The Victim: A Romance of the Real Jefferson Davis

by Thomas Dixon

  CHAPTER XXV

  THE BOMBARDMENT

  Baton Rouge seethed with excitement on the day of Jennie's arrival.Every wagon and dray was pressed into service. The people were haulingtheir cotton to be burned on the commons. Negroes swarmed over thebales, cutting them open, piling high the fleecy lint and then applyingthe torch. The flames leaped upward with a roar and dropped as suddenlyinto a smoldering and smoking mass.

  A crowd rushed to the wharf to see them fire an enormous flat-boat piledmountain-high with cotton. A dozen bales had been broken open and thewhole floating funeral pyre stood shrouded in spotless white whichleaped into flames as it was pushed into the stream.

  Along the levee as far as the eye could reach negroes crawled like blackants rolling the cotton into the river. The ties were smashed, and thewhite bundle of cotton tumbled into the water and was set on fire. Eachbale sent up its cloud of smoke until the surface of the whole riverseemed alive with a fleet of war crowding its steam to run freshbatteries. Another flat-boat was piled high, its bales cut open, soakedwith whiskey, and set on fire. The blue flames of burning alcohol gave atouch of weird and sinister color to the scene.

  The men who owned this cotton stood by cheering and helping in itsdestruction. The two flat-boats with flames leaping into the smoke pallof the darkened skies led the fleet of fire down the river to greetFarragut's men in their way.

  Every saloon was emptied and every gutter flowed with wines and liquors.

  * * * * *

  Jennie found her grandmother resting serenely in her great rockingchair, apparently indifferent to the uproar of the town. The householdwith its seventy-odd negro servants was running its usual smooth,careless course.

  Jennie read aloud the announcement in the morning paper of Butler'sorder to New Orleans:

  "All devices, signs, and flags of the Confederacy shall be suppressed--"

  She clenched her fist and sprang to her feet.

  "Good! I'll devote all my red, white and blue silk to the manufacture ofConfederate flags! When one is confiscated--I'll make another. I'll wearone pinned on my bosom. The man who says, 'Take it off,' will have topull it off himself. The man who does that--well, I've a pistolready!--"

  "What are you saying, dear?" the old lady asked with her thin handbehind her ear.

  "Oh, nothing much, grandma dear," was the sweet answer. "I was onlywishing I were a man!"

  She slipped her arms about her thin neck and whispered this in deep,tragic tones. With a bound she was off to the depot to see the lastsquad of soldiers depart for the front before the gunboats arrived.

  They waved their hats to the crowds of women and children as the trainslowly pulled out.

  "God bless you, ladies! We're going to fight for you!"

  Jennie drew her handkerchief, waved and sobbed the chorus in reply.

  "God bless you, soldiers! Fight for us!"

  Four hours later the black gunboats swung at their anchors. The proudlittle conquered city lay at the mercy of their guns.

  Jennie watched them with shining eyes, and that without fear. The Unionflag was streaming from every peak and halyard.

  The girl rushed home, made a flag five inches long, pinned it to hershoulder and deliberately walked down town. Mattie Morgan joined her atthe corner and drew one from the folds of her dress, emboldened by theexample.

  They marched straight to the State House terrace to take a good look atthe _Brooklyn_ lying close inshore. Fifteen or twenty Federal officerswere standing on the first terrace, stared at by the crowd as if theywere wild beasts.

  "Oh, Mattie," Jennie faltered. "We didn't expect to meet these people.What shall we do?"

  "Stand by your colors now. There's nothing else to do."

  On they marched, hearts thumping painfully with conscious humiliation attheir silly bravado. Fine, noble-looking, quiet fellows those officersin blue--refinement and gentlemanly bearing in every movement of theirstalwart bodies. They had come ashore as friendly sightseers and stoodadmiring the beauty of the quaint old town. Jennie's eyes filled withtears of vexation.

  "Let's go home, Mattie--"

  "I say so, too--"

  "Never again for me! I'll hang my flag on the mantel. I'll not try towave it in the face of a gentleman again--oof--what silly fools wewere!"

  The Federal commander of the fleet had warned the citizens of BatonRouge that any hostile demonstration against his ships or men would meanthe instant bombardment of the town.

  Jennie had just finished breakfast and helped her grandmother to findher way to the rocker. Mandy had been sent to the store for some threadwith which to make a new uniform for one of the boys. Jennie resolved toturn her energies to practical account now. No more flaunting of tinyflags in the faces of brave, dignified young officers of the navy.

