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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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