I saw that Southern Cross -dragged down and the Stars and Stripes run up above the Capitol. I am -glad the Stars and Stripes are waving there now. But I am true to my -old flag too, and as I tell this my heart turns sick with the supreme -anguish of the moment when I saw it torn down from the height where -valor had kept it waving for so long and at such cost. - -Was it for this, I thought, that Jackson had fallen? for this that -my brave, laughing Stuart was dead--dead and lying in his grave in -Hollywood under the very shadow of that flag floating from the Capitol, -in hearing of these bands playing triumphant airs as they marched -through the streets of Richmond, in hearing of those shouts of victory? -O my chevalier! I had to thank God that the kindly sod hid you from -all those sights and sounds so bitter to me then. I looked toward -Hollywood with streaming eyes and thanked God for your sake. Was it -to this end we had fought and starved and gone naked and cold? to this -end that the wives and children of many a dear and gallant friend were -husbandless and fatherless? to this end that our homes were in ruins, -our State devastated? to this end that Lee and his footsore veterans -were seeking the covert of the mountains? - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES - - -The Arlington is one-half of a double house, a veranda without division -serving for both halves. Just before noon up rode a regiment of Yankees -and quartered themselves next door. We could hear them moving about and -talking, and rattling their sabers. But I must add that they were very -quiet and orderly. There was no unnecessary noise. They all went out -again, on duty, I suppose, leaving their baggage and servants behind -them. They did not molest or disturb us in any way. After a while we -heard a rap on the door, and on opening it three men entered. They -were fully armed, and had come, as they said, to search the house for -rebels. The one who undertook to search our rooms came quite in and -closed the door while his companions went below. He was very drunk. -Anxious to get rid of him quickly I helped him in his search. - -He touched my arm and whispered: “Sis, I’m good Secesh as you--but -don’t say nothin’ about it.” - -“You’d better look thoroughly,” I insisted, pretending not to hear him. - -Going to the bed I threw the mattress over so he could see that no one -was concealed beneath. He followed and touched my arm again. - -“Good Secesh as you is, sis. I ain’t agwine to look into nothin’, sis.” - -“There’s nothing for you to find,” I informed him, as I pulled a bureau -drawer open for his inspection. - -He waved it away with scorn. “I,” he repeated, touching his breast, “am -good Secesh. Don’t want to see nothin’. Don’t you say nothin’--I’m good -Secesh as you is, sis.” - -I led the way into the next room to be searched, he following, -asseverating in tipsy whispers, “Good Secesh as you is, sis,” every few -minutes. - -We found little Ruf Pagett cleaning his gun. - -“Better hide that, sonny,” said our friend, glancing around. “That -other fellow out there, _he_’ll take it from you. But _I_ won’t take it -from you. I won’t take nothin’. I’m good Secesh as you is, bud. Hide -your gun, bud.” - -Down-stairs our friends were having a harder time. The men who went -through their rooms searched everywhere, and tumbled their things -around outrageously. I could hear Mrs. Sampson quarreling. They went -away, but returned to search again. She said she wouldn’t stand it--she -would report them. She saw General Weitzel and made her complaint, and -he told her that the men were stragglers and had no authority for what -they had done. If they could be found they would be punished. Before -this time the fire had been brought under control. Houses not a square -from us had been in flames. What saved us was an open space between us -and the nearest house which had been on fire, and wet blankets. Mrs. -Fry’s son had had wet blankets spread over our roof for protection, -and we had also kept wet blankets hung in our windows. At one time, -however, cinders and smoke had blown into my room till the air was -stifling and the danger great. - -A niece of my husband’s, a beautiful girl of eighteen, who had been ill -with typhoid fever, had to be carried out of a burning house that night -and laid on a cot in the street. She died in the street and I heard of -other sick persons who died from the terror and exposure of that time. - -As night came on many people were wandering about without shelter, -amid blackened ruins. In the Square numbers were huddled for the night -under improvised shelter or without any protection at all. But profound -quiet reigned--the quiet of desolation as well as of order. The city -had been put under martial law as soon as the Federals took possession; -order and quiet had been quickly established and were well preserved. -Our next-door neighbors were so quiet that with only a wall between we -sometimes forgot their presence. - -I must tell of one person who did not weep because the Yankees had -come. That was a little girl in the house who clapped her hands and -danced all around. - -“The Yankees have come! the Yankees have come!” she shouted, “and now -we’ll get something to eat. I’m going to have pickles and molasses and -oranges and cheese and nuts and candy until I have a fit and die.” - -She soon made acquaintances next door. The soldiers or their servants -gave her what she asked for. She stuffed herself with what they gave -her, and that night she had a fit and died, as she had said in jest she -would, poor little soul! - -That afternoon there was a funeral from the house, and all day there -were burials going on in Hollywood. - -Early on the morning of the third, when Miss Mary Pagett threw open her -blinds, she beheld the gallery under her window lined with sleeping -Yankees. When Delia McArthur and I went out for a walk we came upon -Federal soldiers asleep on the sidewalks and everywhere there was a -place for weary men to drop down and rest. In all this time of horror I -don’t think anything was much harder than making up our minds to “draw -rations from the Yankees.” We said we _would_ not do it--we _could_ not -do it! - -But as hunger gained upon us and starvation stared us in the face Mrs. -Sampson rose up in her might! - -“I’ll take anything I can get out of the Yankees!” she exclaimed. “They -haven’t had any delicacy of feeling in taking everything we’ve got! I’m -going for rations!” - -So Mrs. Sampson nerved herself up to the point where she took quite -a pleasure and pride in her mission. But not so with the rest of us. -It was a bitter pill, hard, hard to swallow. Mother, to whose lot -some species of martyrdom was always falling, elected to go with -Mrs. Sampson. So forth sallied these old Virginia matrons to “draw -rations from the Yankees.” However, once on our way to humiliation we -began to console ourselves with thoughts of the loaves and fishes. We -would have enough to eat--sugar and tea and other delights! Presently -mother and Mrs. Sampson returned, each with a dried codfish! There was -disappointment and there was laughter. As each stately matron came -marching in, holding her codfish at arm’s length before her, Delia -McArthur and I fell into each other’s arms laughing. Besides the -codfish, they had each a piece of fat, strong bacon about the size of -a handkerchief folded once, and perhaps an inch thick. Now, we had had -no meat for a great while, and we were completely worn out with dried -apples and peas, so we immediately set about cooking our bacon. Having -such a great dainty and rare luxury, we felt ourselves in a position to -invite company to dinner. Mrs. Sampson invited half of the household to -dine with her, and we invited the other half. Soon there was a great -sputtering and a delicious smell issuing from the Sampsons’ apartments -and from ours. - -Mother sliced the meat into the pan, and I sat on the floor and held it -over the fire, while Delia spread the table. There was a pot on, which -had to be stirred now and then. I, who always had a fertile brain in -culinary matters, suggested that the potatoes--I neglected to state -that a handful of potatoes had been dealt out with our rations--should -be sliced very thin and dropped into the pan with the meat; and this -done I fried them quite brown, taking much pains and pride in the -achievement. Mother dished up the peas and set them on the table -before our guests; and I passed around the fried meat and potatoes in -the frying-pan, from which the company, with much grace and delicacy, -helped themselves. Oh, how delicious it was! - -As for the codfish, we had immediately hung that out of the window. -The passer-by in the street below could behold it, dangling from its -string, a melancholy and fragrant codfish. From Mrs. Sampson’s window -just below ours hung another melancholy codfish just like the one above -it. We paid the old negress to do things for us with codfish--but not -a whole codfish at a time. We cut off pieces of it, and so made good -bargains, and one codfish go as far as possible. We had by this time -got to a place where economy was not only a virtue but a necessity of -the direst sort. - -The last time I was in Richmond I took my children by the Arlington and -pointed out to them the window from which our codfish hung. - -And now Betty Taylor--Walter’s bride--and I began planning to run -through the Yankee lines together and join our husbands. - -We did not think even then, you see, that the war was over. Our faith -was still crediting superhuman powers to Lee and his skeleton army. -Then there was President Davis’s proclamation issued from Danville, -wherein we found encouragement for hope. Then came the blow. We heard -that Lee had surrendered. Lee surrendered! that couldn’t be true! But -even while we were refusing to believe it General Lee, accompanied, as -I remember, by one or two members of his staff, rode up to his door. He -bared his weary gray head to the people who gathered around him with -greetings and passed into his house. - -Hope was dead at last. But other things, precious and imperishable, -remained to us and to our children--the things that make for loyalty -and courage and endurance--an invincible faith--the enduring record -of heroic example. Lee had surrendered, but Lee was still himself and -our own--a heritage to be handed down by Americans to America when -sectional distinctions have been swallowed up in the strength of a -Union great enough to honor every son, whatever his creed, who has -lived and died for “conscience’ sake.” - -Sitting in my window that sorrowful day I saw three officers in gray -uniforms galloping rapidly along Main Street. I recognized familiar -figures in them all before they came as far as the Arlington. One -turned out of Main Street, riding home to his wife, as I knew, before -they reached the window; another did the same. - -The third came galloping past. - -I thrust my head out of the window. - -“Walter!” I called. - -He looked up. - -“Hello, Nell!” he cried, waving his hat around his head and galloping -on. - -He was on his way to his bride from whom he had parted at the altar. - -But even at this supreme moment of their lives he and Betty were good -enough to remember me, and in a few hours after I hailed him from the -window Walter called. - -“Where is Dan?” was my first question. - -“I don’t know, Nell,” he answered. “But I know he’s alive and well and -will be along in a few days.” - -That was all the comfort I got from any friends returning from the -field. - -A little later there was a grand review of Federal troops in Richmond, -and I remember how well-clad and sleek they were and how new and -glittering were their arms. Good boots, good hats, a whole suit of -clothes to every man--a long, bright, prosperous-looking procession. -On the sidewalk a poor Confederate in rags and bootless, stood looking -wistfully on. - -The next day I heard that General Rooney Lee had arrived, and I went -to see him. I was shown up to his mother’s room, and she told me that -he had not come, but was hourly expected. When I called the next day I -met him and Miss Mildred Lee in the door. They were going out, but the -general stepped back with me into the hall. - -“I came to see if you could tell me anything about Dan, general.” - -“Mrs. Grey,” he said, “you know Dan as well as I do. He isn’t whipped -yet. I told him it was all foolishness, and that the war was over, -but he wouldn’t surrender with me, and is going through to Johnston’s -army. But he will have to come back, and he will be here soon, I think. -Johnston’s army has surrendered.” - -“You think then that nothing has happened to him, general?” - -“Oh, no. I am sure of that.” - -General Lee dropped his voice. - -“Mrs. Grey, it may be several days before Dan gets in. In the meanwhile -let me supply your wants as best I can. You should not mind applying to -me or accepting assistance from me.” - -“I appreciate your kindness more than I can tell you, general, but I -don’t really need anything.” - -“If you should stand in need of money or assistance of any kind before -Dan gets in, let me know, won’t you?” - -“Indeed I will, dear general.” - -We all three walked down Franklin Street together until Miss Mildred, -who was going to see some friends on Grace Street, had to turn. After -the two had just turned the corner I heard the general say: - -“Wait for a minute, Mildred.” - -He slipped back, put his hand in his pocket, and took out a thin roll -of bills, a very thin roll. - -“Mrs. Grey,” he said, “here is all the money I have in the world, ten -dollars in greenbacks. Take half of it--I wish you would--it wouldn’t -inconvenience me at all. I will make some more soon, and then I will -divide with you again until Dan comes home.” - -I could hardly speak for tears. At that moment I was richer than my -general. I had at home in gold and greenbacks more money than General -Lee. - -“God bless you, general!” I managed to say. “But really I don’t need -it. If I do really and truly I will come to you for it.” - -Franklin Street wasn’t a good place to cry in, so I hurried home. - -Still the days that passed did not bring me Dan. I became thoroughly -miserable. I sat in my window and watched and was cross if anybody -spoke to me. - -One day a servant brought up a message: - -“Er gent’man in de parlor to see yer, missy.” - -“What sort of a ‘gent’man’ is it?” I asked tartly. There was but one -man in the world I wanted to see or hear about just then. - -“He ain’t lak our people, missy. He’s furrin--French or suppin nuther. -He say how he usen ter know yer in Petersburg. An’ how you lent ’im -some--er--music--er suppin lak dat. An’ he got--er--errah--suppin--I -clar fo’ de Lord, missy, I dunno what ’tis--but he got suppin----” - -“Oh, I know,” I said. “He’s that old French music-teacher, and he’s -brought back that old music I lent him in the year one. Go tell him -that I don’t want it; he can have it.” - -Jake departed only to return in a more perplexed frame of mind and -state of speech. - -“He say how ’tain’t no music he’s got fur yer. He say--he do say, -missy--but de Lord knows I dunno what he say!--but anyway be bleeged to -see yer.” - -I got up and went down to the parlor in desperation. - -Sure enough, it was the little French music-teacher, and he began -apologies, acknowledgments and what not in his dreadful English. - -“Madame, I haf no mooseek to you--not at all. I haf one message of you -to ze majaire. If you not b’lief me,” he fumbled in his pocket and -brought out a dirty bit of paper, “look at ze cart--vat sail I call -him? ze lettaire. If madame vill look--I beg ze pardon of madame----” - -I snatched the paper out of his hand. And then--I couldn’t make it out. -Written in the first place with an indifferent pencil on a worn bit -of the poor paper of that day and carried in the little Frenchman’s -very ragged and grimy pocket, the scrawl was illegible. It had never -been more than a line of some five or six words. While I was trying to -make it out the little Frenchman explained that it was merely a line -introducing himself as the bearer of a message. - -What that message was I never did hear, though the little Frenchman -did his best to deliver and I to receive it. I got enough out of him, -however, to know that Dan was well and on his way to Richmond. I -also understood that he was not far from Richmond now, but what was -detaining him I could not make out, though the little Frenchman, with -many apologies, conveyed the hint to me that it was a delicate matter. -After he was gone I wondered why I was so stupid as not to get the -little man’s address so that I could send some friends who understood -French after him. From what he had said I had inferred that my husband -would be with me the following day. I watched in a fever of impatience, -but two days passed and no Dan. - -The third night as I laid my aching head on the pillow I said: “Mother, -if he don’t come to-morrow, the next day I start out to look for him.” - -Do you know how it is to feel in your sleep that some one is looking at -you? This is the sort of sensation that aroused me the next morning, -and I opened my eyes in the early dawn to find my husband standing by -the bed with clasped hands looking down at me. - -Ah, we were happy--we were happy! Ragged, defeated, broken, we but had -each other and that was enough. - -But there is a ludicrous side that I must tell you. I must explain how -Dan was dressed. He wore a pair of threadbare gray trousers patched -with blue; they were much too short for him, and there were holes which -were not patched at all; he had no socks on, but wore a ragged shoe -of one size on one foot, and on the other a boot of another size and -ragged too; he had on a blue jacket much too small for him--it was -conspicuously too short, and there was a wide margin between where it -ended and his trousers began, and he had on a calico shirt that looked -like pink peppermint candy. Set back on his head was an old hat, shot -nearly all to pieces--you could look through the holes, and it had tags -hanging around where the brim had been. He was a perfect old ragman -except for the very new pink shirt. - -“My dear Dan,” I said, “what a perfect fright you are! What a dreadful -ragtag and bobtail!” - -“Why, Nell,” he said, “I thought these very good clothes. What’s -missing, my dear? My suit is very complete; whole trousers, jacket, new -shirt, hat on my head, even down to something on both feet. Last week -I didn’t have any shirt, nor any jacket to speak of, and my trousers -weren’t patched and I didn’t have anything on my feet. One reason I -took so long to get here was because I was trying to get a few clothes -together--I wasn’t dressed to my taste, you see. It took much time and -labor to collect all this wearing apparel. I got first one piece and -then another, until I am as you see me, fit to enter Richmond. Somebody -stole my trousers one morning--I was in an awful plight. That was the -time the little Frenchman passed and I sent you a message. Did he tell -you that I’d get home as soon as I got another pair of trousers if -somebody didn’t steal my jacket by that time?” - -I was laughing and crying all the time he was talking. When I pulled -off boot and shoe I found that he had spoken the truth in jest when he -said he had been walking barefoot nearly all the way. His feet were -sore. I had some good shoes for him, and I got out an old civilian -suit that he had worn before the war. It didn’t fit him now and looked -antiquated, but he donned it with great satisfaction. - -Then we went out shopping. It was shopping in a city of ruins. As we -walked along the streets there were smoking pits on each side of us. -Here and there the remnants of what had been a store enabled us to -purchase shoes at one place and the materials for two white shirts at -another, and to our great joy we found a hat for which he paid two -dollars, United States money. - -We had nothing on which to begin life over again, but we were young and -strong, and began it cheerily enough. We are prosperous now, our heads -are nearly white; little grandchildren cluster about us and listen -with interest to grandpapa’s and grandmamma’s tales of the days when -they “fought and bled and died together.” They can’t understand how -such nice people as the Yankees and ourselves ever could have fought -each other. “It doesn’t seem reasonable,” says Nellie the third, who -is engaged to a gentleman from Boston, where we sent her to cultivate -her musical talents, but where she applied herself to other matters, -“it doesn’t seem reasonable, grandmamma, when you could just as easily -have settled it all comfortably without any fighting. How glad I am -I wasn’t living then! How thankful I am that ‘Old Glory’ floats alike -over North and South, now!” - -And so am I, my darling, so am I! - -But for us--for Dan and me--we could almost as easily give up each -other as those terrible, beloved days. They are the very fiber of us. - - -THE END - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Virginia Girl in the Civil War, -1861-1865, by Myrta Lockett Avary - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIRGINIA GIRL IN CIVIL WAR *** - -***** This file should be named 52070-0.txt or 52070-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/0/7/52070/ - -Produced by Wayne Hammond and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: A Virginia Girl in the Civil War, 1861-1865 - being a record of the actual experiences of the wife of - a confederate officer - -Author: Myrta Lockett Avary - -Release Date: May 15, 2016 [EBook #52070] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIRGINIA GIRL IN CIVIL WAR *** - - - - -Produced by Wayne Hammond and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div id="cover" class="figcenter"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /> -<p class="copy">The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_i">i</span></p> - -<h1> -A VIRGINIA GIRL IN THE -CIVIL WAR</h1> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">ii</span></p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">iii</span></p> - -<p class="ph1"> -<span class="gesperrt">A VIRGINIA GIRL<br /> -IN THE CIVIL WAR<br /> -1861-1865</span><br /> - -<br /> -<span class="table medium">BEING A RECORD OF THE ACTUAL EXPERIENCES<br /> -OF THE WIFE OF A CONFEDERATE OFFICER</span> -<br /> -<span class="small"><i>COLLECTED AND EDITED BY</i></span><br /> -<span class="gesperrt large">MYRTA LOCKETT AVARY</span><br /> -<br /> -<img src="images/i003.jpg" alt="" /> -<br /> -<br /> -<span class="table large">NEW YORK<br /> -D. APPLETON AND COMPANY<br /> -1903</span><br /> -</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">iv</span></p> - -<p class="copy"> -<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1903<br /> -By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY</span><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<i>Published February, 1903</i> -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">v</span></p> - -<h2 id="INTRODUCTION">INTRODUCTION</h2> - -<p>This history was told over the tea-cups. -One winter, in the South, I had for my neighbor -a gentle, little brown-haired lady, who -spent many evenings at my fireside, as I at -hers, where with bits of needlework in our -hands we gossiped away as women will. I -discovered in her an unconscious heroine, and -her Civil War experiences made ever an interesting -topic. Wishing to share with others -the reminiscences she gave me, I seek to present -them here in her own words. Just as -they stand, they are, I believe, unique, possessing -at once the charm of romance and -the veracity of history. They supply a graphic, -if artless, picture of the social life of one -of the most interesting and dramatic periods -of our national existence. The stories were -not related in strict chronological sequence, -but I have endeavored to arrange them in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vi">vi</span> -that way. Otherwise, I have made as few -changes as possible. Out of deference to the -wishes of living persons, her own and her -husband’s real names have been suppressed -and others substituted; in the case of a few -of their close personal friends, and of some -whose names would not be of special historical -value, the same plan has been followed.</p> - -<p>Those who read this book are admitted -to the sacred councils of close friends, and -I am sure they will turn with reverent fingers -these pages of a sweet and pure woman’s life—a -life on which, since those fireside talks -of ours, the Death-Angel has set his seal.</p> - -<p>Memoirs and journals written not because -of their historical or political significance, but -because they are to the writer the natural expression -of what life has meant to him in the -moment of living, have a value entirely apart -from literary quality. They bring us close to -the human soul—the human soul in undress. -We find ourselves without preface or apology -in personal, intimate relation with whatever -makes the yesterday, to-day, to-morrow of -the writer. When this current of events and -conditions is impelled and directed by a vital -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">vii</span> -and formative period in the history of a nation, -we have only to follow its course to see -what history can never show us, and what fiction -can unfold to us only in part—how the -people thought, felt, and lived who were not -making history, or did not know that they -were.</p> - -<p>This is the essential value of A Virginia -Girl in the Civil War: it shows us simply, sincerely, -and unconsciously what life meant to an -American woman during the vital and formative -period of American history. That this -American woman was also a Virginian with all -a Virginian’s love for Virginia and loyalty to -the South, gives to her record of those days -that are still “the very fiber of us” a fidelity -rarely found in studies of local color. Meanwhile, -her grateful affection for the Union -soldiers, officers and men, who served and -shielded her, should lift this story to a place -beyond the pale of sectional prejudice.</p> - -<p class="author"> -<span class="smcap">Myrta Lockett Avary.</span><br /> -</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">New York</span>, <i>November 1, 1902</i>.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_viii">viii</span></p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">ix</span></p> - -<h2 id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> - -<table> - <tr> - <td>CHAPTER</td> - <td></td> - <td class="tdr small">PAGE</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">I.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_I">—<span class="smcap">Home life in a Southern harbor</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">1</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">II.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_II">—<span class="smcap">How I met Dan Grey</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">12</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">III.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_III">—<span class="smcap">The first days of the Confederacy</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">22</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IV.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">—<span class="smcap">The realities of war</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">38</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">V.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_V">—<span class="smcap">I meet Belle Boyd and see Dick in a new light</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">51</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VI.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">—<span class="smcap">A faithful slave and a hospital ward</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">59</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">—<span class="smcap">Traveling through Dixie in war times</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">69</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">VIII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">—<span class="smcap">By flag of truce</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">83</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">IX.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">—<span class="smcap">I make up my mind to run the blockade</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">91</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">X.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_X">—<span class="smcap">I cross the country in an ambulance and the Pamunkey on a lighter</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">101</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XI.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">—<span class="smcap">The old order</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">113</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">—<span class="smcap">A dangerous masquerade</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">124</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">—<span class="smcap">A last farewell</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">139</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIV.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">—<span class="smcap">The little Jew boy and the provost’s deputy</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">144</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XV.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">—<span class="smcap">I fall into the hands of the enemy</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">150</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVI.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">—<span class="smcap">The flower of chivalry</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">172</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">—<span class="smcap">Prisoners of the United States</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">188</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XVIII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">—<span class="smcap">Within our lines</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">211</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XIX.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">—<span class="smcap">My comrade General Jeb Stuart</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">230<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">x</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XX.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">—“<span class="smcap">Whose business ’tis To die</span>”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">244</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXI.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">—<span class="smcap">Rescued by the foe</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">263</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">—<span class="smcap">With Dan at Charlottesville</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">285</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXIII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">—“<span class="smcap">Into the jaws of death</span>”</a></td> - <td class="tdrb">297</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXIV.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">—<span class="smcap">By the skin of our teeth</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">315</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXV.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">—<span class="smcap">The beginning of the end</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">330</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXVI.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">—<span class="smcap">How we lived in the last days of the Confederacy</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">349</td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class="tdr">XXVII.</td> - <td><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">—<span class="smcap">Under the Stars and Stripes</span></a></td> - <td class="tdrb">365</td> - </tr> -</table> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">1</span></p> - -<p class="ph1">A VIRGINIA GIRL IN -THE CIVIL WAR</p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br /> - -<span class="small">HOME LIFE IN A SOUTHERN HARBOR</span></h2> - -<p>Many years ago I heard a prominent lawyer -of Baltimore, who had just returned from -a visit to Charleston, say that the Charlestonians -were so in the habit of antedating -everything with the Civil War that when he -commented to one of them upon the beauty -of the moonlight on the Battery, his answer -was, “You should have seen it before the -war.” I laughed, as everybody else did; but -since then I have more than once caught myself -echoing the sentiment of that Charleston -citizen to visitors who exclaimed over the -social delights of Norfolk. For really they -know nothing about it—that is, about the -real Norfolk. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">2</span></p> - -<p>Nobody does who can not remember, as I -do, when her harbor was covered with shipping -which floated flags of all nations, and her -society was the society of the world. Milicent -and I—there were only the two of us—were -as familiar with foreign colors as with our -own Red, White, and Blue, and happily grew -up unconscious that a title had any right of -precedence superior to that of youth, good -breeding, good looks, and agreeability. That -all of these gave instant way to the claims -of age was one of the unalterable tenets -handed down from generation to generation, -and punctiliously observed in our manner and -address to the older servants. The “uncle” -and “aunty” and “mammy” that fall so -oddly upon the ears of the present generation -were with Southern children and young people -the “straight and narrow” path that separated -gentle birth and breeding from the -vulgar and ignorant.</p> - -<p>My girlhood was a happy one. My father -was an officer of the Bank of Virginia, and, -according to the custom that obtained, he -lived over the bank. His young assistant, -Walter H. Taylor (afterward adjutant to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">3</span> -General R. E. Lee), was like a brother to -Milicent and me. Father’s position and -means, and the personal charm that left him -and my mother cherished memories in Norfolk -till to-day, drew around us a cultivated -and cosmopolitan society. Our lives were -made up of dance and song and moonlit sails. -There were the Atlantic Ocean, the Roads, -the bay, the James and Elizabeth rivers, meeting -at our very door. And there were admirals, -commodores, and captains whose good -ships rode these waters, and who served two -sovereigns—the nation whose flag they floated -and a slim Virginia maiden. In all the -gatherings, formal and informal, under our -roof, naval and military uniforms predominated. -Many men who later distinguished -themselves in the Federal and Confederate -armies, sat around our board and danced in -our parlors; others holding high places in -Eastern and European courts were numbered -among our friends and acquaintances.</p> - -<p>Some years after Commodore Perry -through a skilful mixture of gunpowder and -diplomacy had opened the ports of Japan to -the commerce of all nations, Ito and Inouye—not -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">4</span> -then counts—had brought into existence -an organized Japanese navy which sailed -out of these same ports to the harbors of the -world on tours of inspection. One of my -most vivid memories is of the Japanese -squadron which lay at anchor in our harbor, -of the picturesque dress and manners of these -Eastern strangers, and the polished courtesy -of the two men whose names are now a part -of history.</p> - -<p>But the handsomest sailors I ever saw -were the Prussians. When the Prussian -navy was in its infancy two Prussian vessels, -the frigate Gaefion and a corvette, dropped -anchor in Norfolk harbor; they, too, were -visiting the ports of different nations on tours -of inspection. All the officers on these vessels, -including the midshipmen, were noblemen, -and all of them were magnificent-looking -men. Then, too, their brilliant uniforms -and the state and ceremony with which they -invested every-day life made them altogether -charming to a young, romantic girl. I shall -never forget how they used to enter the room. -They would appear in full regimentals, march -in military form, the frigate’s captain in command, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">5</span> -and salute Milicent before they permitted -themselves to talk, dance, and sing. -Upon leaving, the same order was observed. -They went out into the hall, donned their -hats, sword-belts, and swords, returned, saluted, -and withdrew in military form. At this -time I was a little girl who played on the -piano for grown-up people to dance. On -formal occasions we had military bands, but -for the every-evening dance my playing did -well enough. When the Prussians were our -guests, one of them always sat by me while I -played. Baron von der Golz, since Admiral -of the German navy, was the gentleman who -was oftenest kind enough to turn over my -music. I play now, for my children to dance, -a Prussian gallop he taught me, with some of -the music I played for those officers, and some -which they used to play when they took my -place at the piano that I might have my share -of the dancing. Another Prussian officer of -whom I was very fond was Count von Monts, -afterward Admiral of the German navy, Von -der Golz succeeding at his death.</p> - -<p>I shall never forget the day my Prussian -friends sailed away. From the roof of our -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">6</span> -residence over the bank, there was a good -view of the harbor and river: Milicent, Emily -Conway, and a number of girls who wanted -to see the last of the gallant, handsome Prussians -went up on the roof, and I was permitted -to go with them. We turned our spy-glasses -on their ships as they sailed toward Hampton -Roads, and there were our friends on deck, -their glasses turned upon the housetop where -we stood in the full glare of the midday sun. -Even I was visible to them. Milicent placed -me in front of our spy-glass, and I looked -through and singled out Baron von Golz, to -whom I waved my handkerchief vigorously. -A little snow-storm fluttered on the deck, -and the baron not only waved, but saluted. -According to the fashion of the time, young -ladies wore low-necked dresses in the middle -of the day—never, however, at any hour, so -low as ladies at the opera wear them now. -Milicent and her friends who went to the -housetop were bare-necked, and the sun blistered -their throats and shoulders; and mother -had to bathe Milicent with buttermilk all the -afternoon to make her presentable for the -dance that night, which, by special permission, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">7</span> -Count von Monts attended, coming up -from Fortress Monroe to escort Milicent. -They made a pretty picture when they danced -their last dance together. The Count would -not permit their friendship to cease with that -last dance, and a correspondence was long -kept up between them. At parting, she gave -him her little Catholic prayer-book with her -name on the fly-leaf, and years after, when -revisiting Norfolk, he had that prayer-book -and tried to find her; but times were changed, -and Norfolk no more our home. Many a -titled sailor sought my sister’s favor, but in -our day Virginia’s daughters, undazzled by -coronets, were content to wed Virginia’s -sons.</p> - -<p>The almost limitless hospitality of those -days made all the sharper the distinction between -“open house” and open hand. In the -forties, the reserve of the American girl was -more like that of her English sister than it is -at the present day. Society did not sanction -the freedom which it countenances now. The -gentlewoman of the old South was a past -mistress in the art of tact, but had little -knowledge or practise in it to further her own -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">8</span> -private ends. Its office, as she understood it, -was to relieve painful situations not her own, -to contribute to the comfort and pleasure of -others. To rid herself of a disagreeable third -person to secure a <i>tête-à-tête</i> with a lover was -not within its province. Lovers had to make -their own opportunities—indeed it was not -her part even to conceive that they wanted to -make opportunities. Taking all this into consideration, -the freedom with which Southern -children entered into the social life must have -often made them thorns in the flesh of their -elders. I have often wondered since those -happy days if my favorites among my sister’s -visitors did not find me a great nuisance -in spite of the caresses they lavished -upon me.</p> - -<p>The New Year’s reception of that period -was not an afternoon and evening affair. It -began in the morning and lasted all day; it -meant pretty girls fluttering in laces and ribbons -and feathers and sparkling with jewels -and smiles; stately matrons who, however -beautiful and young they were, never indulged -even in the innocent coquetry that -neither deceives a man nor wounds a woman—the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">9</span> -married belle was unknown to Virginia; -and gallant men, young and old, ready to -die for them or live for them; it meant the -good things to eat for which Virginia is -famous, and, I am sorry to say, often more -than enough of good things to drink. I remember -one of these New Year’s days when -the ardor of my affections prevented a young -officer who had come to bid us good-by from -exchanging a word with anybody unhampered -by my close attendance. I was brimful -of nine-year-old love for him. I proposed to -him and was promptly accepted; I made him -drink punch with me dipped from the old -punch-bowl that had been presented to father -by the military companies of Norfolk, and I -told him how Admiral Tucker had made the -presentation with flags flying and bands playing -and wine flowing, and how the admiral -tried to ride his horse up the front steps into -the house, and how the sober animal wisely -and firmly refused to perform the feat. -Through a long day he did not once escape -me. This young officer was Lieutenant -John L. Worden. He was one of the gallant -“boys in blue” who made my sister’s girlhood -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">10</span> -happy. A most charming gentleman -he was, and everybody in my father’s house -loved him.</p> - -<p>Another young sailor—the handsomest of -them all, whom everybody in my father’s -house loved—was Captain Warren. How -well I remember that evening when the order -came bidding him report at once to his -ship, which was to set forth on a long cruise -in Eastern waters! Shall I ever forget the -look in his eyes as he turned them upon Milicent! -How beautiful she was that night! -How gracious and sweet, how greatly to be -desired! And how many desired her!</p> - -<p>Milicent had been married several years -and I was in the raptures of my first winter in -society when my father died, and mother decided -that we should leave Norfolk—Norfolk -where river and bay and ocean had sung our -cradle-songs—and go to Petersburg to live. -In this day of independent women it sounds -absurd to say that it was scarcely considered -wise or delicate for women to live without the -protection of a male relative in the house, and -to add that as far as possible they were -shielded from the burden of business responsibilities. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">11</span> -Uncle Henry considered it imperative -that we should be under his care; he could -not come to Norfolk, so we went to him. -We could scarcely have been strangers anywhere -in Virginia, and in Petersburg we had -many friends. The Lees and the Randolphs, -the Pegrams and the Pages, the Stringfellows, -the Hamiltons, the Witherspoons, the -Bannisters, the Donnans, the Dunlops, and -a score of others made it easy to exercise -the genius for friendship which in Virginia -hands down that relation from generation to -generation.</p> - -<p>It was in Petersburg that my trousseau -was made. Much of it was the work and -embroidery of loving, light-hearted girls -whose feet were set to music and dancing, and -most of it was worn by women who trod instead -fields red with the blood of their friends -and kinsmen. During the long, dreary years -in which the Northern ports were closed, and -the South clothed itself as best it could, or -went in rags, that trousseau constituted my -sole outfit, and it reinforced the wardrobes -of some comrades in war and want. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">12</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br /> - -<span class="small">HOW I MET DAN GREY</span></h2> - -<p>“Have you met Dan Grey?”</p> - -<p>Charlie Murray and I were galloping along -a country road.</p> - -<p>“I haven’t, Charlie. I met his brother -Dick in Norfolk, and didn’t like him at all.”</p> - -<p>“Well, Nell, you’d like Dan—everybody -does. I wonder you haven’t met him. Dan -never fails to meet every pretty girl that -comes here.”</p> - -<p>I had heard that before. Indeed, I had -heard a great deal about Dan Grey that made -me long to get even with him. Everybody -had a way of speaking as if Petersburg wasn’t -Petersburg with Dan Grey left out.</p> - -<p>“You ought to meet Dan Grey,” Charlie -repeated.</p> - -<p>“I don’t think so,” I rapped out. “I -think I can get along very nicely without -meeting Dan Grey”—Dan Grey seemed to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">13</span> -be getting along very nicely without meeting -me—“I know as many nice men now as I -have time to see.”</p> - -<p>So I dismissed Dan, whipped up my horse, -and raced Charlie along the old Jerusalem -Plank Road—that historic thoroughfare by -which the Union troops first threatened Petersburg, -and near which Fort Hell and Fort -Damnation are still visible. We ran our -horses past the old brick church, built of -bricks brought from England to erect a place -of worship for the aristocratic colonists, past -the quiet graves in Blandford; and turning -our horses into Washington Street, slackened -their pace and, chatting merrily the while, -rode slowly into the city toward the golden -sunset. A few years later I was to run along -this street in abject terror from bursting -shells.</p> - -<p>“You ought to meet Dan Grey.”</p> - -<p>It came from George Van B—— this -time. George was the poet laureate of our -set. Afterward he was Colonel Van B——, -and as gallant a soldier as ever faced shot -and shell. I had been playing an accompaniment -for him; he was singing a popular ditty -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">14</span> -of the day, “Sweet Nellie is by my Side”; I -wheeled around on the piano-stool and faced -him.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter with that man? He -must be a curiosity?”</p> - -<p>“He is just the nicest fellow in town,” -George asserted with mingled resentment and -amusement.</p> - -<p>“He must be something extraordinary. -One would think there was just one man in -town and that his name was Dan Grey.”</p> - -<p>Before the week was out I heard it again. -This time it was Willie. He spoke oracularly, -and as if he were broaching an original idea. -Page, the best dancer in our set, repeated -the recommendation, looking as if I were -quite out of the swim in not knowing Dan -Grey. (If Governor —— reads this chapter, -will he please overlook the familiar use of his -name? Boys and girls who have played -mumble-peg together and snowballed each -other, do not attach handles to each other’s -names until they are more thoroughly grown -up than we were then.)</p> - -<p>“I am sure it must be my duty to meet -Dan Grey,” I said gravely. “I am continually -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">15</span> -being told that I ’ought to meet Dan -Grey’ just as I might be told that I ought -to go to church.”</p> - -<p>“Dan isn’t a bit like a church, Nell,” -laughed Willie. “But he is a splendid fellow, -generous to a fault—and then, you know, -Dan is the handsomest man in town.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!” I retorted, “I left the handsomest -man in town in Norfolk.”</p> - -<p>I can’t begin to tell how terribly tired I -got of “You ought to meet Dan Grey,” -“Haven’t you met Dan Grey?” Evidently -Dan Grey was in no hurry to meet me. I -knew that he was the toast of our set and that -he ignored me as completely as if I were not -in it—and I had never been ignored before. I -also knew, without being continually told, -that he was a broad-shouldered, magnificent-looking -fellow, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and -“the handsomest man in town.” My girl -friends talked about him almost as much as -the men did. And I did not even know the -lion! I took great pains not to want to know -him. I impressed it upon Willie and Charlie -and George and the rest that they were not to -bring Dan Grey to see me. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">16</span></p> - -<p>“Why, what will we say if he asks us to -bring him? You are unreasonable, Nell. -How did you ever pick up such a prejudice -against Dan? Nobody can object to Dan -Grey. If he asks any of us to bring him, I -don’t know what we can do.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, of course you can’t be rude. If you -are asked to bring him, you will have to do -as you are asked, but I don’t think you will be -asked. I’m sure I hope you won’t, for I have -heard of Dan Grey until I am sick of the very -name.”</p> - -<p>Meanwhile I resolved privately if I ever -did lay my hands on Dan Grey I would wreak -a full vengeance. He says that I have -done it.</p> - -<p>A Catholic fair was to be held in Petersburg, -but as dearly as we loved Father Mulvey -(all Petersburg loved him), and as much -as we longed to do everything possible for our -poor little Church of St. Joseph, we could not -go to the fair rooms and sell things and make -merry. We were in deep mourning; mother -said that our going was out of the question. -Then her old friend, Mrs. Winton, came out -to persuade and convince. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">17</span></p> - -<p>“I really can not let the girls go,” mother -protested. “They can make fancy articles -and send them to the fair, or do any home -work that you can put them to; we are willing -to help just as much as we can. I will send -pickled oysters and shrimp salad after my -Norfolk recipes, and cake and cream and anything -you like that I can make.”</p> - -<p>“We want the oysters and the salad and -the cake and everything else you choose to -send, but above all things we want the girls. -I didn’t come here for your pickled oysters -and shrimp salad, if they are the best I ever -tasted. I want Milicent and Nell—I want -Nell for my booth and Milicent for Mrs. -Lynn’s. Mrs. Lynn has set her heart on -Milicent—but, there! Mrs. Lynn may do her -own begging. Do let me have Nell.”</p> - -<p>“My dear, I don’t see how I can.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, you must! We really need them. -You know how few girls there are in our little -congregation.”</p> - -<p>Mother was too good a Catholic not to -yield—Milicent and I were given over to the -cause of St. Joseph’s.</p> - -<p>“But they are to work, not to amuse -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">18</span> -themselves,” she stipulated. “They are not -to promenade—just to stand behind tables -and sell things.”</p> - -<p>“Just send them,” pleaded Mrs. Winton. -“I’ll promise not to let them enjoy themselves. -I’ll keep Nell busy, and Mrs. Lynn -will do her duty by Milicent.”</p> - -<p>But work is fun when you are young -enough, and there was plenty of both in getting -the booths ready. The old Library Hall -on Bollingbrook Street was a gay and busy -scene for several days before it was formally -opened to the public who came to spend -money and make merry.</p> - -<p>On one never-forgotten morning the hall -was filled with matrons and maidens weaving -festoons of pine-beard, running cedar, and -ivy. I had purposely donned my worst dress, -and was sitting on the floor Turkish fashion, -with evergreens heaped around me, when I -saw a party of gentlemen entering the hall.</p> - -<p>I tried to sink out of sight, but they saw -me, demolished my barricade, and began to -tease me. The quartet were Charlie Murray, -George Van B——, Willie, and Page. -Behind them came a fifth gentleman, and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">19</span> -before this fifth gentleman and I knew what -was happening we were being presented to -each other. And that is how I met Dan Grey—sitting -on the floor in my shabbiest dress -and half hidden by evergreens. I soon had -the whole party hard at work festooning the -hall, and what a good, if late, laborer, Dan -Grey made in my vineyard!</p> - -<p>“You see how useful I am,” he said—he -was standing on a box and I was handing up -wreaths of cedar which he was arranging on -the wall. “Now, why didn’t you let me come -to see you?”</p> - -<p>“Me?” I asked in utter bewilderment.</p> - -<p>“Yes, ‘me’!”</p> - -<p>“Why, I never had a thing to do with -your not coming to see me.”</p> - -<p>He gave George, Charlie, and Willie a -withering look.</p> - -<p>“I reckon somebody else didn’t want -me to.”</p> - -<p>The boys looked dumfounded.</p> - -<p>“I heard,” said Dan from his box, “that -you didn’t want me to come to see you, that -you had an unaccountable prejudice against -me because you didn’t like Dick, that you -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">20</span> -asked all your friends by no means to bring -me to see you.”</p> - -<p>I was as mad as I could be with George, -Willie, and Charlie.</p> - -<p>“Why,” I said, “you are not your brother -Dick. And then, I don’t dislike Dick at all.”</p> - -<p>Again the trio looked at me as if they -doubted the evidence of their senses.</p> - -<p>“Nell, what did you tell such a story -for?” George asked me privately later.</p> - -<p>“Why, I didn’t tell any story at all,” I -declared. “He isn’t his brother Dick, is he? -And I don’t dislike Dick now.”</p> - -<p>The night of the fair I wore a black bombazine, -cut low in the neck and with long -angel sleeves falling away from my arms -above the elbow to the hem of my dress, and -around my neck a band of black velvet with -a black onyx cross. I sat or stood behind -Mrs. Winton’s booth, and Mr. Grey haunted -the booth all the evening, and bought quantities -of things he had no use for.</p> - -<p>After the fair he saw me or reminded me -of his existence in some way every day. -Mother took me, about this time, on a visit to -some cousins in Birdville, and every day Mr. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">21</span> -Grey rode out on Dare Devil, the horse that -he was to ride into his first fight. There was -another fair. I went in from Birdville to help, -and had the same coterie of assistants. “Ben -Bolt” was a great favorite then. It was a -new song and divided honors with “Sweet -Nellie is by my Side.” My assistants used -to sit on a goods box that was later to be converted -into an ornamental stand, and sing, -“O don’t you Remember Sweet Alice, Ben -Bolt?”</p> - -<p>Well, to make a long story short—as Dan -and I did—we were married in exactly four -months and a half from the day on which he -was introduced to me as I sat cross-legged -among the evergreens; and when Willie and -George and Charlie came up to congratulate -us, every wretch of them said, “Didn’t I tell -you you ought to meet Dan Grey?” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">22</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br /> - -<span class="small">THE FIRST DAYS OF THE CONFEDERACY</span></h2> - -<p>Soon after my marriage my brother-in-law -moved to Baltimore, and my mother decided -to go with Milicent and her little boy. -I had never really been separated from them -before; I was only seventeen, a spoiled child, -but though I loved them dearly, after the first -I scarcely missed them. I had my husband, -and ah! how happy we were—how glad we -both were that I had met Dan Grey!</p> - -<p>We did not go to housekeeping at once. -In the first place, I did not know anything -about housekeeping and I didn’t want Dan to -find it out; in the second place, we wanted to -look around before we settled upon a house; -and in the third, and what was to me the -smallest place, the country was in a very unsettled -condition.</p> - -<p>The question of State’s rights and secession -was being pressed home to Virginia. