Life in Dixie during the War Part 20

"Where? Where? Do tell me that I may go to him!" cried his devoted sister, laughing and weeping alternately.

Having ascertained that the long train of exiles would not leave the station for several hours, I offered to conduct the tender-hearted woman to the camp-fire of her brother. The route took me over the same ground which only a few moments ago I had traveled with my own dear brother; and along which I had seen so vividly a lean, gaunt, phantom hand pointing at his retreating form. Even the horses' tracks and the ruts made by the wheels could be plainly traced by their freshness and the yet quivering sands; and as I gazed upon them, I fancied they were connecting links between me and him which were binding our souls together, and which I would never grow weary in following. These reflections were often disturbed by questions about "my dear brother Robert," and by alternate sobs and laughter. The distance seemed much greater, now that I was walking it, but at length we attained our destination, the headquarters of a few of General John Morgan's gallant defenders of Southern homes and firesides. It would require the descriptive power of a Sims or a Paul Hayne to give an adequate idea of the meeting on this occasion of this demonstrative brother and sister. I will not undertake to do so. He, too, was ready to move in that disastrous campaign, which lost to us the _creme de la creme_ of the Army of the Tennessee, and which aided, as if planned by the most astute Federal tactician, Sherman, in his "march to the sea."

During the interview between Colonel Alston and his sister, it developed to him that his pretty home had been abandoned to the tender mercies of the enemy by the family in whose care he had left it, and that the Yankees had shipped his wife's elegant European piano, mirrors and furniture, as well as his library, cut gla.s.s and Dresden china to the North; and, besides, in the very malignity of envy and sectional hate, had mutilated and desecrated his house in a shameful manner. His imprecations were fearful; and his vows to get even with the accursed Yankees were even more so. The lamb of a few moments ago was transformed into a lion, roaring and fierce. He accompanied his sister and myself on our return to the station; and never will I forget that walk.

The station reached, the scene of separation of brother and sister was again enacted, and he, too, went to battle-fields, sanguinary and relentless, she to peaceful retreats undisturbed by cannon's roar.

Here, as at Jonesboro, the face of the earth was literally covered with rude tents and side-tracked cars, which were occupied by exiles from home--defenseless women and children, and an occasional old man tottering on the verge of the grave, awaiting their turn to be transported by over-taxed railroads farther into the constantly diminishing land of their love. During the afternoon I boarded an already well-filled south-bound train, and moved about among its occupants as if at home. For were we not one people, the mothers, wives and sisters of Confederates? The diversity of mind, disposition and temper of this long train of representative women and children of Atlanta, and many miles contiguous, who were carrying minds and hearts brimful of memories never to be obliterated, but rather to harden into asphalt preservation, was ill.u.s.trated in various ways. Some laughed and talked and jested, and infused the light and warmth of their own sunny natures into others less hopeful; some were morose and churlish, and saw no hope in the future and were impatient with those who did see the silver lining beyond the dark cloud suspended over us; and some very plainly indicated that if our cause failed, they would lose all faith in a prayer-answering G.o.d; and others saw wisdom and goodness in all His ways and dispensations, and were willing to submit to any chastis.e.m.e.nt if it only brought them nearer to the Mercy Seat.

After many delays and adventures, not of sufficient importance to relate, I reached Griswoldville. Here I was received with open arms by that good old father and mother in Israel, Rev. Dr. John S. Wilson and his wife, and his excellent family, whom I found residing in an old freight car. But they were living in a palace compared to many of their neighbors and friends, who had scarcely a shelter to protect them from the inclemency of the weather. Every moment of time with these good people was spent in answering questions and receiving blessings. Not long after this pleasant meeting, Stoneman's raiders came into Griswoldville, and the household effects of Dr. Wilson's family were consumed by devouring torches. All their winter clothing, the doctor's library and his ma.n.u.script sermons, were burned to ashes. These sermons were the result of the study and experience of forty years. But this grand old soldier of the cross, although on the verge of threescore years and ten, faltered not; for his eye was fixed on the goal of his heavenly inheritance. Wherever he went, he still preached, and died a few years afterwards at his post in Atlanta, having missed but two preaching appointments in all his ministry, one of these on the Sabbath before he died.