  The maid rushed through the hall wild with excitement. She had run everystep back from the store without the thread.

  "Lowdy, Miss Jennie," she gasped, "sumfin' awful happened!"

  "What is it? What's the matter?"

  Mandy stood in dumb terror, the whites of her eyes shining. She waslistening apparently for the arch-angel's trumpet to sound.

  Jennie seized her shoulders.

  "What's the matter? Tell me before I murder you!"

  "Yassam!" Mandy gasped and again her head was cocked to one side as ifstraining her ears for the dreaded sound of Gabriel.

  "What's happened?--Tell me!" Jennie stormed.

  At last poor Mandy's senses slowly returned. She stared into her youngmistress' face and gasped:

  "Yassam--Mr. Castle's killed a Yankee ossifer on de ship an' dey gwineter shell--"

  "Boom!"

  The deep thunder peal of a great gun shook the world. There was nomistaking the sound of it or its meaning. The fleet had opened fire onthe defenseless town. Mandy's teeth chattered and her voice failed.

  And then pandemonium.

  Poor old negroes and helpless pickaninnies swarmed into the house forshelter from the doom of Judgment Day.

  "Run--run for your lives--get out of the way of those shells!" Jennieshouted.

  Her three terror-stricken maids huddled by her side in helpless panic.

  Her grandmother sprang to her feet and asked in subdued tones:

  "What is it, child?"

  "The fleet's shelling the town--grandma--you'll be killed--the house'llbe smashed--you must run--run for your life--"

  Jennie screamed her warning into the sweet old lady's ears and seizedher by the hand.

  "But they can't shell a town full of helpless women and children, mydear," the grandmother protested gently. "It's impossible--"

  "Boom--boom!" pealed two guns in quick succession.

  "De Lawd save us!" Lucy screamed.

  "You see they're doing it--come--"

  Jennie grasped her grandmother's hand firmly and dragged her from thehouse. From the servants' quarters came one long wail of prayer andlamentation mingled with shouts and exhortation. An old bed-ridden blackwoman, a fervent Methodist, raised a hymn:

  "_Better days are coming, we'll all go right!_"

  Jennie had reached the gate when she suddenly remembered her canary--apresent Billy had given her on her eighteenth birthday. She rushed backinto the house, snatched the cage up and started on the run again.

  What was the use? It was impossible to take the bird. He would starve todeath.

  She quickly opened the cage, took him out and kissed his yellow head.

  "Good-by, Jimmy darling!"

  The tears would come in spite of all she could do.

  "I hope you'll be happy!"

  With quick decision she tossed him in the air.

  The bird gave one helpless chirp of surprise and terror at the strangenew world, fluttered in a circle, spread his wings at last and was gone.

  The girl brushed her tears away and returned to her grandmother's side.The gravel was cutting her feet. Her shoes were utterly unfit forrunning. She would rush back and get a pair of the b
oys' strong ones.She had worn them before.

  "Wait, grandma!" she shouted. "I must change my shoes!"

  Back into the house she plunged and found the shoes. Seeing the housestill standing, she thought of other things she might need, grasped hertooth brushes and thrust them in her corset. She would certainly need acomb. She added that--a powder bag and lace collar lying on the bureauwere also saved. Her hair was tumbling down. She thought of hairpins andtucking comb and added them.

  Her grandmother in alarm came back to find her. They decided betweenthem to fill a pillow case with little things they would certainly need.

  There was a lull in the shelling. Jennie's maids rushed back in terrorat being left alone.

  The guns again opened with redoubled fury. Still bent on savingsomething Jennie grabbed two soiled underskirts and an old cloak andonce more dragged her grandmother to the door.

  * * * * *

  Five big shells sailed squarely over the house at the same moment. Theyseemed to swing in circles, spiral-shaped like corkscrews. The dull whizand swish of their flight made the most blood-curdling unearthly noise.Her grandmother fumbled at the door trying to turn the bolt of theunused lock.

  "Don't fool with that door, grandma!" Jennie cried--"run--run--you'll bekilled."

  "I won't run!" the old lady said with firm decision. "I'll go down thereand tell those cowards what I think of their firing on women andchildren--"

  A big shell whizzed past the house and grandma jumped behind a pillar.She was painfully deaf to human speech--but the whiz of that shell foundher nerves. They ran now without looking back--ran at least for ahundred yards until the poor old lady could run no more and then walkedas rapidly as possible.