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">23</span> -The correspondence between the commission -at Washington and Mr. Seward was despatched -to Richmond, and Richmond is but -twenty miles from Petersburg. There were -mutterings that each day grew louder, signs -and portents that we refused to believe. -Local militia were organizing and drilling—getting -ready to answer the call should it -come. Not that the people seriously thought -that it would come. They believed, as they -hoped, that something would be done to prevent -war; that statesmen, North and South, -would combine to save the Union; that, at -any rate, we should be saved from bloodshed. -As for those others who prophesied and -prayed for it, who wanted the vials of God’s -wrath uncorked, they got what they wanted. -Their prayers were answered; the land was -drenched in blood. But for the most of us—the -Virginians whom I knew—we did not, -we would not believe that brothers could war -with brothers.</p> - -<p>Then something happened that drove the -truth home to our hearts. The guns of Sumter -spoke—war was upon us. But not for -long; the differences would be adjusted. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">24</span> -Sumter fell, Virginia seceded. Still we befooled -ourselves. There would be a brief -campaign, victory, and peace. North and -South, we looked for anything but what came—those -four long years of bloody agony; -North and South were each sure of victory. -In Virginia, where the courage and endurance -of starving men were to stand the test -of weary months and years, we scoffed at the -idea that there would be any real fighting. -If there should be, for Virginia who had never -known the shadow of defeat, defeat was impossible.</p> - -<p>One day my brother-in-law, Dick, walked -in.</p> - -<p>“I’ve come to tell you good-by, Nell—I’m -off to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>“Where?”</p> - -<p>“Norfolk.”</p> - -<p>“What for?”</p> - -<p>“Infantry ordered there. The Rifles go -down to-night, the Grays to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>I looked serious, and Dick laughed.</p> - -<p>“Don’t bother, Nell, we’ll be back in a -few days. There won’t be any fighting.”</p> - -<p>Dick was a good-looking fellow, and I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">25</span> -liked him much better than I had once said I -did. He was the dandy of the family, and -on the present occasion was glorious in a -new uniform.</p> - -<p>“Dick,” I said, “please don’t get in a -fight and get shot.”</p> - -<p>“Not if I can help it, Nell! There won’t -be any fighting. We’re going to protect -Norfolk, you know. Just going there to be -on the spot if we’re needed, I suppose.”</p> - -<p>He went away laughing, but I wasn’t convinced. -When Dan came, I was almost too -weak with fear to ask the question that was -on my tongue.</p> - -<p>“Is Norfolk to be bombarded?”</p> - -<p>“No, I think not,” he spoke cheerily. -“The boys will be back in a few days.”</p> - -<p>Oh, I hoped they would! Many of my -friends were among “the boys.”</p> - -<p>“Do—do you think your company will -have to go?”</p> - -<p>I was only seventeen; mother and Milicent -were away; my young husband was my -life.</p> - -<p>“The cavalry have not been ordered out,” -he said. “I don’t think we will be sent for. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">26</span> -Cheer up, Nell! The boys will be back in a -few days, and won’t we have a high old time -welcoming them home!”</p> - -<p>The Rifles went down one day. The -Grays went down the next. The day after -my husband came in, looking very pale and -quiet.</p> - -<p>“Dan,” I said, “I know what it is.”</p> - -<p>“The cavalry are ordered to Norfolk,” -he said in a low voice. “It’s only a few -days’ parting, little wife. I don’t think -there will be any fighting. Be brave, my -darling.”</p> - -<p>I had thrown myself into his arms with a -great cry.</p> - -<p>“I can’t, Dan! I can’t let you go!”</p> - -<p>He did not speak. He only held me close -to his breast.</p> - -<p>“Mother and Milicent are gone,” I cried, -“and I can’t let you leave me to go and be -killed! I couldn’t let you go if they were -here.”</p> - -<p>There was silence for a little while, then -he said:</p> - -<p>“I belong to you, little wife—I leave it to -you what I shall do. Shall I stay behind, a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">27</span> -traitor and a coward? Or shall I go with my -company and do my duty?”</p> - -<p>I couldn’t speak for tears. I felt how hard -his heart beat against mine.</p> - -<p>“Poor wife!” he said, “poor little child!”</p> - -<p>When I spoke, I felt as if I were tearing -my heart out by the roots.</p> - -<p>“I—I—must—let—you—go!”</p> - -<p>“That is my own brave girl. Never mind, -Nell, I will make you proud of your soldier!”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Dan! Dan!” I sobbed, “I don’t -want to be proud of you! I just don’t want -you to get hurt! I don’t want you to go if -I could help it—but I can’t! I don’t want -fame or glory! I want you!”</p> - -<p>He smoothed my hair with slow touches, -and was silent. Then he spoke again, trying -to comfort me with those false hopes all -fed on.</p> - -<p>“I still doubt if there will be any fighting. -But if there is, I must be in it. I can’t be a -coward. There! there! Nellie, don’t cry! -I hope for peace. The North and the South -both want peace. You will laugh at all of -this, Nell, when we come back from Norfolk -without striking a blow!” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">28</span></p> - -<p>“Dan, let me go with you.”</p> - -<p>“Dear, I can’t. How could you travel -around, with only a knapsack, like a soldier?”</p> - -<p>“Try me. I am to be a soldier’s wife.”</p> - -<p>I was swallowing my sobs, sniffling, blowing -my nose, and trying to look brave all at -once. Instead of looking brave, I must have -looked very comical, for Dan burst out laughing. -The next moment we were silent again. -The chimes of St. Paul’s rang out upon the -air. It was neither Sabbath nor saint’s day. -We knew what the bells were ringing for. Not -only St. Paul’s chimes, but the bells of all -the churches had become familiar signals calling -us to labor as sacred as worship. Sewing -machines had been carried into the churches, -and the sacred buildings had become depots -for bolts of cloth, linen, and flannel. Nothing -could be heard in them for days but the click -of machines, the tearing of cloth, the ceaseless -murmur of voices questioning, and voices -directing the work. Old and young were -busy. Some were tearing flannel into lengths -for shirts and cutting out havelocks and knapsacks. -And some were tearing linen into -strips and rolling it for bandages ready to the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">29</span> -surgeon’s hand. Others were picking linen -into balls of lint.</p> - -<p>“I must go make you some clothes,” I -said, getting up from Dan’s knee.</p> - -<p>“But I have plenty,” he said.</p> - -<p>“It doesn’t matter. I must make you -some more—like the others.”</p> - -<p>Before the war was over I had learned to -make clothes out of next to nothing, but that -morning, except for fancy work, I had never -sewed a stitch in my life. I could embroider -anything from an altar cloth to an initial in -the corner of a handkerchief, but to make a -flannel shirt was beyond my comprehension. -Make it, however, I could and would. I -never hinted to Dan that I didn’t know how, -for I was determined that nobody but me -should make his army shirts—I must sew -them with my own fingers. I went down -town and bought the finest, softest flannel I -could find. Then I was at my wits’ ends. I -looked at the flannel and I looked at the -scissors. Time was flying. I picked up -my flannel and ran to consult my neighbor, -Mrs. Cuthbert. She showed me how -to cut and fashion my shirts, and I made -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">30</span> -them beautifully, feather-stitching all the -seams.</p> - -<p>Next day came and Dan made me buckle -on his sword.</p> - -<p>“If you stay long in Norfolk may I -come?” I sobbed.</p> - -<p>Poor Dan didn’t know what to say.</p> - -<p>“I’m a soldier’s wife,” I said with a -mighty effort to look it. “I can travel with -a knapsack—and,” with a sob, “I can—keep—from -crying.”</p> - -<p>“I’m going to have you with me if possible. -There! little wife, don’t cry, or you’ll -make a fool of me. Be brave, Nell. That’s -it! I’m proud of you.”</p> - -<p>But there was a tremor in his voice all the -same. He put me gently away from him and -went out, and I lay down on the sofa and cried -as if my heart would break. But not for long. -Captain Jeter’s wife came for me; her eyes -were red with weeping, but she was trying to -smile. We were to go to the public leave-taking—there -would be time enough for tears -afterward. Everybody was on the streets to -see the troops go off, and I took my stand -with the others and watched as the cavalry -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">31</span> -rode past us. We kept our handkerchiefs -waving all the time our friends were riding by, -and when we saw our husbands and brothers -we tried to cheer, but our voices were husky. -The last thing I saw of my husband he was -wringing the hand of an old friend who was -not going, tears were streaming down his -cheeks and he was saying, “For God’s sake, -take care of my wife.”</p> - -<p>They were gone, all gone, infantry and cavalry, -the flower of the city. But they would -be back in a few days, of that we were sure—and -some of them never came back again.</p> - -<p>I was in a city of mourning and dread, but -my own suspense measured by days was not -long, though it seemed an age to me then. A -week had not passed when I got a telegram -from Dan:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Come to Norfolk. We are camped near -there.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>It was near train time when I got it. I -snatched up my satchel, put in a comb and -brush and tooth-brush—not even an extra -handkerchief—and almost ran to the depot. I -could not have carried all my clothes, I know, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">32</span> -for part of them were with the laundress, and -packing a trunk would have taken time; but -why on earth I did not put a few more articles -into my satchel I can not tell. It is a matter -of history, however, that I only took those I -have named. The first thing Dan did was to -get me some handkerchiefs.</p> - -<p>“Why, Nell,” he said, “you are taking -this thing of being a soldier’s wife too seriously.”</p> - -<p>It was delightful to be in my old home -once more. Friends and kindred crowded -around me, the river and bay and ocean sang -my old cradle-songs to me again, and, above -all, Dan was near and came in from camp as -often as he could. Then he was ordered away -to Suffolk, which is twenty miles from Norfolk, -and there, of course, he could not ride -in to see me. But that was not so bad as it -might have been. I could hear from him -regularly, he had not yet been in any actual -engagement, my fears were subsiding, or I -was getting accustomed to them. I had, of -course, telegraphed to Petersburg for my -baggage and had made myself as comfortable -as possible. An old uncle had taken it into -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">33</span> -his head to become quite fond of me, and altogether -I was very far from unhappy. This -uncle was eccentric and had eccentric ways -of comforting me when I had the blues.</p> - -<p>“Why, Nellie, my dear,” he used to say, -“you ought to be playing dolls, and here you -are a wife, and if Dan gets killed you will be -a widow.”</p> - -<p>On the heels of which cheerful observation -this despatch came from Suffolk:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Come by next train. Dan slightly hurt.</p> - -<p class="author"> -“<span class="smcap">Jack.</span>”<br /> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>When I got to Suffolk four of the company -met me.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be alarmed, Miss Nell,” said the -great fellows, sympathy and desire to cheer -me blending in their eyes. “Dan will pull -through all right.”</p> - -<p>Then Jack Carrington took me aside and -explained as gently and tenderly as if he had -been my brother:</p> - -<p>“It happened yesterday, Miss Nell, but -we wouldn’t let you know because there was -no way for you to get here then. We thought -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">34</span> -it wouldn’t be so hard on you if we waited -and sent the telegram just before train time. -Your uncle got one before you did, but we -told him not to tell you till just before train -time, and he wired us back to tell you ourselves, -that he couldn’t tell you. Dan is getting -all right now—he’ll soon get well, Miss -Nell, indeed he will. But the doctor said I -must warn you—Miss Nell, you must be -brave, you see—or I can’t tell you at all. The -doctor said I mustn’t let you go in there unless -you were perfectly calm. The wound is -nothing at all, Miss Nell.”</p> - -<p>Poor Jack was almost as unnerved as I -was. He mopped my face with a wet handkerchief, -and made somebody bring me some -brandy.</p> - -<p>But the words ringing in my head, “A -soldier’s wife,” pulled me together more than -the brandy, and I made Jack go on.</p> - -<p>“It’s nothing but his arm. We were out -on vidette duty yesterday and we got shot -into. You see, Miss Nell, you <i>must</i> be brave -or I can’t tell you!”</p> - -<p>I pulled myself together again and insisted -that I <i>was</i> brave. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">35</span></p> - -<p>“You don’t look like it, Miss Nell. I -declare you don’t.”</p> - -<p>“But I am. See now.”</p> - -<p>Jack didn’t seem to see, but he went on, -looking scared himself all the time.</p> - -<p>“The real trouble was Dare Devil. You -see, after Dan’s arm got hurt—I wish it had -been me or George who had caught that shot, -but, hang the luck! it was Dan. You know -Dare Devil’s old trick—catching the bit in his -teeth. Well, he did that and ran away. Dan -held on with his good arm until that d—d -horse (excuse me, Miss Nell!) wheeled suddenly -and dashed into the woods. The limbs -of the trees dragged Dan out of his saddle, -and his foot caught in the stirrup and Dare -Devil dragged him (take some brandy, Miss -Nell) until the strap broke. We picked Dan -up insensible; he was delirious all night, and -we thought for a time that he was done for, -but, thank God! he’s all right now. I hate to -tell you, Miss Nell, but—you’ll see how his -head is—and the doctor said we mustn’t let -you go in if you couldn’t be calm.”</p> - -<p>“I understand,” I said, “I will be very -careful——” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">36</span></p> - -<p>And to prove how careful I could be, I -broke down crying.</p> - -<p>They didn’t know what to do with me, -poor fellows. They begged me not to cry, -and then they said crying would do me good, -and I had four pairs of broad shoulders to cry -on. They were all as gentle and pitiful with -me as a mother is with a baby. One of them -got out his nice fresh handkerchief and wiped -my eyes with it. I had come off the second -time without a change of handkerchiefs, and -this time without even a tooth-brush. When -I had cried my trouble out and was quite -calm, I told them I was ready to go to my -husband. They took me to the door and I -went in quietly, and seeing that he was -awake, bent over him.</p> - -<p>“I am here, Dan,” I said smiling.</p> - -<p>He tried to smile back.</p> - -<p>“Take my head in your hands, Nell,” he -whispered, “and turn it so I can kiss you.”</p> - -<p>I laid my hands softly and firmly on each -side of his head and turned it on the pillow. -As I did so, a quantity of sand fell away.</p> - -<p>I don’t know whether his head had been -properly dressed or not, but I know that for -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">37</span> -a number of days the sand fell away from it -whenever I took it into my hands to turn it.</p> - -<p>“After I fell,” he told me, when he was -allowed to talk, “my head was in the dirt, of -course, and it was beat first against one tree -and then against another. When I felt my -senses leaving me, I clasped my arms tight -around my head. I don’t know how I managed -it, but I got hold of my crippled arm -with my good one, and when I was picked up -my arms were locked in some way about my -head. That is all that saved me.”</p> - -<p>I took the law into my own hands. Before -Dan got well Dare Devil had been shot. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">38</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br /> - -<span class="small">THE REALITIES OF WAR</span></h2> - -<p>When Dan recovered I returned to Norfolk, -and there I stayed for some time, getting -letters from him, taking care of uncle and -developing a genius for housekeeping. One -day I was out shopping when I saw everybody -running toward the quay. I turned and went -with the crowd. We saw the Merrimac swing -out of the harbor—or did she crawl? A -curious looking craft she was, that first of our -ironclads, ugly and ominous.</p> - -<p>She had not been gone many hours when -the sound of guns came over the water followed -by silence, terrible silence, that lasted -until after the lamps were lit. Suddenly there -was tumultuous cheering from the quay. -The Merrimac had come home after destroying -the Cumberland and the Congress.</p> - -<p>“Well for the Congress!” we said. Her -commander had eaten and drunk of Norfolk’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">39</span> -hospitality, and then had turned his guns -upon her—upon a city full of his friends. -Bravely done, O Merrimac! But that night -I cried myself to sleep. Under the sullen -waters of Hampton Roads slept brave men -and true, to whom Stars and Stripes and -Southern Cross alike meant nothing now. -The commander of the Congress was among -the dead, and he had been my friend—I had -danced with him in my father’s house. Next -day, the Monitor met the Merrimac and -turned the tide of victory against us. Her -commander was John L. Worden, who had -been our guest beloved.</p> - -<p>During all this time I had been separated -from my husband. He had been detailed to -make a survey of Pig Point and the surrounding -country, and it was not until he -reached Smithfield that he sent for me. We -were beginning now to realize that war was -upon us in earnest. There was the retreat -from Yorktown; Norfolk was evacuated. -Troops were moving. Everything was bustle -and confusion. My husband went off with -his command, the order for departure so sudden -that he had not time to plan for me. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">40</span></p> - -<p>As Northern troops began to occupy the -country, fearing that I would be left in the -enemy’s lines and so cut off from getting to -him, I took the matter into my own hands -and went in a covered wagon to Zuni, twenty -miles distant, where I had heard that his command -was encamped for a few days. After a -rough ride I got there only to find that my -husband had started off to Smithfield for me. -We had passed each other on the road, each -in a covered wagon. There was nothing to -do except to wait his return that night.</p> - -<p>As my husband’s command had been ordered -to join the troops at Seven Pines, I -took the train for Richmond the next day, -stopped a few hours, and then went to Petersburg. -When I got there the Battle of Seven -Pines was on. For two days it raged—for -two days the booming of the cannon -sounded in our ears and thundered at our -hearts. Friends gathered at each other’s -houses and looked into each other’s faces and -held each other’s hands, and listened for news -from the field. And the sullen boom of the -cannon broke in upon us, and we would start -and shiver as if it had shot <i>us</i>, and sometimes -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">41</span> -the tears would come. But the bravest of us -got so we could not weep. We only sat in -silence or spoke in low voices to each other -and rolled bandages and picked linen into lint. -And in those two days it seemed as if we forgot -how to smile.</p> - -<p>Telegrams began to come; a woman -would drop limp and white into the arms of -a friend—her husband was shot. Another -would sit with her hand on her heart in -pallid silence until her friends, crowding -around her, spoke to her, tried to arouse her, -and then she would break into a cry:</p> - -<p>“O my son! my son!”</p> - -<p>There were some who could never be -roused any more; grief had stunned and stupefied -them forever, and a few there were -who died of grief. One young wife, who had -just lost her baby and whose husband perished -in the fight, never lifted her head from -her pillow. When the funeral train brought -him home we laid her in old Blandford beside -him, the little baby between.</p> - -<p>Now and then when mothers and sisters -were bewailing their loss and we were pressing -comfort upon them, there would be a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">42</span> -whisper, and one of us would turn to where -some poor girl sat, dumb and stricken, the -secret of her love for the slain wrenched from -her by the hand of war. Sometimes a bereaved -one would laugh!</p> - -<p>The third day, the day after the battle, I -heard that Dan was safe. Every day I had -searched the columns of “Killed and -Wounded” in the Richmond Despatch for his -name, and had thanked God when I didn’t -find it. But direct news I had none until that -third day. The strain had been too great; I -fell ill. Owing to the general’s illness at this -time his staff was ordered to Petersburg, -and Dan, who was engineer upon the staff, -got leave to come on for a day or two in -advance of the other members of it; but while -I was still at death’s door he was ordered off. -When I at last got up, I had to be taught -to walk as a child is taught, step by step; -and before I was able to join my husband -many battles had been fought in which he -took part. I was at the breakfast-table, when, -after months of weary waiting, he telegraphed -me to come to Culpeper Court-house.</p> - -<p>This time I packed a small trunk with -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">43</span> -necessary articles, putting in heavy dresses -and winter flannels. The winter does not -come early in Petersburg; the weather was -warm when I started, and I decided to travel -in a rather light dress for the season. I did -not trouble myself with hand-baggage—not -even a shawl. The afternoon train would put -me in Richmond before night; I would stop -over until morning, and that day’s train -would leave me in Culpeper. Just before I -started, Mr. Sampson, at whose house I was -staying, came in and said that an old friend -of his was going to Richmond on my train -and would be glad to look after me. I assented -with alacrity. Before the war it was -not the custom for ladies to travel alone, and, -besides this, in the days of which I write -traveling was attended with much confusion -and many delays. I reached the depot a few -minutes before train time, my escort was presented -and immediately took charge of me. -He was a nice-looking elderly gentleman, -quite agreeable, and with just a slight odor -of brandy about him. He saw me comfortably -seated, and went to see after our baggage, -he said. He did not return at once, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">44</span> -but I took it for granted that he was in -the smoking-car. Traveling was slower then -than now. Half-way to Richmond I began to -wonder what had become of my escort. But -my head was too full of other things to bother -very much about it. The outlook from the -car window along that route is always beautiful; -and then, the next day I was to see Dan. -Darkness, and across the river the lights of -Richmond flashed upon the view. Where -<i>was</i> my escort? I had noticed on the train -that morning a gentleman who wore the -uniform of a Confederate captain and -whom I knew by sight. He came up to -me now.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, madam, but can I be of any -assistance to you? I know your husband -quite well.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know where my escort is?” I -asked.</p> - -<p>He looked embarrassed and tried not to -smile.</p> - -<p>“We left him at Chester, Mrs. Grey.”</p> - -<p>“At Chester? He was going to Richmond.”</p> - -<p>“Well—you see, Mrs. Grey, it was—an -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">45</span> -accident. The old gentleman got off to get -a drink and the train left him.”</p> - -<p>I could not help laughing.</p> - -<p>“If you will allow me, madam,” said my -new friend, “I will see you to your hotel. -How about your baggage?”</p> - -<p>“Oh!” I cried in dismay, “Mr. C——— -has my trunk-check in his pocket.”</p> - -<p>My new friend considered. “If he comes -on the next train, perhaps that will be in time -to get your trunk off with you to Culpeper. -If not, your trunk will follow you immediately. -I’ll see the conductor and do what I can. I’m -going out of town to-morrow, but Captain -Jeter is here and I’ll tell him about your trunk-check. -He’ll be sure to see Mr. C———.”</p> - -<p>I was to see Dan the next day, and nothing -else mattered. I made my mind easy -about that trunk, and my new friend took me -to the American, where I spent the evening -very pleasantly in receiving old acquaintances -and making new ones.</p> - -<p>But with bedtime another difficulty arose: -I had never slept in a room at a hotel -by myself in my life. Fortunately, Mrs. Hopson, -of Norfolk, happened to be spending the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">46</span> -night there. I sent up a note asking if I -might sleep with her, and went up to her -room half an hour later prepared for a delightful -talk about Norfolk. When we were -ready for bed, she took up one of her numerous -satchels and put it down on the side -where I afterward lay down to sleep.</p> - -<p>“I put that close by the bed because it -contains valuables,” she said with an impressive -solemnity I afterward understood.</p> - -<p>Of course I asked no questions, though -she referred to the valuables several times. -We were in bed and the lights had been out -some time when I had occasion to ask her -where she had come from there.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Nell!” she said, “didn’t you know? -I’ve been to Charlottesville and I’ve come -from there to-day. Didn’t you know about -it? John” (her son) “was wounded. Didn’t -you know about it? Of course I had to go -to him. They had to perform an operation -on him. I was right there when they did it.” -Here followed a graphic account of the -operation. “It was dreadful. You see that -satchel over there?” pointing to the one just -beneath my head on the floor. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">47</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, I see it.”</p> - -<p>“Well, John’s bones are right in there!”</p> - -<p>“Good gracious!” I cried, and jumped -over her to the other side of the bed.</p> - -<p>“Why, what’s the matter?” she asked. -“You look like you were scared, Nell. Why, -Nell, the whole of John wouldn’t hurt you, -much less those few bones. I’m carrying -them home to put them in the family burying-ground. -That’s the reason I think so much -of that satchel and keep it so close to me. -I don’t want John to be buried all about in -different places, you see. But I don’t see -anything for you to be afraid of in a few -bones. John’s as well as ever—it isn’t like -he was dead, now.”</p> - -<p>I lay down quietly, ashamed of my sudden -fright, but there were cold chills running -down my spine.</p> - -<p>After a little more talk she turned over, -and I presently heard a comfortable snore, -but I lay awake a long time, my eyes riveted -on the satchel containing fragments of John. -Then I began to think of seeing Dan in the -morning, and fell asleep feeling how good it -was that he was safe and sound, all his bones -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">48</span> -together and not scattered around like poor -John’s.</p> - -<p>I reached Culpeper Court-house the next -afternoon about four o’clock. Dan met me -looking tired and shabby, and as soon as he -had me settled went back to camp.</p> - -<p>“I’ll come to see you as often as I can get -leave,” he said when he told me good-by. -“We may be quartered here for some time—long -enough for us to get ourselves and our -horses rested up, I hope; but I’m afraid -I can’t see much of you. Hardly worth the -trouble of your coming, is it, little woman?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Dan, yes,” I said cheerfully; “just -so you are not shot up! It would be worth -the coming if I only got to see you through -a car window as the train went by.”</p> - -<p>A few days after my arrival a heavy snow-storm -set in. As my trunk had not yet come, -I was still in the same dress in which I had left -Petersburg, and, though we were all willing -enough to lend, clothes were so scarce that -borrowing from your neighbor was a last -resort. I suffered in silence for a week before -my trunk arrived, and then it was exchanging -one discomfort for another, for my -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">49</span> -flannels were so tight from shrinkage and so -worn that I felt as if something would break -every time I moved.</p> - -<p>During this snow-storm the roads were -lined with Confederate troops marching home -footsore and weary from Maryland. Long, -hard marches and bloody battles had been -their portion. In August they had come, -after their work at Seven Pines, Cold Harbor, -and Malvern Hill, to drive Pope out of Culpeper, -where he was plundering. They had -driven him out and pressed after, fighting -incessantly. Near Culpeper there had been -the battle of Cedar Mountain, where Jackson -had defeated Pope and chased him to -Culpeper Court-house. Somewhat farther -from Culpeper had been fought the second -battle of Manassas, and, crowding upon these, -the battles of Germantown, Centreville, Antietam—more -than I can remember to name. -Lee’s army was back in Culpeper now with -Federal troops at their heels, and McClellan, -not Pope, in command. Civilians, women, -children, and slaves feared Pope; soldiers -feared McClellan—that is, as much as Lee’s -soldiers could fear anybody. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">50</span></p> - -<p>I found our tired army in Culpeper trying -to rest and fatten a little before meeting -McClellan’s legions. Then—I am not -historian enough to know just how it happened—McClellan’s -head fell and Burnside -reigned in his stead. Better and worse for -our army, and no worse for our women and -children, for Burnside was a gentleman even -as McClellan was and as Pope was not, and -made no war upon women and children until -the shelling of Fredericksburg. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">51</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V<br /> - -<span class="small">I MEET BELLE BOYD AND SEE DICK IN A -NEW LIGHT</span></h2> - -<p>The tallow candles were lighted on each -side of my bureau—the time came when I remembered -those <i>two</i> tallow candles as a piece -of reckless and foolish extravagance—when -there was a rap at my door and Mrs. Rixey -entered to ask if I would share my room with -a lady who had come unexpectedly. A heavy -snow was falling, and the wind was blowing -it into drifts. The idea of sending anybody -out in such weather was not to be thought -of for a moment, so saying yes I hurried -through with my dressing and went down -to the parlor. Mrs. Rixey’s house was filled -with Confederates who were there either because -it was near the army or because they -were awaiting an opportunity to run the -blockade. Our evenings were always gay, -and when I entered the parlor this evening -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">52</span> -there was as usual a merry party, and, also -as usual, there were several officers of rank in -the room. I was so busy-sending messages -to mother and Milicent by a little lady who -meant to run the blockade to Baltimore as -soon as possible, that I did not catch my -roommate’s name when Mrs. Rixey introduced -her.</p> - -<p>She seemed to be nineteen, or, perhaps, -twenty—rather young, I thought, to be traveling -alone. True, I was not older, but then -I was married, which made all the difference -in the world. What made her an object of -special interest to every woman present, was -that she was exceedingly well dressed. It -had been a long, long time since we had seen -a new dress! She was a brilliant talker, and -soon everybody in the room was attracted to -her, especially the men. She talked chiefly -to the men—indeed, I am afraid she did not -care particularly for the women—and at first -we were a little piqued; but when we found -that she was devoted to The Cause we were -ready to forgive her anything. She soon let -us know that she had come directly from -Washington, where she had been a prisoner -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">53</span> -of the United States. She showed us her -watch and told us how the prisoners in -Washington had made the money up among -themselves and presented it to her just before -she left. I wish I had listened better -to her account of her prison life and her -adventures; but I was on the outer rim of -the charmed circles, my head was full of Milicent -and mother, Dan was at camp, and I -couldn’t see him. I got sleepy, slipped quietly -out of the room, and went upstairs and to -bed. My roommate undressed and got to -bed so quickly that night that I did not wake. -The next morning when the maid came in to -make the fire, we woke up face to face in -the same bed, and then she told me that her -name was Belle Boyd, and I knew for the first -time that my bedfellow was the South’s -famous female spy. When we got up she took -a large bottle of cologne and poured it into -the basin in which she was going to bathe. -It was the first cologne I had seen for more -than a year, and it was the last I saw until I -ran the blockade.</p> - -<p>That day, while we were at dinner, a servant, -behind my chair, whispered: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">54</span></p> - -<p>“Somebody out dar wan’ ter see you -right erway, mistis—er solger.”</p> - -<p>When I went out into the hallway, there -stood the most abject, pitiable-looking creature—a -soldier, ragged and footsore! He -was at the end of the hall farthest from the -dining-room, and looked as if he didn’t wish -to attract attention.</p> - -<p>He wore gray trousers patched with blue—or -were they blue patched with gray?—and -a jacket which had as much Federal blue -as Confederate gray in it. From the color of -his uniform, he belonged equally to both -armies. His trousers were much too short -for him, and altogether too small. His shoes -were heavy brogans twice too large for him, -and tied on with strings. He was without -socks and his ankles showed naked and sore -between trousers and shoes. He had on a -bedticking shirt, a tobacco-bag of bedticking -hung by a string from a button of his -shirt—a button which, by the way, was doing -more than double duty—and an old slouch -hat was pulled over his face.</p> - -<p>“You wanted to see me, sir?” I asked, -stopping at a short distance from him. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">55</span></p> - -<p>He looked up quickly.</p> - -<p>“How do you do, Nell?” he said. “I -got leave to come from camp to see you to-day. -My company got in from Maryland yesterday.”</p> - -<p>“Dick!” I cried in amazement; and then -I burst into tears. Dick, our dandy, to look -like this! Laughter mingled with weeping.</p> - -<p>“Good gracious, Nell! what is the matter?” -he said.</p> - -<p>“Dick, Dick, how you look!”</p> - -<p>“Hush, Nell! Good gracious! You’ll -have everybody in the dining-room out here -to look at me.”</p> - -<p>Then I began to beg incoherently that he -would go in and dine with me. I think Dick -was hungry, but he was not <i>that</i> hungry. In -his present garb starvation would not have -driven him into a dining-room where ladies -were. He looked toward the door with abject -terror, and tried to hide himself behind -the hat-rack. I was puzzled to know what I -should do with him. As a young lady was my -roommate it was out of the question to take -him to my room, and he positively refused -to go into the parlor. While we debated, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">56</span> -the dining-room door opened and the ladies -filed out into the hall. Unkempt, unshorn, -patched, ragged, and dirty, a very travesty -of his former foppish self, Dick went -through the introductions with what grace -he might.</p> - -<p>Fortunately my friends who surrounded -him were in sympathy with the threadbare -Confederate soldier, and ready to help him to -the extent of their power. One friend, whose -husband had a shirt to spare, gave that to -him; another lady found him a pair of socks; -some one else contributed a pair of homespun -drawers. I was drawn aside and consulted -as to the best and most graceful way of conveying -these presents to him. They feared -that he might be wounded and insulted if the -matter were not delicately managed. But -Dick was past all that. He accepted the -goods the gods provided in the spirit in which -they were bestowed, and was radiant with his -good luck, and with gratitude to the fair -donors. While we held council he had been -in Mrs. Rixey’s and Miss Boyd’s hands, and -had had a good dinner.</p> - -<p>As he stood in the hall ready to go back -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">57</span> -to camp, Belle Boyd came down the staircase, -carrying a large new blanket shawl.</p> - -<p>“You must let me wrap you up, lieutenant,” -she said, putting the shawl around -Dick’s shoulders and pinning it together.</p> - -<p>Dick blushed and demurred. A shawl like -that was too much—it was a princely gift, a -fortune.</p> - -<p>“I can’t let you go back to camp in this -thin jacket,” she said, “while I have this -shawl. It is serving our country, lieutenant, -while it protects her soldier from the cold. I -may need it? No, no, I can get others where -this one came from.”</p> - -<p>There was nothing for him to do but to -accept it. He looked at me with something -of his old humor in his eyes as he started off.</p> - -<p>“I’ll be sure to come to see you again, -Nell,” he said.</p> - -<p>After he left the house we saw him stoop, -take off his shoes, and walk off with them in -his hands. His feet left marks of blood in the -snow. Shoes had been dealt out to the army -only that morning, and his feet were so sore -that his heavy, ill-fitting brogans were unendurable. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">58</span></p> - -<p>I have heard of many generous deeds like -this done by Belle Boyd. Once, when riding -out to review some troops near Winchester, -she met a soldier, a mere boy, trudging along -painfully on his bare feet. She took off her -own shoes and made him put them on; they -were fine cloth gaiters laced at the side, and -trimmed with patent leather. Some one remonstrated; -the shoes would not last the boy -long enough to pay for her sacrifice.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” she said, “if it rests his poor young -feet only a little while, I am repaid. He is -not old enough to be away from his mother.”</p> - -<p>She did not spend another night with us. -She seemed to feel that she had the weight of -the Confederacy on her shoulders, and took -the afternoon train for Richmond. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">59</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br /> - -<span class="small">A FAITHFUL SLAVE AND A HOSPITAL WARD</span></h2> - -<p>Not long after this I had to give up my -room to Governor Bailey of Florida and his -family. They had come on in search of their -son, whom they had for months believed to be -dead, and who, they had only recently learned, -was alive and in the mountains near Culpeper -Court-house.</p> - -<p>It seems that young Bailey had been shot -at the battle of Cedar Mountain and left on -the field for dead. An old negro, his body-servant, -had carried him off by stealth to a -hut in the woods, and there, with such simple -resources as he had, had dressed and bandaged -the wound. The hut was a mere shell -of a house, a habitation for bats and owls; it -had been unused so long that no paths led to -it, and Uncle Reuben’s chief object in carrying -his master there was to hide him from the -Yankees. He had no medicine, no doctor, no -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">60</span> -help, the master was ill for a long time from -his wounds and with a slow fever, and through -it all Uncle Reuben never left him except at -night to forage for both. Food in the Confederacy -was far from plentiful, and under the -circumstances almost impossible to get. The -hardships they endured seem inconceivable to-day. -Afraid to show himself lest in doing so -he should turn his master over into the hands -of the dreaded Yankees, the faithful old servant -saw no way of communicating with the -family. He was in a strange country; he could -not leave his charge, alone and desperately ill, -long enough to seek advice and assistance, -and, besides, how was he to know the friend -who would help him from the man who might -betray him? He knew but one token—the -Confederate uniform, and that was not always -to be trusted, for spies wore it.</p> - -<p>Confederate troops must have passed near -his hiding-place several times, but in his -anxiety to save his master from the Federals, -the negro hid him from the Confederates as -well.</p> - -<p>It happened at last that a party of skirmishers -who had frequently deployed along -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">61</span> -the obscure roads intersecting the country, -noticed, rising from the depths of the forest, -a thin streak of smoke suggesting deserters -or spies, and began to investigate. So, it happened -that they came upon the hut, and a -poor, old, half-starved negro watching what -seemed to be little more than a human skeleton. -When convinced that his discoverers -were really Confederates, his joy and eagerness -knew no bounds.</p> - -<p>“Ef any uv you gentlemen will jes send -a ’spatch to Ole Marster,” he said tremulously, -“Ole Marster’ll be hyer toreckly. -He’ll be hyer jes ez quick ez de kyars kin git -him hyer. We ain’t got no money. But Ole -Marster’ll pay fur de ’spatch jes ez soon ez -he comes. Ole Marster’s rich. He’ll pay fur -anything anybody do fur Mars Hugh, an’ -be thankful ter do it. Ole Marster’ll come -arter Mars Hugh jes ez quick ez I kin git him -word. He’ll pay anybody fur evvything.”</p> - -<p>The soldiers hardly knew what to do; -perhaps they never considered that they -could do anything but what they did: ride -away and leave behind them the pair in -the hut. Perhaps, poor fellows, there was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">62</span> -nothing else they could do. Comfortable -hospitals for Southern soldiers were scarce, -and the Confederate soldier had little to give -to any one, even to his sick comrade.</p> - -<p>The negro, the guardian in this instance, -was not anxious to have his charge moved. -His whole concern was “to git word to Ole -Marster.”</p> - -<p>“I kin take kyeer uv him,” he insisted, -“jes lak I bin doin’ ’twell Ole Marster come. -Den he’ll know what to do. Mars Hugh -ain’t fitten to move now. Ef twarn’t done -jes right, he couldn’t stan’ it, case he’s too -weakly. ’Twon’t do fur no strange folks to -tech him nor ’sturb him, lessen dey knows -how. Mars Hugh jes same ez er baby.”</p> - -<p>They gave the negro the rations they had -with them, and the whisky in their canteens—it -was all they had to give except their scant -clothes—and rode on to Culpeper Court-house, -where one of them sent the despatch -to “Ole Marster,” according to the directions -Uncle Reuben had given. And our -Florida party was “Ole Marster” and his -wife, and poor Hugh Bailey’s young wife and -her uncle. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">63</span></p> - -<p>It was well into the night after their arrival -when four soldiers carried up to my -room a stretcher holding a skeleton of a man. -A gaunt, ragged old negro followed.</p> - -<p>The next day the party started for home, -but they never got poor Hugh as far as -Florida. They stopped in Richmond at the -Exchange, and there Hugh Bailey died the -next day.</p> - -<p>And now began for me the nursing in hospital -wards that made up so large a part of -our lives during the war.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Jeter shot, perhaps fatally. Go to the -hospital and see what you can do for him. I -have telegraphed to his wife and mother.</p> - -<p class="author"> -“<span class="smcap">Dan.</span>”<br /> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>The orderly who brought me this message -from my husband said that Captain Jeter’s -command had been in a skirmish that day, -and that the captain had fallen, mortally -wounded, it was thought.</p> - -<p>I went to him at once. He was lying unconscious -across the bed as if he had fallen -or been dropped there, dressed in full uniform -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">64</span> -with his coat buttoned up to his throat, -breathing stertorously, and moaning. There -was a small black hole in his temple. I -thought he must be uncomfortable with his -clothes on, and proposed to the nurse that -we should try to undress him, but she said he -was dying and it would only disturb him. All -that day and until late that night I stayed with -him, changing the towels on his head, wiping -the ooze from his lips, listening to that -agonizing moaning, and thinking of the wife -and mother who could not reach him. About -ten o’clock he seemed to be strangling.</p> - -<p>“It’s phlegm in his throat,” the nurse -said. She ran her finger down his throat, -pulling out a quid of tobacco that had been -in his mouth when he was shot and that had -lain there ever since.</p> - -<p>He died at midnight, and his mother -came the next day at noon. I don’t know -which was the hardest to stand, her first burst -of agony or her endless questions when she -could talk.</p> - -<p>“Did he suffer much, Nell?”</p> - -<p>“Not much, I think. He was unconscious -from the time he was shot.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">65</span></p> - -<p>“Nell, did he send me any message? Did -he call for me?”</p> - -<p>“He was unconscious,” I repeated gently, -“and we must be thankful that he was. -If he had been conscious he would have suffered -more.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, yes; I reckon I am thankful. I -don’t know how I am now. But I’m trying -to submit myself to the will of the Lord. -Nellie, you don’t know what a sweet baby -he was! the prettiest little fellow! as soon as -he could walk, he was always toddling after -me and pulling at my skirts.”</p> - -<p>I turned my head away.</p> - -<p>“Last night I dozed for a minute and I -dreamed about him. He was my baby again, -and I had him safe in my arms, and there -never had been any war. But I didn’t sleep -much. I couldn’t come as soon as I got the -telegram. I had to wait for a train. And I -was up nearly all night cooking things to -bring him.”</p> - -<p>She opened her basket and satchel and -showed me. They were full of little cakes -and crackers, wine jellies and blanc-mange, -and other delicacies for the sick. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">66</span></p> - -<p>“Do you think if I had gotten here in -time he could have eaten them?” she asked -wistfully.</p> - -<p>“He could not eat anything,” I said, -choking back my tears.</p> - -<p>“You don’t think he was hungry at all, -Nell? The soldiers have so little to eat sometimes—and -I have heard it said that people -are sometimes hungry when they are dying.”</p> - -<p>“Dear Mrs. Jeter, he looked well and -strong except for the wound. You know the -troops had just returned from the valley, -where they had plenty to eat.”</p> - -<p>“I am glad of that. I was just getting a -box ready to send him full of everything I -thought he would like. And I had some -clothes for him. I began making the clothes -as soon as I heard the troops had come back -to Culpeper. You say he was wounded in -the head?”</p> - -<p>Neither of us closed our eyes that night. -She walked the floor asking the same questions -over and over again, and I got so I answered -yes or no just as I saw she wanted yes -or no and without regard to the truth.</p> - -<p>Several months after this I saw Captain -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">67</span> -Jeter’s widow. She was surrounded by his -little children—none of them old enough to -realize their loss.</p> - -<p>“Nell,” she said, “you remember the day -in Petersburg when we stood together and -watched the troops start off for Norfolk—and -everybody was cheering?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Well, war does not look to me now as -it did then. God grant it may spare your -husband to you, Nell!”</p> - -<p>I shivered.</p> - -<p>I called on another widowed friend. Her -husband—a captain, too—had been sent -home, his face mutilated past recognition by -the shell that killed him. Her little ones -were around her, and the captain’s sword -was hanging on the wall. When I spoke to -her of it as a proud possession, her eyes filled. -His little boy said with flashing eyes:</p> - -<p>“It’s my papa’s s’ode. I wants to be a -man. An’ I’ll take it down and kill all the -Yankees!”</p> - -<p>“H-sh!” his mother put her hand over -his mouth. “God grant there may be no -war when you are a man!” she said fervently. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">68</span></p> - -<p>“Amen!” I responded.</p> - -<p>“Oh, Nell,” she said, “when it’s all over, -what good will it do? It will just show that -one side could fight better than the other, or -had more money and men than the other. -It won’t show that anybody’s right. You -can’t know how it is until it hits you, Nell. -I’m proud of him, and proud of his sword; -I wouldn’t have had him out of it all. I -wouldn’t have had him a coward. But oh, -Nell, I feel that war is wrong! I’m sorry -for every Northern woman who has a circle -like this around her, and a sword like that -hanging on her wall.”</p> - -<p>The little boy put his arm around her -neck. “Mamma,” he said, “are <i>you</i> sorry for -the <i>Yankees</i>?”</p> - -<p>“My dear,” she said, “I am sorry for all -little boys who haven’t got a papa, and I’m -sorry for their mammas. And I don’t want -you ever to kill anybody.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">69</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br /> - -<span class="small">TRAVELING THROUGH DIXIE IN WAR TIMES</span></h2> - -<p>Our troops had to get out of winter -quarters before they were well settled in -them. I am not historian enough to explain -how it was, but the old familiar trip “On to -Richmond” had been started again, Burnside -directing it. Every new Federal commander-in-chief -started for Richmond as -soon as he was in command. There was a -popular song called “Richmond is a Hard -Road to Travel.” They always found it so, -though they got there eventually.</p> - -<p>The cavalry, as usual, were on the wing -first. General Rooney (W. H. F.) Lee’s division -was sent to Fredericksburg in November, -I think. My husband, of course, went -with it. I was to go to Richmond and wait -until I heard whether it would be safe for -me to join him.</p> - -<p>From Richmond I ran over to Petersburg, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">70</span> -saw many old friends and ran back to -Richmond again, fearful lest a message -should come from Dan and I should miss it. -I looked for a telegram every day, and kept -my trunk packed. It was well that I did.</p> - -<p>One morning my door was burst open unceremoniously -and Dan rushed in.</p> - -<p>“Ready to go, Nell?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“Come. Now.”</p> - -<p>I put on my bonnet, caught up my -satchel, stuffed brush, tooth-brush, and comb -into it and was ready. Dan had stepped into -the hall to call a porter to take the trunk -down. We followed it, jumped into the omnibus, -and it rolled off—all this in about five -minutes from the time he burst my door -open. On the omnibus, among other passengers, -was a gentleman who had a brother -in Dan’s command. This gentleman had so -many questions to ask about the army, and so -many messages to send his brother that Dan -and I hardly exchanged a dozen sentences -before we were at the depot. He established -me in my seat, got my baggage checked, sat -down, and then exclaiming: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">71</span></p> - -<p>“Good gracious! I forgot that bundle -for General Lee. It’s on top of the omnibus, -Nell. I’ll be back in a minute,” and darted -off.</p> - -<p>At the next station, when the conductor -came for my ticket, I said:</p> - -<p>“See my husband, please. He must be -in the smoking-car.”</p> - -<p>A gentleman across the aisle remarked:</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, madam, but I think the -gentleman who came in with you got left. I -saw him get off the omnibus with a bundle -in his hand and run after the car, but he -missed it.”</p> - -<p>“Then I don’t know what to do,” I said -in despair to the conductor. “I haven’t a -ticket, and I haven’t any money.”</p> - -<p>“Where are you going?” he asked -kindly.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know!” I gasped.</p> - -<p>The conductor looked blank. I explained -the manner of my starting to him.</p> - -<p>“Do you know where your husband’s -command is stationed?”</p> - -<p>“No, I don’t know that either. You -see,” I explained, “as he belongs to the cavalry -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">72</span> -it is much harder to keep up with his -whereabouts than if he were in the infantry.”</p> - -<p>“What division is he in?”</p> - -<p>“General Rooney Lee’s.”</p> - -<p>“Do you know what brigade?”</p> - -<p>“Chambliss’s.”</p> - -<p>“All right. I know what to do with you, -then. You stop at Milford. Your husband -will come on the freight this afternoon—at -least, that’s what I expect him to do. Your -best plan is to wait at Milford for him.”</p> - -<p>When we reached Milford the conductor -took me out and introduced me to the landlord -of the tavern, and I was shown into what -I suppose might be called by grace the reception-room. -It was literally on the ground -floor, being built on native brown earth. -The ceiling was low, the room was full of -smoke, and rough-looking men sat about -with pipes in their mouths. I asked for a -private room, and was shown into one upstairs, -but this was so cold that I went out -into the porch which overhung the street -and walked up and down in the sun to keep -myself warm. Very soon the gong sounded -for dinner. I went down, sat with a rough -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">73</span> -crowd around a long table, swallowed what I -could, and went back to my promenade on -the porch. After a time an ambulance drove -up and stopped under the porch, and an orderly -sang out:</p> - -<p>“Adjutant of the Thirteenth here?”</p> - -<p>I leaned over the railing.</p> - -<p>“I am his wife,” I said.</p> - -<p>He saluted. “Can you tell me where the -adjutant is, ma’am?”</p> - -<p>“He will be here on the next train.”</p> - -<p>“That might be midnight, ma’am, or it -might be to-morrow. My orders were to -meet the adjutant here about this time.”</p> - -<p>“The adjutant got left by the regular -passenger. But a freight was to leave Richmond -soon after the passenger, and the adjutant -will come on that.”</p> - -<p>“The freight?” the orderly looked doubtful. -“Maybe so.”</p> - -<p>“What do you mean?” I asked.</p> - -<p>“Well, ma’am, all trains are uncertain, -and freight trains more so. And sometimes -freight trains are mighty pertickular about -what kind of freight they carry.”</p> - -<p>I laughed, but the orderly did not see the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">74</span> -point. Dan’s body-servant was to drive the -ambulance back, so the orderly, turning it -over to a man whom he picked up in the -tavern, went back to camp according to instructions. -As soon as he was out of sight -I began to repent. If Dan <i>shouldn’t</i> come on -that freight, what would I do with myself -and that strange man and the ambulance and -the mules? It was getting late when the welcome -sound of a whistle broke upon my ear -and the freight came creeping in. On the -engine beside the engineer stood my husband, -with that abominable little bundle of -General Lee’s in his hand.</p> - -<p>“Josh got left somewhere,” Dan said of -his servant, “the man will have to drive.”</p> - -<p>At last we were off, Dan and I sitting comfortably -back in the ambulance. I was very -cold when I first got in, but he wrapped me -up well in the blanket and I snuggled up -against him, and began to tell him how nice -and warm he was, and how thankful I was -that there was no possibility of his getting -left from me between here and camp.</p> - -<p>“I had a time of it to come on that -freight,” he said. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">75</span></p> - -<p>“The orderly said you would.” I repeated -the orderly’s remark, and Dan laughed.