By a circuitous route, which I can now scarcely recall, in the course of time I reached Augusta, the beautiful. I wended my way through the crowded thoroughfares to the residence of friends on Green street, where my sister had sojourned for several weeks, far from the distracting confusion of warfare. After all these long and varied years, I never see that Elysian street without feeling as if I would like to kneel and kiss the ground whereon she found surcease of hostile tread and rancorous foe.

I could scarcely approach the house, in exterior beautiful in all that makes a home attractive. I feared that within sorrowful tidings might await me. No word of the absent sister had come through the enemy's lines since they were first established, and now I dreaded to hear. More than once I stood still and tried to nerve myself for the worst tidings that could be communicated. And then I ascended the stone steps and rang the door-bell. When the butler came, I hurriedly asked if Miss Stokes was in.

As if apprehending my state of feelings, he answered with a broad African grin: "She is, ma'am."

The pressure of a mountain was removed from my heart, and with a lighter step than I had taken for some time I entered that friendly portal, a welcome guest. A moment sufficed for him to carry the joyous tidings of my presence to my sister, and, as if by magic, she was with me. O, the joy and the sadness of our meeting! To say that each of us was glad beyond our ability to express it, would be a tame statement; and yet neither of us was happy. There was too much sadness connected with ourselves and our country to admit of happiness; yet the report of our mother's fort.i.tude and usually good health, and the hopeful spirit of our brother, and his numerous messages of love and playful phraseology, cheered my sister so much that she rallied and did all she could to render my brief stay with her as pleasant as possible. And there was a charm in her sweet voice and pleasant words that were soothing to me, and did much to a.s.suage my own grief. Nor were our good friends wanting in efforts of like character.

They, too, had drank deep of Marah's bitter waters. Two n.o.ble boys, yet in their teens, had been laid upon the sacrificial altar, an oblation to their country. And a fair young girl had gone down into the tomb, as much a sacrifice to Southern rights as if slain on the battle-field. One other girl and her war-stricken parents survived, and they were devoting their lives to the encouragement of those similarly bereaved.

Although I knew it would pain her greatly, I thought it would be wrong to leave without telling my sister about Toby's death, and, therefore, I told her. Like our brother, she wept, but not as one without hope. She had been his spiritual instructor, and thoroughly taught him the great and yet easy plan of salvation; and I have never doubted that he caught on to it, and was supported by the arm of Jesus, as he "pa.s.sed through the dark valley and the shadow of death."

The time for leaving this peaceful retreat came, and was inexorable; nor would I have stayed if I could. There was a widowed mother, whose head was whitened, not so much by the frost of winters as by sorrow and care, grief and bereavement, awaiting my coming--oh, so anxiously! Waiting to hear from the soldier son, who, even for her sake, and that of his gentle young wife and baby boy in Texas, would listen to no plan of escape from the dangers involved by his first presidential vote. Waiting to hear from the fair young daughter, whom she preferred to banish from home rather than have her exposed to the rude chances of war. That she might not be kept in painful suspense, I determined not to linger on the way. I, therefore, took the morning train on the good old reliable Georgia Railroad for Social Circle. The parting from my sister pained me exceedingly; but I knew she had put her trust in the Lord, and He would take care of her. It may be asked why I did not have the same faith regarding the preservation of my brother. He, too, was a Christian. "He that taketh the sword shall perish by the sword," is a divine a.s.sertion, and it was constantly repeating itself in my ears; yea, I had heard him repeat it with emphasis.

The trip from Augusta to Social Circle was replete with melancholy interest, and differed very materially from the trip from Atlanta to Jonesboro. Here those who had the courage to do so were returning to their homes, and were on the _qui vive_ for every item of news obtainable from within the enemy's lines; but nothing satisfactory encouraged their hope of better treatment. One marked difference appeared in the character of those who were venturing homeward. There was scarcely any young persons--not a single young lady. The good old mother railroad was very deliberate in her movements, and gave her patrons time to get acquainted and chat a little on the way, and this we did without restraint.

We discussed the situation, and narrated our diversified experiences, and this interchange of thought and feeling brought us very near together, and made us wondrous kind to one another. At one of the stations at which the train stopped, and had to wait a long while, I saw several of the young soldiers from Decatur. Among them was Ryland Holmes, and, I think, Mose Brown.