  They were at last on the main country road, leading out of town.Hurrying terror-stricken people, young, old, black and white, werepassing them every moment now.

  A mile and a half out her grandmother broke down completely. A gentlemanpassing in a buggy took pity on her gray hairs and lifted her to theseat by his side while his own little ones crouched at her feet.

  Jennie waved her hand as they drove off:

  "I'll find you somewhere, grandma dear--don't worry!"

  Another mile she trudged with Mandy and Lucy clinging to her skirts andthen sat down to rest. Her nerves were slowly recovering their poise andshe began to laugh at the funny sights the terror-stricken peoplepresented at every turn.

  A cart approached piled high with household goods.

  "Let's ride, Mandy!" Jennie cried.

  "Yassam, dat's what I says, too," the little black maid eagerly agreed.

  The cart belonged to a neighbor. It was driven by an old negro man.

  "Let us ride, uncle!" Jennie called.

  The old man pulled his reins quickly and laughed good-naturedly.

  "Dat you shall, Honey. De name er Gawd, ter see Miss Jennie Bartonsettin' here in dis dirty road!"

  He helped them climb to seats on the top of his load. Jennie found aberth between a flour barrel and mattress, while Mandy sat astride of anenormous bundle of bed clothes. Lucy scrambled up beside the driver.

  The hot sun was pouring its fierce rays down without mercy. The oldnegro pulled a faded umbrella from beneath his seat, raised it, andhanded it to Jennie with a grand bow.

  "Thank you, uncle. You certainly are good to us!"

  "Yassam--yassam--I wish I could do mo', honey chile. De ve'y idee er demslue-footed Yankees er shellin' our town an' scerin' all our ladies terdeath. Dey gwine ter pay fur all dis 'fore dey git through."

  Three miles out they began to overtake the main body of the fugitiveswho escaped at the first mad rush. Hundreds of bedraggled women andchildren were toiling along the dust-covered road in the blistering sun,some bare-headed, some with hats on, some with street clothes, otherswith their morning wrappers just as they had fled from their unfinishedbreakfast.

  Little girls of eight and ten and twelve were wandering along throughthe suffocating dust alone.

  Jennie called to one she knew:

  "Where's your mother, child?"

  The girl shook her dust-powdered head.

  "I don't know, m'am."

  "Where are you going?"

  "To walk on till I find her."

  Her mother was wandering with distracted cries among the crowds a milein the rear looking for a nursing baby she had lost in the excitement.

  Jennie's eyes kindled at the sight of faithful negroes everywherelugging the treasures of their mistresses. She began asking them whatthey were carrying just to hear the answer that always came with a touchof loyal pride.

  "Dese is my missy's clothes! I sho weren't gwine let dem Yankees stealdem!"

  "Didn't you save any of your own things?"

  "Didn't have time ter git mine!"

  They came to a guerilla camp. Men and horses were resting on either sideof the road. Some of them were carrying water to their horses or to thewomen who cooked about their camp fires. The scene looked like a monsterbarbecue. These irregular troops of the South were friends in time ofneed to-day.

  They crowded the road, asking for news and commenting freely on theshelling of the city.

  A rough-looking fellow pushed his way to Jennie's cart.

  "When did they begin firin'?"

  "Just after breakfast."

  Yesterday she would have resented the familiar tones in which thisuncouth illiterate countryman spoke without the formality of anintroduction. In this hour of common peril he was a Knight entering thelists wearing her colors.

  He didn't mince words in expressing his opinions.

  "It's your own fault if you've saved nothing. The people in Baton Rougemust have been damned fools not to know trouble wuz comin' with themgunboats lyin' thar with their big-mouthed cannon gapin' right into thestreets. If the men had had any sense women wouldn't a been drove intothe woods like this--"

  "But they had no warning. They began to shell us without a minute'snotice--"

  His rough fist closed and his heavy jaw came together with a grindingsound.

  "Waal, you're ruined--so am I--and my brothers and all our people, too.There's nothin' left now except to die--and I'll do it!"

  The girl clapped her hands.

  "I wish I could go with you!"

  He turned back toward his camp fire with a shake of his unkempt head.

  "Die fighting for us!" Jennie cried.

  He waved his black powder-stained hand:

  "That I will, little girl!"

  The rough figure rose in the unconscious dignity with which he waved hisarm and pledged his word to fight to the death. War had leveled allranks.