</p> - -<p>“He told the truth. I had to do more -swearing to the square inch than I have been -called upon to do for some time. I knew you -didn’t even know where you were going, and -that I <i>must</i> get here to-night. As soon as I -heard about the freight, I went to the conductor. -He said passengers couldn’t be -taken on the freight, it was against orders. -‘I belong to the army as you see,’ I urged, -‘I am an officer and it is important for me -to rejoin my command.’ He insisted still -that I couldn’t go, that it was against orders. -I told him that it was a bundle for General -Lee that had got me left, and I pictured your -predicament in moving colors. He was obdurate. -‘If the freights begin to take passengers,’ -he said, ‘there would soon be no -room for any other sort of freight on them.’ -I felt like kicking him. It was then that I -told him that orders were not made for fools -to carry out, and the swearing began. I -threatened to report him. He looked uneasy -and was ready to make concessions which -politeness had not been able to win, but I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">76</span> -walked off. Evidently, like a mule, he respected -me more for cursing him. I had my -plan laid. Just as the train moved out of the -station I swung on to the engine, and politely -introduced myself to the engineer. He -had overheard my conversation with the -conductor—the first part of it, not the part -where the swearing came in—and he invited -me to get off the engine. While we were debating -the engine was traveling. I saw that -he was about to stop it.</p> - -<p>“Quick as a flash I had my pistol at his -head.</p> - -<p>“‘Now,’ I said, ‘drive on with this engine, -or I’ll kill you and run it myself!’ I -am not telling you <i>all</i> the words I used, Nell, -you’ll forgive me this time, I had to get to -you, and honest English is wasted on fools -and mules. ‘Hold off!’ he said, ‘and don’t -put that d—d thing so close to my head, and -you can ride up here and be d—d to you.’ -The invitation was not very polite, but I accepted -it. I gave him some good tobacco, -and we got to be friends before I got off.”</p> - -<p>The short day was done. I was tired and -warm and sleepy and went to sleep while Dan -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">77</span> -was talking. I don’t know how long I had -dozed when the driver doubled up suddenly -and turned head over heels backward into my -lap. I struggled from under him, and Dan -gave him a push that helped to free me and -at the same time jumped on to the driver’s -seat and caught up the lines.</p> - -<p>“Lord-a-mussy on me!” I heard the man -groaning, “dat ar d—n mu-el! she have -kicked me in de pit er my stummick!”</p> - -<p>He gathered himself together in a corner -of the ambulance, and continued to express -forcible opinions of the mule.</p> - -<p>“Dan,” I said, “please get away from -there! That mule might kick you.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t be silly, Nell! Somebody’s got -to drive.”</p> - -<p>“But, Dan, if you get kicked, you <i>can’t</i> -drive.”</p> - -<p>“I won’t get kicked. I know how to talk -to a mule. Just shut your ears, Nell, if you -don’t want to hear me. I’ve got to convince -this mule. She’s just like that engineer and -conductor. As soon as I get through giving -her my opinion in language she can understand, -she’ll travel all right.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">78</span></p> - -<p>Presently Dan called out: “You can unstop -your ears now, Nell—I think she understands.”</p> - -<p>“Dan,” I said, “are you cold out there?”</p> - -<p>“Not a bit of it! This isn’t anything to -a soldier. But a soldier’s wife, eh, Nell? -Getting to be rather hard lines, isn’t it?”</p> - -<p>“Dan,” I said, my teeth chattering, -“don’t it seem that I have had more adventures -in one day than I am entitled to?”</p> - -<p>“Rather! By the way, Josh got on that -same freight. How he managed it, the Lord -only knows! Worked himself in with the -brakeman, I suppose. But he got off—to -look around, I reckon—just like him!—at -some station before Milford and got left. -He’ll come straggling into camp to-morrow. -You see there’s another accident you can -credit your account with. Josh could have -driven these mules instead of that fool white -man over there who don’t know what to do -with a mule. Then I would have been back -there entertaining you, and you would have -been complimenting me by going to sleep.” -He drove on singing:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Sweet Nellie is by my side!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">79</span></p> - -<p>We caught up with another ambulance. -In it were an army friend of Dan’s with his -wife, and she proved the straw that broke the -back of my endurance. She played the martyr. -She had rugs, and shawls, and blankets. -I cross-examined her and made her show that -she hadn’t been left on a car by herself without -a ticket or a cent of money, and with no -knowledge of where she was going, that the -driver of her ambulance hadn’t been kicked -in the stomach and tumbled himself backward -into her lap and nearly broken her -bones, and that my case was far worse than -hers. But in spite of it, she complained of -everything, and had Dan and her husband -sympathizing so with her that they had no -time to sympathize with me. I sat, almost -frozen, huddled up in the one shawl that answered -for shawl, blanket, and rug, and tried -to keep my teeth from chattering and myself -from hating that whining Mrs. Gummidge -of a woman.</p> - -<p>At last our ambulance drew up in front -of the Rev. Mr. McGuire’s, where we were -to stop. There was a hot supper ready, in -parlor and dining-room cheerful flames -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">80</span> -leaped up from hickory logs on bright brass -fire-dogs, and our welcome was as cheery as -the glow of the fire. As our ambulance had -driven into the gate a few minutes in advance -of the other, and as Dan had also engaged -board for me several days before, I had a -right to the first choice of rooms. One of -these was large with a bright fire burning in -the fireplace, and a great downy feather-bed -on the four-poster; the other was small, and -had neither fireplace nor feather-bed. Of -course “Mrs. Gummidge” got the best -room. Dan had to go back to camp. I slept -on my hard bed in my cold room and cried -for Milicent and mother; and the next morning -I broke the ice in my bowl when I went -to take my bath. I was very, very miserable -that morning. I was not out of my twenties, -I had been a spoiled child, I had not seen -Milicent or mother since my marriage, I had -nearly lost my husband, and I had been ill -unto death. Following my husband around -as I did, I yet saw very little of him, and I -endured hardships of every sort. I was in the -land of war, and in spite of all his efforts to -protect me life was full of fears and horrors. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">81</span> -I do not mean that it was all woe. There -were smiles, and music, and laughter, too; -my hosts were kind, Dan came over from -camp whenever he could, and life was too full -of excitement ever to be dull. During the -day I managed fairly well—it was at night -that the horrors overwhelmed me. My room -was cheerless, my bed was hard and cold—I -wanted Milicent, I wanted mother. I felt -that the time had come when I <i>must</i> see them -and I couldn’t: there was no way! The longing -grew upon me the more I struggled -against it, until there was no risk I would not -have run to see them. I was sitting in the -parlor one night thinking with indescribable -longing of the happy, care-free days in Norfolk, -and seeing dissolving pictures of home -in the hickory fire. Tears were rolling down -my cheeks, for while I was living over those -dear old days I was living in the present, too. -Suddenly I heard a voice in the hall—Dan’s -and another’s!</p> - -<p>I sprang up. And there was Dan, and behind -him in the doorway stood a graceful -figure in a long wrap. And a face—Milicent’s -face—pale and weary, but indescribably -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">82</span> -lovely and loving, was looking toward -me with shining eyes.</p> - -<p>“Millie!”</p> - -<p>“Nell!”</p> - -<p>That was one time I forgot Dan, but he -didn’t mind. He stayed with us as long as he -could, and after he left Milicent and I talked -and talked. Milicent—she was a widow now—had -come all the way from Baltimore to -see me—she had left mother and Bobby to -come to see me! My little bed wasn’t hard -any more, my room wasn’t cheerless any -more; I didn’t mind having to break the ice -for my bath. Ah, me, what a night that was -and how happy we were until Dan’s command -was moved!</p> - -<p>Millie and I—Catholics—wish to pay tribute -to the sweet piety of that Protestant -home which sheltered us. Every evening -the big Bible was brought out and prayers -were held, the negro servants coming in to -share in the family devotions. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">83</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br /> - -<span class="small">BY FLAG OF TRUCE<br /> - -<i>Milicent tells how she got from Baltimore to Dixie.</i></span></h2> - -<p>The War Department of the United -States issued a notice that on such a date -a flag-of-truce boat would go from Washington -to Richmond, and that all persons wishing -to go must obtain passes and come to -that city by a certain date.</p> - -<p>I had not heard from my sister, Mrs. Grey, -for some time. We were very anxious about -her, and I determined to seize this opportunity -to get to her.</p> - -<p>I was fortunate in making one of a party -of three ladies, one of whom was Mrs. Montmorency, -the widow of an English officer, -and the other Mrs. Dangerfield, of Alexandria, -Virginia. On our arrival at Washington -late at night, we found all the hotels -crowded and were told that it would be impossible -to get a room anywhere. Fortunately -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">84</span> -for us, Mrs. Dangerfield was acquainted -with the proprietor of one of the -hotels where we inquired, and here, after -much difficulty, we secured two small rooms. -As he left us the old lady said triumphantly:</p> - -<p>“Now, see what’s in a name! If my name -hadn’t been Dangerfield none of us could -have gotten a place to sleep in to-night.”</p> - -<p>The next morning we started for the flag-of-truce -boat. Immediately upon our arrival -our baggage was weighed and all over -two hundred pounds refused transportation. -The confusion was indescribable. As soon -as the steamer cleared the wharf every stateroom -was locked, and the five hundred passengers -on board, with the exception of the -children, were subjected to a rigid examination—their -persons, their clothing, their -trunks were all thoroughly searched. We -were marched down two by two between -guards, and passed into the lower cabin, -where four women removed and searched our -clothing; our shoes, stockings, and even our -hair were subjected to rigid inspection.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Dangerfield being the oldest lady on -board was by courtesy exempted. As for -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">85</span> -myself, I fell into the hands of a pleasant -woman, who looked ashamed of the office -she had to perform. She passed her hand -lightly over and within my dress, and over -my hair; touched my pockets and satchels, -which I willingly showed her, and dismissed -me with a smile and the kind remark, “Oh, I -know you have nothing contraband,” while -around me stood ladies shivering in one garment.</p> - -<p>I had tea and sugar, both contraband articles, -in a large satchel upstairs in the care -of the provost marshal. I out-Yankeed the -Yankees this trip. As soon as I had heard -that we were to be searched and have our -things taken from us, I had walked up to -the provost marshal, told him I had tea and -coffee—a small quantity of each—and asked -to be allowed to use them. In the gruffest -manner he bade me bring them immediately -to him. My dejected looks must have inspired -him with some pity, for when I went -off and brought back my satchel and handed -it to him, he turned and said in the kindest -manner:</p> - -<p>“Now I have saved them for you. After -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">86</span> -the search is over come to me and I will -return them to you.”</p> - -<p>I thanked him and hurried off to impart -the good news to my friend Mrs. Dangerfield. -I found her in a most animated discussion -with an officer who had just pronounced her -camphor-bottle contraband. The old lady -was asserting loudly her inability to stand -the trip or to live without her camphor-bottle. -After much argument and persuasion she was -allowed to retain it.</p> - -<p>The scenes on deck at this time were too -painful to dwell upon. Mothers who had -periled everything and spent their last dollar -in buying shoes for their children had to see -them rudely taken away. Materials for -clothing, and pins, needles, buttons, thread, -and all the little articles so needful at home -and so difficult to obtain in the Confederacy -at that time were pronounced contraband. -Men went about with their arms filled with -plunder taken from defenseless women who -stood wringing their hands and pleading, -crying, arguing, quarreling.</p> - -<p>By this time we were far down the Potomac. -Weak, hungry, and seasick, we were -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">87</span> -glad when dinner-time drew near. The official -notice had stated that food would be -provided, which we, of course, had construed -into three meals a day of good steamboat -fare. The bell rang out loudly at last, and -we all rushed to the cabin, where to our utter -consternation we saw nothing whatever to -eat, no set table, and nothing that looked like -eating. Coming up the steps was a dirty -boathand with a still dirtier bucket and a -string of tin cups. He deposited these on a -table and then called upon the ladies to help -themselves to atrocious coffee, without milk, -sugar, or spoons. Down he went again, and -came up laden with tin plates piled one on -the other, and containing what he called a -sandwich. This sandwich was a chunk—not -a slice—of bread, spread with dreadful mustard, -a piece of coarse ham and another -chunk of bread. Each person was generously -allowed one of the tin plates and one sandwich. -The very thought of swallowing such -food was revolting, and more particularly so -because we were tantalized with odors of -beefsteak and chicken and other appetizing -delicacies prepared for the officers’ table. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">88</span></p> - -<p>How thankful I was to the provost for -confiscating my tea and coffee and sugar -and crackers and ginger-cakes! Each of our -party had something to add. Down upon -the lower deck we had seen an immense pile -of loaves of bread, and near them a large -stove. We coaxed the sailor in charge to -get us a clean loaf from the center of the pile -and to put our tea on his stove to draw. In -a few moments we disappeared to enjoy in -our stateroom the luxury of a cup of tea! -How others fared I do not know. We were -the only people, I think, who had saved -any tea. Almost every one had brought a -few crackers, or cakes of some kind which -they had managed to keep, and these they -must have lived on with the abominable -coffee.</p> - -<p>When we reached the boat that morning -only one stateroom was vacant, and this we -contrived to secure. It was crowded comfort -for three persons, but we were thankful. -When night came our less fortunate fellow -travelers were scattered in every direction -on the floor, their only accommodations -filthy camp mattresses without sheets, pillows, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">89</span> -or covering of any kind except their -own cloaks and shawls.</p> - -<p>We traveled slowly and cautiously, fearing -that in the night our flag might not be -distinctly seen and we might be fired upon. -The provost and his officers were in most -things polite and kind. The men got up a -little play between decks for the amusement -of the ladies; but our party was too ultra-Southern -even to look on.</p> - -<p>We remained off Fortress Monroe all -night, only starting at daylight for the James -River. The trip up the James was accomplished -in safety and without incident of -special interest, if we except a very sudden -and desperate love affair between a Southern -girl and a Federal officer and the amusement -which it afforded us.</p> - -<p>As our boat neared the wharf at City -Point, on all sides were heard cries of:</p> - -<p>“Here we are in Dixie!”</p> - -<p>As soon as we were landed a rush was -made for the cars, and after everybody was -seated the provost marshal came through -bidding us good-by, shaking hands with -many and kissing the pretty young girls. He -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">90</span> -had been very kind, and, as far as lay in his -power, had done so much for the comfort of -all and for the pleasure of the young people -that most of us felt as if we were parting -from a friend. Indeed, some were so enthusiastic -that before we reached City Point they -went among the passengers begging subscriptions -to a fund for purchasing the -provost a handsome diamond ring as a testimonial. -Many, however, refused indignantly, -declaring that they did not feel called -upon to reward the provost for confiscating -every article possible, and for giving us for -seven consecutive meals spoiled bacon, mustard, -and undrinkable coffee.</p> - -<p>In Petersburg little or no preparation had -been made for us, although the hotel proprietors -knew the truce boat was expected -that afternoon at City Point. We were -scarcely able to secure an ordinary supper, -and had to sleep, eight or ten in a room, on -mattresses laid on the floor, and which, -though clean and comfortable enough, were -without covering. The next day we parted -to go in different directions. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">91</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br /> - -<span class="small">I MAKE UP MY MIND TO RUN THE BLOCKADE</span></h2> - -<p>Late one day we saw an ambulance driving -up to the gate through the pouring rain. -A few minutes after, Patsy, the housemaid, -came in to say that the adjutant had sent for -his wife and her sister. We supposed that -the two men with the ambulance were rough -and common soldiers—one of them, in fact, -the one who had given the message to Patsy, -was a negro driver—and sent them around -to the kitchen to warm and dry themselves. -Very soon Aunt Caroline, the cook and a -great authority, came in hurriedly and attacked -Mrs. McGuire.</p> - -<p>“Law, mistess! Y’all sholy orter ax one -er dem men in de house. He sholy orten ter -bin sont to de kitchen. He ain’t got no bizness -in de kitchen. He’s quality. You orter -ax him to come to de parlor. He specks you -gwine ter ax him to come to de parlor, case -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">92</span> -he done bresh hissef up, and he’s puttin’ sweet -grease on his har, and he say he kin play on -de orgin.”</p> - -<p>Such accomplishments as these changed -the whole situation. Aunt Caroline was sent -to fetch him. When she threw open the door -and announced him and he entered, bowing -low and gracefully, we could hardly restrain -a laugh, for we had a good view of the top -of his head, and it was fairly ashine! He was -Lieutenant Dimitri of New Orleans, my -husband’s courier, who had been sent as our -escort. A most efficient and agreeable one he -proved.</p> - -<p>If I had only been a young lady following -my father or brother around, how interesting -these memoirs might be made, for Lieutenant -Dimitri was only one of many charming men -I met. Available heroes pass through, bow, -and make their exits. And I am afraid of -boring my friends with the one hero who remains -because he is my husband; consequently -I keep him as modestly as possible in the -background. He had risen steadily in rank, -and I was proud of him, but I must say that -my memory is less vivid as to his deeds of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">93</span> -gallantry than it is to what might have been -reckoned minor matters by an older woman. -The greatest crosses of my life were separation -from my mother and sister, telling my -husband good-by, and beholding him in a -hopelessly shabby uniform. The greatest -blessings of my life were found in the little -courtesies and kindnesses of life and in -getting my husband back to me, safe and -sound.</p> - -<p>When morning came it was still raining, -and the roads in such a condition that Mr. -McGuire, fearing our ambulance would break -down, opposed our going. But I knew that -the men and team must return to camp according -to orders, so we started off in spite -of the weather and Mr. McGuire’s protest.</p> - -<p>We had not gone far when our driver was -halted by a vidette who barred the way.</p> - -<p>“Is Adjutant Grey’s wife in the ambulance?”</p> - -<p>“Yessuh.”</p> - -<p>“Turn back. Smallpox ahead.”</p> - -<p>The driver turned another road. It was -only a short distance before we were halted -again. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">94</span></p> - -<p>“Adjutant Grey’s wife in the ambulance?”</p> - -<p>“Yessuh, she sho is.”</p> - -<p>“Turn around. Smallpox this way.”</p> - -<p>“Lord! how <i>is</i> I ter go?” groaned the -driver.</p> - -<p>At the next fork the driver paused with -a look of utter distraction.</p> - -<p>“I don’t kyeer whicherway we go, dar’ll -be smallpox in de road sayin’ we can’t go -datter way.” And he drove recklessly on the -way the mules seemed to prefer. The mules -struck it.</p> - -<p>A vidette halted us again, but it was to -say that we were traveling in the right direction -and to give minute directions for the -rest of our journey. There was a village and -its neighborhood to be avoided, and we had -to make a wide detour before the driver put -us down, according to orders, at Mr. -Wright’s.</p> - -<p>Dan came in quite soon, looking as shabby -as one of his own orderlies, but glad enough -to see me. For some time here I was in a -fool’s paradise in spite of the war and the -fact that mother was far away in Baltimore, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">95</span> -ignorant of what might be happening to us, -for camp was very near, there were no active -hostilities, and Dan came to see me every -day.</p> - -<p>Then the cavalry received marching orders. -The night after I heard it I determined -to tell Dan of a decision I had come to. Milicent -had not spoken, but I knew the drift -of her thoughts and purposes. We had not -heard once from mother and Bobby since she -left them in Baltimore. Milicent was going -to them, and I had made up my mind to go -with her. There was no return to Baltimore -by flag of truce; the only way to get there -was to run the blockade, a most dangerous -and doubtful undertaking at this period of -the war. But Milicent’s boy was in Baltimore, -and mother was there. She had -come to me; she would go to them, and I -intended to go with her.</p> - -<p>My heart was set on seeing mother. To -be left alone now by both Milicent and Dan -would drive me crazy; for Milicent to run the -blockade alone would serve me as ill. Besides, -I wanted some things for myself, some -pins and needles, and nice shoes and pocket -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">96</span> -handkerchiefs and a new hat and a new -cloak, and I wanted a new uniform for Dan. -Dan had had no new uniform since his first -promotion, a long time ago. He was an -officer of high rank, and he was still wearing -his old private’s uniform. He had traveled -through rain and snow and mud, and had -slept on the ground and fought battles in it. -Though I had many times cleaned that uniform, -darned it, patched it, turned it, scoured -it, done everything that was possible to -rejuvenate it, my shabby-looking soldier was -a continual reproach to me. When Dan -would come to see me I used to make him -wrap up in a sheet or blanket while I worked -away on his clothes with needle and thread, -soap and water and smoothing irons. I was -ready to run the blockade for a new uniform -for Dan if for nothing else, but to tell him -that I was going to run the blockade—there -was the rub! Evening came and Dan with it, -and the telling had to be done somehow.</p> - -<p>“Dan,” I began, patting the various -patches on his shabby knee, “I want you to -have a new uniform.”</p> - -<p>“Wish me a harp and a crown, Nell! -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">97</span> -One’s about as easy as the other. You’ll -have to take it out in wanting, my girl.”</p> - -<p>“I expect I could buy Confederate cloth -in Baltimore.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe—if you were there.”</p> - -<p>“Dan, I think I’ll slip across the border -and buy you a Confederate uniform, gold lace -and all, from a Yankee tradesman, and then -slip back here with it, and behold you in all -the glory of it. Wouldn’t that be nice, -Dan?”</p> - -<p>“Rather!”</p> - -<p>Dan took in his patches at a glance, perhaps -by way of mental comparison between -himself in this and himself in the imaginary -new uniform. But I saw he did not understand -me at all—I had to make things plain.</p> - -<p>“Dan,” I said, “I am going to Baltimore.”</p> - -<p>“What?” he thundered.</p> - -<p>“I am going to run the blockade with -Millie.”</p> - -<p>“Have you lost your senses?”</p> - -<p>“No, Dan. But I’m going to run the -blockade with Millie—to get you a new uniform.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">98</span></p> - -<p>“Nell, don’t be a goose!”</p> - -<p>“And some shirts and some socks and -some pins and needles—and I want to see -mother—and Bobby—and—I’m going.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not going to allow you to attempt -such a thing!” he said gravely.</p> - -<p>“I want to see mother—and to get a new -uniform—and other things.”</p> - -<p>Dan looked at me as if he thought I was -crazy.</p> - -<p>“Milicent is going—and I think I ought -to go with her.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want Millie to go—I don’t think -she ought to try it; and I won’t permit you -to go off on such a wild-goose chase.”</p> - -<p>I was silent a minute, trying to think how -to tell him as respectfully as I could that I -differed with him on this point. It all ended -by my repeating in a stupid, poll-parrot -fashion:</p> - -<p>“I’m going with Millie to Baltimore.”</p> - -<p>Dan looked at me as if he would like to -spank me! Here was his obedient, docile -girl-bride blossomed into a contumacious, -rebellious wife!</p> - -<p>I was ready to cry—nay, I was crying—but -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">99</span> -I still affirmed that I must go to Baltimore. -Dan reasoned and argued, but that -didn’t do any good. Then he swore, but -swearing didn’t alter the case. The case was, -indeed, beyond Dan, but he made a long and -hard fight, and didn’t surrender for a long -while. I cried all night, and he reasoned all -night. When he saw that the case was hopeless, -he started us to Petersburg under suitable -escort. We had to go first to Petersburg -in order to get the money which we wished -to take North to exchange for all the goods -and chattels we might be able to smuggle -South.</p> - -<p>Dan detailed a driver and an ambulance -for our service and Lieutenant Johnston to -act as escort. The morning we started it -looked cloudy. Dan tried to dissuade us. I -said I had always been a good weather -prophet and I didn’t think it would rain. -Millie reinforced me.</p> - -<p>But when it actually came to telling Dan -good-by, I broke down. His threadbare -clothes plead with me both ways. I hung -around his neck and did so much crying that -he got sorry for me and helped me off. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">100</span></p> - -<p>“When I get you a new uniform, Dan—” -I sobbed, as he tucked the old blanket shawl -about me where I sat in the ambulance.</p> - -<p>“Uniform be ——!” growled Dan. Then, -seeing my crestfallen look, “I reckon I’ll -like it well enough, Nell—when it comes. -Good-by, girls. You’re mighty big geese. -God bless you! If you change your minds -in Petersburg—but, Lord! an earthquake -wouldn’t change you! Good-by, my darling—God -bless you! I reckon you’ll get along -all right.”</p> - -<p>The rusty coat-sleeve was out of sight, -and I was on my way. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">101</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br /> - -<span class="small">I CROSS THE COUNTRY IN AN AMBULANCE -AND THE PAMUNKEY ON A LIGHTER</span></h2> - -<p>As we traveled along farther and farther -from Dan, I kept on crying softly to myself -now and then, turning my face from Milicent. -Presently her arm stole around me.</p> - -<p>“Do you feel so badly, darling?”</p> - -<p>“I hate to leave Dan—I can’t bear it!”</p> - -<p>“Then we’ll turn back, Nell.”</p> - -<p>And our astonished driver and escort received -orders to turn back toward camp.</p> - -<p>“But in a few days,” I sobbed, “Dan—will—be—gone. -And you—will be—gone. And I can’t stand that!”</p> - -<p>And to the further confusion of escort, -driver, and mules, we were turned again.</p> - -<p>“Better not to do dat too offen, lessen -we won’t git nowhar!” our driver muttered -to himself. “Dese mules is clean upsot in -dar min’s.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">102</span></p> - -<p>I was upset in my mind, too. I continued -to cry in a helpless, hopeless fashion, and was -feeling that nothing on earth could make me -more wretched than I already was when it -began raining. Lieutenant Johnston, who -had the soul of Mark Tapley, prophesied a -shower and refused to leave his seat with the -driver, but in a little while he was driven inside -with us. It rained harder and harder—it -poured. The ambulance began to leak and -the straw on the floor got wet. Milicent and -I huddled together under the old blanket -shawl and drew over that a ragged piece of -oilcloth; but the rain soaked through. -Where Lieutenant Johnston sat there was a -steady dripping, bursting now and then into a -stream. But he was not to be daunted by -discomforts or difficulties. He invented a -trough for carrying off the water by making -a dent in his broad-brimmed hat, pulling the -brim into a point, and sticking it through -a rent in the ambulance cover; and he was -so merry over it all, and so convinced that -things might be far worse and would soon -be much better, that we were beginning to -laugh at our own expense, when a sullen -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">103</span> -rushing and roaring reminded us that the -worst of our troubles were still before us. -We looked out of our ambulance upon the -swollen waters of the Pamunkey River.</p> - -<p>The thing on which we were to cross it -was moored to the bank by a great chain. It -was a lighter crowded with men and horses. -There were soldiers at the ends and sides -holding long sticks which they used as poles -to direct and govern the craft. Our ambulance -and mules were driven on along with -other teams, and we walked into the midst -of rearing and plunging horses, that threatened -every minute to back off the lighter -into the river and drag us with them, while -our craft was making its slow way to the -opposite bank.</p> - -<p>I stood between two horses that reared -and plunged the whole time. The men who -held them had hard work to control them, -and, I must add, that they swore roundly, and -confess that this was the one occasion of my -life when I did not undervalue that accomplishment -or wish to put any restraint upon -its free exercise. The truth is I was so scared -that I was ready to help along with either -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">104</span> -the work or the swearing, if I had only known -how.</p> - -<p>As one of the men was trying his best to -keep the horse he was holding from plunging -and kicking itself into the river, or plunging -and kicking itself on me, he caught my eye in -the middle of an oath, and interrupted himself -to begin an apology. The horse took advantage -of this to make more vigorous -demonstrations.</p> - -<p>“Oh! oh!” I cried in terror, “finish—finish -what you were saying to the horse! -He’s going to jump on me, and I’ll have to -say it myself if you don’t!”</p> - -<p>I didn’t realize what I was saying until I -heard a chuckle from the men within hearing -distance. They knew that I was beside myself -with terror, and did their best to smother -their laughter. But I was past caring for -public opinion. I was in an agony of terror. -There was no other place for me to stand—horses, -kicking, plunging, rearing horses -were crowded everywhere. A lighter is the -rudest excuse for a boat. Ours was made of -planks crossed and nailed together, and between -their wide spaces, just under my feet, I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">105</span> -saw the swollen waters, upon which we -seemed to be tossed, and careened, and -whipped about without the control or guidance -of those on board. Never before or -since, never during any period of the war, -was I in such a state of helpless fright as on -that day when I crossed the mad Pamunkey -on a lighter with swearing men and kicking -horses around me and the water bubbling up -against my feet.</p> - -<p>Appearances to the contrary, our soldiers -with the poles were directing our craft and -turning the will of the tide to our profit, -and at last we were on the shore. Safe in our -wet ambulance, we started on our way again. -I was never so cold, so wet, so everything -wretched in my life, and what should Lieutenant -Johnston do but propose to go out of -our way to see St. Peter’s Church.</p> - -<p>“An old colonial relic,” he said. “You -ladies ought not to miss it now that you are -so near.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t want to see any relics,” I answered -promptly. “The only thing I want -to see is a fire and something to eat.”</p> - -<p>But he would drive out of our way to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">106</span> -show us that old church. I was too wretched -and miserable to look at it with proper interest. -I don’t remember how it looked—I -only know that I had to go there and see it -whether I would or no. George Washington -had done something or other there—got -married, I believe. I think the church had -some very fine ivy on it, but I am not sure. -I thought it was old and small, and that it -might do very well in summer, but that under -present circumstances Washington himself -would forgive me for being wholly in the -thought of getting to a fire. Hunger and -cold, cramped positions and rain dripping in -on me had blunted everything in me except -longings for creature comforts. The lieutenant -drove all around the church religiously -before starting on our way again.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe you saw it at all,” he -said to me with real concern.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes, I did!” I answered promptly, -terrified lest we should be turned back to look -at it again, “I saw it thoroughly.”</p> - -<p>Of course, Milicent had looked the old -church over and talked intelligently about it, -but for the life of me, I couldn’t remember -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">107</span> -whether it was made of brick or wood. And -I didn’t care, either.</p> - -<p>The rain had dwindled into a drizzle, -night was coming on, and I began to grow -more and more anxious to find a stopping-place.</p> - -<p>“I do hope we shall get into a place -where they keep good fires,” I said. “If -we should get into a place where they -burn green pine, I should lie down and die. -Wet, green pine,” I continued dolorously, -“that smokes and never burns, and raw, -clammy biscuit is about what we’ll get to-night.”</p> - -<p>The lieutenant looked as if he was very -sorry for me.</p> - -<p>“I wish,” he said unhappily, “I wish I -knew how to tell a place where they burn -green pine.” Suddenly he brightened.</p> - -<p>“I have it!” he exclaimed. “We won’t -stop at any house where there isn’t a big -wood-pile. We don’t stop anywhere until we -find a big white house, a big wood-pile and -a nigger chopping wood.”</p> - -<p>We passed several dwellings, but the lieutenant -wouldn’t stop. “I don’t see any -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">108</span> -wood-pile,” or “The wood-pile ain’t big -enough,” he would say.</p> - -<p>At last we came upon what we wanted—a -large white house, a wood-pile nearly as high -as the house and a negro man chopping wood -for dear life.</p> - -<p>Through a big front yard full of shrubbery, -a wide graveled walk and circular -drive-way led up to the house, and in a few -minutes our ambulance was in front of the -veranda. The lieutenant sprang out and -went up the steps.</p> - -<p>A gray-headed negro butler answered his -knock.</p> - -<p>“Wanter see master, sah? Yes, sah. -Won’t you step right in, sah?”</p> - -<p>“I haven’t time to stop a minute unless -I can get lodgings for the night. I have -ladies in the ambulance. Ask your master if -he will be good enough to see me at the door -for a minute.”</p> - -<p>Sambo bowed, made haste backward, and -almost immediately an old gentleman appeared.</p> - -<p>“Certainly, sir, certainly,” he said, interrupting -the lieutenant in the middle of his -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">109</span> -application. “Bring the ladies right in, -sir.”</p> - -<p>And he helped to bring us in himself. -Servants of all kinds appeared as if by -magic from all quarters, and took charge -of our trunks, satchels, ambulance, and -driver.</p> - -<p>The Virginia gentleman of those days was -hospitable, as men are truthful, for his own -sake first. His hospitality was spontaneous, -unconscious, and free as heaven itself with -its favors. All it asked in return was that -you should come when you pleased, go when -you pleased, stay as long as you pleased, and -enjoy yourself to the top of your bent.</p> - -<p>The house was a house of spindle-legged -chairs, spindle-legged piano, brass fire-dogs, -fine dark woodwork, candelabra of brass and -crystal, and tall wax candles. Through the -gloom the eyes of old portraits looked down -upon us. In the wide fireplace of our bedroom -crackled a mighty fire of oak and -hickory; over the fire hung a bright brass -kettle singing merrily; there were the ever-present -fire-dogs and fender of burnished -brass, and on the mantle two wax lights burning -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">110</span> -in silver candlesticks. Two smiling negro -maids stood ready to minister to us.</p> - -<p>In opposite corners of the room stood two -large, canopied, mahogany bedsteads, with -great, downy feather-beds and counterpanes, -sheets and pillows as white as snow and -smelling of lavender. The undiminished -length of the table at which we sat down that -night bore testimony not only to the good -cheer it had given, but to that which it was -ready to give. It was of dark rich mahogany, -polished to the fineness of a mirror, that -reflected the tall silver candlesticks holding -wax candles. The silver service and beautiful -old china rested on white mats that were -not visible except where encircling fringes of -gleaming damask suggested nests of snow. -On a quaint buffet stood cut-glass decanters -holding topaz and ruby wines and brandy and -whisky.</p> - -<p>The great mahogany sideboard—a small -house in itself—nearly reached the ceiling. -The upper half was a cabinet with glass doors -shaped like the doors of a Gothic cathedral. -The lower half had drawers with white knobs, -and bellied doors of the most beautiful dark -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">111</span> -wood, reflecting, like the table, the glow of -the wax lights. The glass cabinet glittered -with silver and crystal, and here and there -was clouded with the rich maroon and saffron -of rare old china. Our hostess was a stately -and beautiful old lady in black silk (much -worn), with fichu and cuffs of real old lace. -Our host wore fine black broadcloth, threadbare -and of ancient cut.</p> - -<p>Such a soft, shining picture as that supper-room -was! I wish I could paint it as I -saw it that night! And what a delicious supper! -There was tea, sure enough; tea of delicious -aroma; and sure enough sugar, too, -in fine white lumps which had to be picked -up with silver tongs. There were little tea-cakes -and fairy-like puffs and wafers, and -delicious hot rolls! creamy and velvety, and -light as a breath.</p> - -<p>In crystal dishes gleamed the rich, clear -red and amber of preserved fruits, and crystal-clear -sweetmeats were set before us in crystal -dishes. These were cut in designs of leaf and -flower, fish and bird, squirrels, rabbits, and -acorns—really too elaborately cut and too -beautifully transparent to be eaten. And -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">112</span> -then there was Virginia fried chicken—of -such a delicate rich brown! and such juicy -sweetness! At last we each lay covered up in -a great downy bed, and went to sleep, and -slept as if we never expected to wake up. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">113</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br /> - -<span class="small">THE OLD ORDER</span></h2> - -<p>We found fresh straw and hot bricks in -the bottom of our ambulance when we were -ready to leave the next morning, an excellent -luncheon and two bottles of wine. Soon -after we started the wind changed, the clouds -disappeared, and the sun came out. By the -time we reached the Chickahominy there was -sunshine in plenty—and wind, too.</p> - -<p>Not a boat was in sight, and no figure on -either bank of man or beast. I thought the -lieutenant and the driver would split their -lungs hallooing, but there was no response. -Nobody answered and nobody came. We -waited on the bank an hour without seeing -anybody. Then an Indian came by in a skiff -and we hailed him. He paddled to the shore, -and we asked him if he knew where we could -get a boat and some one to put us across. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">114</span> -He knew of nothing and nobody of the kind -within reach.</p> - -<p>“I must hire your skiff then,” said the -lieutenant.</p> - -<p>The Indian grinned.</p> - -<p>“You no get cross in it. You spill out.”</p> - -<p>“Never mind that, so you get paid for -your skiff. I am an old sailor.”</p> - -<p>Powhatan didn’t think the lieutenant -could manage that skiff; however, he got his -price and gave in.</p> - -<p>When he saw the three of us squeezing -ourselves into the skiff he remonstrated -again.</p> - -<p>“Squaws spill out. Squaws git sick,” he -insisted. He told the lieutenant that we -would be frightened out of our lives before -we got across the river. He didn’t know that -Millie and I had been brought up on the -coast and were as used to water as ducks.</p> - -<p>Whoever has rowed an Indian skiff may -have some idea of what a cockle-shell it was -that took us across the Chickahominy. I sat -in one end, Milicent in the other, and Lieutenant -Johnston in the middle, paddle in -hand, while our little craft switched and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">115</span> -wriggled and rocked itself about in a manner -that was as extraordinary as it was dangerous, -and that was nearer perpetual motion -than anything I ever saw.</p> - -<p>At last the lieutenant stood up and -straddled the boat to balance her. How he -ever balanced himself I can’t say, but he -stood with one foot on each of her sides -and managed her somehow. No one but an -old sailor could have done it. I expected -every minute to see him fall over into the -water.</p> - -<p>The sun was shining down, silvering the -waters of the Chickahominy. The strong -winds churned the waves and blew our hats -and veils almost off our heads, and almost -blew our breath away—when the rocking -skiff left us any. And out on the wide, turbulent, -bright river we tossed and tumbled, -and laughed and got wet and came near -drowning. I never had more fun in any sail. -But at last we were safely across, and waiting -by the York River Railroad for our train. -The half-breed gave us our trunks, and took -back his skiff and our money. In a few hours -we were in Richmond, where the lieutenant -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">116</span> -saw us to our hotel, and left. I sent a letter -by him to Dan, begging Dan’s pardon for -having my own way.</p> - -<p>The next day found us in Petersburg. -Our business here was to provide ourselves -with money with which to buy Yankee goods—particularly -a Confederate uniform—in -Yankeeland. I wanted as much gold as our -broker could let me have, but he advised me -against taking more than enough to make -the trip with, and a small margin for contingencies.</p> - -<p>“It will be in your way and increase your -danger,” he said. “Confederate notes will -get you to the Potomac. From there you -need a little gold to take you to Baltimore. -After you are there I will contrive any sum -you want to your trustees in Norfolk. They, -being inside the Yankee lines, can send it to -Baltimore.”</p> - -<p>Our next objective point was Mrs. Rixey’s -in Culpeper. Blockade-runners were -continually setting out from there, and we -thought we would have no difficulty in attaching -ourselves to a party. After a rest in -Petersburg of a day and a half, we started for -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">117</span> -Culpeper, reaching Mrs. Rixey’s at nightfall. -We told her husband that we wanted to join -a party of blockade-runners.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Otis and her two daughters start -north to-morrow; perhaps you can go with -them,” he said, and went out to see about it.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately—or fortunately—the Otis -party was complete—there was no vacant -seat in their wagon.</p> - -<p>“I will be on the lookout for you,” Mr. -Rixey said. “Somebody else will be along -soon.”</p> - -<p>Before breakfast he knocked at our door.</p> - -<p>“There are two gentlemen downstairs -who are going north,” he said, when Millie -stuck her head out. “They give their names -as Captain Locke and Mr. Holliway, and they -seem to be gentlemen. That is all I know -about them. You might see them and talk -the matter over.”</p> - -<p>We finished dressing hurriedly and went -down to the parlor, where we met Captain -Locke and Mr. Holliway, and after a brief -talk decided to go with them.</p> - -<p>The best vehicle we could get was a -wagon without springs, and instead of a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">118</span> -body four planks laid across the axles, one -plank set up on each side, and no ends at all.</p> - -<p>Over the rude floor we had a quantity of -straw piled, and two chairs were set up for -Milicent and me. The gentlemen seated -themselves on our baggage, which consisted -of two small trunks into which we had -crowded a few articles for each of them. The -wagoner, a rough mountaineer, sat on a -plank which had been laid across the two uprights -at the sides.</p> - -<p>It was a bitterly cold day. Milicent and -I wore thick cloaks, and the wagoner supplied -a blanket which we wrapped about our -feet. In addition, the gentlemen contributed -a large blanket shawl which they insisted -upon folding about our shoulders, declaring -that their overcoats protected them sufficiently. -Now and then they got out of the -wagon and walked and stamped to keep their -legs from getting stiff with cold, and at last -Milicent and I were reduced to the same device -for keeping up our circulation. We got -so stiff we couldn’t move, and the gentlemen -had to lift us out of the wagon, pull us about, -and drag us into a walk and a run. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">119</span></p> - -<p>It was dark when we reached the house at -which it had been suggested we should stop. -Lights were in every window and we could -see much moving about. Mr. Holliway went -in to ask for lodgings.</p> - -<p>He returned quickly and jumped into the -wagon, saying to the wagoner:</p> - -<p>“Drive on.”</p> - -<p>Milicent and I were almost freezing.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter?” we asked in keen -disappointment.</p> - -<p>Just then the wagon made a turn, and we -saw distinctly into the house through an uncurtained -window. There was a long white -object in the middle of the floor and over it -stood a weeping woman.</p> - -<p>“Why,” I exclaimed, “somebody’s dead -there.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I didn’t want to tell you,” he said. -“It’s a dead soldier. I was afraid it might -make you feel badly. Ladies are sometimes -superstitious, and I feared you might take it -as a bad omen for our journey.”</p> - -<p>But we found out afterward that it was -he who had taken it for a bad omen. He was -going north to see his family, and he was so -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">120</span> -anxious about them that he talked of little -else. Captain Locke’s mission was not so -clear. He called it business—we little knew -what dangerous business it was!—and we -troubled our heads no further about it.</p> - -<p>It was very late when we at last came -upon a tumble-down farmhouse, where we -were taken in for the night. The family -who lived there did their best for us, but -they were far from being comfortable themselves. -By this time, however, any quarters -and any fare were acceptable. We slept in -the room with a goodly company, all fortunately -of our own sex, and the gentlemen, as -we heard afterward, in even more crowded -quarters.</p> - -<p>Our poverty-stricken hosts did not wish -to charge us, but before we left the next -morning we insisted upon paying them.</p> - -<p>That morning a little Jew boy was added -to our party. Just how, or when, or where -we picked him up, I can not recall, and I -should probably never have thought of him -again if he had not impressed himself upon -me most unpleasantly afterward at Berlin.</p> - -<p>Our second night we spent according to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">121</span> -our program, in Fauquier County, with Mr. -Robert Bolling, a friend of my husband’s.</p> - -<p>“I am astonished at your trying to run the -blockade, Mrs. Grey,” he said.</p> - -<p>“Why?” I asked. “And why are you -more astonished at me than at Milicent?”</p> - -<p>I had been hearing similar remarks, and -was becoming curious.</p> - -<p>“Because you look like a little girl. I -am surprised at such nerve in so youthful a -lady.”</p> - -<p>“I want a new uniform for Dan,” I said. -“He’s promoted.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bolling laughed heartily.</p> - -<p>“And I am quite as brave as Milicent,” I -insisted.</p> - -<p>“Well, I am surprised at you both. It is -a dangerous undertaking.”</p> - -<p>Our wagoner was invited to take supper -with us. He was rough and ill-clad, and he -felt out of place, but Mr. Bolling charmed -him into ease and talked over our prospective -journey with him.</p> - -<p>“It is well for you to be on good terms -with your wagoner,” he said to us privately, -when he sent out the invitation. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">122</span></p> - -<p>Mr. Bolling was old and gray-haired, or -he would have been in the field. His home -was one of the most celebrated country-seats -in Fauquier, and he himself full of honors and -one of the best-known men in the State.</p> - -<p>The night we spent at this old Virginia -homestead was repetition of a night previously -described, with variations. Here were -the same old-fashioned mahogany furniture -with claw feet and spindle legs, and wax -lights in brass and silver candelabra, and -rare old china, and some heirlooms whose -history we were interested in. Several of -these had come with the first Bollings from -England. There was a sword which had -come down from the War of the Roses, and -on the wall, in a place of special honor, hung -the sword of a Bolling who had distinguished -himself in the Revolution. Mr. Bolling took -it down and laid it in Milicent’s outstretched -hands with a smile.</p> - -<p>“I am a believer in State’s rights, and I -am a Secessionist, I suppose,” said the old -man with a sigh, as he hung the sword back -in its place. “But—I hate to fight the old -flag. I hate that.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">123</span></p> - -<p>Above the sword was the portrait of the -Bolling who had worn the sword, a soldierly -looking fellow in the uniform of a Revolutionary -colonel.</p> - -<p>“He saved the old flag once at the cost -of his life,” the aged man said, sighing again. -“He is buried out yonder in the graveyard, -wrapped in the folds of the very flag he -snatched from the hands of the British. If -we were to open his grave to-night, we would -find his bones and ashes wrapped in that flag -he died to save. Yes, I am sorry to fight the -old flag.”</p> - -<p>“Then,” I said innocently and without -thinking, “it is well that you are exempted -from service in the field.”</p> - -<p>His eyes flashed.</p> - -<p>“Ah, no, my dear! Since fighting there -is, I wish I could be in it. If I were young -enough and strong enough I’d take that -sword down and follow Robert Lee. Virginia -is invaded.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">124</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII<br /> - -<span class="small">A DANGEROUS MASQUERADE</span></h2> - -<p>The night of our third day found us at -the wagoner’s cottage on the top of the Blue -Ridge Mountains. As we climbed our slow -and painful way up to the ruddy little light -that beckoned us from its wild and eerie -perch, moonlight and starlight fell upon -snow-capped cliffs and into deep valleys, -touching them into solemn, mystical beauty. -It was as if we had lost ourselves in the clear, -white stillness of the enchanted Snow Kingdom -that had enthralled and terrified us in -the happy days of fairy tales. But there was -nothing magical about the cottage when we -finally got there, or the welcome, or the supper. -Instead of fairies and cowslip dew and -bread of lily pollen, we had a delightfully -wholesome, plump Virginia housewife, a Virginia -welcome, and, above all, a Virginia -supper. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">125</span></p> - -<p>The cottage was plainly furnished, but it -was neat as a pin. The mountaineer’s wife -and mother served us, the one waiting on us, -the other cooking. We sat at table in the -kitchen, and such a feast as we had! There -was nice apple-butter on the table, and delicious -milk and cream, fresh eggs and hot buckwheat -cakes, and genuine maple sirup, of -course. I have never tasted such buckwheats -anywhere. And how fast the old lady fried -them, and the wife handed them to us, piping -hot! and how fast we ate! and how many!</p> - -<p>The furniture in our bedroom, as everywhere -else, was exceedingly plain, but so -deliciously clean. And such a bed! such a -downy, fragrant bed! The sheets were -snowy, the coverlet was spotless. As I went -to sleep I had an idea that the feathers in that -bed must have come from the breasts of -mountain birds that had never touched the -earth. In the morning the mountaineer took -us to a point near his house, where we could -stand and look into—I have forgotten how -many States, and out upon snowy peaks, and -mountain streams, and lovely shadowed -vales. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">126</span></p> - -<p>We lost our Confederate captain when we -started down the mountain that day; Mr. -Holliway had all along been in civilian’s dress, -and now Captain Locke changed his uniform -for citizen’s clothes, leaving the uniform at -the cottage, to be called for on his return.</p> - -<p>The fourth night we reached Berryville.</p> - -<p>Here it was necessary to hold a council -with closed doors, for the presence of the little -Jew boy had for several days prevented us -from talking freely.</p> - -<p>He seemed to have eyes and ears all over -him, and we felt vaguely that he would use -both to our disadvantage. So we shut him -out of the little room at the inn in Berryville -where we held our secret council. The morrow -would find us inside the Federal lines—it -was necessary to prepare our story. We -agreed that Captain Locke was to be our -brother, because he had fair hair and blue -eyes like ourselves. Mr. Holliway was of too -entirely different a type to be claimed for a -nearer relationship than that of cousin. We -were young ladies of Baltimore who had been -visiting at Mr. Robert Bolling’s in Fauquier, -and our brother and cousin had come south -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">127</span> -to take us home, not being willing that we -should undertake such a journey alone. Captain -Locke gave Milicent some papers to be -concealed in the lining of her muff. I, too, -had some papers to hide for him. Fortunately -we did not know until afterward -that Captain Locke was a Confederate spy, -and that the papers we carried were official -documents of importance to the Confederacy, -and that if discovered the captain would -be strung up in short order and every one -of us sent to prison.