About a dozen ladies were going within the enemy's lines and would there separate for their respective homes. We agreed to hire a wagon team and driver at Social Circle, that we might take it "turn about" in riding to Stone Mountain. As I was the only one going beyond that point, I determined to take my chance from there for getting to Decatur, and go on foot if need be. Our plan was successful, as, after much effort, we obtained an old rickety wagon, which had doubtless done good service in its day, and a yoke of mis-mated oxen, and a negro driver. For this equipage we paid an enormous sum, and, thinking we ought to have the full benefit of it, we all got into the wagon to take a ride. Compa.s.sion for the oxen, however, caused first one and then another to descend to the ground, and march in the direction of home, sometimes two abreast and sometimes in single file. Night overtook us at a house only a short distance from the Circle, and in a body we appealed for shelter beneath its roof. The man of the family was at home, under what circ.u.mstances I have never heard, and to him we appealed, and from him we received an ungracious "permit" to stay in his house. Seeing no inviting prospects for rest and repose, I established myself in a corner and took out of my reticule some nice German wool that had been given to me by my friends in Augusta, and cast on the st.i.tches for a throat-warmer, or, in the parlance of that day, "a comforter." Mine host watched the process with much interest. When the pattern developed, he admired it, and expressed a wish to have one like it. Glad of the privilege to liquidate my indebtedness for the prospective night's shelter, I told him if he would furnish the material I would knit him one just like it. The material seemed to be in waiting, and was brought forward, soft, pretty lambs' wool thread, and I put it in my already well-filled hand satchel to await future manipulation. The accommodation in the way of bedding was inadequate, and more than one of our party pa.s.sed a sleepless night; but what mattered it?

Were we not Confederate soldiers, or very near akin to them?

As the first sunbeams were darting about among the tree tops, I donned my bonnet and bade adieu to our entertainers, and started on my journey homeward, walking. Being in the very vigor of womanhood, and in perfect health, I never experienced the sensation of fatigue, and I verily believe I could have walked to my desolated home sooner than the most of the resources within our means could have carried me; and I was impatient under the restraint and hindrance of slow teams. Hence my start in advance of the other ladies. And I wanted to be alone. The pent-up tears were constantly oozing out of my eyes and trickling down my face, and I wanted to open the flood-gates and let them flow unrestrainedly. I wanted to cry aloud like a baby. I plunged into the woods, for the seldom traveled road was scarcely a barrier to perfect solitude. I walked rapidly, and closed my eyes to all the attractions of nature lest they divert my mind, and appease my hungry heart. I wanted to cry, and was even then doing so, before I got ready for it. At length I came to a rivulet of crystal water, as pure as the dew drops of Arcadia. I sat down beside it and mingled the anguished tears of my very soul with its sparkling, ever-changing, nectarian waters. I bathed my hot face and hands in the pellucid stream, and still the lachrymal fountain flowed on. I thought of my lonely mother, surrounded by those who were seeking the subversion of all that her heart held dear, and I cried. I thought of my brother--of his toilsome marches and weary limbs, and of his consecrated life--and I cried. I thought of the fair young sister, still hopeful in early womanhood, and I refused to be comforted, and wept bitterly. In this disconsolate frame of mind, I was ready to give up all hope and yield to direful despair. At this fearful crisis a still, small voice whispered, "Peace, be still!" The glamour of love invested sky and earth with supernal glory. The fountain of tears ceased to flow, and I looked around upon the handiwork of the Great Supreme Being in whose creation I was but an atom, and wondered that He should have been mindful of me--that He should have given surcease of agony to my sorrowing soul. All nature changed as if by magic, and the witchery of the scene was indescribable. The pretty wildwood flowers, as I bent my admiring gaze upon them, seemed to say in beautiful silent language, "Look aloft." The birds, as they trilled their morning roundelay, said in musical numbers, "Look aloft;" and the merry rivulet at my feet affected seriousness, and whispered, "Look aloft." Thus admonished, "in that moment of darkness, with scarce hope in my heart," I looked aloft--looked aloft.