  The talk on the road was all of burning homes, buildings demolished,famine, murder, and death.

  Jennie suddenly found herself singing a lot of Methodist Camp Meetinghymns with an utterly foolish happiness surging through her heart.

  She led off with "_Better days are coming._" Mandy was still too scaredto sing the chorus of this first hymn but she joined softly in the next.It was one of her favorites:

  "_I hope to die shoutin'--the Lord will provide._"

  The old man driving the cart kept time with a strange undertone ofinterpolation all his own. The one he loved best he repeated again andagain.

  "I'm a runnin'--a runnin' up ter glory!"

  How could she be happy amid a scene of such desolation and suffering?She tried to reproach herself and somehow couldn't be sorry. A vision ofsomething more wonderful than houses and land, goods and chattels,slaves and systems of government, had made her heart beat with suddenjoy and her eyes sparkle with happiness. It was only the picture of adark slender young fellow who had never spoken a word of love thatflashed before her. And yet the vision had wrought a spell thattransformed the world.

  The guns no longer echoed behind them. A courier came dashing from thecity at sunset asking the people to return to their homes.

  Two old men had rowed out to the war ships during the bombardment. Theycalled to the commander of
the flagship as they pushed their skiffalongside:

  "There are no men in town, sir--you're only killing women and children!"

  The commander leaned over the rail of his gunboat.

  "I'm sorry, gentlemen. I thought, of course, your town had beenevacuated before your men were fools enough to fire on my marines. I'veshelled your streets to intimidate them."

  The firing ceased. The order to shell the city had been caused by fourguerillas firing on a yawl which was about to land without a flag oftruce. Their volley killed and wounded three.

  "These four men," shouted the elders from the skiff, "were the onlysoldiers in town!"

  One woman had been killed and three wounded. Twenty houses had beenpierced by shells and two little children drowned in their flight. Ababy had been born in the woods and died of the exposure.

  It was three o'clock next day before Jennie reached home, hergrandmother utterly oblivious of her own discomforts but complainingbitterly because she could hear nothing from the old Colonel who hadfound it impossible to leave New Orleans. They had not been separated solong since the Mexican war. Jennie comforted her as best she could, puther to bed, and took refuge in a tub of cold water.

  The dusty road had peeled the skin off both her heels but nomatter--thank God, she was at home again.

  Orders were issued now from the Federal commandant for the government ofthe town. No person was permitted to leave without a pass. All familieswere prohibited to leave--except persons separated by the formerexodus. Cannon were planted in every street. Five thousand soldiers hadbeen thrown into the city, General Williams commanding. Any houseunoccupied by its owners would be used by the soldiers.

  Jennie decided to stick to the house at all hazards until forced to go.She walked down town to the post office in the vain hope a letter mighthave come through from New Orleans to her grandmother. Soldiers werelounging in the streets in squads of forty and fifty. A crowd wasplaying cards in the ditch and swearing as they fought the flies. Crowdsof soldiers relieved from duty were marching aimlessly along the street.Some were sleeping on the pavements, others sprawled flat on their backsin the sun, heads pillowed in each other's lap.

  To her surprise a letter addressed in the familiar handwriting of herbrother was handed out at the post office by the young soldier incharge.

  The seal had been broken.

  Jennie's eyes flashed with rage.

  "How dare you open and read my letter, sir!" she cried with indignation.

  "I'm sorry, Miss," he answered politely. "We're only soldiers. Ourbusiness is to obey orders."

  Jennie blushed furiously.

  "Of course, I beg your pardon. I wasn't thinking when I spoke."

  She read the letter with eager interest:

  "Dearest little Sister:

  "You must bring grandmother to New Orleans at the earliest possible opportunity. Grandpa can't get out. He is as restless and unhappy as a caged tiger. Do come quickly. If you need money let me know. Hoping soon to see you. With a heart full of love,

  "Your big brother,

  "Roger."

  It would be best. Her grandmother would be safe there in any event. Ifour troops again captured New Orleans she would be in the house of theSouth. If the Federal army still held it, she was at home in hergrandson's house.

  The wildest rumors were flying thick. No passes would be issued to leavethe city on any pretext. Beauregard was reported about to move his armyfrom Corinth to attack Baton Rouge.

  The troops were massing for the defense of the city. The Federal cavalryhad scoured the country for ten miles in search of guerillas.