</p> - -<p>If we had known what he was and the -nature of the papers, I think our patriotism -would have risen to the occasion, but we -should have been more nervous and more -likely to betray ourselves. So I think he was -wise to take the liberty of counting on our -patriotism, and also to keep us in the dark -as a safeguard for both ourselves and the -papers.</p> - -<p>The next forenoon we reached the Potomac -River, and found ourselves in Federal -lines. Our wagoner bade us good-by and -left us there on the bank. In the river below -lay the lighter on which we were to cross the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">128</span> -Potomac. It was crowded with Federal soldiers. -There was no way to reach it except -to slide down the bank, and the bank was -steep. To slide down, it was neither a graceful -nor a dignified thing to do. I drew back. -The captain took me by the hand to pull me -over. I still drew back. I did not want to -slide down that bank.</p> - -<p>“Come on, sister!” he exclaimed with -brotherly crossness.</p> - -<p>I grinned broadly, but the captain, his -back to the lighter, gave me such a serious -look that I sobered in an instant.</p> - -<p>“Sister, come along! Don’t be a -goose!” he said, and giving me a jerk pulled -me over.</p> - -<p>The Federal soldiers on the lighter could -see and hear. One blunder now and we were -lost. I yielded to the inevitable and slid -down the bank with the captain; Mr. Holliway -followed with Milicent. Another minute, -and we stood on the lighter in the midst of -Yankee soldiers and Yankee horses. A -horse’s nose was over my shoulder the whole -way. Soldiers were crowded up against me, -there was ample occasion for swears, but I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">129</span> -don’t think I heard an oath the entire distance, -and they were courtesy itself to Milicent -and me.</p> - -<p>Landing at Berlin, we walked into the -office of the provost marshal. The provost -was out, and the deputy who was at his desk -looked at us with cool, inquisitive eyes. He -put the usual questions and received ready-made -answers.</p> - -<p>“Who are you?” he asked Captain Locke -in a very suspicious tone.</p> - -<p>“Charles D. Moore, of Baltimore.”</p> - -<p>“Occupation?”</p> - -<p>“I am studying law.”</p> - -<p>“Humph!” with a glance that made me -keenly alive to the lameness of that story told -by the martial-looking captain.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing down here?”</p> - -<p>“Taking my sisters back home.”</p> - -<p>“Humph! Who are you?” turning to -Mr. Holliway.</p> - -<p>“William H. May, of Baltimore.”</p> - -<p>“Studying law too?”</p> - -<p>“No. I expect to study medicine.”</p> - -<p>“Are you taking these ladies back home -too?” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">130</span></p> - -<p>“I am accompanying them, certainly,” -said Mr. Holliway with asperity.</p> - -<p>“Who <i>are</i> these ladies?”</p> - -<p>“My sisters,” said Captain Locke firmly, -“and I am here to protect them on their way -back home.”</p> - -<p>“Where have they been?”</p> - -<p>“They are from Mr. Robert Bolling’s in -Fauquier County, Virginia. They have been -visiting at his house. We wished them to -return to Baltimore, and I came south for -them. My cousin, Mr. May, joined us.”</p> - -<p>“And you—what are you doing down -here?” with a touch of irony to Holliway.</p> - -<p>“Got caught this side by the war, and am -trying to get back home.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, yes, of course. I can’t pass you. -Take seats, please. The marshal will be in -directly.”</p> - -<p>Our evidence was too smooth.</p> - -<p>It was plain the deputy didn’t believe -in us, and we felt uneasy and miserable -to the soles of our boots—except Captain -Locke, who looked thoroughly at his -ease.</p> - -<p>It was an hour or longer before the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">131</span> -marshal came in. It seemed a great deal -more, yet I can’t say that I longed to see -him.</p> - -<p>“What’s all this?” he asked his deputy -as he took in our party, braced up against the -wall.</p> - -<p>“A party who crossed from Virginia this -morning. They have been visiting in Fauquier—<i>they -say</i>—and want to get back to -Baltimore. A lame tale, I call it. I would -send them straight back if I had my way -with them.”</p> - -<p>The provost’s eyes had rested first on me, -as I happened to be more conspicuously -placed than the others. I have been accredited -with a most ingenuous countenance. I -returned his gaze with a regard utterly “childlike -and bland,” looking up into his face with -eyes as frank and trusting as a baby’s. Past -me his gaze went to Milicent—I have said -before that Milicent had the face of a Madonna; -then the manly and straightforward -eyes of Locke held him; and last Mr. Holliway’s -reserved and gentlemanly countenance -met his scrutiny with a quiet dignity that -disarmed suspicion. He began by interviewing -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">132</span> -Milicent and me. When he questioned -me I said plaintively:</p> - -<p>“I have been here an hour, sir, and I am -very tired. I would be so much obliged if -you would send us on home. I am almost -sick with the journey I have taken, and I -should so like to get home to-night.”</p> - -<p>“That is impossible,” he said; “but,” he -continued kindly, “I do not think you will -be detained later than to-morrow morning.”</p> - -<p>He conversed in a low tone with his -deputy, and then I heard him say: “Let them -spend the night at the old German’s on the -hill, and to-morrow we will see about it.”</p> - -<p>Then turning to us, he said that an orderly -would conduct us to a place where we would -be lodged for the night. When an officer -asked about our baggage, I extended my -keys quickly, saying:</p> - -<p>“We have two small trunks.”</p> - -<p>He took the keys with an apology. As -I was passing out of the door I turned back -and held out my satchel.</p> - -<p>“I forgot that you have to examine this.”</p> - -<p>“It is not necessary, miss,” he said, -smiling. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">133</span></p> - -<p>The old Dutchman was out, but his wife -received us and made us comfortable. While -we were at supper he came in. “I speeks mit -you after supper,” he said solemnly, and sat -in silence until we had finished.</p> - -<p>Then he took us into a room, closed and -locked the door, came close to us, and whispered:</p> - -<p>“I knows dat you haf run te plockate. -You bees in ver’ mooch tancher. Town te -stdreet I hears you vas at mine house, unt I -hears ver’ mooch talk, unt I lis’en. I vill help -you if you vill let me.”</p> - -<p>He now addressed himself particularly to -Captain Locke and Mr. Holliway:</p> - -<p>“You, shentlemen, mus’ leave mine -house, shoost as soon as you can, or you vill -be daken brisoners. I vill help you to get -avay.”</p> - -<p>“We can’t do it,” said Locke promptly. -“I can not leave my sisters alone and unprotected.”</p> - -<p>Milicent and I were trembling with fear.</p> - -<p>“Brother,” said Milicent, “you and -Cousin William must leave us and save yourselves.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">134</span></p> - -<p>“Please go,” I begged. I could not keep -my eyes off the door. I feared every moment -to hear the rap of the sergeant come to arrest -our friends. But the captain and Mr. Holliway -reiterated their determination not to -leave us in our present situation. If I had not -been scared almost to death I could have -laughed at the perfect brotherliness of -Locke’s protestations.</p> - -<p>“Tere is tancher, shentlemen. I hears te -talk town te street,” urged the Dutchman -with every appearance of earnestness and -good-will.</p> - -<p>“What did you hear?” asked Locke nonchalantly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, tey tinks you haf not tolt vat you -vas. Tey tinks you be Secesh—unt I ton’t -know vat tey tinks.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t help what they think,” said -Locke. “I am going to protect my sisters.”</p> - -<p>“How you brotect tem ven you be brisoners, -<i>hein</i>?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” answered Locke, smiling, -“but I certainly shall not leave them.”</p> - -<p>“Vat goot you do? I vill take care of te -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">135</span> -ladies. Nopody vill hu’t tem, unt I vill see -dat tey gets off all right. Tere is no tancher -for tem.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, my friend,” said the captain -simply and heartily. “But we can not accept -your kind offer. We must take my sisters -home ourselves.”</p> - -<p>“I ver’ sorry,” said the Dutchman sadly.</p> - -<p>As soon as the door closed behind him, -we began to plead.</p> - -<p>“Captain,” said Milicent, “you and Mr. -Holliway must go. We will not consent to -anything else.”</p> - -<p>“We should be regular deserters to do -that,” said Locke contemptuously. “I think -the old fellow is exaggerating. Or maybe -he is pumping us. Holliway and I will walk -down the street and see.”</p> - -<p>We thought this was madness, and we -were miserable from the moment they left -until they were safely back. Captain Locke -was, as always, at his ease, but Mr. Holliway -was very pale. He knew, as Milicent and I -did not, the risk we were all running, and he -was more concerned perhaps for Locke’s -safety than for his own. For him arrest -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">136</span> -meant prison at the worst—for Locke, a -halter.</p> - -<p>“The Dutchman is right,” he said in answer -to our questions. “We stopped outside -several places and heard them talking about -us and our arrest. We are practically prisoners.”</p> - -<p>He tried to speak cheerfully and as if -it would be a sure and easy matter to find -some way out of our predicament; but -the truth was that he had been struggling -all along against great depression of spirits; -his health was bad, the incident of the first -night of our journey had impressed him, -and he had evidently felt himself under -a cloud ever since our experience at the -provost’s.</p> - -<p>“That talk doesn’t amount to much,” said -Captain Locke carelessly.</p> - -<p>The room in which we were sitting was -that which had been taken for Milicent’s and -my bedroom. Captain Locke got up, walked -to the door and locked it.</p> - -<p>“You have needles and thread, I think, -ladies?”</p> - -<p>Milicent and I immediately produced them -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">137</span> -and slipped on our thimbles. He handed -Milicent his open knife.</p> - -<p>“Rip the papers out of your muff, Mrs. -Norman, and you, little madam, let me have -those I gave you.”</p> - -<p>The two I had were hidden in my sleeve. -While Milicent and I were getting the papers -out, I heard Mr. Holliway say:</p> - -<p>“Burn those papers, Locke. You can -never get them to Baltimore, and you know -in what fearful peril they keep us.”</p> - -<p>“I might as well turn back if I burn -them,” said the captain. “I take those -papers to Baltimore, or I die trying—and I -won’t die.”</p> - -<p>“Excuse the trouble I give you, ladies,” -he said, leaning back in his chair and putting -his feet on another. “Will you open the -hems of my trousers and sew those papers -inside? It is a great favor.”</p> - -<p>We ripped each hem, folded the papers -inside as flat as possible, and sewed the hems -up again. I had not made over Dan’s old -uniform for nothing, and Milicent was always -a skilful needlewoman—our hems looked quite -natural and not at all “stuffed.” But we -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">138</span> -were so nervous that we worked very slowly, -for we felt that a wrong stitch might cost -Captain Locke his life.</p> - -<p>He had worn his trousers turned up -around the bottom to keep them out of the -mud. When we had finished he carefully -turned them back again, Mr. Holliway looking -on gloomily.</p> - -<p>“Now, ladies,” said the captain cheerfully, -“we will all retire and get a good -night’s rest. You have had a hard day and -I am sure you must be tired.”</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you going away?” we asked -anxiously. “What did you take the papers -for?”</p> - -<p>He smiled.</p> - -<p>“Little madam,” he said, “you had best -go to bed and get a good night’s rest. That -is what I am going to do. Mrs. Norman, -make this poor child go to bed. And you will -promise me to try to rest too, won’t you?”</p> - -<p>There was a rap on the door. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">139</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br /> - -<span class="small">A LAST FAREWELL</span></h2> - -<p>Mr. Holliway opened it to admit the -Dutchman.</p> - -<p>“Shentlemen,” he began earnestly, “tey -haf got te leetle Chew poy trunk mit giffin’ -him visky, unt he haf tolt everyding. I pe -your vrent. You mus’ get avay pefore mitnight.”</p> - -<p>“The little Jew knows nothing to tell,” -said the captain. “His drunken babble is -not worth attention. We can not leave my -sisters.”</p> - -<p>“How you help tem by stayin’? I gif -you my vort dat tey vill get to Paltimore -all right. I hates to see tem Yankees takes -you up in mine house.”</p> - -<p>Milicent and I believed in the German. -So I think did both gentlemen by this time, -but we had come this far under their care, -and they were loath to leave us unless entirely -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">140</span> -convinced that it was for our safety as -well as their own. Mr. Holliway was no less -concerned about us than Captain Locke was, -but he took a darker view of the situation. -He drew Locke aside and they talked together -in low tones. I caught the word -“reckless” and “those papers,” and “a disadvantage -to them,” “safer without us.” -When they turned back to us Captain Locke -said:</p> - -<p>“We leave the question in your hands, -ladies. Perhaps we—and more particularly I—endanger -you by remaining. But I hate -to leave you alone this way, and I am not -afraid of anything that can happen to me. -If the worst came to the worst, and we -were arrested, I have some influence in the -North which might still be of benefit to -us all.”</p> - -<p>“Use it for yourself and Mr. Holliway,” -we said, “and go.”</p> - -<p>“Think well, ladies. You want us to go -now, but when we are gone and you are here -alone, won’t you feel desolate and deserted?”</p> - -<p>“We will only be glad you’re gone,” I -said. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">141</span></p> - -<p>“I don’t think I ever heard such a polite -speech in my life,” said Captain Locke, -laughing. “Holliway, I think we had better -leave immediately.”</p> - -<p>He stood cool and smiling, but Mr. Holliway, -whose health was not robust, and upon -whom the hardships of the journey and the -excitement had told, was ghastly. Not that -he lacked courage. He would have stayed and -died for us, as far as that was concerned; but -his physical endurance was not great, and -from the first he had been oppressed with a -presentiment of evil.</p> - -<p>Milicent had drawn Captain Locke aside, -and was urging him to go, as I knew, and, as -I think, to destroy the papers which Holliway -felt imperiled him. He gave her a smiling -negative.</p> - -<p>“You must go yourself, and please help -us make the captain go,” I was saying to Mr. -Holliway.</p> - -<p>“You will have to do that,” he replied. -“I have said what I could. It is madness -for us to stay, as I am thoroughly convinced -now. You would be safer without us. -Locke doesn’t think so, but I know it. His -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">142</span> -character and the papers he carries increase -the danger for us all.”</p> - -<p>Captain Locke and Milicent had finished -their conference.</p> - -<p>“We will go,” he said quietly. “A pen -and ink, my friend,” to the Dutchman.</p> - -<p>“Make haste and go,” we pleaded.</p> - -<p>But he waited for the pen and ink.</p> - -<p>“We have time enough,” he said, consulting -his watch very coolly. “It is not yet -half-past eleven.”</p> - -<p>He wrote a note and gave it to the Dutchman -to be mailed that night.</p> - -<p>“If you get into any trouble,” he said to -Milicent, “telegraph to this address.”</p> - -<p>And he gave her a slip of paper on which -was written: “ Gov. ——, Baltimore, Md.”</p> - -<p>“The letter is to my uncle, and if you are -in any trouble he will help you out. The -Governor will be advised of your situation, -and a telegram to him will be understood.”</p> - -<p>“Good night, ladies, and <i>au revoir</i>,” he -said gaily, bowing over our hands. “We -will meet in Baltimore.”</p> - -<p>“I echo that,” said Mr. Holliway with assumed -cheerfulness. “It has been a great -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">143</span> -pleasure and privilege to know you, ladies. -With all its shadows, this journey will always -be one of my sweetest memories.”</p> - -<p>We might never see them again. We -knew it as we looked into Locke’s bonnie -blue eyes and Holliway’s dark sad ones. -They had been our brave and gentle knights, -shielding us and enduring all the hardships -cheerfully. One of them was weaker, we -knew, because he had given his blanket to -keep us warm. We looked bravely back into -the two brave faces that looked into ours—one -sign of faltering and they would not -leave us.</p> - -<p>“I will say a ‘Hail Mary’ for each of -you every night,” I said.</p> - -<p>“I, too,” said Milicent softly.</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” there was a quiver in each -voice now. “We will try to deserve your -prayers, dear ladies.”</p> - -<p>Then they bowed themselves out with -smiling faces. One of them we never saw -again. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">144</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV<br /> - -<span class="small">THE LITTLE JEW BOY AND THE PROVOST’S -DEPUTY</span></h2> - -<p>The Dutchman went with them to show -them the way he said they must take. His -wife came in and gossiped with us.</p> - -<p>According to her account, it was a miracle -that we had passed through the provost’s -hands as well as we had.</p> - -<p>“If de vimmins had peen dere, dey vould -haf pult your close off, unt dey vould haf -search you all ofer. I ton’t know as you haf -anyding you not vant dem to see, but if you -haf anyding, tey pe zhure to fint it. Te vimmins -tat haf to pe dere to-tay vas gone avay -somevare. If she had peen dere, you vas haf -harter times tan you vas haf.”</p> - -<p>I thought with a shudder of our muffs -and satchels, our pictures in Confederate uniform, -and those papers.</p> - -<p>“Mine man say some volks vas arrested -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">145</span> -town te river to-tay. Dere vas dree laties -unt von shentleman. Tey dry to cross at de -Boint of Vrocks [Point of Rocks] unt tey -vas took up unt sent pack.”</p> - -<p>“What were their names?” we asked -eagerly.</p> - -<p>We remembered that the Otis party consisted -of three ladies and one gentleman. We -had kept in sight of their ambulance for some -time. But at the parting of our ways, when -they had taken one road and we another, our -driver had said: “They are going to try to -get across at the Point of Rocks, and they’ll -sure be turned back or took up, one.”</p> - -<p>“I ton’t know vat dere names,” said the -Dutchwoman. “Mine man vill know. He -forgets notding.”</p> - -<p>When he came in he thought a little, and -then he said he thought the name was -“Odis.” So we had been luckier than we -thought in the chance that prevented us from -joining their party.</p> - -<p>The old German had directed our friends -as best he could, and started them on their -way. They were to keep to the woods and -walk to Frederick, from where, he thought, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">146</span> -they might reach Baltimore. He told us that -they had not gone away immediately after -leaving us, although he had urged them to -do so. They had said they wouldn’t go -away until they saw how we took being left -alone. They had gone around to the window -of the room in which we were sitting, -and had spied upon us. When they saw us -gossiping with the old woman, they had -gone off satisfied that we would not break -down after their departure.</p> - -<p>“Tey vas not so vraid vor her,” he said, -indicating Milicent. “It vas you, te leetle -matam, as he call you, dat he vas vraid vor. -He vraid you vould cry pecause you vas so -leetle, unt pecause you vas so ver’ younk. I -ask him vat he do if you cry, unt I dry to -make him come avay, unt he say: ‘If she cry -I von’t go. I vill go in tat room unt I vill -dake her up in mine arms unt I vill not stop -until I put her safe in Captain Grey’s arms! -Dot is vot I vill do.’ He titn’t leaf you off,” -to Milicent, “put he dort you pe mo’ prave.”</p> - -<p>If he had been at the window then he -would have seen tears in our eyes. But I -bore a grudge. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">147</span></p> - -<p>“Milicent,” I said, as soon as we were -alone, “I don’t see why people should make -of me just the exception that they always do. -I may be a little younger, but I am married, -and I have got just as much sense about some -things and I’m just as brave as you are. I’m -a soldier’s wife, the wife of a Confederate -officer. I wonder how I have behaved that -everybody expects <i>me</i> to be a coward.”</p> - -<p>And Milicent comforted me.</p> - -<p>The next morning an orderly rapped at -the door of the German’s house and asked -for us.</p> - -<p>The German answered.</p> - -<p>“Tell the <i>ladies</i>,” with an emphasis on -the word, “the provost says they can go on. -The train leaves in fifteen minutes. They will -find their baggage at the station. Here are -their keys.”</p> - -<p>“You see it is vell tat te shentlemen tit -not vait vor bermission,” said the German as -we hurried into our wraps.</p> - -<p>We heard afterward that following our -departure a sergeant-at-arms called for the -“shentlemen.” Our train was late coming -in. As we stood on the platform waiting we -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">148</span> -saw that wretched little Jew boy fooling -around and watching us. We pretended not -to see him. Suddenly I felt a tremor in Milicent’s -arm which was linked in mine.</p> - -<p>“Do you see who is on the platform talking -with the little Jew boy? No, don’t turn -your head—don’t look suddenly—don’t look -at all. It is the provost’s deputy who didn’t -believe in us yesterday.”</p> - -<p>Oh, if the train would only come, and we -were on it and gone! As it rolled up beside -the platform we had to restrain ourselves -from getting on it too eagerly. But we were -at last in our seats; the whistle blew, and the -train moved out of the station.</p> - -<p>The station was behind us, out of sight, -and we were leaning back enjoying ourselves, -when Milicent glanced behind her. I was -looking out of the window when I felt her -hand on my arm.</p> - -<p>“Don’t look suddenly. But when you -can, glance behind us.”</p> - -<p>Three seats behind us sat the provost’s -deputy. He was reading a paper, or, rather, -watching us over a paper which he held up -before him. He kept us under close observation -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">149</span> -the whole way. We had no opportunity -to consult about the difficulties of the -situation, but we felt that we were to elude -our shadow in Baltimore or not at all. -Carriages stood thick around the depot. -Drivers were cracking their whips and importuning -the public for patronage. We -stepped off the platform into the midst of -them, got to haggling about prices, and -found ourselves mixed up in a lot of carriages, -the yelling and screaming drivers -having closed up behind us around the platform -to which they had turned their attention. -There we saw the deputy’s hat revolving -rapidly, as if he were turning himself -about to catch sight of us. Chance stood our -friend. We happened to stand between two -carriages, the doors of which hung open. A -party of two ladies stepped into one. Instantly -we took the other.</p> - -<p>“Drive fast to No. — Charles Street,” -Milicent said to the driver. Several carriages -rolled out of the depot with our own, -and before we reached Mrs. Harris’s we felt -that we had escaped the deputy. Once with -mother and Bobby we forgot him. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">150</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV<br /> - -<span class="small">I FALL INTO THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY</span></h2> - -<p>Mrs. Harris kept a select and fashionable -boarding-house. There were many regular -boarders and a stream of people coming -and going all the time. She was a -Southern sympathizer, and her house was a -hotbed of sedition and intrigue for both sides. -Among her guests were three Yankee officers, -whom I made up my mind—or, rather, -my mind needed no making up—to dislike. -Uniform and all, I objected to them. The -day after we came Mrs. Harris was chatting -with us in mother’s room.</p> - -<p>“I must introduce you to those Federal -officers who are in the house,” she remarked.</p> - -<p>“I beg you will not!” I replied indignantly. -“I will have nothing to do with -them.”</p> - -<p>“Then you will make a grave mistake, my -child. That course would betray you at -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">151</span> -once. You’ve put your head into the lion’s -mouth, and prudence is the better policy until -you get it out again. If you meet these -officers and are civil to them they may be of -assistance to you when you want to go -back.”</p> - -<p>Accordingly, when our household met as -usual in the parlors that evening, Captain -Hosmer, Assistant Adjutant-General William -D. Whipple, of Schenck’s command, and -Major Brooks—also, I think, of Schenck’s -command—were presented to me.</p> - -<p>Major Brooks had such a keen, satirical -way of looking at me that I immediately took -a violent prejudice against him, though I -tried hard to conceal it. Schenck’s adjutant -I did not like much better. Captain Hosmer -was objectionable on general principles as a -Yankee, but he was really a handsome fellow -and a most charming gentleman, and though -I had hard work overcoming my prejudices -sufficiently to be quite civil at first, I ended by -becoming warmly attached to him. My impulse -was to avoid these gentlemen and to -show my colors in a passive way. I say in a -passive way, because anything approaching -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">152</span> -discourtesy Dan would have condemned. On -duty, he would have shot a Yankee down -quickly enough; off duty, he would never -have failed in politeness to a gentleman in -any uniform. As I could not well appear here -as a Confederate officer’s wife, I was introduced -to these gentlemen as Miss Duncan. -The day after our arrival we mailed Captain -Locke’s picture, which he had given us for -the purpose, to his sister in Harrisburg, and -called to see Mr. Holliway’s mother and sisters. -They were charming women, and entertained -us in true Baltimore fashion.</p> - -<p>Indeed, I soon found myself in a whirl of -gaiety. Mrs. Harris’s house was a merry one. -Of course, being in Baltimore, its politics -were mixed, as we have said, but as far as -social position and culture were concerned, -the guests were above reproach. The parlors -in the evening reminded one of those of -a fashionable pleasure resort.</p> - -<p>Next door was another boarding-house. -Mother’s windows overlooked the entrance, -and we amused ourselves—according to -boarding-house custom and privilege—by -watching our own and our neighbors’ callers -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">153</span> -and guests, and by nicknaming them. There -was one of the next-door boarders who entertained -us greatly. We dubbed him “the -Professor.” He had a funny way of wearing -his green goggles as if they were about to -fall off his nose. He had long, snaky curls -which looked very greasy and glossy, and he -walked with a slight stoop, using a gold-headed -cane; and he always carried a book -under his arm.</p> - -<p>In our own house were two ladies who -afforded us much amusement. They were -sisters, as Captain Hosmer took occasion to -inform me early in our acquaintance, but -they were politically so opposed to each other -that they did not speak.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Bonds was a black Republican, Mrs. -Lineman a red-hot rebel. This latter fact -we discovered by degrees. Women did not -gossip in those days—not to talk was a necessary -evil—very evil and very necessary in a -boarding-house of mixed politics in Baltimore -during war times.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Harris kept a private parlor for herself -and daughters, and here we poor rebels -met every now and then with a little less restraint, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">154</span> -though even here we had to be very -careful. One day a note was brought me.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Happy greetings, dear friends! Can you -arrange without inconvenience to yourselves -for me to call, and will you allow me that -pleasure? Do not hesitate to decline if you -feel so disposed. I will understand.</p> - -<p class="author"> -“L.”<br /> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>There was no other signature, but we -knew the hand. Thank God! He was alive -and well! We took the note to Mrs. Harris. -Of course we would see him if we could make -a way. After a little consultation it was arranged -that we receive him in the little -parlor upstairs. We addressed an envelope -to ourselves, put a blank sheet of paper in it, -sealed it, and enclosed it in a note to the -captain. The latter we did not know how to -address; we were merely to give it to his messenger, -who was waiting. We wrote:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Delighted. Come to side entrance at -half-past eight; present enclosed and you will -be shown up.</p> - -<p class="author"> -“N. & M.”<br /> -</p></blockquote> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">155</span></p> - -<p>At half-past eight we were waiting in -Mrs. Harris’s private parlor—there were several -ladies there beside ourselves. Of all -nights, why couldn’t they keep away this -night?—when Mrs. Harris’s maid brought -up the envelope we had addressed to ourselves.</p> - -<p>“Show him up,” we said.</p> - -<p>Why in the world wouldn’t those other -women go? And would there be any callers -in the private parlor to-night?</p> - -<p>“Dr. Moreau!” announced Mrs. Harris’s -maid.</p> - -<p>Into the room walked the “Professor,” -green goggles and all. Who in the world -was <i>he</i> coming to see? What was he doing -here any way? And on this night of all -nights when we were looking for Captain -Locke and wishing for as few witnesses as -possible! Through the open door behind the -“Professor,” we caught a glimpse of Mrs. -Bonds out in the hall, following him with -curious eyes. If we could only slip down-stairs -and keep the captain from coming up -to-night! And why didn’t the girl bring the -captain in? Milicent was rising to go out -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">156</span> -into the hall, when the “Professor,” having -glanced around the room, approached us.</p> - -<p>“I was invited to call on some ladies here -this evening? Am I in the wrong room?” -said a perfectly strange voice, the voice you -would expect to hear from a fossil.</p> - -<p>We looked up in confusion. If we could -only get him out of the way before the captain -entered! He waited while we pondered -how to answer.</p> - -<p>“What ladies do you wish to see?” I -asked.</p> - -<p>“Well, this <i>is</i> good! Little madam, may -I take this seat beside you?”</p> - -<p>He dropped into the chair between us and -we caught for an instant his old merry laugh, -“nipped in the bud,” it is true, for we gave -him a warning glance. Mrs. Harris was considerate -and tactful, and we not only had our -corner to ourselves, but attention and observation -diverted from us as much as possible. -We were much amused at Captain Locke’s -“make-up,” and he was evidently very proud -of it.</p> - -<p>“It must be very clever for <i>your</i> eyes not -to have seen through it,” he said. “I have -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">157</span> -been looking up at your window and watching -you every day. I saw, too, that you -made merry at my expense. It was a great -temptation to speak to you many times, -but I didn’t want to make advances nor -to ask permission to call until I knew -something about how the land lay over -here.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t know how anxious we have -been about you, or how glad and thankful -we are to see you,” we assured him. “We -have been very uneasy at not hearing from -you. Where is Mr. Holliway?”</p> - -<p>“God knows!” he answered gravely. -“He was afraid to follow my fortunes, I -think. He left me at Frederick. He ought -to be here by now, but if he is he is keeping -very close.”</p> - -<p>“He is not here,” we answered. “We -have been to see his mother and sister, and -they know nothing of him.”</p> - -<p>“Then something is wrong. He had an -idea that we might be tracked to Frederick -very easily from Berlin, and from Frederick -to this place if we came by the direct route; -so he branched off into West Virginia, intending -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">158</span> -to reach Baltimore by a more round-about -route than mine. Poor Holliway! he -was not well, and he was nervous and unstrung -over this trip from the first. He felt -that I was reckless and that I was throwing -away my own chance and his.”</p> - -<p>Some one in the room came near us and -we returned to generalities. Very soon after -Captain Locke made his adieux, promising -to call again when we could arrange it.</p> - -<p>Captain Hosmer had sought opportunities -for showing special courtesies to me, but -I had rather repelled him. He was good -enough, however, to ignore my bad manners -and to persist in turning my music for me. -We had dances very often in the evenings, I -playing the same tunes for folks to dance by -that I played for the Prussians and that I play -for my children. One night, I had the audacity -to rattle off the Virginia reel, and they -danced it with spirit, every Yankee of them. -My fingers were just itching to play Dixie, -and I don’t know what foolhardiness I might -have been guilty of if Captain Hosmer, who -was turning my music, had not bent over me -and said: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">159</span></p> - -<p>“I would like to have a little private talk -with you, Miss Duncan. I know who you -are. You are from the South and you have -run the blockade. Your position is not free -from danger. You are suspected. Pray be -careful. When you have finished this, go upstairs -and I will follow you.”</p> - -<p>His manner was so serious that it took -all the saucy daring out of me. Perhaps -it saved me from playing Dixie. As soon -as I could do so without attracting observation, -I got Milicent to take my -place, and went up-stairs to the private -parlor.</p> - -<p>I had hardly taken my seat when he -came in.</p> - -<p>“I was sorry to attack you so suddenly,” -he said, “but you were so shy of me that it -was my only chance.”</p> - -<p>I had learned to like and to trust him; he -was honest and kind, and I told him my situation -frankly. Of course I didn’t explain -Captain Locke.</p> - -<p>“It is not so bad as it might be,” he said, -“But you must have a care about your associates. -People in this house are always more -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">160</span> -or less under observation, and arrest on -charge of treason is not an unknown thing -in it.”</p> - -<p>“I am married—” When I came to that -part of my confession the captain looked surprised -indeed.</p> - -<p>“Didn’t you guess from the dignity I -have displayed that I was a matron?”</p> - -<p>“I never dreamed it! I don’t mean that -you were not dignified,” he added quickly, -and in some confusion.</p> - -<p>“My husband is a staff-officer in the rebel -army,” I added proudly.</p> - -<p>“Lucky fellow!”</p> - -<p>“I think he is a lucky fellow to be a staff-officer -in the rebel army.”</p> - -<p>“To be your husband, I meant.”</p> - -<p>“I wonder if he would agree with you -there!” We were on a subject very interesting -to me now.</p> - -<p>“I will show you his picture in the morning,” -I volunteered.</p> - -<p>“Better not,” Captain Hosmer said -promptly.</p> - -<p>I suppose I must have shown how hurt I -was, for he added quickly: “Of course I’ll -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">161</span> -be glad to see his picture. Don’t forget to -bring it down at breakfast.”</p> - -<p>But he had frozen me for the time being. -I could not talk about Dan to him when I -saw it bored him to listen, so we went back -to the original subject of our conversation. -Among other persons he spoke of Mrs. Lineman.</p> - -<p>“I see that you are inclined to form an -intimacy there. Mrs. Lineman is in perfect -sympathy with the South, but, as you know, -her sister is not. They do not speak now, but -family differences are frequently made up. -Then confidences ensue. And Mrs. Bonds is -really a political spy for the North. She -thinks the mystery about you is deeper than -it is, and you will do well to be on your -guard before her and my brothers in arms -whom you meet in this house. Major Brooks -already has suspicions about you.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t like him,” I said viciously.</p> - -<p>“Disguise that fact a little better if you -can. I don’t think any of the gentlemen -whom you meet here are malicious, or that -they will go out of their way to harm -you, but it is good policy to temper your -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">162</span> -cold civility toward them with a little more -warmth.”</p> - -<p>“You are very good,” I said humbly, -“and I really mean to act according to your -advice.”</p> - -<p>He smiled. “You are not good at playing -the hypocrite, are you?”</p> - -<p>“I must improve. But I really must tell -you—I don’t need to be a hypocrite with you, -you know—I believe Major Brooks is malicious.”</p> - -<p>He laughed outright. “Be careful not -to offend him, then. Ah, I am afraid my first -lesson in diplomacy will only have skin-deep -results.”</p> - -<p>The next morning I did not forget Dan’s -picture. I brought it down with me, and -slipped it into Captain Hosmer’s hand as I -passed behind him to my seat at the breakfast -table. I was very much pleased later when he -told me what a fine fellow he thought Dan -must be, and that he thought the picture very -handsome. Then I talked about Dan again -until he was bored—when I shut up. After -this I saw a great deal of Captain Hosmer. -He was always so thoroughly well-bred that -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">163</span> -his attentions were very agreeable to me in -spite of his uniform, and I formed a warm -personal friendship and attachment for him. -We were also seeing a good deal of Captain -Locke.</p> - -<p>I thought him very reckless in visiting us -as he did, and I told him so frankly. He had -doffed his disguise, wig and all, and appeared -now every day, and sometimes oftener, at -Mrs. Harris’s in his own proper person, -dressed in citizen’s clothes. He came openly -to the parlor in the daytime immediately -after breakfast or lunch; and he was always -there after dinner when the parlors were -thronged. Several times he had joined the -dance, selecting, by the way, Mrs. Bonds for -a partner more than once. In fact, he singled -this lady out for a number of pleasant courtesies. -I could not keep him out of the way -of the Yankee officers, and Major Brooks was -always starting up at us somewhere like a -Banquo’s ghost. His eyes got sharper and -sharper until I thought they would cut me in -two. In halls and by-ways I was always coming -upon him and always getting out of his -way, and I was always surprising a cynical -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">164</span> -little grin on his face. One day I encountered -him on the first landing of the stairway, -squarely face to face. He addressed me, -wishing me good morning gruffly, and standing -in such a position that I could not pass -him without rudeness unless he moved to one -side. He did not move, and I was at bay.</p> - -<p>“I know who you are, Miss Duncan,” he -said mischievously. “You are a good rebel -now, aren’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I am a good rebel, as you call it. -I’m a Virginian—and a rebel like Washington -was, and like Lee is.”</p> - -<p>“I thought so. And you ran the blockade -to get here.”</p> - -<p>“That’s so, too. I got across at Berlin.”</p> - -<p>“I wish you’d tell me how.”</p> - -<p>I told him how. I sat down on the stairs -to talk, and my enemy sat down beside me. -Captain Hosmer came in, looked up, and saw -the confidential and apparently friendly situation, -laughed, and went on to breakfast.</p> - -<p>“I don’t call that running the blockade,” -he said. “I call that storming it. I didn’t -think it possible to cross at Berlin or, indeed, -at any other point. Our line at the Potomac -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">165</span> -has been greatly strengthened and the -rules are very rigid and inspection most thorough.”</p> - -<p>“I managed to cross at Berlin because -you had such a nice provost marshal there. -He knew two little women couldn’t do any -harm.”</p> - -<p>“Humph! He doesn’t know women as -I do, then!”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps he had always known only very -lovely ladies,” I said with the softness of a -purring cat.</p> - -<p>He grinned. “You’ll be wanting to run -back soon, I dare say.”</p> - -<p>“I reckon I will. I wish you’d help me. -Can’t you tell me how?”</p> - -<p>He laughed outright. “You <i>are</i> cool!” -he said.</p> - -<p>“You know what my duty is?” he added -after a pause.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I answered. “To fight on the right -side, but I’m afraid you’ll never do that. -Now, I have been wanting to play Dixie -ever since I’ve been here, and I’m afraid of -nobody but you. To-night I mean to play -it.” But I did not. That afternoon a card -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">166</span> -was brought up to Milicent and me. Major -Littlebob, U. S. A., was sorry to disturb us, -but would we please step down a minute. -“Major Brooks came in with him,” said the -servant who brought the message.</p> - -<p>“Major Brooks is going to have us arrested,” -I thought in terror. Milicent also -was frightened by the message and by a call -from an unknown officer of the United -States army who came accompanied by -Major Brooks. Mother followed us in fear -and trembling to the parlor door as we went -in to behold—Milicent’s own curly-headed -Bobby, all rigged out in Major Brooks’s regimentals! -There he was, all swallowed up in -sash, sword, and hat of a United States major -of cavalry; beside him was the major, laughing -merrily. Milicent, in her relief, bent over -and kissed again and again the fairest, softest, -cutest, sweetest Major Littlebob that -ever wore the regimentals of the U. S. A.; -and it is needless to say that after this we -were never again afraid of Major Brooks.</p> - -<p>“So, the whole purpose of your running -the blockade was a visit to your mother?” -Major Brooks had asked. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">167</span></p> - -<p>“And to accompany my sister. And—to -buy a few things—needles, pins, and so forth,” -I added in confusion.</p> - -<p>Again the major laughed at my expense. -Should I confide the Confederate uniform -to him and Captain Hosmer? I decided to -draw the line at this, as I had drawn it at -Captain Locke. Of course, Captain Locke’s -story was his, not mine, and the uniform—well, -the uniform was Dan’s, or, rather, I -hoped it would be. It was never out of my -mind. I would have failed in half my mission -if I did not buy it and get it across the -Potomac to Dan. To buy shoes, gloves, ribbons, -etc., was an easy matter, but to buy, -a Confederate uniform in Yankeeland, that -was a more delicate affair. It was Captain -Locke who helped me out. He told me -where I could buy it, and offered to get it for -me himself, but he was taking so many risks -on his own account that I was determined -he should take none on mine. He directed -me to a tailoring establishment on the corner -of Charles and St. Paul’s Streets. The head -of this establishment sympathized with the -South and had supplied many Southern uniforms, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">168</span> -and his store had a convenient double -entrance, one on St. Paul’s and one on -Charles Street. One morning I went in at -the Charles Street entrance. I had chosen an -early hour, and I found no one in but the -tailor.</p> - -<p>“I want to buy a Confederate uniform,” -I said. “Captain Locke referred me——”</p> - -<p>“Walk straight on out at the other -door,” he whispered. “I see two soldiers -coming in from the Charles Street side.”</p> - -<p>Without looking behind me I walked -straight on as if I had merely passed through -the store to get to the other sidewalk. I -heard some one coming rapidly behind me, -and then I was joined by Captain Hosmer.</p> - -<p>“What are you in such a hurry for?” he -asked. “Wait a minute and I can walk -home with you. I have a commission to execute -back here.”</p> - -<p>Accordingly I returned to the store with -him, was introduced to the friend accompanying -him, and after a few moments walked -home between the two. But the tailor had -given me a hint—I was to come still earlier -next day. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">169</span></p> - -<p>The next morning, however, he signaled -me to pass on as I was about to enter. At -last one morning I caught him alone long -enough to get my uniform.</p> - -<p>“I have to be very careful lately,” he -apologized for waving me off the previous -day. “These Yankees suspect me and are -always on the lookout. Now we will get the -uniform in a hurry. I have several pieces -of fine Confederate cloth just in that I will -show you. Is your husband a private?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no-o!” I exclaimed indignantly.</p> - -<p>“I thought not,” he said suavely. -“What is his rank?”</p> - -<p>“He is a captain of cavalry now. That is—he -was when I left home. But I haven’t -heard from him since. He may be major or -colonel by now. Can’t you fix up a uniform -that would do for him if he is a captain or a -colonel or a major when I get back, or—that -would do for a general?”</p> - -<p>“Certainly, certainly, madam. Very wise -of you to think of that.”</p> - -<p>He showed me several pieces of very fine -and beautiful cloth of Confederate gray, and -I made my selection. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">170</span></p> - -<p>“The question is, how are you to get it -across the line. In what way will you carry -it?”</p> - -<p>“Ah, that I don’t know. Captain Locke -advised me to consult you.”</p> - -<p>The tailor, who seemed to have had a liberal -experience in such matters, considered -for a moment.</p> - -<p>“Are other ladies going with you?”</p> - -<p>“My mother.”</p> - -<p>“It is easy then. I will cut this cloth -into lengths that will be all right for the -tailor who makes the uniform. You and -your mother can make it into two Balmoral -skirts. That’s the way you get your -cloth home. Now for the buttons and gold -lace. Will you travel in the wrap you have -on?”</p> - -<p>“In one like it; I shall pack this in my -trunk. The inspectors will not be so likely -to condemn this if they find it in a trunk as -they would be to condemn a new one. So I -will get a new cloak South; mother will wear -another.”</p> - -<p>“I see.” He was impressed with the -scheme and made a mental note of it. “Send -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">171</span> -me your cloaks and I’ll fix the buttons all -right.”</p> - -<p>Cloaks of the period were long, sacque-like -affairs, double-breasted and with two -rows of buttons. The tailor changed the buttons -on our cloaks for Confederate brass buttons -covered with wadding, and then with -cloth like the wrap. The gold lace was to be -folded flat and smooth. Mother was to rip -the lining from the bottom of her satchel, lay -the lace on the bottom, and carefully paste -the lining back. We wanted to take Dan -some flannel shirts, and again fashion favored -us. Ladies wore wide plaid scarfs passed -around their necks and falling in long ends -in front. We got seven yards of fine soft -flannel in a stylish plaid and cut it in two -lengths. Mother, being quite tall, could -wear a longer scarf than myself, so, between -us, we managed to carry around our necks -two good shirts for Dan. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">172</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI<br /> - -<span class="small">THE FLOWER OF CHIVALRY</span></h2> - -<p>In the meantime we were growing more -and more uneasy about Captain Locke. We -felt that he was suspected and covertly -watched, but he laughed at our fears.</p> - -<p>He and I had begun to discuss ways and -means of getting back to Virginia. One day, -as usual, he was sitting beside me in the -parlor after dinner, and, as usual, we were -talking together in low tones, and again, as -usual, the parlors were full. At one end of -the room sat Major Brooks and Colonel -Whipple, honoring us now and then with the -covert and curious observation to which I -could never become hardened. Captain Hosmer -was walking restlessly up and down the -floor, and casting uneasy glances toward us. -He was too much of a gentleman to catechize -me about my friend, but I knew he was not -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">173</span> -only curious but concerned in regard to my -intimacy with Captain Locke.</p> - -<p>Captain Locke was saying to me that he -was in favor of our taking some schooner going -down the bay and landing somewhere in -Gloucester County, when I became so painfully -conscious that the eyes of the enemy -were upon us that I could not attend to what -he was saying.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter with you?” he -asked. “You are not thinking at all of what -I am saying. I reckon your mind is on Dan -Grey.”</p> - -<p>“I am thinking about you,” I said, on -the verge of tears. “If you are not more -careful, you won’t get back home at all, I’m -afraid.”</p> - -<p>“Why?” he asked innocently, and as if -he were the most prudent person in the -world.</p> - -<p>“Only what Milicent and I have been -telling you all along. You come here openly -and boldly in the presence of all these Yankees. -You visit us, and we feel responsible -for any misfortune that might come to you -through it. It is well known now, I think, by -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">174</span> -everybody in the house that we are Southerners -and blockade-runners. No one in the -house except ourselves and Mrs. Harris -knows who you really are. Don’t you suppose -people wonder?”</p> - -<p>He had been introduced several times to -ladies as Mr. Moore, but we had not introduced -him generally. We did not know -what to do with him. For ourselves, we -felt safe by this time, but I never sat on -that sofa by Captain Locke’s side without -the fear in my heart that a sergeant-at-arms -might walk in and lay hands on his -shoulder.</p> - -<p>“Don’t you see,” I went on, “how Captain -Hosmer is watching you?”</p> - -<p>For Hosmer was watching him with a -scrutiny which could be felt in spite of all his -courteous efforts at concealment. “And -can’t you see with what suspicious looks -those officers across the room regard you?”</p> - -<p>“That’s so. You must introduce me to -some of these people.”</p> - -<p>I was dumfounded. So this was the result -of my caution!</p> - -<p>“By which of your names shall I call -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">175</span> -you?” I asked satirically, but the satire was -lost on him.</p> - -<p>“The last one. That is a good name. It -is nearly as common as Smith. Besides, I -really have a right to it. I came by it honestly. -I have a friend in New York by that -name and he has kindly lent it to me for -emergencies. So if anybody wants to write -or telegraph to New York about it, they -will find me all right. My cousin in New -York—who really <i>is</i> my cousin many -degrees removed—will acknowledge me. -He is well known in business circles -there.”</p> - -<p>“Whom shall I introduce you to?”</p> - -<p>“I would rather meet those officers.”</p> - -<p>“Good gracious!”</p> - -<p>He smiled. “They can give me more, -and more accurate, information than anybody -else, and of just the kind I want.”</p> - -<p>“You are going to get yourself shot before -you start home. I won’t be responsible -for you.”</p> - -<p>“They don’t shoot spies—they hang ’em,” -he said cheerfully.</p> - -<p>I believe his cheerful ease carried us safely -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">176</span> -through this conversation under the eyes of -the enemy, as it had done before.</p> - -<p>“Those gentlemen would hardly think -me entitled to the courtesy of a bullet,” he -went on with the utmost <i>sang-froid</i>. “A -rope is more in accordance with my expectations -if I am caught. But I do not expect -to be caught. Really, little madam, the -frank and open plan is the best. If I were to -visit you clandestinely it would create more -suspicion. Don’t you see the fact that you -haven’t presented me to those gentlemen is in -itself suspicious? Call those officers up and -do the honors.”</p> - -<p>“I will call Captain Hosmer,” I said -faintly. “I really haven’t the nerve to summon -the other two.—Captain Hosmer!” I -called.</p> - -<p>He came instantly, and I saw that he was -glad to be called.</p> - -<p>“Captain Hosmer, let me introduce you -to my friend, Mr. Moore.”</p> - -<p>“Mr. Moore” rose, and the two gentlemen -bowed and shook hands with each other. -Then they sat down, the Federal captain on -one side of me, the rebel captain on the other, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">177</span> -and we had a pleasant chat. Captain Hosmer -asked “Mr. Moore” if he was related to -Henry P. Moore, of New York, and “Mr. -Moore” replied in the affirmative. Captain -Hosmer knew this gentleman very well. -Captain Locke was introduced to Major -Brooks and Colonel Whipple, and it ended -by Captain Locke and Schenck’s adjutant -walking down the street together. Captain -Hosmer and I watched them from the window -as they strolled past, smoking their -cigars.</p> - -<p>“Your friend is a very handsome man,” -he said.</p> - -<p>“You think so? Dan is ever so much -handsomer.”</p> - -<p>“No doubt of it,” he laughed.</p> - -<p>The next day I said to Captain Locke: -“You—you wouldn’t have to use information -received from these gentlemen in any -way that might ever hurt them, would you? -We wouldn’t have to do that, would we?”</p> - -<p>“Dear little madam, it is not probable -that they will honor me with too much confidence. -No hurt could ever come to one -who is kind to you through me. My first -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">178</span> -duty is to the South; so is yours. But honor -between man and man is honor, and friendship -is friendship, even in war times. In my -life it has sometimes been very hard to know -the line.”</p> - -<p>And there rested on his face at this moment -the nearest thing to a shadow that I -had ever seen there.</p> - -<p>“I don’t want you to think I have been -reckless of your safety in coming here to see -you. I am quite sure of my ground. You -are not involved in any of my operations. -And if anything <i>were</i> to happen, I have -friends here who could extricate you even if -they could not save me. The principal thing -I wish to find out, now, from your Federal -friends here is how you may get back to Virginia -safely—since you will go. If I find out -that my attendance on you will be to your -disadvantage, little madam, we must give -that up.”</p> - -<p>It was I who had shown most anxiety -that we should go together. While we were -talking Captain Hosmer came in, and I made -room for him on the other side of me. The -two men greeted each other cordially. They -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">179</span> -had taken a liking to each other, and the -rebel captain said to the other:</p> - -<p>“My friend here has just been consulting -me as to the route she had best take in getting -home. I suggested that you might -advise her to better purpose.”</p> - -<p>“I deplore Miss Duncan’s determination -to go,” said Captain Hosmer. “Almost any -route is unsafe just now—if possible. However, -I will be glad to do anything I can. -Have you any plan under consideration?”