By and by the ladies came in sight, some walking and others riding in the wagon; and I pitied most those who were in the wagon. As soon as they were within speaking distance, one of the ladies said: "You should have stayed for breakfast. It was quite appetizing." Reminded of what I had lost, I was led to compare it with what I had gained, and I would not have exchanged loss and gain for anything in the world. I had to admit, however, that there was a vacuum that needed replenishing; but I was inured to hunger, and, save a pa.s.sing thought, I banished all desire for food, and thought only of the loved ones, so near and yet so far, and in spite of myself the fountain of tears was again running over.

The long tramp to Stone Mountain was very lonely. Not a living thing overtook or pa.s.sed us, and we soon crossed over the line and entered a war-stricken section of country where stood chimneys only, where lately were pretty homes and prosperity, now departed. Ah, those chimneys standing amid smoldering ruins! No wonder they were called "Sherman's sentinels," as they seemed to be keeping guard over those scenes of desolation. The very birds of the air and beasts of the field had fled to other sections. By constant and unflagging locomotion we reached Stone Mountain sometime during the night. We went to the hotel and asked shelter and protection, and received both, but not where to lay our heads, as those who had preceded us had filled every available place. I had friends in the village, but I had no a.s.surance that they had remained at home and weathered the cyclone of war. Therefore, early in the morning, hungry and footsore, I started all alone walking to Decatur. The solitude was terrific, and the feeling of awe was so intense that I was startled by the breaking of a twig, or the gruesome sound of my own footsteps. Constantly reminded by ruined homes, I realized that I was indeed within the arbitrary lines of a cruel, merciless foe, and but for my lonely mother, anxiously awaiting my return, I should have turned and run for dear life until again within the boundaries of Dixie.

I must have walked very rapidly, for, before I was aware of it, I found myself approaching Judge Bryce's once beautiful but now dilapidated home.

He and his good wife gave me affectionate greeting and something to inflate a certain vacuum which had become painfully clamorous. And they also gave me that which was even more acceptable--a large yam potato and a piece of sausage to take to my mother.

I begged Judge Bryce to go with me at least part of the way to Decatur, but he was afraid to leave his wife. His experience with the Yankees had not been an exceptional case. They had robbed him of everything of value, silver, gold, etc., and what they could not carry away they had destroyed, and he denied most emphatically that there was a single gentleman in the Federal army. In vain did I tell him that we owed the preservation of our lives to the protection extended us by the few gentlemen who were in it.

After a brief rest, I resumed my way homeward, and oh, with what heart-sickening forebodings I approached that sacred though desolate abode! Anon the little town appeared in the distance, and upon its very limits I met several of Colonel Garrard's cavalry officers. Among them a diversity of temper was displayed. Some of them appeared very glad to see me, and, to anxious inquires regarding my mother, they replied that they had taken good care of her in my absence, and that I ought to have rewarded them for having done so by bringing "my pretty young sister" home with me. Although I did not entertain one iota of respect for the Federal army as a whole, I knew there were a few in its ranks who were incapable of the miserable conduct of the majority, and my heart went out in very tender grat.i.tude to them, especially those who had sought to lessen the anguish of my mother. These men threw the reins into the hands of out-riders, and got off their horses and walked with me to the door of my home. Their headquarters were still in the yard and had been ever since first established there, with the exception of a very few days. My return was truly a memorable occasion. Manifestations a.s.sured me that the highest as well as the lowest in that command was glad to see me, and in their hearts welcomed me home. To good Mr. Fred Williams I was indebted, in a large measure, for kindly feeling and uniform respect from that portion of the Federal army with which I came in contact.

My mother had seen me coming and had retreated into as secluded a place as she could find, to compose herself for the meeting, but the effort was in vain. She trembled like an aspen leaf, her lips quivered and her tongue could not articulate the words she would have spoken. Alas! the tension was more than she could bear. I dwelt upon the fact that Thomie and Missouri were well and had sent her a world of love. I tried to infuse hope and cheerfulness into everything I told her, but she could not see it, and her poor over-taxed heart could bear up no longer, and she cried as Rachel weeping for her children, long and piteously. No purer tears were ever borne by heaven-commissioned Peri into the presence of a compa.s.sionate Savior, than those shed by that patriotic though sorrowing mother.