  Through all the turmoil and confusion of the wildly disordered houseJennie kept repeating the foolish old hymn in soft monotones:

  "_I hope to die shouting--the Lord will provide!_"

  General Williams sent a guard to protect the house. A file of sixsoldiers marched to the gate and their commander saluted:

  "Madam, the pickets await your orders."

  General Williams had met her brother in New Orleans. His loyalty wasenough to mark the beautiful old homestead for protection.

  Jennie laughed. It was a funny situation were it not so tragic. Herfather and three brothers fighting these men with tooth and nail whilean officer saluted and put his soldiers at her command.

  Butler's men were arresting the aged citizens of Baton Rouge now.Without charge or warrant they were hustled on the transports, hurriedto New Orleans and thrown into jail. Jennie ground her white teeth withrage:

  "Oh, to be ruled by such a wretch!"

  From the first day he had set foot on the soil of Louisiana Butler hadmade himself thoroughly loathed. His order reflecting on the characterof the women of New Orleans had not only shocked the South, it hadroused the indignation of the civilized world.

  A proud and sensitive people had no redress.

  One of the first six citizens sentenced to prison in Fort Jackson wasDr. Craven, the Methodist minister. A soldier nosing about his house atnight had heard the preacher at family prayers. He had asked God'sblessing on the cause of the South while kneeling in prayer. When Jennieheard of it, she cried through her tears:

  "Show me a dungeon deep enough to keep me from praying for my brotherswho are fighting for us!"

  The speech of Butler which had gone farthest and sank deepest into theoutraged souls of the people of Southern Louisiana was his defiantutterance to Solomon Benjamin on the threat of England to intervene inour struggle:

  "Let England or France dare to try it," Butler swore in a towering rage,"and I'll be damned if I don't arm every negro in the South and makethem cut the throats of every man, woman and child in it. I'll make themlay this country waste with fire and sword and leave it desolate."

  That Butler was capable of using his enormous power as the MilitaryGovernor of Louisiana to accomplish this purpose, no one who had anyknowledge of the man or his methods doubted for a moment.

  On the slightest pretexts he arrested whom he pleased, male and female,and threw them into prison. Aged men who had incurred his displeasurewere confined at hard labor with ball and chain. Men were imprisoned inFort Jackson, whose only offense was the giving of medicine to sickConfederate soldiers. The wife of a former member of Congress wasarrested and sent to Ship Island in the Gulf of Mexico. Her only offensewas that she laughed at some foolish thing that marked the progress ofa funeral procession through the streets of the city.

  On his office wall in the St. Charles Hotel Butler had inscribed in hugeletters:

  "THERE IS NO DIFFERENCE BETWEEN A HE AND A SHE ADDER IN THEIR VENOM."

  His henchmen were allowed to indulge their rapacity at will. The homesof distinguished men and women were seized on any pretext and turnedinto disreputable establishments which were run for gain. Theyappropriated the contents of wine cellars, plundered the wardrobes anddining-rooms of ladies and gentlemen to their hearts' content. Fineswere levied and collected in many cases where it could be secured. Thosewho refused to pay were given the choice of ball and chain. A thrivingtrade in cotton was opened against the positive orders of the WashingtonGovernment. Butler's own brother was the thrifty banker and broker ofthis corrupt transaction.

  Property was "confiscated" right and left, provisions and militarystores were exchanged for cotton. The chief of this regime of organizedplunder lived in daily fear of assassination. It was said he wore secretarmor. He never ventured out except heavily guarded. In his officeseveral pistols lay beside him and the chair on which his visitor wasseated was chained to the wall to prevent someone suddenly rising andsmashing his brains out.

  There were ten thousand soldiers in Baton Rouge now though theanticipated attack of the Confederates had not materialized. Perhapsthey had heard of the heavy reenforcements in time. The poor fellowsfrom the cool hills and mountains of the North were dying in hundreds inthe blistering July sun of the South. They didn't know how to take careof themselves and their officers didn't seem to care. Butler was alawyer and a p
olitician first--a general only when the navy had done hiswork for him.

  Jennie saw hundreds of these sick and dying men lying on their backs inthe broiling sun, waiting for wagons to carry them to the hospital. Onehad died absolutely alone without a human being near to notice or tocare. The girl's heart was sick with anguish at the sight of scores tooweak to lift their hands to fight the ravenous flies swarming in theireyes and months. All day and all night Baumstark, the little undertaker,was working with half a dozen aides making coffins.