</p> - -<p>“Wait a minute, captain,” I said, rising. -“I will go and get a little map I have, and -show you the route which Mr. Moore advised -me to take.”</p> - -<p>I went out, leaving the two officers together. -When I returned I resumed my seat -between them, spread the map open upon my -lap, and they bent over it, Federal and Confederate -heads touching, while I traced the route -with my finger.</p> - -<p>“You see, Mr. Moore thinks I might go -down the bay in a schooner and land somewhere -here in Gloucester County.”</p> - -<p>“No! no! you mustn’t go that way!” exclaimed -Captain Hosmer quickly. “You are -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">180</span> -sure to be taken up if you try that. With all -due deference to you, Mr. Moore, my knowledge -of the position of our forces convinces -me that that is impossible.”</p> - -<p>“Of course, as an officer in the army, you -must be better informed than I am,” Captain -Locke said simply. “That is why I advised -Miss Duncan to consult you.”</p> - -<p>“Your best plan is to go by Harper’s -Ferry. It is a difficult matter to get through -anywhere now, but if you get to Virginia at -all I think it must be by way of Harper’s -Ferry.”</p> - -<p>Major Brooks and Colonel Whipple joined -us, and the matter ended as on the previous -day, by Captain Locke and Colonel Whipple -walking off down the street together.</p> - -<p>“Moore is a splendid fellow,” Captain -Hosmer said to me, when we had the sofa to -ourselves. “I am glad you introduced us. -Your not doing so looked suspicious, and I -was troubled for fear he would get you into -some scrape or other.”</p> - -<p>Dear, generous fellow, how I hated to -deceive him, and how it was on the tip of my -tongue to tell him who Captain Locke was, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">181</span> -until I remembered what his duty would be if -I told him! And Captain Locke’s secret was -mine to keep. He had been ready to risk his -life rather than leave me alone at Berlin! -Then, too, poor fellow, he had such a slender -chance, I thought, of getting home alive that -not even an enemy would care to make it -worse. I used to look at his bonnie white -throat and shudder.</p> - -<p>“God bless you,” he said to me once, -“for all your goodness to a poor, lonely, -stray fellow! You shouldn’t be afraid for me. -You say your ‘Hail Marys’ for me, you -know.”</p> - -<p>I had been telling him I was afraid for -him, and he had, as usual, tried to reassure -me and to laugh me out of it. He was never -afraid for himself—I believe he would have -stood up to be shot with a laugh on his lips. -I wonder if he <i>was</i> laughing when they shot -him—my dear, brave friend!</p> - -<p>In the meantime we had heard that Mr. -Holliway had been arrested in West Virginia, -was lying in prison somewhere, and -that his friends were trying to get him out, -and before I left Baltimore we heard that he -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">182</span> -had died in prison just as an exchange had -been arranged.</p> - -<p>My return to Virginia was the subject of -daily discussions between me and my two -captains, and in this way Captain Locke continued -to find out ways that he must not go, -and eventually that we must not go together. -It was he who first said it.</p> - -<p>“I should be no earthly good, but a disadvantage -to you, little madam. Hosmer is -going to see you through this thing all -right.”</p> - -<p>Then, seeing my downcast look, he went -on cheerily: “I’ll get through somehow all -right, sooner or later, and we’ll meet in Old -Virginia. Don’t bother your dear little head -about me.”</p> - -<p>Captain Hosmer tried in vain to dissuade -me from going. He felt that the journey -under present conditions would be uncomfortable -and unsafe, and that it was in every -way advisable for me to stay where I was. -But I was beginning to be very uneasy about -Dan. I had heard from him only once since -reaching Baltimore. Then his letters came -in a batch, and I received them through the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">183</span> -kindly agency of Mr. Cridland, British consul -at Richmond, who had been my father’s -personal friend and frequent guest, and who -had dandled a small person named “Nell” -on his knee many times. Captain Hosmer -still insisted that I must go by Harper’s -Ferry if I went at all, and he said that a pass -was necessary.</p> - -<p>“How on earth am I to get it?” I -asked.</p> - -<p>“I must arrange that for you,” he said.</p> - -<p>I think one reason that Captain Hosmer -was so good to me was because his wife -was a Southern woman. Her parents were -Southern, her brothers were in the Southern -army, and her husband was a Federal officer. -They loved each other, but somehow they -were separated, she living South with her -parents. Under the pressure of the times -there was a sectional conscience, and people -did things which they did not wish to do, -because they thought it was right. I don’t -know what I should have done then if I had -been situated as Mrs. Hosmer was, but I -know that at the present time I should stick -to Dan, no matter what flag he fought under. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">184</span> -Perhaps we are not as great or good in peace -as in war times.</p> - -<p>The captain had a beautiful country-seat -several miles out of town. We had heard -much of this place and its old-time hospitalities; -and we also heard that it had been virtually -closed since Captain Hosmer’s separation -from his wife. The captain went there -frequently alone, and occasionally with a few -friends, but the place had known no festivity -since its mistress had gone away on that visit -from which, by the way, she returned before -we left Baltimore.</p> - -<p>But before she came back there was a -stag party at the captain’s country place, -given in honor of General Fish, the provost -marshal at Baltimore, and other prominent -officers.</p> - -<p>The next time I saw Captain Hosmer he -had a smile for me.</p> - -<p>“You will get your passes,” he said. “I -have spoken to General Fish for them.”</p> - -<p>Milicent had decided that she could not -risk little Bobby on such a journey and at -this season, but mother was to go with me. -The day before we were to start she and I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">185</span> -went down to General Fish’s office. He was -out, but an orderly told us rather rudely to -sit down and wait, which invitation or command -we humbly acted upon. Presently -General Fish entered. We stated our case.</p> - -<p>“We are Southerners, general, and we -wish to go south by way of Harper’s Ferry.”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. and Miss Duncan, I think you -said?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, general.”</p> - -<p>“You are the ladies I heard of from Captain -Hosmer, then?”</p> - -<p>We gave him a note from Captain -Hosmer.</p> - -<p>“Excuse me, ladies, while I read this, and -I will see what I can do for you.”</p> - -<p>He finished the note and then said:</p> - -<p>“That’s all right. I will make out your -passes, ladies,” and in a few minutes the important -papers were in our hands.</p> - -<p>“These will take you to General Kelly at -Harper’s Ferry. There my power ends. You -will find General Kelly courteous and considerate, -though I make no promises for him, -understand. I will furnish you an escort to -Harper’s Ferry, and an officer will be sent to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">186</span> -your boarding-house this afternoon to examine -your baggage. Your address, please.” -He wrote a few words rapidly, and called -the orderly:</p> - -<p>“Take that order,” he said.</p> - -<p>The orderly saluted and got as far as the -door, then he turned.</p> - -<p>“Do these women go?” he asked of the -general.</p> - -<p>“These <i>ladies</i> go. Obey my order, sir!”</p> - -<p>Upon which the orderly went quickly -about his business.</p> - -<p>When the officer came to examine our -baggage I was on thorns. I had come north -intending to make certain purchases, and I -had made them, and the fruit of my money -and labors was in those two trunks of mother’s -and mine. Mother’s trunk was quite -a large one, and both of those honest-looking -trunks to which I yielded the keys so freely -were crammed with dishonest goods—that is, -dishonest according to blockade law. I had -paid good gold for them, and anxiety -enough, Heaven knows, for them to be properly -mine.</p> - -<p>I had shoes in the bottom of those trunks, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">187</span> -and on top of the shoes cloth made into the -semblance of female wear and underwear; -and, lastly, I had put in genuine every-day -garments. There were handkerchiefs, pins, -needles, gloves, thread, and all sorts of odds -and ends between the folds of garments, here, -there, and everywhere in those trunks. They -were as contraband trunks as ever crossed -into Dixie. But, again, my Yankee was a -<i>gentleman</i>.</p> - -<p>“This is an unpleasant duty, miss,” he -said when I handed him my keys, “but I will -disarrange your property as little as possible. -It is only a form.”</p> - -<p>The orderly lifted the trays and set them -back again, scarcely glancing underneath. -What a dear, nice Yankee, I thought! He -locked the trunks and sealed them.</p> - -<p>“Will those seals be broken anywhere, -and my trunks examined again?” I asked in -some trepidation—this examination was so -satisfactory to me that I wanted it to do for -one and all.</p> - -<p>“I can not tell, miss. They may be at -Harper’s Ferry. But I hardly think so. I -think this seal will carry you through.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">188</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII<br /> - -<span class="small">PRISONERS OF THE UNITED STATES</span></h2> - -<p>The officer who had examined our trunks -the previous day took the trunks to the -depot in a wagon, mother and I going in a -hack. After we got on the train, our officer, -Lieutenant Martin, joined us, and made himself -very agreeable. The beginning of that -journey was most pleasant. The scenery -along the road to Harper’s Ferry is at all -times beautiful, and as we drew nearer to the -ferry our car ran by the side of the Potomac, -so that from one window we looked across the -river to the Virginia Heights, and from the -other to the Heights of Maryland. It was -afternoon and growing dark when we reached -Harper’s Ferry.</p> - -<p>There we found something like a riot going -on, shouting and noises of all sorts, and -the town full of drunken soldiers. We were -told that there had been fighting in the valley, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">189</span> -that the Federals had won, and that the -men had just been paid off, and were celebrating -victory and enjoying pay and booty -in regular soldier fashion. Through this -shouting, rowdy mob mother and I passed -under our Federal escort to the tavern.</p> - -<p>When we reached the tavern, a miserable -little place full of drunken soldiers, our kind -escort told us that his duty was at an end, and -that he must take the return train to Baltimore. -I think he hated to leave us under such -unsafe circumstances, but he scarcely had time -to settle us in the reception-room, shake hands, -and catch his train. Here mother and I sat, -debating what we should do. Of course, we -were extremely anxious to get out of the -place. We called a waiter and asked him if -he could tell us where we could hire a vehicle -to take us a part of our journey, or the -whole of it. He knew of nothing that we -could get. Then we went out on the porch, -disagreeable as this was, and made inquiries -of everybody who seemed sober enough to -answer, but to no purpose. We could find -no way of getting out of Harper’s Ferry that -night. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">190</span></p> - -<p>Thoroughly frightened, we asked to be -shown to the commanding officer of the -place, and were ushered into General Kelly’s -office, which, fortunately, was attached to the -tavern—really a part of it.</p> - -<p>General Kelly rose when we entered, saw -us seated, and was as courteous as possible, -while we stated the case and asked his advice. -He heard us patiently, and was very sympathetic.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what to say, ladies. I -have no authority to send you on.”</p> - -<p>“Then what <i>will</i> we do, general?”</p> - -<p>“I can not say. I can, of course, give -you passes, but you will find it impossible to -hire anything here to travel in just now. -The best you could get would be an ox-cart -or a broken-down wagon, and the roads are -almost impassable for good strong vehicles. -And, besides, it is not safe for you to travel -except under military escort, which, as I have -said, I have no authority to furnish. There -has been a great deal of fighting in the valley, -and the roads are lined with stragglers. -If you were prisoners now I could put you -under escort and send you through our lines -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">191</span> -easy enough, but as it is I don’t see what I -can do.”</p> - -<p>We felt inclined to cry.</p> - -<p>“And this is not a fit place for you to -spend the night in, as you can see for yourselves,” -he pursued, very much in the manner -of a Job’s comforter. “The tavern is -thronged with drunken men, and the whole -town is overrun with them.”</p> - -<p>“Would it not be best for us to return to -Baltimore?” we asked humbly. We had -almost made up our minds to going back.</p> - -<p>“That would be best, certainly—if you -<i>can</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Why, can’t we go back? We had no -idea that we wouldn’t be allowed to go back -if we wanted to.”</p> - -<p>“Well, you see, ladies, you are in the -position of Southerners sent south. The policy -of the Government encourages the sending -of all Southerners in Maryland south to -stay. I am only explaining, that you may -understand that it may be difficult for me to -assist you, in spite of my willingness to do so. -I can not send you back without authority -from General Fish. I will telegraph to him -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">192</span> -at once, and do my best for you. My orderly -will see you back to the tavern. And I will -notify you when I hear from General Fish.”</p> - -<p>So we returned to the reception-room of -the tavern. Among the groups thronging -the tavern were a few graycoats who had -been captured the day before. One of these -prisoners, a tall, handsome man, walked restlessly -up and down the room where we sat, -his guard keeping watch on him. As he -passed back and forth I looked at him sorrowfully, -putting into my eyes all the sympathy -and encouragement I dared.</p> - -<p>There was something in his look when he -returned mine that made me think he wanted -to speak to me. Every time he passed I -thought I saw his eyes growing more and -more wistful under their drooping lids.</p> - -<p>Without seeming to notice him I moved -about the room until I got to a window which -was in the line of his restless beat. I stood -there, my back turned to him, apparently -looking out of the window, until I disarmed -the suspicion of the guard. Then I settled -down into a seat, my side to the window, my -back to the guard, my face to the prisoner -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">193</span> -when the turn in his beat brought him toward -me. A swift glance showed him that I was -on the alert. Not a muscle of his face -changed—he was facing the guard—but -when he turned and came back, as he passed -me he dropped these words.</p> - -<p>“Going south?”</p> - -<p>He walked to the end of the room and -turned. Coming back, he faced me and the -guard. As he passed I said:</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>When he came back, he said—always -with his head drooped and speaking below his -breath and so that his lips could hardly be -seen to move:</p> - -<p>“Take a message?”</p> - -<p>When he passed back I said:</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>Returning: “Get word to Governor -Vance of North Carolina——”</p> - -<p>To the end of his beat, turning and passing -again in silence, then as he walked with -his back to the guard:</p> - -<p>“You saw Charlie Vance here——”</p> - -<p>To the end of beat one way, to the end -another, and back again: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">194</span></p> - -<p>“Prisoner—captured in fight yesterday——”</p> - -<p>Several beats back and forth in silence, -then:</p> - -<p>“Carried north——”</p> - -<p>Again:</p> - -<p>“Don’t know where.”</p> - -<p>This was the last he had opportunity to -say. I saw the orderly coming in. Before -Lieutenant Vance was near enough to catch -another word from me, the orderly stood before -me, a telegram in his hand. It was from -General Fish to General Kelly:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“The ladies were sent south at their own -request. I decline further connection with -the matter.”</p></blockquote> - -<p>“Why—why,” I cried in desperation, -“we can’t go south, we can’t go north, and -we can’t stay here!”</p> - -<p>There was a pert little Yankee in the room -who had been watching us for some time. -He, like everybody else around us, understood -by this time our dilemma.</p> - -<p>“I’ll tell you how to get sent on, if you -will listen,” he said. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">195</span></p> - -<p>“I will,” I said clearly and firmly, and -looking straight into the eyes of Lieutenant -Vance, who was then passing close by me.</p> - -<p>The little Yankee was staggered by the -unnecessary amount of resolution expressed in -my reply. I kept my eyes focused on the spot -where Mr. Vance had been for some seconds -after he had passed. Then I turned to my -little Yankee. I had snubbed him severely -heretofore, but I was humbled by extremity, -and willing enough now to listen if he could -tell us how to get away from this place.</p> - -<p>“Tell us how we can get sent on,” I -asked.</p> - -<p>“Just step out there in the street and -holler for Jeff Davis, and you’ll get sent on -quick enough!”</p> - -<p>We withered him with a stare, and then -turned our backs on him, and at the same -moment two ladies entered the room whom -we recognized. They were Mrs. Drummond -and Miss Oglesby, whose acquaintance we -had made in Baltimore, and they, too, were -going south. They explained that they -had been in this wretched place since yesterday, -and that they were not allowed to -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">196</span> -return to Baltimore and were unable to go -home. They had been out trying to find -a conveyance of some sort, but had been -able to secure only the promise of an ox-cart, -and hearing that we were here had -come in to consult with us. During all this -time the orderly, whom I had detained, was -waiting impatiently. We decided to go with -him and make another appeal to General -Kelly. Accordingly the whole party filed into -General Kelly’s office again.</p> - -<p>“What <i>are</i> we to do, general?” I cried -out in desperation. “We can’t go back, we -can’t go on, and we can’t stay here!”</p> - -<p>The kindly general did honor to the stars -he wore—he was a gentleman, every inch of -him. It happened later that he was captured -and held in Libby Prison in Richmond, and -I was in Richmond and didn’t know it. I -have held a grudge against fate ever since. -If I had only known, he would have been reminded -by every courtesy that a Southern -woman could render of how gratefully his -kindness was remembered.</p> - -<p>“I hardly hoped for a different answer -from General Fish, ladies. The regulations on -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">197</span> -this point are very stringent. And I can not -return you to Baltimore unless you take the -oath of allegiance.”</p> - -<p>“What?” we asked eagerly.</p> - -<p>“If you take the oath of allegiance, I can -send you back.”</p> - -<p>We decided to do this.</p> - -<p>We didn’t know exactly what the oath -was, but we thought we could take anything -to get us out of our scrape. We told General -Kelly we would take it, and we were conducted -into another room, which I can only -remember as being full of Federal soldiers. -We were marched up to a desk where a man -began reading the oath to us. It was the -famous “ironclad.” We did not wait for him -to get through. Without a word each of -us turned and marched back into General -Kelly’s office, as indignant a set of women -as could be found.</p> - -<p>He was looking for us—doubtless he -knew by previous experience the effect the -reading of that oath produced upon Southern -women—and he burst out laughing as our -procession filed back into his room.</p> - -<p>“Why, general,” we began, “we couldn’t -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">198</span> -take that horrid thing! We are Southerners, -and our kinsmen and friends are Southern -soldiers.”</p> - -<p>“I almost knew you wouldn’t take that -oath, ladies, when I sent you there.”</p> - -<p>“General,” I said, “this is the most remarkable -position I ever knew people to be -in—where you can’t go back, and can’t go forward, -and can’t stay where you are. I don’t -know what you are to do with us, general, -unless you hang us to get us out of the way.”</p> - -<p>He laughed heartily.</p> - -<p>“I must do something a little better than -that for you. My orderly will take you back -to the tavern, and you will hear from me in -an hour.”</p> - -<p>We went with Mrs. Drummond and Miss -Oglesby to their room. Before the hour was -up we were escorted to another interview -with General Kelly. The general beamed -on us.</p> - -<p>“Here is a telegram I received in your -absence,” he said, handing it to us:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Mrs. and Miss Duncan are dear friends -of mine. Can you see them through? If not, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">199</span> -tell them I will be in Harper’s Ferry to-night. -Answer.</p> - -<p class="author"> -“<span class="smcap">Hosmer.</span>”<br /> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>“Here is my answer,” said the general:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Stay where you are. Will see them -through all right.</p> - -<p class="author"> -“<span class="smcap">Kelly.</span>”<br /> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>“How could he have found out the -trouble we were in?” we asked in wonder.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know. News of the fighting in -the valley and the condition of things here -reached Baltimore soon after you left there. -Hosmer perhaps got an idea of your situation -through General Fish. He may have gone -to Fish’s office to inquire. Hosmer is a capital -fellow and an old friend of mine. I had -about determined on what to do for you before -I heard from him, but I thought it would -please you to know of his message. I will -ask you to return to the tavern, ladies, and -exercise a little further patience. You will -hear from me soon.”</p> - -<p>This time we waited only a little while -before an orderly rapped at the door to say -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">200</span> -that an ambulance was in waiting for us below. -We hurried down with him, and in ten -minutes were inside the ambulance, and prisoners -of the United States.</p> - -<p>Behind us into the ambulance stepped a -dashing young officer, all brass buttons and -gold lace.</p> - -<p>“I am Captain Goldsborough,” he said, -saluting, “commissioned by General Kelly -to attend you.”</p> - -<p>Our escort consisted of five soldiers who -followed us, sitting in a wagon on our baggage. -That afternoon we passed through -Charleston, and Captain Goldsborough -pointed out to us the house in which John -Brown had lived—an ordinary two-story -frame house.</p> - -<p>As well as I can remember we reached -Berryville about nine o’clock. Our ambulance -drew up in front of the tavern, and Captain -Goldsborough went in to see about getting -accommodations for us. He came out -quickly and said, “This is no fit place to-night -for you, ladies. I am informed that -there is an old couple on the hill who may -take us in. I hear, too, that they are good -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">201</span> -Confederates,” he added mischievously. Of -course lights were out and everybody asleep -when we drove up, but our driver went in -and beat on the door until he waked the old -people up. They received us kindly, and the -old lady got a supper for us of cold meats -and slices of loaf bread, butter, milk, preserves, -and hot coffee which she must have -made herself as no servants were in the house -at that hour; and we had a comfortable room -with two beds in it. The old lady came in -and chatted with us awhile, telling us all she -knew about our army’s movements, and -listening eagerly to what people in Maryland -had to say about the war. We were very -tired, but I am sure it must have been one -o’clock when we went to sleep. At daybreak -there came a great banging at the front door. -Mother put her head out of the front window -and inquired who was trying to break the -door down.</p> - -<p>It was our driver, and there at the gate -stood our ambulance. The driver hurried us -desperately, saying we had not a moment -to lose. The noise had aroused our hosts, -and when we got down the old lady had -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">202</span> -spread us a cold lunch and made us a cup of -coffee.</p> - -<p>“I was hoping to have you a nice hot -breakfast,” she said, “but since you must go -in such a hurry this is the best I can do. If -I had known you were going to make such -an early start I would have got you a hot -breakfast somehow.”</p> - -<p>We swallowed our food hurriedly, but -this did not satisfy our driver. Every few -minutes he came down on the door with the -butt end of his whip. Finally we left off eating, -ran up-stairs, and gathered up our bags. -As we hurried down, almost falling over each -other in our haste, we saw a magnificent-looking -soldier standing in the hall. He was -in the full uniform of a colonel of cavalry, -glittering with gold lace, with gauntlets reaching -his elbows, and high military boots.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Duncan and Miss Duncan, I suppose,” -he said with a sweeping bow, -“and——”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Drummond and Miss Oglesby,” -we said of the ladies who came behind us.</p> - -<p>“I am Colonel McReynolds, commandant -at this place, and at your service, ladies,” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">203</span> -he continued. “I have to apologize for not -paying my respects to you last night upon -receipt of General Kelly’s letter asking me -to take charge of you. The lateness of the -hour must be my excuse. At the time Captain -Goldsborough presented it I had a number -of important despatches to attend to, and -I supposed you were tired out and in need of -rest.”</p> - -<p>We expressed our appreciation of his -courtesy and General Kelly’s thoughtfulness.</p> - -<p>“What is all this?” he asked, pointing to -our ambulance, baggage wagon, and impatient -driver.</p> - -<p>We explained that they were the conveniences -furnished us by General Kelly.</p> - -<p>“But you surely do not propose starting -off in such weather as this, ladies?”</p> - -<p>I have neglected to say that it had been -storming since daybreak.</p> - -<p>“The driver has been beating on the doors -since before day,” somebody said.</p> - -<p>“He has, has he? Then he has exceeded -his instructions. He had no right whatever -to disturb you, ladies. I will see that he is -reported.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">204</span></p> - -<p>He called the driver and reprimanded him -sharply.</p> - -<p>“Pray don’t feel that you must leave us in -such weather as this, ladies,” he continued -with the utmost kindness. “Stay here a -week if you like. That ambulance and -wagon and those men and horses are at -your service as long as you choose to keep -them here, and we will be glad to do whatever -we may for your comfort or pleasure -until it suits your own convenience to leave -us.”</p> - -<p>We hardly knew how to thank this -princely young enemy, but we insisted that -the driver should not be punished, and that -we should be allowed to proceed on our -journey, as we were anxious to reach our -friends and kindred.</p> - -<p>He rode in our ambulance with us to his -headquarters, where we were joined by our -other charming enemy, and, making our -adieux to the gallant and handsome colonel, -continued our journey.</p> - -<p>During the day something happened -to Captain Goldsborough’s watch, and it -stopped running, much to his annoyance. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">205</span></p> - -<p>“I should like to know what time it is,” -he said.</p> - -<p>I pulled my watch out and held it open -for him to see the time. I could have told -him what hour it was. I don’t know what -made me such a reckless little creature in -those days. The watch I held to him had a -tiny Confederate flag pasted inside. My -companions had either secreted their watches -or were not traveling with them. I had been -urged to do the same, but had openly worn -my watch ever since leaving Baltimore. -Captain Goldsborough saw the hour, and he -saw the flag also. He stared at me in utter -amazement.</p> - -<p>“You are brave—or reckless,” he said.</p> - -<p>“I know this is contraband goods, and, -according to your ideas, treasonable. Will -you confiscate it?” quietly holding it out -again.</p> - -<p>His face flushed.</p> - -<p>“Not I! but some one else might. You -are not prudent to wear that openly.”</p> - -<p>And I was so ashamed of myself for hurting -his feelings that I made amends in rather -too warm terms, I am afraid, considering -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">206</span> -that he didn’t know I was married and a -privileged character.</p> - -<p>“You are traveling in the wrong direction, -<i>I</i> think, Miss Duncan,” he ventured to -say after awhile. “You shouldn’t leave the -North and go south now.”</p> - -<p>“Why?”</p> - -<p>“I—I shouldn’t think you would receive -the attention there just now that is your due. -You are young and fond of society, I imagine. -And—there are so few beaux in the -South now—I shouldn’t think you would -like that.”</p> - -<p>“Really?”</p> - -<p>“I mean that I wish you would stay up -North where it is pleasanter. It’s so—uncomfortable -down South. You are so young, -you see, you ought to have a chance to enjoy -life a little. I—I wish you were up here—and -I could add a little to your happiness. I—I -mean,” catching a glance which warned -him, “it is must be dull for you in the South—no -beaux—no nothing.”</p> - -<p>“All the beaux are in the field,” I retorted, -“where they ought to be. I wouldn’t -have a beau who wasn’t, and if I were a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">207</span> -Northern girl I wouldn’t have a man who -didn’t wear a uniform—though, I think, it -ought to be gray.”</p> - -<p>“I expect you have a sweetheart down -South whom you expect to see when you get -home. That is why your heart has been so -set on getting back.”</p> - -<p>“If I had a sweetheart down South I -couldn’t see him when I got back home, for -he would be in the field.”</p> - -<p>“So, your sweetheart is a Southern soldier?” -wistfully.</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t have a sweetheart who -wasn’t a soldier—a Southern soldier.”</p> - -<p>In the other side of my watch I had -pasted a small picture of Dan in uniform. I -opened this side and held it out to my companion.</p> - -<p>“That’s my sweetheart’s picture.”</p> - -<p>He looked at it long and hard. “A good-looking -fellow,” he said, “and I have no -doubt a gallant soldier. If I ever meet him -in battle—he will be safe from <i>my</i> bullet.”</p> - -<p>Behind our wagon all the way from Harper’s -Ferry had come a party equipped like -ourselves. They were Jews, and, as we were -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">208</span> -informed, were prisoners of the United -States. They had an ambulance like ours, a -baggage wagon like ours, and a similar -escort of five infantry perched on trunks. -Their escort who rode inside, however, was -not so attractive as ours. We felt and expressed -much commiseration for them because -they were prisoners—“those poor Jews,” we -called them.</p> - -<p>We were all suffering the consequences -of late and early hours, and of the worry and -excitement at Harper’s Ferry. I felt almost -ill, and when Miss Oglesby, whose home was -in Winchester, invited us to spend a week -with her, we concluded that we would accept -her hospitality until better able to continue -our journey.</p> - -<p>Winchester was the most difficult of all -places for Southerners to pass through at this -time, and we could not possibly have gotten -through if we had been left to our own resources. -Milroy was commandant, and his -name was a terror. He belonged to the Ben -Butler of New Orleans type. Some time near -the middle of the day we drew up in front -of Milroy’s headquarters. Immediately behind -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">209</span> -us came the Jews and their belongings. -They did not go in with us, and I -supposed they were awaiting their turn. -General Milroy was absent, off on a fight, and -we fell into the hands of his adjutant, a dapper -little fellow. We heard him talking to -Goldsborough of the recent fight and victory, -and heard him making arrangements for our -transportation.</p> - -<p>Here we thought it proper to inform him -that we were going to remain a week in Winchester.</p> - -<p>“You can not remain here,” he said. -“You go on immediately.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!” we said, “we’re not going on -now. We are going to stop here for a visit -and until we are rested.”</p> - -<p>“You are prisoners and under orders. -You go at once—” he began bruskly.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!” we interrupted, eager to enlighten -him, for we saw he had made a very -natural mistake. “<i>We</i> are not prisoners. -Those poor Jews out there, <i>they</i> are prisoners. -We are going to stop here on a little -visit.”</p> - -<p>“You don’t stop here an hour. This is -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">210</span> -Miss Oglesby’s destination, and she stops, -but the rest of you go on—now.”</p> - -<p>He looked as if he thought us demented. -Goldsborough kept making faces at us, but -we were so anxious to correct the adjutant’s -mistake that we had no attention to bestow -elsewhere. We thought we had never seen -so stupid a man as that adjutant.</p> - -<p>“<i>We</i> are not the prisoners,” we insisted. -“Those Jews out there——”</p> - -<p>Here he told Captain Goldsborough to -conduct “these prisoners” down-stairs and -into the ambulance provided for them. -“You will not go far before you meet a detachment -of cavalry on their way to this -place,” he informed Captain Goldsborough, -and then instructed him to turn back of these -a sufficient escort for our party.</p> - -<p>We were in a perfect rage as Captain -Goldsborough led us down-stairs. We -thought Milroy’s adjutant the very rudest -and stupidest person we had ever seen. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">211</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII<br /> - -<span class="small">WITHIN OUR LINES</span></h2> - -<p>After leaving the saucy and peremptory -adjutant we were shown into the handsomest -ambulance I have ever seen. I suppose the -one we had been using was returned to Harper’s -Ferry or left at Winchester for the -horses to rest until Captain Goldsborough’s -return. At any rate, we were in new quarters, -and very elegant ones they were. The -sides and seats were cushioned and padded, -and it was really a luxurious coach. It was -drawn by four large black horses with coats -like silk. There was a postilion on the seat, -and beside him sat a small boy who kept -peeping behind us and into the woods on all -sides, and as far ahead as possible. I didn’t -know what he was trying to see or find out, -but I came to the conclusion that he was -there to “peep” on general principles.</p> - -<p>As soon as we were seated we asked -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">212</span> -Captain Goldsborough what upon earth that -impertinent adjutant meant by referring to -us as “prisoners,” and ordering us about so.</p> - -<p>Whereupon he explained with much embarrassment -and many apologies that we were -really prisoners—that General Kelly could -not have sent us through without the formality -of putting us under arrest.</p> - -<p>“I wish,” he said in an aside to me, “that -I didn’t have to release you.”</p> - -<p>Of course we were perfectly satisfied to -be General Kelly’s prisoners under such circumstances. -In fact, we charged Captain -Goldsborough to tell him how nice we -thought it was to be put under arrest by him.</p> - -<p>We withdrew our charges against the adjutant, -and even acknowledged that there -was kindness in the pert little Yankee’s telling -us to “holler for Jeff Davis and we’d get -sent on quick enough.”</p> - -<p>Six miles from Winchester we met the detachment -of cavalry to which Milroy’s adjutant -had referred. It was a magnificent-looking -body of men, handsomely uniformed -and mounted. As they were about to dash -past us Captain Goldsborough halted them, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">213</span> -gave an order, and instantly thirty riders -wheeled out of line and surrounded the ambulance, -the others riding on without a break -in their movements. Captain Goldsborough -had gotten out of the ambulance some -minutes before we met the detachment of -cavalry, and was sitting with the driver, having -sent the little boy inside. It sounds -rather a formidable position for a Southern -woman, a blockade-runner, in a Yankee ambulance, -and surrounded by thirty Yankees -armed to the teeth; but I was never safer in -my life. The little boy was in a state of terror -that would have been amusing if it had -not been pitiful.</p> - -<p>“What are all these men around the -ambulance for?” I asked. He didn’t look as -if he could get his wits together at once.</p> - -<p>“Are they afraid we will get away?” I -continued.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no’m! no’m!” he answered, his eyes -as big as saucers. “There’s been lots of -fightin’—an’ there’s rebels all along here in -the woods—and they’d come out and take -this here ambulance an’ these here horses—an’ -we all, an’ you all, an’ all of us!” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">214</span></p> - -<p>A novel position, truly, Yankees protecting -us against our own soldiers! We met -another company of soldiers, and alas! we -could turn back none of them. They were not -mounted, they were not handsomely uniformed. -From the windows of our ambulance -we looked out on them with tearful -eyes, and waved our handkerchiefs to them; -but their heads were bowed, and they did not -see us. They would hardly have believed we -were prisoners if they had seen us, for our -escort of Union cavalry the whole time they -guarded us treated us as if we were queens. -Not one profane word did we hear—not a syllable -that breathed anything but respect and -kindly feeling.</p> - -<p>At Newtown we were released and were -Union prisoners no longer, but Southern -travelers close to the Southern lines and on -our own responsibility. Captain Goldsborough -bade us adieu, saying that he was sorry -he could not take us farther, but that his -orders compelled him to turn back here, and -we poured out our gratitude to him and to -Colonel McReynolds and General Kelly by -him. He put a little sentiment into a farewell -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">215</span> -pressure of my hand, and I am afraid I put a -great deal too much gratitude and penitence -into my eyes. My genius for friendship had -asserted itself, and I was fast learning to give -him a companion niche in my heart with Captains -Hosmer and Locke. Another day with -him, and I would have told him I was married, -showed him Dan’s picture, bored him -with Dan, and found in him all the better -friend and good comrade.</p> - -<p>Our hearts sank as our gallant bluecoat, -our cozy ambulance, and our cavalry guard -left us, three lonely women in the tavern at -Newtown. We spent the night there, and -the next morning secured, with much difficulty, -a small, uncovered, one-horse wagon to -take us on our journey. We were very much -crowded. Our trunks were piled up in it—mother’s, -Mrs. Drummond’s, and my own. I -made mother as comfortable as possible, and -Mrs. Drummond carefully made herself so, -while I sat on the seat with the driver, a -trunk sticking in my back all the way. I -had to sit almost double because of the trunk, -the wagon being so small that no other arrangement -was possible. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">216</span></p> - -<p>Rain had fallen plentifully here. The day -was one of fogs and mists with occasional light -showers, the roads were, muddy and seamed -with ruts, over which the wagon jogged up -and down, and I jogged with it, feeling as if -my back would break in two and almost wishing -it would and end my misery. About nine -of that miserable wet night we hailed with -eager, glad, tired hearts and eyes the lights -of Woodstock. Here we knew we should -find Southern forces encamped, here we -knew we should be at home among our own -people. Just outside the town a voice rang -through the darkness:</p> - -<p>“Halt!”</p> - -<p>A sentry stood in our path.</p> - -<p>“We are Southerners,” we said. “Let us -pass.”</p> - -<p>“Where are your papers?”</p> - -<p>“Papers? We haven’t any papers. We -are <i>Southerners</i>, we tell you—Southern -ladies, and we are in a hurry, and you must -let us pass right now.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t do it. Show your papers or turn -back.”</p> - -<p>We set up a wail. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">217</span></p> - -<p>“Here, we’ve come all the way from Baltimore, -and the Yankees have sent us and -have brought us all the way in a fine ambulance -and cavalry escorts and big horses and -gold lace and everything, and now we’ve got -home, and our own people won’t let us in! -tell us to turn back!”</p> - -<p>The sentry seemed impressed. Rags and -musket, he was a pathetic if stern figure as he -stood in that lonely, muddy road in the glare -of our driver’s lantern.</p> - -<p>But he was firm. He told us that he was -obeying orders and could not let us by since -we had no passes.</p> - -<p>“I’m so tired, and my back is almost -broken with this trunk sticking into it,” I -moaned.</p> - -<p>“That <i>ain’t</i> comfortable,” he admitted, -but his resolute position in the middle of the -road showed that we couldn’t pass, all the -same.</p> - -<p>“Look here,” I said, plucking up some of -my accustomed spirit, “do you know that -my husband is an officer in the Confederate -army? My husband is Captain Grey.”</p> - -<p>“Can’t help it. Got to obey orders.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">218</span></p> - -<p>“And <i>my</i> brother,” said Mrs. Drummond, -“is a <i>colonel</i> in the Confederate army. -To think that <i>I</i>—I, the sister of Colonel ——, -am told that I can’t pass here!”</p> - -<p>“Law, ma’am! that’s my colonel!” said -the man. “I tell you what I’ll do, ladies. -I’ll send a note in to the colonel and see what -<i>he</i> says about it.”</p> - -<p>So we waited till he found a passer-by who -would be a messenger; and then we waited -until the messenger replied to the note, and -we were permitted to pass.</p> - -<p>Soon after we reached the tavern the -news of our arrival and exploits got abroad -and soon the little tavern parlor was filled -with people listening to the tales of the blockade-runners -who were just from Yankeeland, -bringing a trunk or two full of clothes. The -news of our doughty deeds spread from house -to house, and soldiers gathered in front of the -tavern and gave us ringing cheers, and welcomed -us home with all their lung power. -Poor, ragged fellows! how I did wish that -mother and I had worn home a hundred or -two more Balmorals!</p> - -<p>The next morning we left Woodstock. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">219</span></p> - -<p>We were traveling now in a comfortable -spring wagon, and made good time, reaching -Harrisonburg in time to take the train for -Staunton.</p> - -<p>As we sat in the parlor of the hotel in -Staunton who should walk in but an old -friend and cousin of Dan’s, Lieutenant Nelson! -But he could tell me nothing about Dan—he -did not even know where he could be -found. This was just before the second battle -of the Wilderness, and the cavalry was being -shifted constantly from place to place. -But if Lieutenant Nelson could tell us nothing, -he was greatly interested in our exploits. -We told him of the Balmorals with pride.</p> - -<p>“And here are two shirts for Dan,” I said, -pulling at our long scarfs. “Just think of -our getting through with a full uniform—cloth, -brass buttons, gold lace, and all!”</p> - -<p>As at Woodstock, the story of our prowess -spread. It went from one person to another -until the soldiers got hold of it, and -gathered around the hotel and more ringing -cheers were given us.</p> - -<p>The next morning we took the train for -Richmond—but we did not get there. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">220</span></p> - -<p>At Lindseys Station, just before we -reached Gordonsville, a man in the uniform -of the Thirteenth got on.</p> - -<p>I called him to me.</p> - -<p>“Can you tell me where the Thirteenth -is?”</p> - -<p>“Yes’m. We lef’ ’em ’bout the aige of -Culpeper, yistiddy. Lor’m! we’ve had times!”</p> - -<p>“What was the matter?”</p> - -<p>“We been havin’ a heap o’ fightin’. The -kurnel, he warn’t thar at Beverly Ford, an’ -we didn’t have but one squadron, an’ the adjutant, -he led the charge an’ he sholy come -mighty nigh gittin’ killed. Lor’m! what’s the -matter with ye?”</p> - -<p>“Nothing! Go on! Make haste, tell me—make -haste. The adjutant——”</p> - -<p>“His horse got shot under him, an’ his -courier ridin’ right ’longside o’ him got -killed, an’ the adjutant warn’t hurt, not a mite. -But, Lor’m! that was sholy a narrer <i>es</i>cape! -An’ they say that the adjutant’ll git promoted.”</p> - -<p>Didn’t I say so? Didn’t I think of that -when I got the uniform?</p> - -<p>“Thank you,” I said to the man. “You -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">221</span> -bring me the first news I have had of my -husband for a long time.”</p> - -<p>“Good gracious! you ain’t our adjutant’s -wife?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I am. And I am glad to meet one -of his soldiers. And you are the first to tell -me good news.”</p> - -<p>“Lor’m, now, ain’t I proud o’ that! An’ -you our adjutant’s wife. You don’t say! An’ -I jes been a-tellin’ you how it was a’mos’ a -mi-racle that you warn’t a widder ’oman! -An’ you never let on! But I see you changed -your face, marm, when I tole ’bout his pretty -nigh gitting shot. Yes, marm; the adjutant -charged beautiful! he jes rid right squar into -’em, an’ he made the Yankees git!”</p> - -<p>“How long do you think the Thirteenth -will remain in Culpeper?”</p> - -<p>“That I couldn’t say for certain, marm. -They mought be thar for a day or two, an’ -they mought be thar longer. You can’t always -tell much ’bout what the cavalry gwine -to do. But we’s sho proud o’ the adjutant, -marm. Ginral Lee an’ Ginral Stuart an’ -Kunnel Chambliss all give him the praise.”</p> - -<p>It was after this battle that Dan was promoted -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">222</span> -to the rank of major, “for gallant -conduct.”</p> - -<p>I bade the soldier a hurried good-by and -went to the conductor.</p> - -<p>“My husband’s regiment is in Culpeper,” -I said; “I have just heard it from one -of his men, and I want you to put me off at -Gordonsville. I have decided not to go on to -Richmond, but to take the next train to Culpeper.”</p> - -<p>“The next train to Culpeper, ma’am—I -think the next train for Culpeper passes -Gordonsville at four in the afternoon. -There’s no train before that, I know, and I -am not sure that there’s one at four. There’s -no tavern nor anything to put you down at—I’ll -just have to set you out on the roadside.”</p> - -<p>And it was on a red roadside that we and -our baggage were set down, on a bank of red -mud, and there sat we on top of them as the -train rolled away. The conductor left us regretfully.</p> - -<p>“Maybe you might get accommodations -at that house up there, ma’am,” he had said, -pointing to the only house in sight, a two-story -white dwelling about a quarter of a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">223</span> -mile distant. “I don’t know what else you’ll -do if that train don’t come along at four.”</p> - -<p>This was ten o’clock in the morning. -Four o’clock came, but no train. We waited -faithfully for it, but it did not come at all. -At last we gave up hope and paid a boy to -carry our trunks to the house on the hill. I -shall never forget our reception at that house. -At first they refused to take us at all. After -arguing the point with them and placing our -necessities before them, and promising to pay -them anything they might wish, we were -thankful to get a gruff:</p> - -<p>“Come in.”</p> - -<p>We were shown to a room and shut in -like horses. There was not even a fire made -for us. We had been warmer sitting on -the roadside in the sunshine. I will pass -over the supper in silence. We had had no -dinner and were hungry, and we ate for our -part of that supper the upper crust of a biscuit -each. A hard bed, the upper crusts of -two biscuits, no fire—this was what we got -at that house. The next morning we left before -breakfast and went back to our mud-bank -in the sun, first asking for our bill -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">224</span> -and paying it. It was two dollars apiece in -gold!</p> - -<p>The train came along early, however, and -we were on it, and off to Culpeper, all our -troubles forgotten, for every mile was bringing -us nearer to Dan. As soon as we got off -I saw quite a number of soldiers belonging to -Dan’s command. Many of them were known -to me personally. They came up and welcomed -me back to Dixie, and congratulated -me on my husband’s gallantry and probable -promotion, and I sent word to Dan by them -that I was there.</p> - -<p>He came—the raggedest, most widowed-looking -officer! But weren’t we happy!</p> - -<p>“Oh, Dan!” I cried, after the first rapture -of greeting, “I got it so it would do for -a captain or a major or a colonel or a general. -Didn’t I do right?”</p> - -<p>“What are you talking about, Nell? Got -what?”</p> - -<p>He looked as if he feared recent adventures -had unsettled my intellect.</p> - -<p>“Your uniform, Dan,” I answered, but -my countenance fell.</p> - -<p>“My—uniform.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">225</span></p> - -<p>Just like a man! He had forgotten the -principal thing—next to seeing mother, of -course—that I had gone to Baltimore for.</p> - -<p>“Your uniform, Dan. I’ve got it on. -Here it is,” and I lifted my skirt and showed -him my Balmoral. “Isn’t it a beautiful -cloth? And I have kept it just as nice—not -a fleck of mud on it. And here are the buttons -on my cloak, and I have the gold lace -in mother’s satchel, and——”</p> - -<p>“Nell, dear, I haven’t time to talk about -uniforms now. You will sleep here to-night. -To-morrow I will try to get a room for you -at Mr. Bradford’s. I will come in the morning -or send you word what to do. I am so -sorry to go, but I can’t stay a minute longer. -Good-by, my darling.”</p> - -<p>I was waked the next morning by a voice -under my window calling:</p> - -<p>“Miss Nell! O Miss Nell!” and looking -out I saw Dan’s body-servant, Sam, successor -to poor Josh, who had died of smallpox.</p> - -<p>“Mars Dan say, I fotch his love to you, -an’ tell you you git right on dem nex’ kyars -an’ go straight on ter Orange Court-house, -case dar’s too much fightin’ ’roun’ here. An’ -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">226</span> -he gwine notify you dar when you kin come -back. But he say dat if you hear dar’s fightin’ -’roun’ Orange Court-house, den you go -straight on ter Richmond, an’ don’t you stop -untwell you git dar.”</p> - -<p>“But I don’t want to go, Sam.”</p> - -<p>“But Mars Dan he say tell you p’intedly -you mus’.”</p> - -<p>“Ain’t he coming to tell me good-by, -Sam?”</p> - -<p>“Law, Miss Nell! how he gwine do dat -when de Yankees is er—overrunnin’ de whole -yuth? What’s guine ter become uv de country -ef de major leave off fitten de Yankees to -humorfy you?”</p> - -<p>I could not for the life of me, sad as my -heart was, keep from laughing at being taken -to task by Sam.</p> - -<p>“Is it so bad as that, Sam?”</p> - -<p>“Yes’m, dat ’tis! Mars Dan say he ’fraid -de Yankees git in de town hyer fo’ night. De -Yankees is er pressin’ we all close.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t see your master at all before I -go, Sam?”</p> - -<p>“Law, Miss Nell; ain’t I done tole you -dat? De country will go to de dawgs ef de -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">227</span> -major stop fitten de Yankees to humorfy -you.”</p> - -<p>“If your master gets hurt, Sam, will you -get me word?”</p> - -<p>“Law, yes, Miss Nell! I sholy will.”</p> - -<p>“And you’ll take care of him, Sam?”</p> - -<p>“Dat’s jes what I gwine to do, Miss -Nell. <i>Me</i> lef’ de major ef he git hu’t! shuh!”</p> - -<p>“Good-by, Sam. Tell your master I’m -gone.”</p> - -<p>“Yes’m. He’ll sho be p’intedly glad ter -heah dat!”</p> - -<p>Just fifteen minutes in which to catch the -train. We threw things pell-mell into our -trunks—there was no vehicle to be had—paid -a man to drag them to the depot, and -were on our way to Orange in less than half -an hour. And I had seen Dan, all told, perhaps -fifteen minutes!</p> - -<p>At Orange we found everything in confusion, -and everybody who could get out -leaving the town. The story went that the -Yankee cavalry under Stoneman would soon -be in possession of it. We were glad enough -to keep our seats and go straight through to -Richmond, and it was well that we did, for -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">228</span> -behind us came Stoneman’s cavalry close on -our heels and tearing up bridges as they -came. The railroad track at Trevillian’s was -torn up just after we passed over it. Richmond -was in a state of great excitement. -Couriers were passing to and fro between the -army and the executive offices, stirring news -kept pouring in, and the newspapers were in -a fever. Tidings from the first battle of the -Wilderness began coming in. Lee’s army -and “Fighting Joe” Hooker’s were grappling -with each other there like tigers in a -jungle. Stuart, our great cavalry leader, had -caught up Jackson’s mantle as it fell, and was -riding around in that valley of death, charging -his men to “Remember Jackson!” and singing -in that cheery voice of his which only death -could drown: “Old Joe Hooker, won’t you -Come Out of the Wilderness?” Then came -news of victory and Richmond was wild with -joy and wild with woe as well. In many homes -were vacant chairs because of that battle in -the Wilderness, and from Petersburg, twenty -miles away, came the sound of mourning, -Rachel weeping for her children and refusing -to be comforted because they were not. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">229</span></p> - -<p>It was from Petersburg that I was summoned -to Culpeper by Dan, who felt that -the army might have a long enough breathing -spell there for me to pay him at least a -visit. When I got to Mr. Bradford’s, where -he had engaged board for me, I found General -Stuart’s headquarters in the yard. He -and his staff were boarders at Mr. Bradford’s, -and I ate at the same table with the flower -of the Southern cavalry. Unfortunately for -me, Dan’s command was stationed at a distance -of several miles, and I could not see -as much of him as I had hoped. He met me -the day of my arrival, rode by once or twice, -took one or two meals with me, and then it -seemed that for all I saw of him I might as -well have remained in Petersburg.</p> - -<p>My seat at table was next to that of General -Stuart, and for <i>vis-à-vis</i> I had Colonel -John Esten Cooke. Colonel Cooke was a -glum old thing, but General Stuart was so -delightful that he compensated for everything. -In a short time I was completely at -my ease with him, and long before he left I -had grown to love and trust him. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">230</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX<br /> - -<span class="small">MY COMRADE GENERAL JEB STUART</span></h2> - -<p>One day General Stuart asked me in a -teasing way:</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t really like to see Dan -Grey, would you?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, but I would, general,” I said, in too -dead earnest to give raillery for raillery.