CHAPTER XX.

ON THE VERGE OF STARVATION.

A worn-out army horse is found--Uncle Mack makes a wagon--I make a unique trip--Starvation is warded off--Dangers and scenes by the way.

"What is it, Ma? Has anything happened?"

"No, only Maggie Benedict has been here crying as if her heart would break, and saying that her children are begging for bread, and she has none to give them. Give me a little of the meal or hominy that you have, that we may not starve until we can get something else to eat, and then take the remainder to her that she may cook it as quickly as possible for her suffering children."

We had spent the preceding day in picking out grains of corn from cracks and crevices in bureau drawers, and other improvised troughs for Federal horses, as well as gathering up what was scattered upon the ground. In this way by diligent and persevering work, about a half bushel was obtained from the now deserted camping ground of Garrard's cavalry, and this corn was thoroughly washed and dried, and carried by me and Telitha to a poor little mill (which had escaped conflagration, because too humble to attract attention), and ground into coa.r.s.e meal. Returning from this mill, and carrying, myself, a portion of the meal, I saw in the distance my mother coming to meet me. Apprehensive of evil, I ran to meet her and asked:

"What is it, Ma? Has anything happened?"

With flushed face and tear-toned voice she replied as already stated. My heart was touched and a division was soon made. Before starting on this errand, I thought of the probable delay that inexperience and perhaps the want of cooking utensils and fuel might occasion, and suggested that it would hasten the relief to the children to cook some bread and mush and carry it to them already for use. A boiling pot, left on the camping-ground, was soon on the fire ready to receive the well-prepared batter, which was to be converted into nutritious mush or porridge. Nor was the bread forgotten. While the mush was cooking the hoe-cakes were baking in good old plantation style. These were arranged one upon another, and tied up in a snow-white cloth; and a tin bucket, also a trophy from the company, was filled with hot mush. I took the bread, and Telitha the bucket, and walked rapidly to Doctor Holmes' residence, where Maggie Benedict, whose husband was away in the Confederate army, had rooms for herself and her children. The Rev. Doctor and his wife had refugeed, leaving this young mother and her children alone and unprotected.

The scene which I witnessed will never be obliterated from my memory. On the doorsteps sat the young mother, beautiful in desolation, with a baby in her arms, and on either side of her a little one, piteously crying for something to eat. "Oh, mama, I want something to eat, so bad." "Oh, mama, I am so hungry--give me something to eat." Thus the children were begging for what the mother had not to give. She could only give them soothing words. But relief was at hand. Have you ever enjoyed the satisfaction of appeasing the hunger of children who had been without food until on the verge of starvation? If not, one of the keenest enjoyments of life has been denied you. O, the thankfulness of such a privilege! And oh, the joy, melancholy though it be, of hearing blessings invoked upon you and yours by the mother of those children!

While this needful food was being eaten with a zest known only to the hungry, I was taking in the situation, and devising in my own mind means by which to render more enduring relief. The meal we had on hand would soon be exhausted, and, though more might be procured in the same way, it would be hazardous to depend upon that way only. "G.o.d helps those who help themselves," is a good old reliable proverb that cannot be too deeply impressed upon the mind of every child. To leave this young mother in a state of absolute helplessness, and her innocent little ones dependent upon the precarious support which might be gleaned from a devastated country, would be cruel indeed; but how to obviate this state of affairs was a serious question.

The railroad having been torn up in every direction communicating with Decatur, there seemed to be but one alternative--to walk--and that was not practicable with several small children.

"Maggie, this state of affairs cannot be kept up; have you no friend to whom you can go?"

"Yes," she replied. "Mr. Benedict has a sister near Madison, who has wanted me and the children to go and stay with her ever since he has been in the army, but I was too independent to do it."

"Absurd! Well, the time has come that you must go. Get the children ready, and I will call for you soon," and without any positive or defined plan of procedure, I took leave of Maggie and her children. I was working by faith, and the Lord directed my footsteps. On my way home I hunted up "Uncle Mack," a faithful old negro man, who preferred freedom in the midst of privation with his own white people, to following the Federal army around on "Uncle Sam's" pay-roll, and got from him a promise that he would construct a wagon out of odds and ends left upon the streets of Decatur.