</p> - -<p>“I don’t believe you really want to see -Dan Grey.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I don’t, then,” a bit sullenly.</p> - -<p>“What a pity! You might see him now, -if you really wanted to.”</p> - -<p>I wouldn’t notice such a frivolous remark.</p> - -<p>Dinner over, we went out on the veranda, -as usual, and General Stuart dropped into a -chair beside me.</p> - -<p>“I really thought you rather liked Dan -Grey, but it seems I was mistaken. And you -really don’t want to see him? Sad—I must -tell him and condole with him.”</p> - -<p>I tried to bury myself in a book I was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">231</span> -reading, and to pay no attention to him. A -miserable old book it was—Children of the -Abbey, or something like it—that I had -picked up somewhere at Mr. Bradford’s. -Hereafter, if I write “Aunt Sally’s” instead -of Mr. Bradford’s, please understand that one -and the same place is meant. Aunt Sally was -Mr. Bradford’s wife, and I reckon the first -term best describes the place.</p> - -<p>“You wouldn’t really rather have Dan -Grey sitting here in this chair beside you than -me?” continued my tease.</p> - -<p>I lifted to him eyes wet with vexation and -longing.</p> - -<p>“I’ll make you smile now!” he said. -“<i>Do</i> you want to see Dan?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I do. I want to see him dreadfully, -but I am not going to tell you so again.”</p> - -<p>“You will if I command you to, won’t -you? If you are in the cavalry I am your -superior officer, you know. I can even make -Dan mind what I say, can’t I? If you are -refractory, I can command Dan to bring you -to terms.”</p> - -<p>“I’d like to see Dan do it! You may be -commander-in-chief of the cavalry, but you -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">232</span> -aren’t commander-in-chief of me—you or -Dan either.”</p> - -<p>“It seems not,” he commented meekly. -“You are the most insubordinate little rebel -I ever saw. I have a great mind to court-martial -you—no, I believe I’ll send for Dan -and let him do it.”</p> - -<p>He called a courier, and wrote a despatch -in regular form, ordering Major Dan Grey to -report at once to General Stuart. Then he -added a little private note to Dan which had -for a postscript:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“Sweet Nellie is by my side.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>“That will bring him in a hurry!” -laughed Stuart.</p> - -<p>The courier, not knowing but that the -fate of the Confederacy depended upon that -despatch, put spurs to his horse, galloped -down the road and out of sight. I suppose -he ran his horse all the way, and that Dan -ran his all the way back, for before General -Stuart left the veranda Dan galloped into -the yard.</p> - -<p>“I’ll get the first kiss!” said General -Stuart, still teasingly. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">233</span></p> - -<p>He leaped from the porch and ran across -the yard, I tearing after him. I caught up and -passed him, and looking back at him from -Dan’s arms, into which I had stumbled, -breathless and panting, I laughed out: “I -can beat the Yankees getting out of your -way!”</p> - -<p>Perhaps this race and General Stuart’s -love of teasing may seem undignified conduct -for the chief of the Southern cavalry, but it is -history and it is fun, and those who knew him -did not fail in respect to Stuart. Many of -us loved the ground he walked on. His boyish -spirits and his genial, sunny temperament -helped to make him the idol of the -cavalry and the inspiration of his soldiers, -and kept heart in them no matter what happened.</p> - -<p>That was a lovely evening. General -Stuart had Sweeny, his banjo-player, in. -Sweeny was a dignified, solemn-looking man, -but couldn’t he play merry tunes on that -banjo, and sad ones too! making you laugh -and cry with his playing and his singing.</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“When the sad, chilly winds of December<br /></span> -<span class="i0">Stole my flowers, my companions, from me.”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">234</span></p> - -<p>That was one of his mournful favorites. -And you heard the jingle of spurs in his rollicking:</p> - -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<span class="i0">“If you want a good time,<br /></span> -<span class="i2">Jine the cavalry,<br /></span> -<span class="i4">Bully boys, hey!”<br /></span> -</div></div> -</div> - -<p>We called for “Old Joe Hooker, won’t -you Come Out of the Wilderness?” and “O -Johnny Booker, help this Nigger!” and “O -Lord, Ladies, don’t you mind Stephen!” -and “Sweet Evelina,” and—oh! I can’t remember -them all, but if you choose to read -Esten Cooke, he will tell you all about -Sweeny’s songs and banjo. Stuart sang -“The Dew is on the Blossom” and “The -Bugles sang Truce.” He made Sweeny give, -twice over, “Sweet Nellie is by my Side,” -and sat himself down beside me, and tried to -tease Dan because he sat at table with me -every day and Dan couldn’t. In spite of -everything I was very happy in those old -days at the Bradfords’! I was not yet out -of my teens, you know; so I hope I was not -very much to blame because I was always -ready for a romp across that lawn at Mr. -Bradford’s with the commander-in-chief of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">235</span> -the Southern cavalry. His was the gentlest, -merriest, sweetest-tempered soul I ever knew. -He was always ready to sympathize with -me, to tease me, and to help me. Whenever -he teased me out of conceit with myself or -him, he always would put me in a good humor -by saying nice things about Dan, or -sending a courier after him.</p> - -<p>He had an idea that I was very plucky, -and in after days when I was ready to show -the white feather, Dan would shame me by -asking, “What would General Stuart say?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Bradford and his wife, “Aunt Sally,” -were characters. Mr. Bradford was a very -quiet, peaceable man; Aunt Sally was strong-minded, -and had a tongue and mind of her -own. Mr. Bradford had a good deal of property -and stayed out of the army to take care -of it. I think Aunt Sally made him stay out -of the war for this reason, but she made home -about as hot for him as the field would have -been. I can’t think he stayed at home to keep -out of war, for he was in war all the time. -Aunt Sally continually twitted him with -staying at home, although she made him -do it. She was always sure to do this when -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">236</span> -the table was filled with Confederate officers.</p> - -<p>“The place for a <i>man</i>,” she would say, -“is on the field. Just give me the chance to -fight! Just give me the chance to fight, and -see where I’ll be!”</p> - -<p>And General Stuart would convulse me -by whispering: “I don’t think she needs a -chance to fight, do you?”</p> - -<p>Sometimes when Aunt Sally’s harangue -would begin the general would whisper, -“Aunt Sally’s getting herself in battle array,” -or “The batteries have limbered up,” or -“Aunt Sally’s scaled the breastworks,” and -Mr. Bradford’s meek and inoffensive face -would make the situation funnier. He would -mildly help the boarders to the dish in front -of him and endeavor feebly to turn the conversation -into a peaceful and safe direction, -though this never had the slightest effect -upon his belligerent wife.</p> - -<p>One day—it was about the time of Stuart’s -historical grand review—Mr. Bradford -invited all the cavalry generals whose forces -were stationed around us to dine with the -commander-in-chief of the cavalry. He -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">237</span> -would never have dared to do this if Aunt -Sally had been at home, but Aunt Sally at -this auspicious moment was in Washington, -where we all hoped the fortunes of war and -shopping would keep her indefinitely. Her -niece, Miss Morse, and I sat down, the only -ladies present, at a table with eighteen Confederate -generals. Miss Molly and I were at -first a trifle embarrassed at being the only -ladies, but they were all refined and well-bred, -and soon put us at our ease. General Wade -Hampton led me in to dinner, and I sat between -him and General Ramseur. General -Ramseur was young and exceedingly handsome, -and a paralyzed arm which was folded -across his breast made him all the more attractive.</p> - -<p>“If you sit next me, Mrs. Grey,” he said -with a little embarrassment, “you will have -to cut up my dinner for me. I am afraid that -will be putting you to a great deal of trouble. -Perhaps I had better change my seat.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!” I said, “I will be very glad—if -I can be satisfactory.”</p> - -<p>He smiled. “Thank you. I am always -both glad and sorry to impose upon a lady -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">238</span> -this service. I am sorry, you know, to tax -a lady with it, but then, she always does it -better than a man.”</p> - -<p>I had been studying his face, and now, for -want of something more sensible I said:</p> - -<p>“If I am to feed you, General Ramseur, I -must measure your mouth.”</p> - -<p>It happened that there was dead silence -at the table when this silly speech of mine was -made. Everybody was listening.</p> - -<p>“Madam,” said the handsome general, -blushing and smiling, “I am entirely willing -that you should.”</p> - -<p>I caught a mischievous light in General -Stuart’s merry eyes, and blushed furiously. -Then I followed his laugh, and the whole -table roared.</p> - -<p>“I will tell Dan Grey!” cried Stuart.</p> - -<p>“I will tell Dan Grey!” ran around the -table like a chorus.</p> - -<p>But I fed my handsome general all the -same.</p> - -<p>It was while I was at Mr. Bradford’s that -one of the most stirring events in Confederate -history occurred. This was the trampling -down of John Minor Botts’s corn. Very -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">239</span> -good corn it was, dropped and hilled by -Southern negroes and growing on a large, -fine plantation next to Mr. Bradford’s; and a -very nice gentleman Mr. Botts was, too; but -a field of corn, however good, and a private -citizen, however estimable, are scarcely matters -of national or international importance. -The trouble was that John Minor Botts was -on the Northern side and the corn was on the -Southern side, and that Stuart held a grand -review on the Southern side and the corn -got trampled down. The fame of that corn -went abroad into all the land. Northern and -Southern papers vied with each other in editorials -and special articles, families who had -been friends for generations stopped speaking -and do not speak to this day because of -it, more than one hard blow was exchanged -for and against it, and it brought down vituperation -upon Stuart’s head. And yet I was -present at that naughty grand review—afterward -writ in letters of blood upon hearts that -reached from Virginia to Florida—and I -can testify that General Stuart went there to -review the troops, <i>not</i> to trample down the -corn. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">240</span></p> - -<p>Afterward John Minor Botts came over -to see General Stuart and to quarrel about -that corn. All that I can remember of how -the general took Mr. Botts’s visit and effort -to quarrel was that Stuart wouldn’t quarrel—whatever -it was he said to Mr. Botts he -got to laughing when he said it. Our colored -Abigail told us with bated breath that -“Mr. Botts ripped and rarred and snorted, -but Genrul Stuart warn’t put out none at -all.”</p> - -<p>There had been many reviews that week, -all of them merely by way of preparation and -practise for that famous grand review before -the battle of Brandy or Fleetwood, but -it is only of this particular grand review I -have many lively memories. Aunt Sally was -away, and we attended it in state. Mr. Bradford -had out the ancient and honorable family -carriage and two shadowy horses, relics of -days when corn was in plenty and wheat not -merely a dream of the past, and we went in it -to the review along with many other carriages -and horses, whose title to respect lay, -alas! solely in the past.</p> - -<p>That was a day to remember! Lee’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">241</span> -whole army was in Culpeper. Pennsylvania -and Gettysburg were before it, and the army -was making ready for invasion. On a knoll -where a Confederate flag was planted and -surrounded by his staff sat General Lee on -horseback; before him, with a rebel yell, -dashed Stuart and his eight thousand cavalry. -There was a sham battle. Charging and -countercharging went on, rebels yelled and -artillery thundered. Every time the cannons -were fired we would pile out of our carriage, -and as soon as the cannonading ceased we -would pile back again. General Stuart happened -to ride up once just as we were getting -out.</p> - -<p>“Why don’t you ladies sit still and enjoy -the fun?” he asked in amazement.</p> - -<p>“We are afraid the horses might take -fright and run away,” we answered.</p> - -<p>I shall never forget his ringing laugh. -Our lean and spiritless steeds had too little -life in them to run for anything—they hardly -pricked up their ears when the guns went off.</p> - -<p>How well I remember Stuart as he looked -that day! He wore a fine new uniform, brilliant -with gold lace, buff gauntlets reaching -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">242</span> -to his elbows, and a canary-colored silk sash -with tasseled ends. His hat, a soft, broad-brimmed -felt, was caught up at the side with -a gold star and carried a sweeping plume; -his high, patent-leather cavalry boots were -trimmed with gold. He wore spurs of solid -gold, the gift of some Maryland ladies—he -was very proud of those spurs—and his horse -was coal black and glossy as silk. And how -happy he was—how full of faith in the Confederacy -and himself!</p> - -<p>My own cavalry officer was there, resplendent -in his new uniform—I had had it made -up for him in Richmond. Dan was very -proud of the way I got that uniform. He -was almost ready to credit himself with having -put me up to running the blockade! He -told General Stuart its history, and that is -how a greatness not always easy to sustain -had been thrust upon me. General Stuart -thought me very brave—or said he thought -so. The maneuvers of Dan’s command were -on such a distant part of the field that I -could not see him well with the naked eye, -and General Stuart lent me his field-glasses. -The next morning, just as gray dawn was -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">243</span> -breaking, some one called under my window, -and gravel rattled against the pane. I got up -and looked out sleepily. My first thought was -that it might be Dan. There was not enough -light for me to see very well what was happening -on the lawn, but I could make out -that the cavalry were mounted and moving, -and under my window I saw a figure on -horseback.</p> - -<p>“Is that Mrs. Grey?”</p> - -<p>“Yes. What is the matter?”</p> - -<p>“General Stuart sent me for his field-glasses. -I am sorry to disturb you, but it -couldn’t be helped.”</p> - -<p>I tied a string around the glasses and -lowered them.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter? Where is the cavalry -going?”</p> - -<p>“To Brandy Station. Reckon we’ll have -some hot fighting soon,” and the orderly -wheeled and rode away.</p> - -<p>I stayed up and dressed, and thought of -Dan, and wished I could know if he was to be -in the coming engagement, and that I could -see him first. But I didn’t see him all day. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">244</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX<br /> - -<span class="small">“WHOSE BUSINESS ’TIS TO DIE”</span></h2> - -<p>In forty-eight hours we knew that the -surmise of the orderly was correct—there was -enough fighting. The first cannon-ball which -tore through the air at Brandy was only too -grave assurance of the fact. All day men -were hurrying past the house, deserters from -both armies getting away from the scene of -bloodshed and thunder as quickly as possible. -Then came the procession of the dead and -wounded, some in ambulances, some in carts, -some on the shoulders of friends.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon we began to hear rumors -giving names of the killed and wounded. I -listened with my heart in my throat for Dan’s -name, but I did not hear it. I heard no news -whatever of him all day—all day I could only -hope that no news was good news, and all day -that ghastly procession dragged heavily by. -Among names of those killed I heard of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">245</span> -Colonel Sol Williams. A day or two before -the battle of Brandy he had returned from a -furlough to Petersburg, where he had gone -to marry a lovely woman, a friend of mine. -The day before he was killed he had sat at -table with me, chatting pleasantly of mutual -friends at home from whom he had brought -messages, brimful of happiness, and of the -charming wife he had won! As the day -waned I sat in my room, wretched and miserable, -thinking of my friend who was at once a -wife and a widow, and fearing for myself, -whose husband even at that moment might -be falling under his death wound. I was -aroused by hearing the voices of men, subdued -but excited, on the stairway leading to -my room. I ran out and saw several men of -rank and Mr. Bradford on the stairway talking -excitedly, and I heard my name spoken.</p> - -<p>“What’s the matter, gentlemen?” I -asked with forced calmness.</p> - -<p>They looked up at me in a stupid, masculine -sort of way, as if they had something -disagreeable to say and didn’t want to say it. -I could shake those men now, when I think -of how stupid they were! They were listening -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">246</span> -to Mr. Bradford, and I don’t think they -really caught my question, nor did my manner -betray to them how fast my heart was -beating, but they were stupid, nevertheless. -I could hardly get the next words out:</p> - -<p>“Is Dan hurt?”</p> - -<p>This time my voice was so low that they -did not hear it at all.</p> - -<p>“For God’s sake, gentlemen,” I cried -out, “tell me if my husband is wounded or -dead.”</p> - -<p>“Neither, madam!” several voices answered -instantly, and the officer nearest me, -thinking I was going to fall, sprang quickly -to my side. I gathered myself together, and -they told me their business, and I saw why -my presence had embarrassed them—they -wanted my room for the wounded. A funny -thing had happened, incongruous as it was, -in their telling me that my fears for Dan were -groundless. When I asked, “Is Dan hurt?” -one of them had answered, “No, ma’am; -it’s General Rooney Lee;” and I had said, -“Thank God!” I can’t describe the look of -horror with which they heard me.</p> - -<p>“These gentlemen,” began Mr. Bradford, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">247</span> -who was always afraid to speak his -mind, “wanted to bring General Lee here, -and I didn’t have a place to put him, and I -was telling ’em that I thought that—maybe—you -would give him your room. I could -fix up a lounge for you somewhere.”</p> - -<p>“Of course I will! I shall be delighted -to give up my room, or do anything else I -can for General Lee.”</p> - -<p>I busied myself getting my room ready for -General “Rooney,” but he was not brought -to Mr. Bradford’s, after all; his men were -afraid that he might be captured too easily -at Mr. Bradford’s. As night came on the -yard filled up with soldiers. In the lawn, the -road, the backyard, the porches, the outhouses, -everywhere, there were soldiers. You -could not set your foot down without putting -it on a soldier; if you thrust your hand -out of a window you touched a soldier’s back -or shoulder, his carbine or his musket. The -place was crowded not only with cavalry, but -with infantry and artillery, and still they kept -on coming. I had not heard from Dan. It -was late supper-time. I had no heart for supper, -and I felt almost too shaken to present -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">248</span> -myself at the table, but as I passed the dining-room -in my restless rovings I saw General -Stuart’s back, and went in and sat by him.</p> - -<p>“General,” I said, “can you tell me anything -of Dan?”</p> - -<p>“He is neither killed nor wounded. I -know that much. Is not that enough?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, thank God!</p> - -<p>“Oh, general! I wish this war was over!” -I said again.</p> - -<p>“I, too, my child!” He spoke with more -than Stuart’s sadness and gravity, then, remembering -himself, he added quickly in his -own cheery fashion, “But we’ve got to whip -these Yankees first!”</p> - -<p>He finished his cup of coffee (the kind in -common use, made of corn which had been -roasted, parched, and ground), and then went -on telling me about Dan.</p> - -<p>“He has borne himself gallantly, as he -always does, and as you know without my -telling you. I don’t know where he is, but -he will be along presently.”</p> - -<p>And at that moment Dan walked in, without -a coat, and with the rest of that new uniform -a perfect fright. He was covered with -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">249</span> -dust and ashes and gunpowder, and he -looked haggard and jaded. He sat down between -General Stuart and me, too tired to -talk; but after eating some supper, he felt -better, and began discussing the battle and -relating some incidents. He took a card -out of his pocket and handed it to General -Stuart.</p> - -<p>“A Federal officer who is about done -for, poor fellow, handed me that just now. -I don’t know the name. He couldn’t talk.”</p> - -<p>“<i>I</i> do!” General Stuart exclaimed, with -quick, strong interest. “Where did you see -him? This is the name of one of my classmates -at West Point.”</p> - -<p>“I saw him on the roadside as I came on -to supper. While riding along I heard a -strange sound, something like a groan, yet -different from any groan I ever heard—the -strangest, most uncanny sound imaginable. -I dismounted and began to look around for -it, and I found a Yankee soldier lying in a -ditch by the roadside. I couldn’t see that -any legs or arms were broken, nor that he -was wounded at all. I felt him all over, and -asked what was the matter. He didn’t speak, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">250</span> -and I saw that he had been trying to direct -my attention to his face. He tried very hard -to speak, but only succeeded in emitting the -strange sound I had heard before; and on -examining his face closely, and moving the -whiskers aside, I found that he was shot -through both jaws. He made the same noise -again, put his hand in his pocket, and gave -me this card, with another pitiful effort to -speak. I put my coat under his head, laid -some brush across the ditch to hide him, and -promised to go back for him in an ambulance.”</p> - -<p>“Thank you, in my own behalf!” General -Stuart said warmly.</p> - -<p>“Perhaps, poor fellow,” said Dan, “he -took chances on that card’s reaching you. -Seeing my uniform of major of cavalry, he -may not have considered it impossible that -you should hear of his condition through -me.”</p> - -<p>“When you have finished your supper, -major, we will go after him.”</p> - -<p>Tired as they both were, they went out -and attended personally to the relief of the -poor fellow by the roadside. General Stuart -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">251</span> -had everything done for him that was possible, -smoothed his last moments, and grieved over -him as deeply as if his classmate had not been -his enemy.</p> - -<p>Another sad thing among the sorrows of -that supper was when Colonel Sol Williams’s -brother-in-law, John Pegram, came in, and -sat down in our midst. General Stuart went -up to him, and wrung his hand in a silence -that even the dauntless Stuart’s lips were too -tremulous at once to break. When he could -speak he said:</p> - -<p>“I grieve for myself as for you, lieutenant, -but it was a death that any one of us -might be proud to die.”</p> - -<p>Even then the shadow and glory of his -own death was not far from him.</p> - -<p>Colonel Williams had been Lieutenant -Pegram’s superior officer as well as brother-in-law. -It had been his sorrowful lot to take -the body of his colonel on his horse in front -of him, and carry it to a house where it could -be reverently cared for until he could send it -home to bride and kindred. He had cut a -lock of hair from the dead, and when the -troops went off to Pennsylvania, he gave it -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">252</span> -to me for his sister. I shall never forget that -supper hour, or how the unhappy young fellow -looked when he came in among us after -his ride with the dead, and I shall never forget -how I felt about that poor young Federal -soldier who was wounded in the jaws and -couldn’t speak, and how I felt about the -women who loved him far away; I began to -feel that war was an utterly unjustifiable -thing, and that the virtues of valor, loyalty, -devotion which it brings out had better be -brought out some other way. If General -Rooney Lee didn’t take my room, I gave it -up all the same. Two wounded men were -put into it. There were a number of -wounded men in the house, and, of course, -everybody gave way to their comfort. All -but my two were removed in a day or two, -but here these two were, and here they were -when Aunt Sally came home. Her homecoming -was after a fashion that turned our -mourning into righteous and wholesome -wrath. We were sitting on the porch one -afternoon, free and easy in our minds and believing -Aunt Sally away in distant Washington, -when we noted a small object far off -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">253</span> -down the road. As it crawled nearer and -nearer we perceived that it was an ox-cart; -we saw the driver, and behind him somebody -else sitting on a trunk.</p> - -<p>“Good gracious! that’s Aunt Sally!” -cried Mr. Bradford in consternation.</p> - -<p>We were all dreadfully sorry, but it -couldn’t be helped.</p> - -<p>She climbed off the cart at the gate, and -called for some negro to come get her trunk. -Mr. Bradford had already found one, and was -running to the rescue. In fact he had been -running in a half dozen different directions -ever since he had spied Aunt Sally. He -looked as if his wits had left him and as if -he were racing around in a circle.</p> - -<p>“You orter been on hand to he’p me off -o’ that kyart,” she told him. “It do look -like when a man’s wife’s been away this long -time he might be on hand to he’p her off the -kyart.”</p> - -<p>As she came up the walk she said the -yard looked awful torn and “trompled -down”; that she was afraid she would find it -so soon as she heard that the place had been -camping ground for the whole army and her -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">254</span> -away and nobody there to manage the army -as she could have done. She greeted me and -her niece, and in the same breath told her -niece that there was some mud on the steps -which ought to be washed off. Then she -went into the house, taking off her things -and remarking on “things that ought to be -done.” Presently there was a great stir in -the house; she had found out the wounded -men. She commented on their presence in -such a loud voice that we heard it on the -porch, and the men themselves must have -heard it.</p> - -<p>“Just like Mr. Bradford! If I had been -here it wouldn’t have happened. The idea! -Turning the house into a hospital! I won’t -have it! Nobody knows who they are. I -can’t have ’em on my best beds, and between -my best sheets and blankets. Dirty, -common soldiers! I never heard of such a -thing!”</p> - -<p>And she got them out before supper.</p> - -<p>There was an office in the yard and she -had them taken to this. They had to be carried -past us, and I can see them now, poor, -mortified, shame-faced fellows! I was as afraid -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">255</span> -of Aunt Sally as of a rattlesnake, but I think -I could have shaken her then!</p> - -<p>Little it was that I saw of Dan or any of -my army friends after the battle of Brandy. -The cavalry was too busy watching -Hooker’s, while our infantry was pushing on -toward Pennsylvania, to spare any time to -lighter matters. Every day the boys in gray -marched by on their way North.</p> - -<p>I watched from the porch and windows if -by any means I might catch sight of Dan. -But his way did not lie by Bradford’s. One -morning, however, I saw General Stuart riding -by at the head of a large command. I -thought they were going to stop and camp -at Mr. Bradford’s, perhaps, but I was mistaken. -As soon as I saw that they were -going by without stopping, I ran to the fence -and beckoned to General Stuart. He had -seen me on the porch, and rode up to the -fence at once.</p> - -<p>“Aren’t you going to stop at all?” I -asked.</p> - -<p>“Not to-day. In fact we’re off for some -time now.”</p> - -<p>“Is Dan going?” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">256</span></p> - -<p>“Yes. He’s ahead now with General -Chambliss.”</p> - -<p>“Am I not to see him at all, General Stuart?” -I said, trying hard to keep my lip from -quivering—I had a reputation to keep up -with him.</p> - -<p>But he saw the quiver.</p> - -<p>“You can go on with the army if you -want to,” he said in quick sympathy. “I -will give you an ambulance. You can carry -your own maid along, have your own -tent, and have your husband with you. -I will do anything I can for your comfort. -You would nurse our poor fellows -when they get hurt, and be no end of good -to us. But it would be awfully hard on -you.”</p> - -<p>“I wouldn’t mind the hardships,” I answered, -“but you know Dan won’t let me go. -I have begged him several times to let me -live in camp with him. I could nurse the -sick and wounded, and take care of him -if he was shot, and I wouldn’t be a bit of -trouble; and I could patch for the soldiers. -Oh, I’d love to do it! If you come up -with him, General Stuart, ask him to let -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">257</span> -me go, and if he says yes, send the ambulance.”</p> - -<p>“I’ll promise him what I promised you,” -he said, smiling kindly. “Good-by now. -I’ll ride on and send him back to say -good-by to you, if I can manage it. Then -you can talk him into letting you come -with us.”</p> - -<p>I climbed up on the fence to shake hands -with him and to say good-by, and I had another -word for him. Beneath my dress and -next my skin was a little Catholic medal -which had been blessed by my confessor. It -hung around my neck by a slender chain. I -unclasped the chain, drew forth the medal -and gave it to him, my eyes brimming with -tears.</p> - -<p>“It has been blessed by Father Mulvey,” -I said. “Wear it about your neck. Maybe -it will bring you back safe.”</p> - -<p>I was leaning upon the horse’s neck, crying -as if my heart would break. General -Stuart’s own eyes were dim.</p> - -<p>“Good-by,” I said, “and if you can send -Dan back I thank you for us both—I thank -you anyway for thinking of it; but—the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">258</span> -South and his duty first. Good-by, and God -bless you, General Stuart!”</p> - -<p>That was the last time I ever saw him, the -last time that knightly hand clasped mine. -Before he rode away he said some cheerful, -hopeful words, and looked back at me with the -glint of merry mischief in his eyes, threatening -to tell Dan Grey that I was losing my -good repute for bravery. Dan did not come -back to say good-by. I had a little note -which he contrived to send me in some way. -It was only a hasty scrawl, full of good-bys -and God bless yous.</p> - -<p>After saying good-by to General Stuart I -returned to the house. Esten Cooke sat at -a table writing. He was preparing some official -papers for General Stuart, I think, and -had been left behind for that purpose. I understood -him to answer one of my questions -to the effect that he was going to follow the -cavalry presently.</p> - -<p>“Colonel Cooke,” I asked humbly enough, -for I was ready then to take information and -advice from anybody, “how long do you think -it will be before the army comes back?”</p> - -<p>“Can’t say, madam.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">259</span></p> - -<p>“Would you advise me to wait here until -its return?”</p> - -<p>“Can’t say, madam.”</p> - -<p>“Would you advise me to go to Richmond?”</p> - -<p>“Madam, I would advise you to go to -Richmond.”</p> - -<p>“You think then it will be some time -before the army returns?”</p> - -<p>“I can’t say, madam?”</p> - -<p>I felt like shaking him and asking: -“What <i>can</i> you say?” He may have been -a brave soldier and written nice books and all -that, but I think John Esten Cooke was a -very dull, disagreeable man.</p> - -<p>I waited several days, but as I got nothing -further from Dan than the little note—which -was bare of advice because, perhaps, he didn’t -have time to write more, and because he may -not have known how to advise me—I took -John Esten Cooke’s advice and went to Richmond. -I stopped there only a very short time, -and then went on to Petersburg, where mother -was. Reunion with her was compensation -for many troubles, and then, too, she needed -me. She had not heard from Milicent since -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">260</span> -my departure for Culpeper. Then a letter -had reached us through the agency of Mr. -Cridland, in which Milicent had stated her -purpose of coming to us as soon as she could -get a pass—a thing it was every day becoming -more difficult to secure—for she was -determined upon reaching us before the cold -weather came again. Since that letter there -had been absolute silence.</p> - -<p>Then came upon us that awful July of -1863, and the battle of Gettysburg, the beginning -of the end. Virginians fell by hundreds -in that fight, and Pickett’s charge goes -down to history along with Balaklava and -Thermopylæ. There were more vacant -chairs in Virginia, already desolate—there -were more broken hearts for which Heaven -alone held balm. “When Italy’s made, for -what good is it done if we have not a son?” -Again the angel of death had passed me -by. But my heart bled for my friends who -were dead on that red field far away—for -my friends who mourned and could not be -comforted.</p> - -<p>One of our wounded, whose father -brought him home to be nursed, bore to me -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">261</span> -a letter from my husband and a package from -General Stuart. The package contained a -photograph of himself that he had promised -me, and a note, bright, genial, merry, like -himself. That picture is hanging on my wall -now. On the back is written by a hand long -crumbled into dust, “To her who in being a -devoted wife did not forget to be a true patriot.” -The eyes smile down upon us as I -lift my little granddaughter up to kiss my -gallant cavalier’s lips, and as she lisps his -name my heart leaps to the memory of his -dauntless life and death.</p> - -<p>He was shot one beautiful May morning -in 1864 while trying to prevent Sheridan’s approach -to Richmond. It was at Yellow Tavern—a -dismantled old tavern not many miles -from the Confederate capital—that he fell, -and Colonel Venable, who was serving with -him at the time and near him when he fell, -helped, if I remember aright, to shroud him. -When he told me what he could of General -Stuart’s last hours, he said:</p> - -<p>“There was a little Catholic medal -around his neck, Nell. Did you give him -that? We left it on him.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">262</span></p> - -<p>And so passes from this poor history my -beloved and loyal friend, my cavalry hero -and good comrade. Virginia holds his dust -sacred, and in history he sits at the Round -Table of all true-souled and gentle knights. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">263</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI<br /> - -<span class="small">RESCUED BY THE FOE<br /> - -<i>Milicent’s arrest in Washington as related by herself.</i></span></h2> - -<p>I passed May and a part of the summer -of 1863 in fruitless efforts to get a pass to -Virginia. This was when the Civil War was -at its whitest heat, and I was in the city of -Baltimore, where a word was construed into -treason, and messages and letters were contrived -to and from the South only by means -of strategy. One by one my plans failed. -Then came the battle of Gettysburg, and as I -heard of our reverses I felt an almost helpless -lethargy stealing over me—as if I should -never see Nell or mother again. How long -the war would last, and what would be the -end of it none could tell. Nell and mother -were in a besieged country, and the blockade -between us seemed an impassable wall. The -long silence was becoming unbearable as I -slowly realized that it might become the -silence of death and I not know. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">264</span></p> - -<p>At last came news which I thought -affected them, and which startled me into instant -energy.</p> - -<p>One morning my friend, Miss Barnett, a -beautiful girl, rushed into my room, and, -throwing herself on the floor beside me, began -telling me with sobs and tears that my -brother-in-law, Major Grey, or his brother -Dick, was a prisoner in the Old Capitol at -Washington. She begged me to go at once -and see what I could do. If I could not find -some way of helping the prisoner to freedom, -I could at least add to his comfort in -prison.</p> - -<p>“You could at least show him that he -was remembered,” she said. “You could -take some little delicacies which would be -grateful to a prisoner. I will help you to get -them up.”</p> - -<p>Poor Isabelle! It was one of the tragedies -of the war. She was too wretched to -attempt any concealment.</p> - -<p>“You see, if I had any right to go myself -I would not ask you to go for me. If I -were even engaged to him—but I am not. -You see, it couldn’t be. But, O Millie! I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">265</span> -wish there wasn’t any war that I might be -my love’s betrothed and go to him!”</p> - -<p>For a minute her proposition daunted -me. To rush into Washington, a Southern -woman, alone and unprotected; to be surrounded -on all sides by the Government officials -and spies whose business it was to watch -and report every careless word and act of any -one who was known to be interested in the -South or in Southerners—the undertaking -seemed desperate. But there were Isabelle’s -tearful eyes, and there was the fear that Nell’s -husband might be the prisoner. I determined -to make the trip at all hazards.</p> - -<p>Together we made purchases of what we -considered the most tempting delicacies to -take to an invalid or prisoner. There were -cheeses, crackers, oranges, lemons, jellies; -and we did not forget to add to our stock -wine, whisky, pipes, and tobacco. Isabelle -herself sent a box of fine cigars, a costly gift, -for the war with the Southern States affected -the price of tobacco.</p> - -<p>The next morning I started off by myself -to Washington in fear and trembling. Taking -a hack there, and trusting to a kind -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">266</span> -Providence for guidance and protection, I -drove first to the office of the provost marshal -for a permit. On entering his office, to -my consternation I recognized in him the -judge-advocate under whose protection our -truce boat had gone to Richmond not many -months before with the distinct understanding -that her passengers were not to return -from Dixie while the war lasted. But it was -too late to retreat. Rallying all my courage -and self-control I greeted him as a stranger, -asking whether or not I was addressing Judge -Turner. Answered in the affirmative, I requested -permission to visit the prisoners in -the Old Capitol.</p> - -<p>While I was talking he looked up and a -glance almost of recognition lighted his face. -It was succeeded by a more scrutinizing regard -as I stood in perfectly assumed unconsciousness -before him. Bowing, he asked me -to be seated, and to repeat my petition. -Others were waiting their turn, and his answer -was prompt:</p> - -<p>“Certainly, madam. You can see the -two prisoners mentioned, or any one you -wish, and take with you what you please.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">267</span></p> - -<p>An easy job certainly!</p> - -<p>My heart grew light; I arose to go, -thanking the judge cordially.</p> - -<p>He said: “One moment, madam.”</p> - -<p>I went back, and he handed me a pen, -ink, and slip of paper, saying:</p> - -<p>“Just sign this, please. It is of no consequence -at all—a mere matter of form—only -you can not see your friends without -it.”</p> - -<p>There spread out before me was the ironclad -oath!</p> - -<p>Without a moment’s hesitation I replied:</p> - -<p>“The oath, Judge Turner! Am I to sign -that? I can not! and never will!”</p> - -<p>He smiled apologetically and said:</p> - -<p>“It is of no consequence—only a little -form that we have to insist on. Sign it, and -you can go to your friends.”</p> - -<p>“If it is of no consequence to your side, -provost, why should it be of so much to -mine that I can not see my friends without -it?”</p> - -<p>He smiled, and still held the pen out to -me.</p> - -<p>“No! never!” I said. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">268</span></p> - -<p>“Then I can not help you. I am sorry. -You must apply at military headquarters.”</p> - -<p>He kindly directed me to the same. I -hurried down the steps, jumped into my hack, -and drove quickly to the War Department. -Here I made my request again and again met -with the same polite consent backed with the -oath. Again I refused and turned to go, when -one of the officers kindly suggested:</p> - -<p>“Make application to the officer at the -Old Capitol. He may permit you to see the -prisoners without oath, though I fear not.”</p> - -<p>As there was not much time left before -my train would start for Baltimore, I urged -my driver to do his best, and we sped on in -haste until we stopped before the gloomy, -formidable-looking prison of the Old Capitol. -With the permission of the guard I entered. -The officer in command received me with -kindness and courtesy, and with his consent -I was about to ascend the stairs when he extended -his hand, saying:</p> - -<p>“The oath, if you please. I presume you -took it at the War Department, and have -your pass.”</p> - -<p>Again I was foiled. This was my last -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">269</span> -chance. There was no use pleading, and I -was in despair. I leaned on a chair to rest a -moment before leaving the room, defeated. -I had not a word to say, and I did not say a -word. I suppose my deep dejection touched -him. I was about to go when he said with -great kindness:</p> - -<p>“Wait here near these steps. I will send -up an order, and if he is there, he can come -to the railing and you can speak to him, and -send him anything you wish. But you can -not go up.”</p> - -<p>An orderly ascended with the message, -and I waited at the steps, watching anxiously -for Dan or Dick to appear at the railing. I -did not have many minutes to wait. The orderly -returned with the reply that Lieutenant—not -Major—Grey had been exchanged -that very morning, and was now on his way -home. Happy for Nell and Isabelle and -myself, I poured out my thanks to the officer -in command for helping me to such good -news, and asked his permission to send the -large basket of good things I had brought to -the other prisoners. He gave it, and I saw -the orderly again mount the stairs, burdened -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">270</span> -this time with good wishes and my still more -substantial and acceptable offering. As I -went out, passing again through the prison -gates, my driver whispered in the most excited -manner:</p> - -<p>“Lady! lady! do take care! The prisoners -are all at the windows, and if you look -up or speak to them we will both be arrested -instantly.”</p> - -<p>I seated myself quickly, and then, in spite -of all fears and warnings, glanced up, to see -the windows filled with faces, and hands and -handkerchiefs waving to me inside the bars. -As we dashed forward, I leaned out of the -window waving my handkerchief in vigorous -response. In the excitement, the enthusiasm -of the moment, I lost all sense of fear or -danger—my whole heart was with those -desolate, homesick Confederates behind the -bars. Fortunately the driver was frightened -out of his wits and drove like mad, or we -should never have gotten to the train in time.</p> - -<p>I had been fortunate enough to find in my -driver a strong, if secret, sympathizer with -the South. As I bade him good-by, and -thanked him for the care and promptness -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">271</span> -with which he had carried me about, and for -his unheeded warning as well, he said:</p> - -<p>“Oh, lady, lady, you ran a great risk -when you waved that handkerchief! I saw -it and drove as fast as I could to get you -away from there. It is a wonder we were -not arrested.”</p> - -<p>I stepped on the car, and was taking my -seat, when a hand lightly touched my shoulder -from behind, and I heard myself arrested -by a name that was not mine. Behind me -stood a sergeant in the United States uniform, -who informed me that I was his prisoner.</p> - -<p>I tried to shrink away from him.</p> - -<p>“That is not my name,” I said.</p> - -<p>Still he kept that light grip on my shoulder. -I felt sick. The day had been a long -one of exercise and excitement. I had eaten -nothing since my early breakfast of a cracker -and a cup of coffee, and I was physically weak. -The terror of the situation, the full foolhardiness -of my undertaking flashed upon me. -Alone in Washington, not a friend near, and -under arrest! For an instant everything -whirled around me, and I fell back against -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">272</span> -the breast of the sergeant; but as instantly -I pulled myself together and stood erect.</p> - -<p>“You are mistaken,” I said quietly, “I -am not the person you have mentioned.”</p> - -<p>And I threw back my heavy mourning -veil and looked my captor full in the face.</p> - -<p>“Ain’t you? It’s widow’s weeds this -time!”</p> - -<p>These words were spoken sarcastically by -a man in civilian dress who was with the sergeant—a -detective, I suppose.</p> - -<p>“I am Mrs. Milicent Duncan Norman, -of Baltimore,” I said firmly. “You can telegraph -to No. — Charles Street and see. You -will please remove your hand,” I continued. -“If necessary I will go with you, but I am -not the person you wish to arrest. You are -making a mistake.”</p> - -<p>I turned my face full to the light, and -stood, calm and composed, though my knees -were trembling under me, and I felt as if I -should faint. I saw Bobby at home waiting -for me!</p> - -<p>“I must stay over if you insist,” I repeated, -“but I hope you will permit me to -convince you of your mistake. It would be -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">273</span> -extremely inconvenient to me to be detained -here. I left Baltimore this morning, and my -little boy has been without me all day. He -will cry himself sick if I don’t get home to-night.”</p> - -<p>In spite of all I could do my lips quivered.</p> - -<p>“I am sorry, madam,” said my sergeant, -more respectfully than he had hitherto -spoken, “but you will have to come with -me. If it is as you say, you can telegraph and -satisfy the authorities very quickly.”</p> - -<p>My arrest had attracted some attention. -I saw that people in the car were gathering -around me, and I saw curiosity in some faces, -sympathy in some, but among all those faces -none that I knew. This was my first visit to -Washington, and there was not a soul to -identify me. There was nothing to do but -to go and telegraph—if they would let me. I -would have to miss my train. Bobby was -watching from the window for me this very -minute—Bobby would cry all night. I told -the sergeant that I would go, and tried to -follow him, and then everything grew dark -around me, my head whirled, and I dropped -across the seat nearest me. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">274</span></p> - -<p>I could not have been unconscious more -than a second. The kind gentleman over -whose seat I had fallen had caught me, and -was slapping my face with a wet handkerchief, -and assuring the sergeant that he knew by my -face that I was perfectly harmless and ought -not to be arrested, that he would bet anything -on it, when a new passenger hurriedly -entered the car and brushed squarely up -against us.</p> - -<p>The sergeant was saying: “We must -hurry,” and offering me his arm very courteously. -“You will feel better when you get -out in the air. And you will perhaps come -out all right, and be able to go on to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>The newcomer looked over the sergeant’s -shoulder and saw me.</p> - -<p>“Milicent!” he said, and clasped my -hands.</p> - -<p>It was a dear friend whom I had known -in my girlhood days as Captain Warren.</p> - -<p>“What is all this?” he asked quickly of -the sergeant.</p> - -<p>The sergeant was staggered, the little -man in civilian’s clothes cringed, the old man -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">275</span> -who had offered to bet on me was in the -majority.</p> - -<p>“We must get out of this, commodore,” -said the sergeant quickly, “the car is moving.”</p> - -<p>The commodore got out with us, lifted -me bodily off the train, and then, as we stood -together, while the sergeant explained, supported -me with his arm. I was too weak and -ill to hear their talk. I think I was very -nearly in a faint while I stood, or tried to -stand upright beside him.</p> - -<p>He told me afterward that I had been -arrested by mistake for some famous political -spy in petticoats. He answered for me, -made himself responsible in every way, lifted -me into a carriage, and told the driver where -to take us. I was too nearly dead to listen -to what he said. As the carriage whirled -along I tried to sit up, to lift my head, but -every time I attempted it I grew blind and -sick.</p> - -<p>“I would not try to sit up just yet, Mrs. -Norman,” he said very kindly. “In a few -minutes, perhaps, you can do so without risk, -but I’d be very quiet now. In a little while -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">276</span> -I will hand you over to my wife—she is a -wonderful nurse.”</p> - -<p>“My little boy is looking out of the window -for me, waiting for me; he has been by -himself all day,” I sobbed.</p> - -<p>“Ah! I am so sorry you have had this -annoyance and detention. I wish I had -boarded the car earlier; you should have gone -on if I had. I was outside talking with some -friends, and I did not jump on the train until -she was about to move off, but I can telegraph -to your friends, and you can go on to-morrow.”</p> - -<p>The ride in the open air had revived me, -and I found now that I could sit up without -fainting.</p> - -<p>“<i>You</i> were going to Baltimore to-night,” -I said. “I am putting you to so much -trouble.”</p> - -<p>“None at all. And if you were”—with -a tremor in his voice—“I should be glad of -it. <i>Can</i> you sit up? Ah! I am so glad you -are better. When I first took you into this -carriage I was afraid I would have to stop -with you at the first doctor’s office. We are -nearly home now.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">277</span></p> - -<p>“You are very good,” I said, still too -weak not to speak with tears in my voice.</p> - -<p>“I am fortunate—but too much at your -expense, I am afraid. You forget how large -my debt is. I shall never forget the old days -in Norfolk and the kindness that was shown -me by you and yours. I owe you a great -deal, Mrs. Norman, as yourself and as your -father’s daughter. I shall never forget his -charming hospitality. I am sorry you can’t -go on to Baltimore, but I am glad of my -opportunity.”</p> - -<p>“That is a nice way to put it, commodore.”</p> - -<p>“A true way to put it, Mrs. Norman. -Please don’t be too sorry. Where is Nell?—Mrs. -Grey, I suppose I should say. I can’t -think of the saucy little fairy who used to -sit on my knee as a madam.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know just where Nell is, or how. -The fortunes of war have separated me from -her, and mother as well.”</p> - -<p>“And you are alone, without kindred, in -Baltimore?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, except my baby. I wish you could -see Bobby—he is so sweet!” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">278</span></p> - -<p>“He must be.”</p> - -<p>“He has Nell’s eyes and her golden curls—you -remember?”</p> - -<p>“Too well!”</p> - -<p>“And her saucy sweet ways—wilful and -almost bad—if he were not so sweet and true. -But I tire you. Mothers who talk about their -babies bore people. I make many good resolves -not to talk Bobby, and, break every -one.”</p> - -<p>“You could never tire me. I am -charmed to hear about your boy. Maybe -you can find him a little sweetheart in my -house. Here we are.”</p> - -<p>He lifted me out of the carriage and led -me into the house.</p> - -<p>“This is an old friend of mine, dear,” he -said to his wife. “She is sick and in trouble, -and I have brought her to you. Her father’s -home used to be my home in Norfolk. Mrs. -Norman is Miss Duncan that was.”</p> - -<p>She had heard of me. He began to explain -how he had met me, but she interrupted.</p> - -<p>“I will come back and hear,” she said, -“when I have made Mrs. Norman comfortable. -She looks worn-out. I must take her -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">279</span> -to her room and see what I can do to make -her more at ease.” While she was talking -she had me in a chair, holding my hand, and -giving me a glass of wine.</p> - -<p>Commodore Warren took my Baltimore -address, and went out saying he would send -the telegrams at once—a special one to -Bobby all by himself.</p> - -<p>Then Mrs. Warren saw me to my room. -As we passed through hallways and up the -stairs, our feet sank into soft, thick carpets -that gave back no sound. Through an open -doorway I caught a glimpse of her own exquisite -chamber and of a cozy nursery where -children’s gowns were laid out for the night. -Everywhere around me were evidences of -wealth, luxury, and refinement.</p> - -<p>After a little rest I felt better.</p> - -<p>As I went down to dinner I heard the -street door open, and Commodore Warren’s -voice in the hall.</p> - -<p>Then children’s voices:</p> - -<p>“Papa! papa!”</p> - -<p>He was taking his children in his arms -and kissing them, and I heard the glad murmur -of his wife’s welcome. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">280</span></p> - -<p>Together they took me in to their table, -and showered upon me courtesies and loving-kindness. -Such a delightful dining-room it -was—such lovely appointments and such perfect -serving! and such charming hosts they -made! The children are beautiful and well -trained. They were brought into the parlor -after dinner, and made great friends with me. -You know children always like me, Nell. -This trio took possession of me. They hovered -around me, leaned against me, climbed -into my lap, and the youngest went to sleep -in my arms, her soft golden head nestled -under my chin. We decided that she is to be -Bobby’s sweetheart. Their parents were -afraid that I was not strong enough for such -demonstrations, but I begged that they -would not interrupt the little people, whose -caresses really did me a world of good. But -the commodore called the nurse when the -baby dropped to sleep, and she took it to the -nursery, the other children following her. By -this time I was quite myself. A telegram had -come from Isabelle, saying she was with -Bobby and that Bobby was comforted.</p> - -<p>Commodore and Mrs. Warren suggested -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">281</span> -that we should go to the opera. It was -rather late to start, but the carriage would -take us in a few minutes, and we should not -miss more than the first act. A great singer -was to be heard, and the commodore remembered -that I was fond of music. When I objected -on the score that I was not in opera -dress and that my wardrobe was in Baltimore, -they explained that they kept a private -box, and that I could hear without being distinctly -visible—if I was not too fatigued to -think of going.</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!” I said. “You know I love -opera, and, thanks to you both, I am entirely -rested and comfortable about Bobby.”</p> - -<p>Mrs. Warren ran up-stairs to dress while -the carriage was being made ready. As for -me, there was nothing to do but to put on -my bonnet and cloak, so I sat still, and Commodore -Warren drew up a chair in front of -the sofa where I sat.</p> - -<p>“This is like old times,” he said.</p> - -<p>I tried to keep them back, but somehow -I felt the tears starting to my eyes.</p> - -<p>He got up and walked to the other end of -the room, and brought a book of drawings of -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">282</span> -queer places and people he had seen in his -journeys around the world. While he was -showing them to me he remarked:</p> - -<p>“I’ve a box somewhere of curious toys -picked up in various parts of the world at -different times, and I think Master Bobby -would be interested in them. We’ll get Mrs. -Warren to look it up, and I’ll ask you to be -kind enough to take it to him with my compliments. -It may—in a measure—recompense -him for his mother’s absence to-night.”</p> - -<p>“Bobby will be delighted—if he is not -robbing your children.”</p> - -<p>“My children,” he laughed, “have a surfeit -of toys from the four corners of the earth. -They have almost lost appreciation of such -things. By the way, has Nell”—he caught -himself with a laugh—“Mrs. Grey, I should -say, any little ones of her own?”</p> - -<p>“Bobby is the only baby in the family; -but he is enough to go around.”</p> - -<p>“I remember with profound gratitude -the many expressions I used to receive of -Nell’s regard in those old days, and seeing -you brings them back. Oh, forgive me—I -know there have been many changes.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">283</span></p> - -<p>“Don’t apologize,” I said, smiling; “I -am always glad to have old days and old -friends recalled. Usually it does not shake -me even to talk about father—it’s a pleasure -to think people remember him. In the first -part of this evening I had not quite recovered -from my arrest. But Richard is himself again -now. I haven’t forgotten how to be happy, -and I’m going to enjoy this opera.” And I -did enjoy it.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Warren took me to my train in her -carriage; and there he met us to say good-by -to me, and to tell me that he would see that -I had a pass to Norfolk in a day or two. -They both saw me comfortably seated, and -after farewells were said and he had seen his -wife to her carriage he stepped back on the -cars with a handful of flowers for me.</p> - -<p>“Is there nothing,” he asked, “nothing -that I can do for you? If you are ever in -any trouble when I can help you, won’t you -let me know?”</p> - -<p>I bowed my head.</p> - -<p>“And Bobby—if there is ever anything -I can do for your child, you will let me -know?” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">284</span></p> - -<p>“Good-by,” he said, “it is good to meet -old friends and find that neither time nor war -changes them. Good-by—we shall see you -again some day.”</p> - -<p>Isabelle was very happy when I told her -that Dick was safe, and now that it was over -she regretted having sent me into such dangers -and tribulations.</p> - -<p>“I ought to have gone,” she said. “I -could have taken the oath, you see, if they had -asked me. And then, well, papa is known -there, but—I couldn’t ask papa to help Dick. -He wouldn’t have done anything for him.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">285</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII<br /> - -<span class="small">WITH DAN AT CHARLOTTESVILLE</span></h2> - -<p>Milicent always came as a soul comes.</p> - -<p>The day after we got the batch of letters -the door opened softly, and there she stood, -holding Bobby by the hand. She had come -so quietly that we did not know it until she -stood in our midst. But Bobby was a veritable -piece of flesh and blood. As soon as -he saw it was grandma and auntie, he made a -bound for us, and overwhelmed us with his -noisy and affectionate greetings, while his -mother submitted to being loved and kissed, -and in her quiet way loved and kissed back -again. Then she told us how she had come -from Norfolk to Petersburg. It was a long, -dreary trip.</p> - -<p>“I went on a flag-of-truce train to Suffolk. -Dr. Wright’s family were on the train, -and I spent the night with them. Bobby -burned his throat at supper by swallowing -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">286</span> -tea too hot for him, and he did not rest well -in the early part of the night and slept late -the next day, and I was very anxious about -him. This, and the difficulty in getting a conveyance, -kept me at Dr. Wright’s until the -afternoon. By that time I had secured a -mule-cart to take me to Ivor Station, on the -Norfolk and Petersburg Railroad. Ivor, you -know, is not more than twenty-five miles -from Suffolk by the direct route, but the -route we had to take for safety, as far as the -Yankees and mud were concerned, was -longer, and our one mule went slowly.</p> - -<p>“The first afternoon we traveled till late -in the night. Bobby would insist on driving -the mule, and the driver humored him. In -spite of the pain in his throat, he stood up -against my knee and held the lines until, poor -little tired fellow! he went to sleep holding -them. I drew him on to my lap, covered him -up, and we went on, the old negro, old mule, -and baby all asleep. At last we stopped at a -farmhouse to feed the mule. The woman who -lived there asked me in. I laid Bobby down -on her bed, dropped across it, and in five minutes -was asleep myself. I don’t know how -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">287</span> -many other people slept in that bed that -night, but I know that the old woman, Bobby, -and I slept in it. When I woke up it was several -hours after daylight. Our breakfast the -next morning was a typical Confederate -breakfast. My hostess gave me a drink made -of parched wheat and corn which had been -ground, a glass of milk, and some corn bread -and bacon, and I enjoyed the meal and paid -her cheerfully.</p> - -<p>“We reached Ivor late that afternoon, -my driver got his fee and departed, and -Bobby and I were left to wait for the train. -But we were not the only persons at the station; -two other women were waiting at Ivor. -If those two women could have had their -way there would never have been another -sunset on this earth. Their two sons were to -be shot at sundown—they were watching for -the sun to go down. Up and down, up and -down, they walked in front of a tent where -their sons under military guard awaited execution, -and as they walked their eyes, swift -and haggard, shifted from tent to sky and -back again from sky to tent. As my train -moved out of the station I glanced back. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">288</span> -They were walking with feverish haste, and -the sun hung low in the heavens.”</p> - -<p>“Hush, hush!” I cried, “I can’t stand -another word—I shall dream of those women -all night. Tell me how you got here at -last!”</p> - -<p>“When I reached Pocahontas I meant to -go to Jarrett’s, and stop until I could find out -where you were, but while I was looking -around for a carriage who should I come -upon but John, our old hackman. He told -me that you were both out here at Uncle -William’s, and I made him drive me out.”</p> - -<p>Soon after my sister’s arrival we moved -into town and boarded at Miss Anne Walker’s, -an old historic house then facing Washington -Street, which runs east and west, paralleling -the railroad at Jarrett’s Hotel—or rather -where Jarrett’s used to stand—an ugly old -hotel in the heart of the town. It was beside -this railroad that I ran bareheaded along -Washington Street some months later to get -out of the way of the Yankee cannon. I -was at Miss Anne’s when Dan gave me leave -to visit him at Charlottesville. His headquarters -was a small cottage in sight of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">289</span> -university and of my window. He came -home every night—home was a student’s -room in the university—and very often I -went with him in the morning to his cottage.</p> - -<p>One morning as I sat in the cottage, turning -a pair of Dan’s old trousers, the door -opened, and a fine-looking cavalry officer -entered. Surprised to find a lady in occupation, -he lifted his hat and started to withdraw. -Then he hesitated, regarding me in a confused, -doubtful fashion. Whereupon I in my -turn began to stare at him.</p> - -<p>“Isn’t this John—John Mason?” I asked -suddenly.</p> - -<p>“That is my name,” with a sweeping -bow. “And are you not my old friend, Miss -Nellie Duncan, of Norfolk?”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” I answered smiling, “but you -know I have a third name now.”</p> - -<p>“Of course. Unpleasant facts are always -hard to remember. I heard of your marriage, -certainly, but for the moment the remembrance -of it escaped me. You are here -with the major?”</p> - -<p>The last time I had seen John was on that -day which closed the chapter of my happy -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">290</span> -girlhood in Norfolk. He had been with me -when the telegram came telling us that father -could not live, and from that day to this I -had never seen him until he surprised me -patching Dan’s old trousers in the cottage -at Charlottesville.</p> - -<p>He took the chair opposite, and began -talking about the work I was doing and the -evidence it bore to my being a good wife. -But so far from being pleased I was very -much mortified, for the old trousers were in -a dreadful state of wear and tear, and he was -resplendent in a new uniform. But after a -while we dropped the trousers, and got on -the subject of Norfolk and old times, and had -quite a pleasant chat till my husband came -in and he and John turned their attention to -business.</p> - -<p>I was seeing more of my husband than at -any previous or later period of the war, and -having altogether a delightful time. One of -the things I enjoyed most were our horseback -rides.</p> - -<p>Dan had two horses for his own use—Tom -Hodges, his old army horse, and Nellie -Grey, a fine new mare that he had christened -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">291</span> -for me. When his horse was shot under him -in that charge which has been mentioned before, -the people of his native town had sent -him Nellie Grey in its stead. Nellie was -a beautiful creature, docile but very spirited, -and I was not often trusted to ride her unless -Dan himself was along. Tom Hodges was -not so handsome, but he was a horse of decorous -ideas and steadfast principles.</p> - -<p>I remember well my first ride on Nellie -Grey. I had the reputation of being an excellent -horsewoman, and Dan wanted to show -me off. He was inordinately proud of me, to -my great delight, but I could have dispensed -with the form his vanity took on that day.</p> - -<p>As we rode in an easy canter down University -Avenue he gave Nellie Grey a cut, -without my knowledge, that sent her off like -the wind in a regular cavalry gallop.</p> - -<p>Well, I kept my seat—somehow—and I -brought her to her senses and a standstill, -and then I looked back to see Dan beaming -with pride and pleasure.</p> - -<p>“What is the matter with this horse?” I -asked. “She’s a fool!”</p> - -<p>Then Dan told me of that secret cut. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">292</span></p> - -<p>“I knew just what she would do,” he -said, “and I knew what you’d do. I wanted -to show the boys over there what pluck my -wife’s got.”</p> - -<p>“Dan,” I said solemnly, “it’s not Nellie -Grey that’s the fool.”</p> - -<p>I was breathless and vexed, and I had to -use the strongest language at my command -to express my opinion of Nellie Grey, but -it wasn’t strong enough to express my feelings -toward Dan! I simply had to look my -thoughts!</p> - -<p>“You see, wifie,” he went on apologetically, -“you did look so pretty and plucky that -you ought to have seen yourself.”</p> - -<p>Sam had gone home on a furlough, and -in his place Dan had a very magnificent body-servant -named Napoleon Bonaparte, and an -under-boy named Solomon. Napoleon -Bonaparte brushed the major’s boots, and -Solomon brushed Napoleon’s. Napoleon -Bonaparte was a bright mulatto, Solomon -was as black as tar. It was Napoleon Bonaparte’s -business to supply my room with -wood, but this task he delegated to Solomon. -Whatever menial work the major ordered -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">293</span> -Napoleon Bonaparte to do, Napoleon turned -over to Solomon. “Solomon,” he said, -“was nothin’ but a free nigger nohow.” It -came to pass finally that Solomon, ostensibly -hired to one master, in reality served two. -Of course, Napoleon Bonaparte feathered his -own nest and worked things so that the major -was really paying two men to do the work -of one. When the major could not ride -with me, he sent Napoleon Bonaparte to act -as groom. This Napoleon Bonaparte esteemed -an honor, and he only appointed Solomon -in his stead when he himself was in demand -as equerry for the major. Napoleon -always elected to follow the major in such -case, as that was higher employment in his -eyes than riding behind me. One morning I -stood waiting in my habit a long time for the -horses. At last when they appeared Solomon -came on a sorry mount, leading Tom -Hodges. The procession moved at a snail’s -pace, and Solomon looked dreadfully glum.</p> - -<p>“What makes you so late?” I asked impatiently.</p> - -<p>“Dunno ’zackly, marm. Evvybody in de -camp got de debbul in ’em. Major, he got -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">294</span> -de debbul in him! ’Poleon Bonaparte, he got -de debbul in <i>him</i>. An’ evvybody got de -debbul in ’em!”</p> - -<p>“There seem to have been a great many -devils in camp. Wasn’t there one to spare for -you, Solomon?”</p> - -<p>“Nor’m, I ain’t had no debbul in me—me -an’ Tom Hodges. We’s been de onliest -peaceable people in camp. Ef I hadn’t er -kep’ de peace, me an’ ’Poleon Bonaparte -would ha’ fit, sho!”</p> - -<p>“I should think you would like to fight -Napoleon—I should, if I were you.”</p> - -<p>“Nor’m, I don’ b’lieve in no fightin’—’cep’in’ -’tis ter fit de Yankees. I’m er peaceable -man, I is.”</p> - -<p>I told Dan what a bad report Solomon -had made out against him.</p> - -<p>He laughed. “Solomon has the grumps -this morning. He seemed to have quite a -time with your namesake, as well as with the -rest of us. Napoleon Bonaparte sent him to -rub Nellie Grey down and saddle her for me. -The mare threw her head up and jerked him -about a little, and we could hear him saying: -‘Whoa! Nellie Grey, whoa! You got de -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">295</span> -debbul in <i>you</i> too! Who-a, Nellie Grey!’ Between -the two of them I am having rather -a hard time lately,” said Dan. “Solomon -blames ’Poleon Bonaparte directly for all the -hard times he has, and me indirectly. If -something isn’t done as it should be, and I -take Napoleon to task, he lays it thick and -hard on Solomon. Solomon did have a time -of it at camp this morning. You see, ’Poleon -Bonaparte is very particular about the way -the horses are kept, but he makes Solomon -do all the rubbing down, and Solomon -doesn’t understand how to manage horses -and is a little afraid of them. ’Poleon Bonaparte -found fault with his job this morning, -and made him rub Nellie Grey down twice. -It naturally occurred to Nellie that so much -rubbing meant an opportunity for playing. -Black Solomon really was the good angel at -camp, for before he and Nellie Grey got us -to laughing, swearing had been thick enough -to cut with a knife. I had turned loose on -’Poleon, and ’Poleon had turned loose on -Solomon.”</p> - -<p>“Dan, what <i>makes</i> you keep them both?”</p> - -<p>“Keep them both! I don’t. I don’t -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">296</span> -want either of them, but I can’t get rid of -them.”</p> - -<p>“Make Napoleon do his work and send -Solomon off.”</p> - -<p>“Make! Nell, how you talk! And ’Poleon’s -got just as much right to hire a nigger -as I have to own one.”</p> - -<p>And during our stay in Charlottesville -Dan’s servants gave him “more trouble,” he -said, “than fighting the Yankees.” But it -was a very happy time in my life.</p> - -<p>The late springtime of ’64 found me again -in Petersburg.</p> - -<p>More vacant chairs, more broken hearts, -more suffering, and starvation nearer at hand -was what I found there. Milicent was spending -her time in nursing the sick and wounded -in the hospital, and winning from them the -name that has clung to her ever since. There -are old white-haired men in the South who -still call her “Madonna.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">297</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII<br /> - -<span class="small">“INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH”</span></h2> - -<p>One lovely morning mother sat at an -upper window shelling peas for dinner. The -window commanded a view of the Petersburg -heights and beyond. Presently she stopped -shelling peas, and gazed intently out of the -window.</p> - -<p>“What is that on the heights, Nellie?” -she asked, and then, “What men are those -running about on the hill beyond?”</p> - -<p>I came to the window and looked out. -The hills looked blue.</p> - -<p>With a sinking heart I got the field-glass -and turned it southeast. The hills swarmed -with soldiers in Federal uniforms! Men in -gray were galloping up to the Reservoir and -unlimbering guns. We heard the roar of -cannon, the rattle of musketry. The heavens -were filled with fire and smoke. Men in blue -were vanishing as they came; they thought -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">298</span> -Reservoir Hill a fort. That was the ninth of -June, when 125 old men and boys saved the -town by holding Kautz’s command, 1,800 -strong, at bay on the Jerusalem Plank Road -as long as they could and long enough to -give Graham’s and Studivant’s batteries and -Dearing’s cavalry time to rush to the front. -The Ninth of June is Petersburg’s Memorial -Day, her day of pride and sorrow.</p> - -<p>A few days after—mother was shelling peas -again—whiz! whack! a shell sung through -the air, striking in Bolling Square. Whiz! -whack! came another, and struck Mrs. Dunlop’s -house two doors from us. Mrs. De -Voss, our neighbor on one side, and Mrs. -Williams and her two daughters who lived on -the other, ran in, pale with terror, and -clamored to go down into our cellar. We -were like frightened sheep. I half laugh, half -cry now with vexation to think how calmly -and stubbornly mother sat shelling peas in -that window. She was bent on finishing her -peas before she moved. Finally we induced -her to go with us, and we all went down into -the cellar. There we huddled together for -the rest of the day, and until late into the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">299</span> -night, not knowing what went on above or -outside, little Bobby asleep in his mother’s -lap, and the rest of us too frightened to sleep. -At last, when we had heard no guns for a -long time, we crept upstairs and lay down -on our beds and tried to sleep. The next -morning the shelling began again. Shells -flew all around us. One struck in the yard -next to ours; another horrid, smoking thing -dropped in our own yard. We decided that it -was time to abandon the house.</p> - -<p>As the firing came from the south and the -east, and the Appomattox was on the north -of the city, we could only turn to the west. -Any other direction and we would have run -toward the guns or into the river. With no -more rhyme or reason than this in our course -we started up Washington Street, running -west, but without regard to the order of our -going.</p> - -<p>Crossing the railroad at Jarrett’s Hotel, I -saw a Confederate soldier whom I recognized -as an old playmate and friend of Norfolk -days. We stopped each other.</p> - -<p>“Where did you come from, Harry?”</p> - -<p>“Where are you running to, Nell?” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">300</span></p> - -<p>“Why, we were at Miss Anne Walker’s -and the shells were bursting in our yard, and -we are getting out of the way.”</p> - -<p>Zip! a shell passed over my head and burst -a few yards away. I didn’t wait to say good-by, -but ran along Washington Street for my life. -At last we got to Mr. Venable’s house, which -was out of the range of the guns, and there -we stopped with others. Many people had -passed us on our way, and we had passed -many people, all running through Washington -Street for dear life. Everybody seemed -to be running; in Mr. Venable’s house quite -a crowd was gathered. His family were from -home, but their friends filled the house. We -watched from doors and windows, and talked -of our friends who had fallen, of the Ninth -of June, and of how Fort Hell and Fort -Damnation got their names. We spoke of a -friend who had kissed wife and children good-by, -and gone out that fateful Ninth with -the militia up the Jerusalem Plank Road to -Fort Hell. Later in the day a wagon had -come lumbering up to the door, blood dripping -from it as it jolted along. In it lay the -husband and father, literally shot to pieces. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">301</span> -His little boy walked weeping behind it. -His widow had shrouded him with her own -hands, and trimmed his bier herself with the -fragrant June flowers that were growing in -her yard—flowers which he had loved and -helped to tend. She had a house full of little -ones around her. She had never known how -to work, and now she was going about finding -tasks to do, bearing up bravely and -strengthening her children, she who had been -as dependent upon her husband for love and -tenderness as his children were upon her.</p> - -<p>As the day waned we saw people hurrying -past the Venable home bearing the wounded. -I remember one poor fellow who was lying -on a stretcher that was borne by his friends. -He seemed to be shot almost to pieces. Graycoats -were passing now, marching into the -city.</p> - -<p>As we sat at supper that night—a large -party it was at that hospitable board—a servant -brought a message to the three of us. -A gentleman—a soldier—wished to see us. -I went into the hall, and there was Walter -Taylor. I don’t think I was ever so glad to -see anybody in my life. Walter was not only -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">302</span> -“Walter,” but he was General Lee’s adjutant, -and the very sight of him meant help to us. -What did mother, Millie, and I do but throw -our arms around his neck and kiss him like -crazy women.</p> - -<p>“I can’t stop a minute,” he said. “I -heard you were here, and felt that I <i>must</i> come -out to see how you were getting along. -But I must go straight back to my command. -Let me know if I can do anything -for you.”</p> - -<p>“Walter, where is Dan?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, Nell, but I think he will -be here to-night—if he is not here already.”</p> - -<p>We felt like clinging to Walter and holding -him back. I for one had lost my nerve. -I was sick of war, sick of the butchery, the -anguish, the running hither and thither, the -fear. Soon after supper my husband came in. -I was tremblingly glad to see him again, to -touch his warm living body, to see that he -was not maimed and mutilated—yet it hung -over me all the time that he must go away -in a few minutes—to come back, or be -brought back—how? I kept my hand on -him all the time he sat beside me. Every -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">303</span> -time he moved I trembled, feeling that it was -a move to go.</p> - -<p>“What are you doing out here?” he -asked; “I thought you were at Miss Anne’s -and went there for you.”</p> - -<p>“We left there.”</p> - -<p>“What for?”</p> - -<p>“The shells were flying all around us, and -we were afraid, and ran out here, I tell you.”</p> - -<p>“Afraid? Why, Nell, <i>you</i> weren’t -afraid?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I am—I’m terrified.”</p> - -<p>“A soldier’s wife—a regular campaigner!”</p> - -<p>“I can’t help it. I’m scared.”</p> - -<p>“After all you’ve been through, like the -brave girl you are, to break down like a -coward!”</p> - -<p>“I can’t help what you call me, I’m -scared—I’m scared to death.”</p> - -<p>“Nell, I’m ashamed of you.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t help it, Dan; I’m scared.”</p> - -<p>“What would General Stuart say if he -could know?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t care what he would think. I’m -terrified. I’m going to run from those shells -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">304</span> -as long as there is a place to run to. I’m -not going to stand still and let a shell strike -me to please anybody. I’m for getting away -from town. If I had my way we’d take to -the woods this night, and let the Yankees -have it.”</p> - -<p>“They’d mighty soon find us in the -woods.”</p> - -<p>“Then I’d move on. They can have -everywhere they come to now, as far as I am -concerned.”</p> - -<p>Dan looked aghast. I was completely demoralized. -Knowing he <i>must</i> go, I summoned -all my strength and braced myself for -the parting, but though Dan was sorry for me, -my effort to be brave was so comical that he -had to laugh. By morning the range of the -guns was changed, shells were flying all over -the city, and our present quarters were not -exempt. Zip! zip! crack! bang! the nasty -things went everywhere.</p> - -<p>We piled ourselves, pell-mell, helter-skelter -into the first ambulance we could get and -started out Washington Street again as fast -as ever we could get the driver to urge his -horses. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">305</span></p> - -<p>Everybody was racing out Washington -Street, still running west. Pell-mell, helter-skelter, -they ran, any way to get out of the -range of the horrid, whizzing, singing, zipping -bombs. We met Mr. McIlvaine driving -toward town, that is, in the direction from -which we were running.</p> - -<p>He hailed us.</p> - -<p>“Where are you going?”</p> - -<p>“We don’t know where we are going. -We are not going anywhere that we know -of.”</p> - -<p>“Go to my house. My family are away, -but I can make you welcome. Quite a number -of people are out there now.”</p> - -<p>We found this to be the literal truth. All -the floors were covered with mattresses—if -you rolled off your own mattress you rolled -on to some one else’s, for they were laid so -thick that they touched. But things might -always be worse.</p> - -<p>Mr. McIlvaine had an excellent cook. -She made delicious rolls and wonderful muffins -and wafers, and as far as skill went our -provisions were turned into delicious food. -There was quite a colony—seven women besides -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">306</span> -ourselves—and we told Mr. McIlvaine -that we could not expect him to feed us all, -that we were thankful enough for shelter and -to have our cooking done, and that we would -all throw in and buy provisions. So we made -a common fund, and sent for such things as -could be had by Mr. McIlvaine whenever he -went into town.</p> - -<p>My husband came out to see me quite -often during the weeks that followed, and -Colonel Taylor and many of our military -friends remembered us by dropping in to tea -and spending an evening with us when they -could. There was a piano in the parlor, and -our evenings were often gay with singing, -music, and dancing. There was but one servant -on the place as I remember—the cook I -have spoken of, and whom I remember -vividly and affectionately for the good things -to eat she set before us. To cook for us, -however, was about all she could do. We -had but few clothes with us, and when these -got soiled there was no washerwoman to be -had, so when Sue Williams said she was going -to wash her clothes herself we all got up -our washings, and went down into the back -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">307</span> -yard with her. We found some tubs ands -drew our water, and made up some fire under -a pot, as we had seen the negroes do. I can -see Sue now, drawing water and lifting -buckets back and forth from the well. We -tied some clothes up in a sheet and put them -into the pot to boil; then we put some other -clothes in a tub and began to wash; meanwhile -we had to keep up the fire under the -pot. It was dinner hour by the time we got -thus far. The weather was very hot and -we were dreadfully tired, and we hadn’t got -any clothes on the line yet. We stopped to -swallow our dinner, and went at it again. -The sun was going down when we had a pile -of clothes washed, rinsed, and wrung, ready -for the line. We didn’t know what to do -about it. There didn’t seem to be any precedent -that we had ever known for hanging -clothes out at sundown. On the other hand, -if we didn’t spread them out they would mildew—we -had heard of such things. If they -had to be spread out, certainly there was no -better place to spread them than on the line. -So at sunset we hung out our clothes to dry. -There were handkerchiefs on the line and a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">308</span> -petticoat apiece. The rest of the clothes -were in the pot and the tub, and they are -there now for aught I know to the contrary. -I don’t know what became of them, but I -know we went into the house and went to -bed with the backache and every other sort -of ache. I have never in all my life worked -so hard as I worked that day trying to wash -my clothes out; and the next day the clothes -on the line looked yellow for all the labor -that was put upon them. I have never known -why they looked yellow—not for lack of work, -for we had rubbed holes in some of them. -We did not undertake to iron them for fear -we should make them look still worse, but -wore them rough dry.</p> - -<p>Early one morning we waked suddenly, -and sprang to our feet and reached for each -other’s trembling hands. There had been a -sudden and terrific noise. The earth was -shaking. That awful thunder! that horrible -quaking of the earth! as if its very bowels -were being rent asunder! What was it? -We tried to whisper to each other through -the darkness of our rooms, but our tongues -were dry and palsied with fear. We feared -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">309</span> -to draw the curtains of our windows, we -dared not move. That was the morning of -the 30th of July, the morning when the -Crater was made—when an entire regiment -was blown into the air, and when into the -pit left behind them Federals and Confederates -marched over each other, and fought -all day like tigers in a hole. If you ever go -to the quaint old town of Petersburg, you can -drive out the old Jerusalem Plank Road to -Forts Hell and Damnation, and you can turn -out of it to a large hole in the earth which -is called the Crater. The last time I was at -the Crater it was lined with grass; some sassafras -bushes grew on the sides; down in the -hollow was a peach-tree in blossom, a mocking-bird -sang in it, and a rabbit hopped away -as I looked down.</p> - -<p>Soon after the explosion occurred, we -saw from our windows that the McIlvaine -place was swarming with soldiers who were -throwing up earthworks everywhere. They -were our own soldiers, of course, and we applied -for an ambulance and got one, and went -back in it to Miss Anne’s in town.</p> - -<p>I shall never forget how that deserted -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">310</span> -house felt when we three women and little -Bobby entered it. The dust was on everything -and there was a musty smell about -everywhere. That night Millie had high -fever. Such a wretched night as it was! no -servants, no conveniences, little or no food; -Millie in a raging fever, little sleepy Bobby -crying for his mother and his supper; the -shock of the Crater still upon us, danger -underneath, overhead, everywhere. The next -morning Millie’s fever was lower, and she -seemed better.</p> - -<p>“We must get her away from here, or -she will die,” mother said.</p> - -<p>But how? We could hear nothing of Dan, -and didn’t know where to find him. Mother -sent a note to General Mahone by a passing -soldier asking for a pass to Richmond. Her -reply was an ambulance and a driver who -brought a note from the general, saying that -we would be taken outside of the city to the -nearest point to where our trains from Richmond -were allowed to come. We got Millie -into the ambulance and were taken to the -Dunlop’s, a beautiful place on the Richmond -Railroad. Here we waited for a train which -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">311</span> -did not come. Night came on; still we -waited, but no train. We sent into the house -and asked for lodgings. Answer came that -the house was full, and no more people -could be taken in. Millie’s fever continued -to rise. We sent again, saying how ill she -was, and begging for shelter for the night. -The same answer was returned, and there -we were out on the lawn, our shawls spread -on two trunks and Millie lying on them, -and looking as if every breath would be her -last.</p> - -<p>“Do you know where Colonel Walter -Taylor is stationed?” I asked our driver.</p> - -<p>“Yes, ma’am. I know exactly where he -is. His camp is about a mile from here.”</p> - -<p>“How could I get a note to him?”</p> - -<p>“I will go with it. I’ll take one of the -horses out of the ambulance.”</p> - -<p>I scratched off:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Walter</span>: We are out in the -woods near Dunlop’s without any shelter, and -Millie is very ill. Can you help us?</p> - -<p class="author"> -“Affectionately,<br /> -“<span class="smcap">Nell</span>.”<br /> -</p></blockquote> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">312</span></p> - -<p>The driver took the note and Walter -came back with him.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know what to do, Nell,” he -said. “There is no train to Richmond till -noon to-morrow, but you can’t stay out -here.”</p> - -<p>He went himself to the house, but without -effect.</p> - -<p>“I will send you a tent and a doctor,” -he said. “That is the best I can do for you. -I wish I could stay here with you all and help -take care of Millie to-night, but I must go -back at once.”</p> - -<p>The tent came and with it Dr. Newton, -and Millie was made as comfortable as was -possible on the trunks.</p> - -<p>An old negress who was passing saw our -strait and brought us her pillow in a clean -pillow-case, and we put that under Millie’s -head. We gave “aunty” some tea that we -had with us, and she took it to her cabin -and drew us a cup or two over her fire, and -we got Millie to swallow a little of it. We -had picked Bobby up off the grass, and -dropped him on a pile of bags in a corner of -the tent. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">313</span></p> - -<p>At one time that night we thought Millie -would die—the doctor himself was doubtful -if she could live till morning. When -morning came she was alive, and that was all. -Dr. Newton sent for a stretcher and had her -lifted on it into the train. That was a terrible -journey; there were many delays, and we -thought we should never get to Richmond, -but we were there at last. We went into the -waiting-room at the station and sent for Major -Grey’s brother. Fortunately, he was quickly -found, and took us to the house at which he -boarded and where there was a vacant room. -The city was crowded, and on such short -notice it was the best he could do, but it was -a stifling little place.</p> - -<p>The room was small, its only window -opened on a little dark hallway, there was -an objectionable closet attached to the room, -and the close, unwholesome air made me sick -and faint as we opened the door. We laid -Millie on the bed. Suddenly she gasped, -moaned something that sounded like “I am -dying!” and seemed to be dead.</p> - -<p>“Air!” cried mother hopelessly, “she -needs air.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">314</span></p> - -<p>But there was no window for Dick to -throw up.</p> - -<p>He picked her up in his arms, ran down -the steps with her, and into the open street. -The ladies in the house all came out to us, -offering help and sympathy, and with us got -Millie into the parlor, where we laid her on -a lounge, and where two physicians worked -over her for hours before they were sure she -would recover entirely from the attack. -They said it was heart failure. That evening -we carried her on a stretcher to the Spotswood -Hotel. She was ill for two weeks. -Then Bobby was ill for five. Our funds ran -out. What moneys we had were in the -Yankee lines and inaccessible, and Millie determined -to put her education and accomplishments -to use. She set herself to work -to find something to do, and a lady from -Staunton who happened to meet us at this -time, learning that she wanted work, offered -her a position in a young ladies’ school. So -Millie and little Bobby went to Staunton. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">315</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV<br /> - -<span class="small">BY THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH</span></h2> - -<p>Not long after they left, mother and I -came in from a round of calls one day to find -a telegram awaiting me:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Dan wounded, but not dangerously. -Come.</p> - -<p class="author"> -“<span class="smcap">Gus.</span>”<br /> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>I hurried into my room and changed my -dress—to be careful of wearing apparel had -become a pressing necessity—while mother -went out to see about trains. We found -there was no Petersburg train till next -day; there might be one at seven in the morning. -I was up at daybreak, got a cup of tea -and a biscuit, looked at mother as she lay -asleep, and with my satchel and little lunch -basket in my hand went to the depot. There -were crowds of soldiers there and a train -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">316</span> -about to start, but no woman was to go on -it—it was for soldiers only. I went from one -person who seemed to be in authority to another, -seeking permission to go, but received -the same answer everywhere—only soldiers -were allowed on the train.</p> - -<p>“But,” I said at last, “I am an officer’s -wife, and he is wounded.” I broke down -with the words, and in spite of my efforts to -keep them back my eyes filled with tears. It -was what I should have done in the beginning. -I at once got permission. I went into -the car, took my seat at the extreme end and -shrunk into the smallest space possible. The -car was packed with soldiers and I was the -only woman on board. When we were about -half-way a young lieutenant who occupied -part of the seat in front of me said:</p> - -<p>“Madam, if I can be of any assistance to -you, please command me. I suppose you -know that our train stops within three miles -of Petersburg.”</p> - -<p>“I did not know,” I said, “and I do not -know what to expect, or what I shall do, or -where I shall find my husband, although I -suppose I shall be met.” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">317</span></p> - -<p>“If not,” he said, “I am at your service.”</p> - -<p>No one was waiting for me at the depot; -but the lieutenant secured an ambulance, got -in it with me, and directed the driver to take -us to Petersburg. We soon met Gus, Dan’s -cousin, coming to meet me in a buggy. -While I was getting out of the ambulance -into the buggy I was plying Gus with questions -about Dan. “Dan is at our house,” -Gus told me. “His wound is a very ugly -one, but the doctors say that he’ll get well. -At first we thought he wouldn’t. He is shot -through the thigh, and will be laid up for -some time—that’s what he’s kicking about -now.”</p> - -<p>Our most direct route to Mansfield, -where Dan was, lay through Petersburg, but -we could not follow that route. The -Yankees were everywhere about the city, Gus -said, so we went through the outer edge of -Ettricks, skirting the city proper. When we -reached Mansfield my husband on crutches -met me at the door. He looked pale and -weak, but he was very cheery and tried to -joke.</p> - -<p>“He ought not to have got up, Nell,” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">318</span> -whispered Grandmamma Grey. “He thought -it would shock you to find him in bed—that -is why he got up.”</p> - -<p>Of course I immediately put him under -orders. He returned to bed meekly enough, -and from that time I did all I could, and it -was all I could do, to keep him still until his -wound healed. We read and sang and played -on the banjo and had a good time. But as -soon as he was able to hobble he would go -to camp every day and sit around. General -Lee’s headquarters were about a mile and a -half from our house. Colonel Taylor and a -number of old friends were there, and Dan -could talk fight if he couldn’t fight. At last -he insisted that he was ready to join his division, -and we set out to reach it in an ambulance -drawn by three mules.</p> - -<p>When we came to Hatchers Run we -found that creek very much swollen and the -bridge not visible, but there were fresh tracks -showing where a wagon had lately gone over.</p> - -<p>“That shows well enough where the bridge -is,” said Dan, pointing to where the wagon -had left a track close to the water’s edge and -visible for a short way under the water. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">319</span> -“Follow that track,” he commanded our -driver, who was three-quarters of a man, being -too young for a whole man and too old -for a lad, “the mules will find the bridge. -They are the most sure-footed animals in the -world. Just let them have their heads as soon -as they get in the water.”</p> - -<p>Jerry obeyed instructions. Sure enough, -the mules got along well enough. That is, -for a short distance. Then, splash! down -they went under the water! We could just -see their noses and their great ears wiggling -above the surface as they struck out into a -gallant swim for the opposite shore. Splash! -we went in after them, and mules and ambulance -were swimming and floating together. -Jerry was terrified, and began to -pray so hard that I got to laughing. All we -could see of the mules were six ears sticking -out of the water and wiggling for dear life, -while our ambulance swam along like a -gondola.</p> - -<p>But things changed suddenly. Our ambulance -was lifted slightly, came down with a -jolt, and wouldn’t budge! The mules strained -forward, but to no good. The ambulance -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">320</span> -wouldn’t stir, and their harness held them -back.</p> - -<p>“The ambulance has caught on some -part of the bridge,” said Dan.</p> - -<p>We were in a serious dilemma. The road -was one in much use, and we pinned our -hopes to some passer-by, but as we waited -minutes seemed hours. No one came. Perhaps -the wagon that had preceded us had -given warning that the bridge was wrecked. -We sat in the ambulance and waited, not -knowing what to do, not seeing what we -could do. By some saplings which stood in -the water we measured the rise of the tide, -and we measured its rise in the ambulance by -my trunk—I was getting wet to my knees. -Finally I sat on top of my trunk and drew -my feet up after me. The situation was -serious enough, and Dan began to look very -anxious—Hatchers Run was always regarded -as a dangerous stream in flood time. Still, -no sign of any one coming. The rain continued -to fall and the water to rise.</p> - -<p>“At this rate we are sitting here to -drown,” Dan said. “There’s but one way -out of it that I can see. From what I know -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">321</span> -of the situation of our army there must be an -encampment near here. Jerry, climb out of -this ambulance over the backs of these hind -mules till you get to that leader. Get on -him, cut him loose, and swim out of this. -Ride until you find an encampment and bring -us help.”</p> - -<p>But Jerry didn’t look at it that way.</p> - -<p>“I’m skeered ter fool ’long dat ar mule. I -ain’t nuvver fooled ’long er mule in de water. -I kaint have no notion of de way he mought -do wid me. You kaint ’pend on mules, Mars -Dan, ter do jes lak you want ’em ter on dry -land, much less in de water. Arter I git out -dar, cut dat ar mule loose, an’ git on him, he -mought take out an’ kyar me somewhar I -didn’t wanter go. I mought nuvver git ter -no camp, nor nowhar, Mars Dan, ef I go ter -foolin’ ’long er dat mule out dar in de water.”</p> - -<p>The major caught his shoulders, and -turned his face to the stream. “Have you -watched that water rising out there for nothing?” -he asked sternly. “We are sure to be -drowned if you don’t do as I tell you—all -of us.”</p> - -<p>Between certain death and uncertain -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">322</span> -death Jerry chose the latter, crawled over the -hind mules, got on the leader and rode him -off. He took this note with him:</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>“Nearest Encampment of any Division, -C. S. A.:</p> - -<p>“I am in the middle of Hatchers Run -in an ambulance with my wife. The stream -is rising rapidly and ambulance filling with -water. Send immediate relief.</p> - -<p class="author"> -“<span class="smcap">Daniel V. Grey</span>,<br /> -“<i>Adjutant of the Thirteenth</i>.”<br /> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>After the boy was gone there we sat and -waited while the water rose. I got very cold -and Dan, who was yet weak from his wound -and confinement, got chilled and stiff. After -more than an hour of waiting we heard from -the woods on the other side a noise as of men -running, and then there came rushing out of -the woods toward us thirteen men of mighty -girth and stature. They were Georgia mountaineers -who had been sent to our rescue. -When they came to the water they didn’t like -the look and feel of it, and evidently didn’t -want to get in it. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">323</span></p> - -<p>“What is we uns to do?” they called across.</p> - -<p>“Something to get us out of this,” Dan -hallooed back, “and be quick about it, or we -shall drown.”</p> - -<p>“How is we uns to git to you uns?”</p> - -<p>“Get in the water and swim here.”</p> - -<p>They talked among themselves, but none -of them seemed disposed to do this.</p> - -<p>“Men!” called my husband, “I am hardly -well of a wound, I am stiff and weak. I can -not save my wife, who is up to the waist in -water. Will you stand there and see a -woman drown?”</p> - -<p>They seemed ashamed, but none of them -made the move to go in. Then the largest of -them all—he seemed a mighty giant—stepped -forth and took command.</p> - -<p>“You say thar’s a lady in that ambulance?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, my wife.”</p> - -<p>“Wall, I’m blowed! An’ she ain’t a-hollerin’ -and a-cryin’?”</p> - -<p>“Do you hear her?” asked Dan irritably. -“She’s braver than some men I know. But -you can count on it that she is wet and cold. -We are nearly frozen!” -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">324</span></p> - -<p>“Wall, I’m blowed! An’ she’s right -out thar in the middle er that run, an’ -she ain’t a-hollerin’ and a-cryin’! Tell you -uns what I’ll do. I’ll swim out there and -bring her back on my back. An’ then -I’ll swim back agin an’ bring you on my -back.”</p> - -<p>“I can’t!” I said. “I’m cold enough to -die now, and I can’t get in that water. I’ll -die if I do.”</p> - -<p>The giant gave orders. The men hung -back. Then we heard him roaring like a bull -of Bashan.</p> - -<p>“Git into that ar water, evvy man of you -uns, an’ swim fur that ar ambulance! I was -put in comman’ er this here expuddition, an’ -I means ter comman’ it. ’Bey orders, you -uns is got ter, or you uns’ll git reported to -headquarters ez I’m a sinner. Git in that -thar water. Furrard! Swim!”</p> - -<p>How well I remember the great, good-natured -giant as he swam around our ambulance, -bobbing up and down, and taking -in our bearings!</p> - -<p>“You see, cap,” he said, “all the bridge -is washed away but the sleepers, an’ that’s -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">325</span> -what you uns is hung on. Unhitch them -mules,” to some of his men.</p> - -<p>“Now, cap, soon’s them mules is loose -we uns’ll lif the ambulance off er this, an’ -pull you uns to shore. Jes you uns make -yourse’fs easy, and we uns’ll git you uns out -er this.”</p> - -<p>The mules unhitched were led to shore, -and then the men pulled the ambulance -safely to land. I don’t remember what became -of the thirteen mighty men. Nor do I -recall clearly the rest of that cold ride when -I shivered in my clothes, but I remember getting -to a house where I was seated in a great -chair close to a blazing fire of hickory logs, -and I remember that when I went to get out -my night-dress I found all the clothes in my -trunk wet, and that when I went to bed I -felt as if I were going to be ill, and that I -rested badly. But the next morning I was -up and on my way again. Again we came to -a swollen stream. This time we could see the -bridge, and it wobbled about. Dan thought it -was safe to drive over. But not I! Just then -some gentlemen came up behind us and insisted -that I was right. So I got out of the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">326</span> -ambulance and was helped across on some -logs or beams or something which stretched -across the stream underneath the bridge, and -may have been a part of it, but whatever they -were I thought them more secure than an -ambulance and mules and an uncertain -bridge. I made Dan cross this way, too, -though he said it wasn’t best for his leg, and -made all sorts of complaints about it. The -ambulance was obliged to cross on the -bridge, and the devoted Jerry drove it, quarreling -and complaining and praying all the -way. We had not gone much farther before, -lo! here was Stony Creek, swollen to bursting, -rushing and furious, and again a hidden -bridge.</p> - -<p>“I nuvver seed so much high water befo’ -in all my life,” said Jerry, thoroughly disgusted, -“nor so dang’ous. Water behin’ an’ -befo’. We all <i>is</i> in a bad way.”</p> - -<p>There was a wagoner on the bank who -said the bridge was all right and but slightly -under water. I protested, but Dan made -Jerry drive in. I wanted to turn back. But -Dan argued that there was as bad behind us, -and that he <i>must</i> get to camp by the time he -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">327</span> -was due, and after a little the mules found -their footing and kept it, though the water -swished and whirled over the bridge. We -saw a man and a horse swept down the -stream—I thought they might have been -swept by the current off the very bridge we -were crossing. The current was too strong -for the horse; he could do nothing against it, -and had given up. As they passed under a -tree the man reached up, caught a sweeping -branch and swung himself up in the tree; the -horse was drowned before our eyes before we -got across the bridge.</p> - -<p>We left the man in the tree, but promised -to send him help. There was a house two -miles from the creek, and to this we drove. -It was full of people; the parlor was full, the -halls were full, and the kitchen and the bedrooms -were full of men, women, and children. -It reminded me of a country funeral where -people are piled up in the halls, on the -steps, and everywhere a person can stand or -sit. Soldiers were always passing to and fro -in those days and stopping for the night at -any convenient wayside place, and as for not -taking a soldier in—well, public opinion made -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">328</span> -it hot for the man who would not shelter a -wayfaring soldier and share the last crust -with him. The house held a large number -of soldiers that night, and in addition a water-bound -wedding-party. On this side the creek -was the groom; on the other side the bride. -The groom had on his good clothes—good -clothes were a rarity then—but he looked -most woebegone.</p> - -<p>We told the people in the house about -the man in the tree; and every man in the -house went down to see about him.</p> - -<p>They called out to him saying they would -throw him ropes and pull him in, but when -they tried to throw the ropes out to him -they found that he could not be reached in -that way. The tree was too far from the -shore. It was after midnight when they -gave up trying to reach him with ropes. -Then they told him to keep his courage up -till morning, and they made a great bonfire -on the banks, and some of them stood by it -and talked to him all night. First one party -and then another would go out and stand -by the bonfire, and keep it up, and talk to -him. The relieved party would come to the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">329</span> -house and warm themselves and go back -again. Nobody slept that night. There was -nowhere for anybody to lie down. When -morning came the creek had fallen and they -pulled the nearly frozen man to land.</p> - -<p>The next day found us at our destination, -Hicksford. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">330</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV<br /> - -<span class="small">THE BEGINNING OF THE END</span></h2> - -<p>While I was at Hicksford I stayed at -General Chambliss’s. I was very happy -there. Dan’s camp was not far off, and he -came to see me very often and every morning -sent his horses to me. In my rides I used frequently -to take the general’s little son, Willie, -along as my escort, and one morning, when -several miles distant from home and with our -horses’ heads turned homeward, who should -ride out from a bend in the road and come -toward us but two full-fledged Yankees in -blue uniform and armed to the teeth. My -heart went down into the bottom of my -horse’s heels, and I suppose Willie’s heart behaved -the same way. We did not speak, we -hardly breathed, and we were careful not to -quicken our pace as we and our enemies drew -nearer and nearer, and passed in that lonely -road a yard between our horses and theirs. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">331</span> -We did not turn back; we crept along the -road to the bend, until our horses’ tails got -well around the bend. Then Willie and I -gave each other a look, and took out at a -wild run for home. We went straight as arrows, -and over everything in our way. I had -all I could do that day to stick on Nellie -Grey, who went as if she knew Yankees were -behind—only in her mind it must have been -the whole of Grant’s army. Dan laughed our -“narrow escape” to scorn, and said the two -Yankees were probably Confederates in good -Yankee clothes they had confiscated. At -this time Confederates would put on anything -they found to wear, from a woman’s -petticoat to a Yankee uniform, but Dan -never could convince us that those two Yankees -were not Yankees.</p> - -<p>After this I rebelled less against going -out, as I sometimes had to do, in “Miss -Sally’s kerridge.” This was an old family -carriage, a great coach of state with the -driver’s perch very high. The driver, an old -family negro as venerable and shaky in appearance -as the carriage, attached due importance -to his office. He thought no piece -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">332</span> -of furniture on the place of such value as -“Miss Sally’s kerridge.” He cared for the -horses as if they had been babies. This -part of the country had not been so heavily -taxed as some others in the support of the -two armies, and a little more corn than was -usual could be had. Uncle Rube was sure -that his horses got the best of what was going, -and also that everything a currycomb -could do for them was theirs. He himself -when prepared for his post as charioteer wore -a suit of clothes which must have been in the -Chambliss family for several generations, -and an old beaver hat, honorable with age -and illustrious usage. When we were taken -abroad in “Miss Sally’s kerridge,” we were -always duly impressed by Uncle Rube with the -honor done us. On the occasion of a grand -review which took place not far from General -Chambliss’s residence, I, with three other -ladies, went in the “kerridge.” The roads -were awful—in those days roads were always -awful. Troops were traveling backward and -forward, artillery was being dragged over -them, heavy wagons were cutting ruts, and -there always seemed to be so much rain. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">333</span></p> - -<p>Uncle Rube quarreled all the way going -and coming. He sat on his high perch, and -guided his horses carefully along, picking the -best places in the road for “Miss Sally’s kerridge,” -and talking at us.</p> - -<p>“It’s jes gwine to ruin Miss Sally’s kerridge -takin’ it out on sech roads as dese hyer.... -Nuf to ruin er ox-kyart, dese hyer roads -is, much mo’ er fin’ kerridge.... Well, ’tain’ -no use fur me ter say nothin’.... Jest well -keep my mouf shut.... Monstratin’ don’ do -er bit er good.... When dey git it in dar -haids dey’s gwine, dey’s gwine, don’t kyeer -what happens.... Ain’t gwine heah nothin’, -dey ain’t, not ontwell dey gits Miss Sally’s -kerridge broke up.... <i>I</i> say folks orter go -ter ride when de roads is good, and stay at -home when de roads is bad.... An’ lemme -take kyeer uv de kerridge.”</p> - -<p>With these intermittent mutterings and -frank expressions of displeasure Uncle Rube -entertained us until we got to the review -stand.