The next thing to be done was to provide a horse, and not being a magician, nor possessed of Aladdin's lamp, this undertaking must have seemed chimerical to those who had not known how often and how singularly these scarcely formulated plans had developed into success. This day had been one of constant and active service, and was only one of the many that furnished from sixteen to eighteen working hours. No wonder, then, that exhausted nature succ.u.mbed to sleep that knew no waking until the dawn of another day.

Next morning, before the sun rose, accompanied by the Morton girls, I was on my way to "the cane-brakes." I had seen many horses, whose places had been taken by others captured from farmers, abandoned and sent out to the cane-brake to recuperate or to die, the latter being the more probable.

Without any definite knowledge of the locality, but guided by an over-ruling providence, I went direct to the cane-brake, and there soon made a selection of a horse, which, from the a.s.sortment at hand, could not have been improved upon. By a dextrous throw of a la.s.so, constructed and managed by the young friends already mentioned, he was soon captured and on his way to Decatur to enter "rebel" service. His most conspicious feature was a pair of as fine eyes as ever illuminated a horse's head, large, brown and l.u.s.trous. There were other conspicuous things about him, too; for instance, branded upon each of his sides were the tell-tale letters, "U. S.," and on his back was an immense sore which also told tales. By twelve o'clock, noon, Uncle Mack appeared upon the scene, pulling something which he had improvised which baffled description, and which, for the sake of the faithful service I obtained from it, I will not attempt to describe, though it might provoke the risibilities of the readers. Suffice it to say that as it carried living freight in safety over many a bridge, in honor of this I will call it a wagon. Uncle Mack soon had the horse secured to this vehicle by ropes and pieces of crocus sack, for harness was as scarce a commodity as wagons and horses. I surveyed the equipage from center to circ.u.mference, with emotions pathetic and amusing. It was awfully suggestive. And as I viewed it in all its grotesqueness my imagination pictured a collapse, and my return home from no very distant point upon my all-fours, with one of the fours dragging after me in a dilapidated condition. I distinctly heard the derisive gibberish and laughter of old Momus, and thought I should explode in the effort to keep from joining in his mirthfulness. As I turned my head to take a sly glance at my mother, our eyes met, and all restraint was removed. With both of us laughter and sobs contended for the mastery, and merriment and tears literally blended. Thus equipped, and with a benediction from my mother, expressed more by looks and acts than by words, I gathered the ropes and started like Bayard Taylor to take "Views Afoot," and at the same time accomplish an errand of mercy which would lead me, as I led the horse, over a portion of country that in dreariness and utter desolation baffles description--enough to know that Sherman's foraging trains had been over it. Leading the horse, which was already christened "Yankee," to Dr. Holmes' door, I called Maggie to come on with her children.

"I can't bring my things out, Miss Mary. Somebody must come to carry them and put them in the wagon."

"I can," I said, and suiting the action to the word, ran into the house where, to my amazement, three large trunks confronted me. What was to be done? If they could be got into the wagon, what guarantee was there that poor Yankee could haul them in that tumblesome vehicle? However, I went for Uncle Mack to put the trunks in the wagon, and in front of them, in close proximity to the horse's heels, was placed a chair in which Maggie seated herself and took her baby in her lap, the other children nestling on rugs at her feet.

Poor Yankee seemed to feel the importance of his mission, and jogged along at a pretty fair speed, and I, who walked by his side and held the ropes, found myself more than once obliged to strike a trot in order to maintain control of him. Paradoxical as it may seem, I enjoyed this new phase in my service to the Confederacy--none but a patriot could render it, and the whole thing seemed invested with the glamour of romance, the sequel of which would be redemption from all connection with a people who could thus afflict another people of equal rights. While Maggie hummed a sweet little lullaby to her children, I contemplated the devastation and ruin on every side. Not a vestige of anything remained to mark the sites of the pretty homes which had dotted this fair country before the destroyer came, except, perhaps, a standing chimney now and then. And all this struck me as the willing sacrifice of a peerless people for a great principle, and looking through the dark vista I saw light ahead--I saw white-robed peace proclaiming that the end of carnage had come. Even then, as I jogged along at a snail's pace (for be it known Yankee was not uniform in his gait, and as his mistress had relaxed the tension of the ropes, he had relaxed the speed of his steps) up a pretty little hill from whose summit I had often gazed with rapturous admiration upon the beautiful mountain of granite near by, I had so completely materialized the Queen of Peace that I saw her on the mountain's crest, scattering with lavish hand blessings and treasures as a recompense for the destruction so wantonly inflicted. Thus my hopeful temperament furnished consolation to me, even under darkest circ.u.mstances.