</p> - -<p>To crown his disgust we were late in -starting back home, and at dark he was leaning -forward from his lofty altitude, peering -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">334</span> -into the road ahead and seeking vainly “de -bes’ place ter drive Miss Sally’s kerridge -along.” He said “dar warn’t no bes’ place,” -and was in despair of ever getting that valuable -vehicle home in safety. At last the -crash came! Down went one carriage wheel -into a mud-hole! It stuck there, and we were -rooted for the time being. However, I think -Uncle Rube would have got us out but for -some untimely assistance. Bob Lee, the youngest -of the Lees, and Bob Mason (the son -of the ex-United States Minister to France, -whose home was near General Chambliss’s) -came riding by. They stopped and shook -hands with us through the carriage window, -and asserted their gallant intention of getting -us out of our mud-hole. They tried to lead -the horses forward, to pull and push “the -kerridge” out, but in vain. Then Bob, to -Uncle Rube’s utter amazement and indignation, -made him get down, while he, Bob, -mounted the box. Uncle Rube stood on the -roadside, the picture of chagrin and despair.</p> - -<p>“Dar ain’t no tellin’ what’s gwi’ happen -now!” he exclaimed. “Mars Bob don’ know -how ter manage dem horses no mo’n nothin’. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">335</span> -Don’, Mars Bob! Mars Bob! don’ whoop ’em! -Law-aw-dy!”</p> - -<p>Bob had gathered the lines in one hand -and with the other was laying the whip on -Rube’s pets. The horses, utterly unused to -the whip, plunged like mad. There was an -ominous sound!—our axle was broken, and -we were helplessly stuck in the mud.</p> - -<p>“Dar now!” wailed Uncle Rube. -“What I tole you? I said Miss Sally’s kerridge -gwi’ git ruint! and now it’s done been -did. It’s clean ruint, Miss Sally’s kerridge is. -I tole Mars Bob dem horses don’t know nothin’ -’bout a whoop. Dey ain’t nuvver bin -’quainted wid er whoop. I bin er-sayin’ an’ -er-sayin’ all erlong dat de kerridge gwi’ git -broke, an’ it’s done been did. O Lawdy!”</p> - -<p>Our young rescuers borrowed a cart from -a farmer near by and got us home in it. I -have forgotten how Uncle Rube managed, if -I ever knew. But I shall never forget the -scene when several hours later we all sat -around the fire in the sitting-room, chatting -over our adventures, and Uncle Rube, hat in -hand, came to the door and made report to -his mistress of the family misfortune. His -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">336</span> -eyes were big as saucers. He laid the blame -thick and heavy on “Mars Bob’s” shoulders, -exonerating his horses with great care.</p> - -<p>“Dey’s sensubble horses ef anybody jes -got de sense ter manage ’em, dey is.”</p> - -<p>And then Miss Sally, in spite of her -efforts to preserve a gravity befitting the -calamity, broke down like the “kerridge” -and laughed hysterically.</p> - -<p>There was plenty to eat at General -Chambliss’s. I always remember that fact -when it was a fact, because it was beginning -to be so pleasant and unusual to have enough -to eat. Hicksford hadn’t been raided, and -there were still chickens on the roost, bees in -the hive, turkeys up the trees, partridges in -the woods, and corn in the barns. The barn, -by the way, was new, and the soldiers gave -a ball in it. We all went and had a most delightful -evening. I well remember that I -went in “Miss Sally’s kerridge,” and that -General Rooney Lee and I led off the ball -together. I remember, too, that we had a -fine supper: turkeys, chicken-salad, barbecued -mutton, roast pig with an apple in his -mouth, pound-cake, silver-cake, cheese-cake -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">337</span> -or transparent pudding, “floating island” or -“tipsy squire”; plenty of bread, milk, sure-enough -coffee—everything and enough of it. -We danced till morning and leaving our gallant -entertainers in the gray dawn, went off -to sleep nearly all day.</p> - -<p>The next ball was in an old farmhouse -where some of our cavalry were quartered. We -had another good supper—everything good to -eat and plenty of it—like the first. There -were no chairs or furniture of any kind, as I -remember, but there were benches ranged -around the barn for us to sit on when resting -during the pauses of the dance. After a -dance with him General Rooney Lee led me -back to the room where the banquet was -spread to taste something especially nice -which he liked and which I had not touched—eating -a good thing when you could get it -was a delightful and serious duty in those -days. There was quite a circle around us, -and we were all nibbling, laughing, chatting -away as if there were no such things as war -and death in the land, when a courier in -muddy boots strode across the room to the -general, saluted, spoke a few words, and the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">338</span> -general walked aside with him. The music -was enticing, and while the general was engaged -with the courier I went back with -some one else to the ballroom and took my -place in the lancers. We were clasping hands -and bowing ourselves through the grand -chain when the dance was interrupted. The -army was to march.</p> - -<p>There was great confusion, hurried hand-shaking, -sometimes no hand-shaking at all, -no time for good-bys. The soldiers could not -stand on the order of their going. I do not -remember how I came to the farmhouse, but -I know that my husband bundled me unceremoniously -into a cart with some people I -hardly knew, and sent me home, telling me -to pack my trunk but not to be disappointed -if he could not take me with him. I did not -lie down at all. I packed my trunk as soon -as I got home, then sat down and waited, -and before long my husband came for me in -an ambulance. His courier, Lieutenant -Wumble, was with him, and the ambulance -was driven by an Irishman named Miles. -The horses were tied to the back of the ambulance, -and frequently my husband and -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">339</span> -Lieutenant Wumble rode ahead reconnoitering. -It began to rain. “What made you -always start in the rain?” I have been asked -by friends to whom I was relating my campaigns. -What I want to know is, what made -it always rain when I started? Let me but -step into an ambulance and immediately it -began to rain. My movements had to be -regulated by the movements of the army, not -by the weather, though really the weather -seemed to regulate itself by mine.</p> - -<p>We found the roads worse as we advanced. -The farther we went the deeper -was the mud. Mud came up to the hubs of -our wheels; the mules could hardly pull their -feet up out of the miry mass in some places. -At last we found ourselves regularly “stuck -in the mud.” There was no pushing or pulling -the ambulance farther. It was nearly -dark, but fortunately we were near a farmhouse, -and at the side of the road where we -got stuck was a stile made by blocks of unequal -heights set on either side of a plank -fence. These blocks were simply sections of -the round body of a tree which had been -sawed up. On the opposite side of the stile a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">340</span> -pathway led to the house. The mud-hole in -which our ambulance was embedded was -about ten yards from the stile. My husband -insisted that I be carried bodily to the stile, -and Lieutenant Wumble, who was one of -the most gallant fellows in the world, took -it as a matter of course that he must carry -me. He urged that he had been brought -along to be useful and that Dan had never recovered -entirely from his wound. But Dan -hooted at the idea! He was very much obliged -to the lieutenant, but really he was -used to this sort of thing, and understood -lifting ladies about much better than Wumble. -It was not altogether brute strength, -but some science that was required. So Dan -stepped out of the ambulance on to the -side of the mud-hole, where of course the -ground was not so muddy as in the center -where we were stuck, but where it was -rather slippery, nevertheless. Balancing himself -nicely, he took me out, but just as he -poised me on his arm with scientific ease and -grace he slipped and fell backward, sprawling -in the mud, and I went over his head, sprawling, -too. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">341</span></p> - -<p>Whereupon Lieutenant Wumble, laughing, -came to pick me up, saying as he did so:</p> - -<p>“I told you that you ought to let me -carry you. Just lie there, major, and I’ll -come back for you as soon as I set your -wife down. Keep quiet, major,” as Dan -swore at the mud and slipped again, “and -I’ll pick you up and get you along all right.”</p> - -<p>As Dan dragged himself up he was a perfect -mud man, and he had left the print of -himself in the mud behind him. They took -us in at the farmhouse, and sent men to help -the driver prize the ambulance out of the -hole. They scraped the mud off me, and a -colored woman washed my clothes and hung -them by the fire, so they might be dry by -morning. Of course, this process put me in -bed at once. Our supper was poor and the -bed uncomfortable, but it was the best our -hosts could do.</p> - -<p>After an uncomfortable night we started -off again toward Dinwiddie Court-house, -which was to be our next stopping-place. As -we journeyed on we knew that we were getting -into most dangerous quarters. The -nearer we drew to Petersburg the nearer we -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">342</span> -were to the tangle of Federal and Confederate -lines; the nearer to skirmishers and -scouts from both armies. The night got -blacker and blacker—you could not see your -hand before you—and the blacker it grew -the more frightened old Miles became. Out -of the darkness where, invisible, he sat astride -the invisible mule he drove, he poured an -unceasing stream of complaint.</p> - -<p>“Arrah! the divil a bit can Oi see where -Oi’m goin’. It’s so dark ye couldn’t see a -light if there was any. The mules, intilligint -crathurs they are, maybe they know where -they be goin’. It’s more than the loikes of -me does. But what Oi’ve got agin a mule is -that they don’t know an honest Amerikin in -gray clothes—or mixed rags it is now—from -a nasty, thavin’ Yankee.”</p> - -<p>If we were silent for a few minutes, then -Miles spoke out for company’s sake, or -asked unnecessary questions perhaps to find -out if we were there, and that the Yankees -hadn’t spirited us away.</p> - -<p>“These woods are full of Yankees,” he -said. “It’s chock-full of them, it is. An’ -it’s so dark, it is, they could just come out -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">343</span> -here an’ kill us all, they could, an’ we’d never -know it.”</p> - -<p>“Shut your mouth up, you fool!” said -my husband, who knew that the woods were -full of Yankees. “If we can’t see them they -can’t see us, and how are they to know but -we are Yankees unless you tell them, you -blathering idiot?”</p> - -<p>“The divil a bit Oi’ll be tellin’ ’em, the -nasty blue thaves. Thrust Miles O’Flannigan -for thet. But they could just come -out o’ them woods, they could, an’ take -us all prisoners an’ we’d never know it. -An’ the driver’s the fust man they’d git, -sure.”</p> - -<p>At last Dan got out, mounted his horse, -and rode in front of the ambulance.</p> - -<p>“Now,” said he to Miles, “follow me, and -if you open your d—— mouth again, I’ll blow -your brains out.”</p> - -<p>Lieutenant Wumble brought up the rear, -riding behind the ambulance with a cocked -pistol. And so we rode through the Egyptian -darkness of the night, and the now more -than Egyptian silence. Miles’s mouth was -effectually closed. He followed Dan, whom -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">344</span> -he could not see, by the sound of his horse’s -tread, and as he was careful to keep as -close to him as possible we made better -progress.</p> - -<p>We had been in the darkness so long that -none of us knew our whereabouts. Presently -we heard the low, deep mutterings of thunder. -It came nearer and grew louder rapidly. Suddenly -the sky seemed rent! There came a -sheet of white lightning and with it an awful -crash which made my heart stand still. A -tree a few feet from us had been struck. The -lightning had shown us that we were only a -few miles from the Court-house. I have -never known such a storm as the one through -which we traveled that night. One peal of -thunder did not die away before another began. -One instant we were in thick darkness—a -darkness that could be <i>felt</i>—the next, -ourselves, the woods, the road, were bathed -in a fierce white light. Between the Yankees -and the storm that night I think -Miles would have become a gibbering idiot -but for the equalizing influence of Dan’s -pistol.</p> - -<p>“No trouble for the Yankees to rickonize -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">345</span> -us—ugh!” the rest of the sentence would be -lost in the darkness, but I knew that Miles -was feeling the salutary muzzle of Dan’s pistol -against some part of his face.</p> - -<p>By the time we entered the village the -storm had abated. We drove to the hotel. -It was crowded, packed with soldiers; no -room for us, nor food either, and nine o’clock -at night!</p> - -<p>“Two miles the other side of town there -is a place of entertainment where you can be -accommodated, I think,” the hotel proprietor -told Dan.</p> - -<p>“I don’t go any farther to-night with my -wife,” Dan said resolutely.</p> - -<p>“It’s not mesilf as wants to be traveling -any farther aither,” Miles put in. “It’s divil -a bit of a pleasure ride Oi’m havin’.”</p> - -<p>He was promptly silenced, and was made -to drive us around to the various places in -the village that had been mentioned; and in -spite of the discouragements received, he -added his earnest solicitations to ours that we -might be lodged for the night. But in spite -of our own pleas and Miles’s eloquence, midnight -found us out at the two-miles place. I -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">346</span> -don’t know how long it had taken us to make -those two miles. We had toiled over muddy -roads, through fierce extremes of light and -darkness, and amid deafening thunder, for the -storm had come on again with renewed fury -and was at its height when we stopped at the -house to which we had been directed. In -response to my husband’s knock an old man -came to the door—the meanest old man I -have ever seen before or since. He said we -couldn’t come in, there wasn’t standing room -in the house, the house was full of soldiers. -My husband said he <i>would</i> come in—that he -had a lady with him. I think he would have -shot that old man then and there rather than -have carried me farther. But the old man -said if he had a lady with him all the more -reason why he should not come in; the soldiers -were drinking, and he whispered to Dan, -and I saw Dan give in. He told Dan that he -had a cousin in the village who would house -us, and he directed us how to get to this -cousin’s house, so we turned and drove back -to the village we had just left. We made -better time on our return, as we were better -directed and took a shorter route, found the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">347</span> -house to which we had been sent, and were -taken in.</p> - -<p>It was a strange old house, built in -colonial days, with the veranda that ran all -around it supported by tall Corinthian columns. -We woke the owner up—an old -man, who came down to the door shivering, -candle in hand, and led us through a latticed -room, then into another room and up a narrow -flight of stairs with sharp turns to a bedroom -with dormer windows and ancient furniture. -We were welcome to our lodgings, -he said, but he had nothing to eat in the -house—we would be welcome to it if he had. -He looked gaunt and hungry himself.</p> - -<p>We had no fire. He left us his candle and -went down in the dark himself and we got -to bed as quickly as possible. Lieutenant -Wumble, who was down-stairs looking after -Miles and the horses and the mules, got himself -stowed away somewhere.</p> - -<p>Next morning my husband was ill; but the -old man’s wife gave him some of her remedies, -and with the help of a little money from -me got something for us all to eat. About -noon Dan insisted that he was able to travel, -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">348</span> -and that he must reach his command that -day.</p> - -<p>When we arrived at Petersburg my husband -put me on the train for Richmond and -bade me good-by. It was the last time I saw -him before the surrender. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_349">349</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI<br /> - -<span class="small">HOW WE LIVED IN THE LAST DAYS OF THE -CONFEDERACY</span></h2> - -<p>Though the last act of our heroic tragedy -was already beginning I was so far from suspecting -it that I joined mother at the Arlington, -prepared to make a joke of hardships -and wring every possible drop of pleasure out -of a winter in Richmond, varied, as I fondly -imagined, by frequent if brief visits from Dan.</p> - -<p>The Arlington was kept on something -like the European plan, not from choice of -landlady or guests but from grim necessity. -Feeding a houseful of people was too arduous -and uncertain an undertaking in those -days for a woman to assume. Mrs. Fry, before -our arrival in July, had informed her -boarders that they could continue to rent -their rooms from her, but that they must provide -their own meals. We paid her $25 a -month for our room—the price of a house -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_350">350</span> -in good times and in good money. During -my absence in Mansfield, Hicksford, and -other places, mother, to reduce expenses, had -rented half of her room and bed to Delia -McArthur, of Petersburg. I now rented a -little bed from Mrs. Fry for myself, and set -it up in the same room.</p> - -<p>We had become so poor and had so little -to cook that we did most of our cooking -ourselves over the grate, each woman often -cooking her own little rations. There was an -old negress living in the back yard who -cooked for any or all of us when we had -something that could not be prepared by ourselves -over the grate. Sometimes we got -hold of a roast, or we would buy two quarts -of flour, a little dab of lard, and a few pinches -of salt and treat ourselves to a loaf of bread, -which the old negress cooked for us, charging -ten dollars for the baking. But as a rule -the grate was all sufficient. We boiled rice -or dried apples or beans or peas in our stew-pan, -and we had a frying-pan if there was -anything to fry.</p> - -<p>Across the hall from us Miss Mary Pagett, -of Petersburg, had a room to herself. She -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_351">351</span> -worked in one of the departments, and in -order that she might have her meals in time -she went into partnership with us. Every -morning she would put in with our rations -whatever she happened to have for that day, -and mother would cook it and have it ready -when she came. Down-stairs under our -room Mr. and Mrs. Sampson, their daughters -Nan and Beth, and their son Don, all of -Petersburg and old neighbors and friends of -ours, lived, slept, cooked, and ate in two -rooms, a big and a little one. They lived as -we did, cooking over their grates.</p> - -<p>Sometimes we all put what we had together -and ate in company. When any of us secured -at any time some eatable out of the common, -if it was enough to go around we invited the -others into breakfast, dinner, or tea, as the -case might be. It must be understood that -from the meal called “tea,” the beverage -from which the meal is named was nearly -always omitted. Our fare was never very -sumptuous—often it was painfully scanty. -Sometimes we would all get so hungry that -we would put together all the money we -could rake and scrape and buy a bit of roast -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_352">352</span> -or something else substantial and have a -feast.</p> - -<p>We all bought coal in common. Mother’s, -mine, and Delia’s portion of the coal -was a ton, and we had to keep it in our room—there -was no other place to store it. We -had a box in our room which held a ton, and -the coal was brought up-stairs and dumped -into that box. I can see those darkies now, -puffing and blowing, as they brought that -coal up those many steps. And how we had -to scuffle around to pay them! For some -jobs we paid in trade—only we had very little -to trade off. How that room held all its contents -I can’t make out. Dan sent me provisions -by the quantity when he could get any -and get them through to me. He would send -a bag of potatoes or peas, and he never sent -less than a firkin of butter—delicious butter -from Orange County. The bags of peas, rice, -and potatoes were disposed around the room, -and around the hearth were arranged our -pots, pans, kettles, and cooking utensils generally. -When we bought wood that was put -under the beds. In addition to all our useful -and ornamental articles we had our three -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_353">353</span> -selves and our trunks; such clothing as we -possessed had to be hung up for better keeping—and -this was a time when it behooved -us to cherish clothes tenderly. Then there -was our laundrying, which was done in that -room by ourselves.</p> - -<p>And we had company! Certainly we -seemed to have demonstrated the truth of -the adage, “Ole Virginny never tire.” We -had company, and we had company to eat -with us, and enjoyed it.</p> - -<p>Sometimes our guests were boys from -camp who dropped in and took stewed apples -or boiled peas, as the case might be. If we -were particularly fortunate we offered a cup -of tea sweetened with sugar. The soldier -who dropped in always got a part—and the -best part—of what we had. If things were -scant we had smiles to make up for the lack -of our larder, and to hide its bareness.</p> - -<p>How we were pinched that winter! how -often we were hungry! and how anxious and -miserable we were! And yet what fun we -had! The boys laughed at our crowded room -and we laughed with them. After we bought -our wood it was Robert E. Lee’s adjutant -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_354">354</span> -who first observed the ends sticking out from -under the bed; he was heartily amused and -greatly impressed with the versatility of our -resources.</p> - -<p>“I confidently expect to come here some -day and find a pig tied to the leg of the bed, -and a brood or two of poultry utilizing waste -space,” said Colonel Taylor.</p> - -<p>He wasn’t so far out of the way, for we -<i>did</i> get hold of a lean chicken once some way -or other, and we tied it to the foot of the bed, -and tried to fatten it with boiled peas.</p> - -<p>We devised many small ways for making -a little money. We knit gloves and socks -and sold them, and Miss Beth Sampson had -some old pieces of ante-bellum silk that she -made into neckties and sold for what she -could get. For the rest, when we had no -money, we went without those things which -it took money to buy. With money a bit of -meat now and then, a taste of sorghum, and -even the rare luxury of a cup of tea sweetened -with sugar, was possible. Without money, -we had to depend upon the bags of peas, dried -apples, or rice.</p> - -<p>“If I ever keep house,” said Miss Mary -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_355">355</span> -one day when we were getting supper ready, -“there are three things which shall never -come into it, rice, dried apples, and peas.”</p> - -<p>Mother was at the bureau slicing bread, -Delia McArthur was setting the table, I was -getting butter out of the firkin and making -it into prints, and Miss Mary with gloves on—whenever -she had anything to do she always -put gloves on—was peeling and slicing -tomatoes.</p> - -<p>“I never want to <i>hear</i> of rice, dried apples, -or peas again!” came from all sides of the -room.</p> - -<p>“If this war is ever at an end,” sighed -poor mother, “I hope I may sit down and -eat at a decent table again. And I fervently -hope that nobody will ever set a dish of rice, -peas, or dried apples before me! If they do, -I shall get up and leave the table.”</p> - -<p>“Me too,” I piped. “Even if I didn’t -hate the things I should feel sensitive on the -subject and take the offering of such a dish -to me as a personal reflection.”</p> - -<p>One day we agreed to have a feast. The -Sampsons were to bring their contributions, -Miss Mary and Delia McArthur to put in -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_356">356</span> -theirs as usual, and mother and I to contribute -our share, of course. Each of us had the -privilege of inviting a friend to tea. Our -room was chosen as the common supper-room -because it had fewer things in it and -was less crowded than the Sampsons’. The -Sampsons, in addition to their coal-box, -wood-pile, bags and barrels of provisions, had -one more bed than we had, and also a piano. -We had our tea-party and, guests and all, -we had a merry time.</p> - -<p>I never remember having more fun in my -life than at the Arlington, where sometimes -we were hungry, and while the country, up to -our doors, bristled with bayonets, and the air -we breathed shook with the thunder of guns.</p> - -<p>For hungry and shabby as we were, -crowded into our one room with bags of rice -and peas, firkins of butter, a ton of coal, a -small wood-pile, cooking utensils, and all of -our personal property, we were not in despair. -Our faith in Lee and his ragged, freezing, -starving army amounted to a superstition. -We cooked our rice and peas and dried apples, -and hoped and prayed. By this time our -bags took up little room. We had had a -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_357">357</span> -bag of potatoes, but it was nearly empty, -there were only a few handfuls of dried apples -left—and I must say that even in the face of -starvation I was glad of that!—and there was -a very small quantity of rice in our larder. -We had more peas than anything else.</p> - -<p>I had not heard from my husband for -more than a week—indeed, there seems to -have been in Richmond at this time a singular -ignorance concerning our reverses around -Petersburg. There were hunger and nakedness -and death and pestilence and fire and -sword everywhere, and we, fugitives from -shot and shell, knew it well, but, somehow, -we laughed and sang and played on the piano—and -never believed in actual defeat and subjugation.</p> - -<p>Sunday morning, the second of April, as -President Davis sat in his pew at St. Paul’s -Church, a slip of paper was brought to him. -He read it, quietly arose, and left the church.</p> - -<p>General Lee advised the evacuation of -Richmond by eight o’clock that night. That -was what rumor told us at the Arlington. -At first we did not believe it, but as that -spring day wore on we were convinced. The -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_358">358</span> -Sabbath calm was changed to bustle and -confusion—almost into riot. The streets -were full of people hurrying in all directions, -but chiefly in the direction of the Danville -depot. Men, women, and children jostled -each other in their haste to reach this spot. -Loaded vehicles of every description rattled -over the pavements.</p> - -<p>During the day proclamation was made -that all who wished could come to the Commissary -Department and get anything they -wanted in the way of provisions—without -pay. I for one, in spite of my loathing for -dried apples and peas, and a lively objection -to starvation, would not entertain the -thought at first. But the situation was -serious. We discussed it in council, sitting -around our room on beds, chairs, trunks, and -the floor. We could not foresee the straits to -which we might be brought. We considered -that the evacuation of Richmond implied we -knew not what. Unless we provided now by -laying in some stores we might actually -starve. Besides, Mrs. Sampson said she was -just <i>bound</i> to have a whole barrel of flour, and -she was going for it. That declaration wound -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_359">359</span> -up the conference. Mother said she would -go with Mrs. Sampson, and I must needs go, -I thought, to protect mother. We put on our -bonnets—home-made straw trimmed with -chicken feathers—and started. Such a crowd -as we found ourselves in! such a starveling -mob! I got frightened and sick, and mother -and Mrs. Sampson were daunted. We had -not gone many squares before we changed -our course, and went to Mrs. Taylor’s (Colonel -Walter Taylor’s mother) and I ran up -the steps and asked her to lend us Bob, her -youngest son, who was at home then, for our -escort.</p> - -<p>She and Bob explained regretfully that -he could not serve us. Walter was to be married -that day, and Bob had his hands full at -home.</p> - -<p>“Married?” I cried in astonishment. I -had known of his engagement, and that he -expected to be married as soon as possible, -but marrying at this crisis was incredible.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Bob. “I took the despatch -to Betty while she was at church this morning. -He told her to be ready and he would -come to Richmond this afternoon for the ceremony. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_360">360</span> -You see, General Lee is going to -move the army west, and nobody knows for -how long it will be gone, nor what will happen, -and if Betty is married to Walter she can -go to him if he gets hurt.”</p> - -<p>Of course, as Bob had to make all the -necessary arrangements for the event his -escort at the present moment was out of the -question.</p> - -<p>Somehow Mrs. Sampson managed to get -her barrel of flour and have it brought to her -room, but we didn’t get anything.</p> - -<p>That afternoon as I sat at my window I -saw Walter ride up to the Crenshaws’, where -Betty was staying. He remained in the -house just long enough for the ceremony to -be performed, came out, sprang on his horse, -and rode away rapidly.</p> - -<p>President Davis and his Cabinet left Richmond -that afternoon in a special train. -Everybody who could go was going. We -had no money to go with, though we did not -know where we would have gone if the money -had been forthcoming.</p> - -<p>As darkness came upon the city confusion -and disorder increased. People were running -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_361">361</span> -about everywhere with plunder and provisions. -Barrels and boxes were rolled and -tumbled about the streets as they had been -all day. Barrels of liquor were broken open -and the gutters ran with whisky and molasses. -There were plenty of straggling soldiers about -who had too much whisky, rough women had -it plentifully, and many negroes were drunk. -The air was filled with yells, curses, cries of -distress, and horrid songs. No one in the -house slept. We moved about between each -other’s rooms, talked in whispers, and tried -to nerve ourselves for whatever might come. -A greater part of the night I sat at my window.</p> - -<p>In the pale dawn I saw a light shoot up -from Shockoe Warehouse. Presently soldiers -came running down the streets. Some -carried balls of tar; some carried torches. As -they ran they fired the balls of tar and pitched -them onto the roofs of prominent houses and -into the windows of public buildings and -churches. I saw balls pitched on the roof of -General R. E. Lee’s home. As the day grew -lighter I saw a Confederate soldier on horseback -pause almost under my window. He -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_362">362</span> -wheeled and fired behind him; rode a short -distance, wheeled and fired again; and so on, -wheeling and firing as he went until he was -out of sight. Coming up the street from that -end toward which his fire had been directed -and from which he had come, rode a body of -men in blue uniforms. It was not a very large -body, they rode slowly, and passed just beneath -my window. Exactly at eight o’clock -the Confederate flag that fluttered above the -Capitol came down and the Stars and Stripes -were run up. We knew what that meant! -The song “On to Richmond!” was ended—Richmond -was in the hands of the Federals. -We covered our faces and cried aloud. All -through the house was the sound of sobbing. -It was as the house of mourning, the house of -death.</p> - -<p>Soon the streets were full of Federal -troops, marching quietly along. The beautiful -sunlight flashed back everywhere from -Yankee bayonets. I saw negroes run out -into the street and falling on their knees before -the invaders hail them as their deliverers, -embracing the knees of the horses, and almost -preventing the troops from moving forward. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_363">363</span> -It had been hard living and poor fare -in Richmond for negroes as well as whites; -and the negroes at this time believed the immediate -blessings of freedom greater than -they would or could be.</p> - -<p>The saddest moment of my life was when -I saw that Southern Cross dragged down -and the Stars and Stripes run up above the -Capitol. I am glad the Stars and Stripes are -waving there now. But I am true to my -old flag too, and as I tell this my heart turns -sick with the supreme anguish of the moment -when I saw it torn down from the height -where valor had kept it waving for so long -and at such cost.</p> - -<p>Was it for this, I thought, that Jackson -had fallen? for this that my brave, laughing -Stuart was dead—dead and lying in his grave -in Hollywood under the very shadow of that -flag floating from the Capitol, in hearing of -these bands playing triumphant airs as they -marched through the streets of Richmond, in -hearing of those shouts of victory? O my -chevalier! I had to thank God that the kindly -sod hid you from all those sights and sounds -so bitter to me then. I looked toward Hollywood -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_364">364</span> -with streaming eyes and thanked God -for your sake. Was it to this end we had -fought and starved and gone naked and cold? -to this end that the wives and children of -many a dear and gallant friend were husbandless -and fatherless? to this end that our homes -were in ruins, our State devastated? to this -end that Lee and his footsore veterans were -seeking the covert of the mountains? -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_365">365</span></p> - -<h2 id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII<br /> - -<span class="small">UNDER THE STARS AND STRIPES</span></h2> - -<p>The Arlington is one-half of a double -house, a veranda without division serving -for both halves. Just before noon up rode a -regiment of Yankees and quartered themselves -next door. We could hear them moving -about and talking, and rattling their -sabers. But I must add that they were very -quiet and orderly. There was no unnecessary -noise. They all went out again, on duty, I -suppose, leaving their baggage and servants -behind them. They did not molest or disturb -us in any way. After a while we heard a rap -on the door, and on opening it three men -entered. They were fully armed, and had -come, as they said, to search the house for -rebels. The one who undertook to search -our rooms came quite in and closed the door -while his companions went below. He was -very drunk. Anxious to get rid of him -quickly I helped him in his search. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_366">366</span></p> - -<p>He touched my arm and whispered: “Sis, -I’m good Secesh as you—but don’t say nothin’ -about it.”</p> - -<p>“You’d better look thoroughly,” I insisted, -pretending not to hear him.</p> - -<p>Going to the bed I threw the mattress -over so he could see that no one was concealed -beneath. He followed and touched -my arm again.</p> - -<p>“Good Secesh as you is, sis. I ain’t -agwine to look into nothin’, sis.”</p> - -<p>“There’s nothing for you to find,” I informed -him, as I pulled a bureau drawer open -for his inspection.</p> - -<p>He waved it away with scorn. “I,” he -repeated, touching his breast, “am good -Secesh. Don’t want to see nothin’. Don’t -you say nothin’—I’m good Secesh as you is, -sis.”</p> - -<p>I led the way into the next room to be -searched, he following, asseverating in tipsy -whispers, “Good Secesh as you is, sis,” every -few minutes.</p> - -<p>We found little Ruf Pagett cleaning his -gun.</p> - -<p>“Better hide that, sonny,” said our -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_367">367</span> -friend, glancing around. “That other fellow -out there, <i>he</i>’ll take it from you. But <i>I</i> won’t -take it from you. I won’t take nothin’. I’m -good Secesh as you is, bud. Hide your gun, -bud.”</p> - -<p>Down-stairs our friends were having a -harder time. The men who went through -their rooms searched everywhere, and tumbled -their things around outrageously. I -could hear Mrs. Sampson quarreling. They -went away, but returned to search again. -She said she wouldn’t stand it—she would -report them. She saw General Weitzel and -made her complaint, and he told her that the -men were stragglers and had no authority for -what they had done. If they could be found -they would be punished. Before this time -the fire had been brought under control. -Houses not a square from us had been in -flames. What saved us was an open space -between us and the nearest house which had -been on fire, and wet blankets. Mrs. Fry’s -son had had wet blankets spread over our -roof for protection, and we had also kept wet -blankets hung in our windows. At one time, -however, cinders and smoke had blown into -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_368">368</span> -my room till the air was stifling and the -danger great.</p> - -<p>A niece of my husband’s, a beautiful girl -of eighteen, who had been ill with typhoid -fever, had to be carried out of a burning -house that night and laid on a cot in the -street. She died in the street and I heard of -other sick persons who died from the terror -and exposure of that time.</p> - -<p>As night came on many people were wandering -about without shelter, amid blackened -ruins. In the Square numbers were huddled -for the night under improvised shelter or -without any protection at all. But profound -quiet reigned—the quiet of desolation as well -as of order. The city had been put under -martial law as soon as the Federals took possession; -order and quiet had been quickly -established and were well preserved. Our -next-door neighbors were so quiet that with -only a wall between we sometimes forgot -their presence.</p> - -<p>I must tell of one person who did not -weep because the Yankees had come. That -was a little girl in the house who clapped her -hands and danced all around. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_369">369</span></p> - -<p>“The Yankees have come! the Yankees -have come!” she shouted, “and now we’ll get -something to eat. I’m going to have pickles -and molasses and oranges and cheese and -nuts and candy until I have a fit and die.”</p> - -<p>She soon made acquaintances next door. -The soldiers or their servants gave her what -she asked for. She stuffed herself with what -they gave her, and that night she had a fit -and died, as she had said in jest she would, -poor little soul!</p> - -<p>That afternoon there was a funeral from -the house, and all day there were burials going -on in Hollywood.</p> - -<p>Early on the morning of the third, when -Miss Mary Pagett threw open her blinds, she -beheld the gallery under her window lined -with sleeping Yankees. When Delia McArthur -and I went out for a walk we came upon -Federal soldiers asleep on the sidewalks and -everywhere there was a place for weary men -to drop down and rest. In all this time of -horror I don’t think anything was much -harder than making up our minds to “draw -rations from the Yankees.” We said we -<i>would</i> not do it—we <i>could</i> not do it! -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_370">370</span></p> - -<p>But as hunger gained upon us and starvation -stared us in the face Mrs. Sampson -rose up in her might!</p> - -<p>“I’ll take anything I can get out of the -Yankees!” she exclaimed. “They haven’t -had any delicacy of feeling in taking everything -we’ve got! I’m going for rations!”</p> - -<p>So Mrs. Sampson nerved herself up to the -point where she took quite a pleasure and -pride in her mission. But not so with the rest -of us. It was a bitter pill, hard, hard to swallow. -Mother, to whose lot some species of -martyrdom was always falling, elected to go -with Mrs. Sampson. So forth sallied these -old Virginia matrons to “draw rations from -the Yankees.” However, once on our way -to humiliation we began to console ourselves -with thoughts of the loaves and fishes. We -would have enough to eat—sugar and tea -and other delights! Presently mother and -Mrs. Sampson returned, each with a dried -codfish! There was disappointment and -there was laughter. As each stately matron -came marching in, holding her codfish at -arm’s length before her, Delia McArthur and -I fell into each other’s arms laughing. Besides -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_371">371</span> -the codfish, they had each a piece of fat, -strong bacon about the size of a handkerchief -folded once, and perhaps an inch thick. -Now, we had had no meat for a great while, -and we were completely worn out with dried -apples and peas, so we immediately set about -cooking our bacon. Having such a great -dainty and rare luxury, we felt ourselves in a -position to invite company to dinner. Mrs. -Sampson invited half of the household to dine -with her, and we invited the other half. Soon -there was a great sputtering and a delicious -smell issuing from the Sampsons’ apartments -and from ours.</p> - -<p>Mother sliced the meat into the pan, and -I sat on the floor and held it over the fire, -while Delia spread the table. There was a -pot on, which had to be stirred now and then. -I, who always had a fertile brain in culinary -matters, suggested that the potatoes—I -neglected to state that a handful of potatoes -had been dealt out with our rations—should -be sliced very thin and dropped into the pan -with the meat; and this done I fried them -quite brown, taking much pains and pride in -the achievement. Mother dished up the peas -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_372">372</span> -and set them on the table before our guests; -and I passed around the fried meat and -potatoes in the frying-pan, from which the -company, with much grace and delicacy, -helped themselves. Oh, how delicious it -was!</p> - -<p>As for the codfish, we had immediately -hung that out of the window. The passer-by -in the street below could behold it, dangling -from its string, a melancholy and fragrant -codfish. From Mrs. Sampson’s window just -below ours hung another melancholy codfish -just like the one above it. We paid the old -negress to do things for us with codfish—but -not a whole codfish at a time. We cut off -pieces of it, and so made good bargains, and -one codfish go as far as possible. We had by -this time got to a place where economy was -not only a virtue but a necessity of the direst -sort.</p> - -<p>The last time I was in Richmond I took -my children by the Arlington and pointed -out to them the window from which our codfish -hung.</p> - -<p>And now Betty Taylor—Walter’s bride—and -I began planning to run through the -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_373">373</span> -Yankee lines together and join our husbands.</p> - -<p>We did not think even then, you see, that -the war was over. Our faith was still crediting -superhuman powers to Lee and his skeleton -army. Then there was President Davis’s -proclamation issued from Danville, wherein -we found encouragement for hope. Then -came the blow. We heard that Lee had surrendered. -Lee surrendered! that couldn’t be -true! But even while we were refusing to believe -it General Lee, accompanied, as I remember, -by one or two members of his staff, -rode up to his door. He bared his weary gray -head to the people who gathered around -him with greetings and passed into his -house.</p> - -<p>Hope was dead at last. But other things, -precious and imperishable, remained to us -and to our children—the things that make -for loyalty and courage and endurance—an -invincible faith—the enduring record of -heroic example. Lee had surrendered, but -Lee was still himself and our own—a heritage -to be handed down by Americans to America -when sectional distinctions have been swallowed -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_374">374</span> -up in the strength of a Union great -enough to honor every son, whatever his -creed, who has lived and died for “conscience’ -sake.”</p> - -<p>Sitting in my window that sorrowful day -I saw three officers in gray uniforms galloping -rapidly along Main Street. I recognized -familiar figures in them all before they came -as far as the Arlington. One turned out of -Main Street, riding home to his wife, as I -knew, before they reached the window; another -did the same.</p> - -<p>The third came galloping past.</p> - -<p>I thrust my head out of the window.</p> - -<p>“Walter!” I called.</p> - -<p>He looked up.</p> - -<p>“Hello, Nell!” he cried, waving his hat -around his head and galloping on.</p> - -<p>He was on his way to his bride from -whom he had parted at the altar.</p> - -<p>But even at this supreme moment of their -lives he and Betty were good enough to remember -me, and in a few hours after I hailed -him from the window Walter called.</p> - -<p>“Where is Dan?” was my first question.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know, Nell,” he answered. “But -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_375">375</span> -I know he’s alive and well and will be along -in a few days.”</p> - -<p>That was all the comfort I got from any -friends returning from the field.</p> - -<p>A little later there was a grand review -of Federal troops in Richmond, and I remember -how well-clad and sleek they were and -how new and glittering were their arms. -Good boots, good hats, a whole suit of -clothes to every man—a long, bright, prosperous-looking -procession. On the sidewalk -a poor Confederate in rags and bootless, -stood looking wistfully on.</p> - -<p>The next day I heard that General -Rooney Lee had arrived, and I went to see -him. I was shown up to his mother’s room, -and she told me that he had not come, but -was hourly expected. When I called the -next day I met him and Miss Mildred Lee in -the door. They were going out, but the general -stepped back with me into the hall.</p> - -<p>“I came to see if you could tell me anything -about Dan, general.”</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Grey,” he said, “you know Dan as -well as I do. He isn’t whipped yet. I told -him it was all foolishness, and that the war -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_376">376</span> -was over, but he wouldn’t surrender with me, -and is going through to Johnston’s army. -But he will have to come back, and he will be -here soon, I think. Johnston’s army has surrendered.”</p> - -<p>“You think then that nothing has happened -to him, general?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no. I am sure of that.”</p> - -<p>General Lee dropped his voice.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Grey, it may be several days before -Dan gets in. In the meanwhile let me -supply your wants as best I can. You should -not mind applying to me or accepting assistance -from me.”</p> - -<p>“I appreciate your kindness more than I -can tell you, general, but I don’t really need -anything.”</p> - -<p>“If you should stand in need of money -or assistance of any kind before Dan gets in, -let me know, won’t you?”</p> - -<p>“Indeed I will, dear general.”</p> - -<p>We all three walked down Franklin -Street together until Miss Mildred, who was -going to see some friends on Grace Street, -had to turn. After the two had just turned -the corner I heard the general say: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_377">377</span></p> - -<p>“Wait for a minute, Mildred.”</p> - -<p>He slipped back, put his hand in his pocket, -and took out a thin roll of bills, a very thin -roll.</p> - -<p>“Mrs. Grey,” he said, “here is all the -money I have in the world, ten dollars in -greenbacks. Take half of it—I wish you -would—it wouldn’t inconvenience me at all. -I will make some more soon, and then I will -divide with you again until Dan comes -home.”</p> - -<p>I could hardly speak for tears. At that -moment I was richer than my general. I had -at home in gold and greenbacks more money -than General Lee.</p> - -<p>“God bless you, general!” I managed to -say. “But really I don’t need it. If I do -really and truly I will come to you for it.”</p> - -<p>Franklin Street wasn’t a good place to cry -in, so I hurried home.</p> - -<p>Still the days that passed did not bring -me Dan. I became thoroughly miserable. I -sat in my window and watched and was cross -if anybody spoke to me.</p> - -<p>One day a servant brought up a message: -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_378">378</span></p> - -<p>“Er gent’man in de parlor to see yer, -missy.”</p> - -<p>“What sort of a ‘gent’man’ is it?” I -asked tartly. There was but one man in the -world I wanted to see or hear about just then.</p> - -<p>“He ain’t lak our people, missy. He’s -furrin—French or suppin nuther. He say -how he usen ter know yer in Petersburg. An’ -how you lent ’im some—er—music—er suppin -lak dat. An’ he got—er—errah—suppin—I -clar fo’ de Lord, missy, I dunno what ’tis—but -he got suppin——”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I know,” I said. “He’s that old -French music-teacher, and he’s brought back -that old music I lent him in the year one. -Go tell him that I don’t want it; he can have -it.”</p> - -<p>Jake departed only to return in a more -perplexed frame of mind and state of speech.</p> - -<p>“He say how ’tain’t no music he’s got fur -yer. He say—he do say, missy—but de Lord -knows I dunno what he say!—but anyway -be bleeged to see yer.”</p> - -<p>I got up and went down to the parlor in -desperation.</p> - -<p>Sure enough, it was the little French -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_379">379</span> -music-teacher, and he began apologies, acknowledgments -and what not in his dreadful -English.</p> - -<p>“Madame, I haf no mooseek to you—not -at all. I haf one message of you to ze -majaire. If you not b’lief me,” he fumbled in -his pocket and brought out a dirty bit of -paper, “look at ze cart—vat sail I call him? -ze lettaire. If madame vill look—I beg ze -pardon of madame——”</p> - -<p>I snatched the paper out of his hand. -And then—I couldn’t make it out. Written -in the first place with an indifferent pencil on -a worn bit of the poor paper of that day and -carried in the little Frenchman’s very ragged -and grimy pocket, the scrawl was illegible. -It had never been more than a line of some -five or six words. While I was trying to -make it out the little Frenchman explained -that it was merely a line introducing himself -as the bearer of a message.</p> - -<p>What that message was I never did hear, -though the little Frenchman did his best to -deliver and I to receive it. I got enough out -of him, however, to know that Dan was well -and on his way to Richmond. I also understood -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_380">380</span> -that he was not far from Richmond -now, but what was detaining him I could not -make out, though the little Frenchman, with -many apologies, conveyed the hint to me -that it was a delicate matter. After he was -gone I wondered why I was so stupid as not -to get the little man’s address so that I could -send some friends who understood French -after him. From what he had said I had inferred -that my husband would be with me -the following day. I watched in a fever of -impatience, but two days passed and no Dan.</p> - -<p>The third night as I laid my aching head -on the pillow I said: “Mother, if he don’t -come to-morrow, the next day I start out to -look for him.”</p> - -<p>Do you know how it is to feel in your -sleep that some one is looking at you? This -is the sort of sensation that aroused me the -next morning, and I opened my eyes in the -early dawn to find my husband standing by the -bed with clasped hands looking down at me.</p> - -<p>Ah, we were happy—we were happy! -Ragged, defeated, broken, we but had each -other and that was enough.</p> - -<p>But there is a ludicrous side that I must -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_381">381</span> -tell you. I must explain how Dan was -dressed. He wore a pair of threadbare gray -trousers patched with blue; they were much -too short for him, and there were holes which -were not patched at all; he had no socks on, -but wore a ragged shoe of one size on one -foot, and on the other a boot of another size -and ragged too; he had on a blue jacket much -too small for him—it was conspicuously too -short, and there was a wide margin between -where it ended and his trousers began, and -he had on a calico shirt that looked like pink -peppermint candy. Set back on his head was -an old hat, shot nearly all to pieces—you -could look through the holes, and it had tags -hanging around where the brim had been. He -was a perfect old ragman except for the very -new pink shirt.</p> - -<p>“My dear Dan,” I said, “what a perfect -fright you are! What a dreadful ragtag and -bobtail!”</p> - -<p>“Why, Nell,” he said, “I thought these -very good clothes. What’s missing, my -dear? My suit is very complete; whole -trousers, jacket, new shirt, hat on my head, -even down to something on both feet. Last -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_382">382</span> -week I didn’t have any shirt, nor any jacket -to speak of, and my trousers weren’t patched -and I didn’t have anything on my feet. One -reason I took so long to get here was because -I was trying to get a few clothes together—I -wasn’t dressed to my taste, you see. It -took much time and labor to collect all this -wearing apparel. I got first one piece and -then another, until I am as you see me, fit to -enter Richmond. Somebody stole my trousers -one morning—I was in an awful plight. -That was the time the little Frenchman -passed and I sent you a message. Did he tell -you that I’d get home as soon as I got another -pair of trousers if somebody didn’t steal -my jacket by that time?”</p> - -<p>I was laughing and crying all the time he -was talking. When I pulled off boot and -shoe I found that he had spoken the truth in -jest when he said he had been walking barefoot -nearly all the way. His feet were sore. -I had some good shoes for him, and I got out -an old civilian suit that he had worn before -the war. It didn’t fit him now and looked -antiquated, but he donned it with great satisfaction. -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_383">383</span></p> - -<p>Then we went out shopping. It was -shopping in a city of ruins. As we walked -along the streets there were smoking pits on -each side of us. Here and there the remnants -of what had been a store enabled us to purchase -shoes at one place and the materials for -two white shirts at another, and to our great -joy we found a hat for which he paid two dollars, -United States money.</p> - -<p>We had nothing on which to begin life -over again, but we were young and strong, -and began it cheerily enough. We are prosperous -now, our heads are nearly white; little -grandchildren cluster about us and listen -with interest to grandpapa’s and grandmamma’s -tales of the days when they “fought and -bled and died together.” They can’t understand -how such nice people as the Yankees -and ourselves ever could have fought each -other. “It doesn’t seem reasonable,” says -Nellie the third, who is engaged to a gentleman -from Boston, where we sent her to -cultivate her musical talents, but where she -applied herself to other matters, “it doesn’t -seem reasonable, grandmamma, when you -could just as easily have settled it all comfortably -<span class="pagenum" id="Page_384">384</span> -without any fighting. How glad I -am I wasn’t living then! How thankful I am -that ‘Old Glory’ floats alike over North and -South, now!”</p> - -<p>And so am I, my darling, so am I!</p> - -<p>But for us—for Dan and me—we could -almost as easily give up each other as those -terrible, beloved days. They are the very -fiber of us.</p> - -<p class="ph2">THE END</p> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<h3>Transcriber's Note:</h3> - -<p>Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation are as in the original.</p> -</div> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Virginia Girl in the Civil War, -1861-1865, by Myrta Lockett Avary - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK VIRGINIA GIRL IN CIVIL WAR *** - -***** This file should be named 52070-h.htm or 52070-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/2/0/7/52070/ - -Produced by Wayne Hammond and The Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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