Maggie and the children became restive in their pent-up limits, and the latter clamored for something to eat, but there was nothing to give them.

Night was upon us, and we had come only about eight miles, and not an animate thing had we seen since we left Decatur, not even a bird, and the silence was unbroken save by the sound of the horse's feet as he trod upon the rocks, and the soft, sweet humming of the young mother to her dear little ones. Step by step we seemed to descend into the caverns of darkness, and my brave heart began to falter. The children, awestruck, had ceased their appeal for bread, and nestled closer to their mother, and that they might all the more feel her protecting presence, she kept up a constant crooning sound, pathetic and sad. Step by step we penetrated the darkness of night--a night without a moon, starless and murky. The unerring instinct of an animal was all we had to guide us in the beaten road, which had ceased to be visible to human ken.

A faint glimmer of light, at apparently no very great distance, gave hope that our day's journey was almost ended. Yankee also caught the inspiration and walked a little faster. Though the time seemed long, the cabin, for such it proved to be, was finally reached, and I dropped the ropes, and, guided by the glimmer of light through the cracks, went to the door and knocked, at the same time announcing my name. The door was quickly opened. Imagine my surprise when recognized and cordially welcomed by a sweet friend, whose most humble plantation cabin was a pretty residence in comparison with the one she now occupied. Maggie, too, as the daughter of a well-known physician, received cordial welcome for herself and children. And thus a kind Providence provided a safe lodging place for the night.

Nature again a.s.serted itself, and the children asked for something to eat.

The good lady of the house kissed them, and told them that supper would soon be ready. The larger one of her little sons drew from a bed of ashes, which had been covered by glowing coals, some large yam potatoes which he took to a table and peeled. He then went outside the cabin and drew from a keg an earthen-ware pitcher full of sparkling persimmon beer, which he dispensed to us in cups, and then handed around the potatoes. And how much this repast was enjoyed! Good sweet yams thoroughly cooked, and the zestful persimmon beer! And I thought of the lonely mother at a desolated home, whose only supper had been made of coa.r.s.e meal, ground from corn which her own hands had helped to pick from crevices and cracks in improvised troughs, where Garrard's cavalry had fed their horses. After awhile the sweet womanly spirit that presided over this little group, got a quilt and a shawl or two, and made a pallet for the children. The boys put more wood upon the fire, and some in the jambs of the fireplace, to be used during the night; and then they went behind us and lay down upon the floor, with seed cotton for pillows, and the roof for covering. Our kind hostess placed additional wraps over the shoulders of Maggie and myself, and we three sat up in our chairs and slept until the dawn.

Accustomed to looking after outdoor interests, I went to see how Yankee was coming on, and found him none the worse for the preceding day's toil.

Everything indicated that he had fared as sumptuously as we had--a partly-eaten pumpkin, corn, whole ears yet in the trough, and fodder near by, plainly showed the generosity of the n.o.ble little family that took us in and gave us the best they had. After breakfast we bade adieu to the good mother and her children, and went on our way, if not rejoicing, at least feeling better for having seen and been with such good people. There was a strong tie between us all. The husband and father was off in the army, like our loved ones. The generous feeding given to our steed had so braced him up that he began to walk faster, and was keenly appreciative of every kind word; and I and he formed a friendship for each other that continued to his dying day. The road was very rough and hilly, and more than once he showed signs of fatigue; but a word of encouragement seemed to renew his strength, and he walked bravely on. Maggie would perhaps have lightened his load by walking now and then, but the jolting of the wagon kept the trunks in perpetual motion, and the lives of the children would thereby have been jeopardized.