  Day and night they died like dogs with no human help extended. TheCatholic priest who had not been arrested as yet, passing among them insearch of his own, bent for a moment over a dying soldier and spoke infriendly tones. The poor fellow burst into tears and with his last gaspcried:

  "Thank God! I have heard _one_ kind word before I die!"

  The Federal pickets were driven in at last, and the guard around thehouse withdrawn. General Williams insisted that Jennie and hergrandmother find a place of refuge more secure than the comingbattlefield.

  They thanked the General but decided to brave battle at home to theterrors of another flight.

  The little band of twenty-five hundred Confederates struck the town likea thunderbolt and fought with desperation against the combined fleet andheavy garrison. They drove the Federals at first in panic to the water'sedge and the shelter of the cannon until a Maine regiment barred theway, fighting like demons, and rallied the fleeing mob. When the smokeof battle lifted the gray army had gone with the loss of only sixty-fivekilled and a hundred and fifty wounded.

  The worst calamity which befell Baton Rouge was the death of GeneralWilliams, the gentlemanly and considerate Federal commander.

  Butler's man who took his place lacked both his soldierly training andhis fine scruples as a Christian gentleman. There were no more guardsplaced around "Rebel" homes.

  The marauder came with swift sure tread on the heels of victory.

  A squad of officers and men smashed in the front door at Fairviewwithout so much as a knock for signal. To the shivering servant whostood in the hall the leader called:

  "Where are the damned secesh women? We know they've hid in here andwe'll make them dance for hiding--"

  Jennie suddenly appeared in the library door, her face white, her handconcealed in the pocket of her dress.

  "There are but two women here, gentlemen," she began steadily--"mygrandmother and I. The house is at your mercy--"

  The man in front gave a short laugh and advanced on the girl. He stoppedshort in his tracks at the sight of the glitter of her eye and changedhis mind.

  "All right, look out for the old hen. We'll let you know when it's timeto pick up the pieces."

  Jennie returned to the library and slipped her arm about hergrandmother's neck standing beside her chair while she set her littlejaw firmly and waited for the end.

  They rushed the dining-room first and split its side-board open withaxes--fine old carved mahogany pieces so hardened with age, the axblades chipped from the blows as if striking marble. The china wassmashed chests were laid open with axes, and their contents of silverremoved.

  They rushed the parlors and stripped them of every ornament. Jennie'spiano they dragged into the center of the floor, smashed its ivory keysand split its rosewood case into splinters. An officer slashed theportrait of Mrs. Barton into shreds and hurled the frame on the floor.Every portrait on the walls shared a similar fate.

  Upstairs the fun grew wild. Mrs. Barton's beautiful old mahogany armoirwhose single door was a fine French mirror was shivered with a blow froma sledge hammer, emptied of every article and the shelves splinteredwith axes. They broke every bureau and case of drawers, scattered theircontents on the floor, selecting what suited their fancy. Every rag ofthe boys' clothes, the old Colonel's and Senator Barton's were tied inbundles.

  They entered Jennie's room, broke every mirror, tore down the rods fromthe bed and ripped the net into shreds. The desk was split, lettersturned out and scattered over the floor. A light sewing machine was sentbelow for a souvenir. The heavy one was broken with an ax.

  From Jennie's bureau they tore a pink flowered muslin, stuck it on abayonet and paraded the room, the officers striking it with their swordsshouting their dull insults:

  "I've struck the damned secesh!"

  "The proud little hellion!"

  "That's the time I cut her!"

  One seized her bonnet, put it on, tied the ribbon under his chin andamid the shouts of his half-drunken companions, paraded the house, andwore it into the streets when he left.

  When the noise had died away and the house was still at last, Jenniecame forth from the little room in which she had taken refuge, leadingher grandmother. Hand in hand they viewed the wreck.

  The thing that hurt the girl most of all was the ruin of her desk--herletters from Dick Welford, the boys, her father and mother, the diaryshe had kept with the intimate secrets of her young heart--all had beenopened, thumbed and thrown over the floor. The little perfumed notes shehad received from her first beaux--invitations to buggy rides, concerts,and parties, and all of them beginning, "Compliments of"--had beenprofaned by dirty greasy fingers. Some were torn into little bits andscattered over the room, others were ground into the floor by hobnailsin heavy boot heels.

  Her last letter from Socola was stolen--to be turned over to thecommander for inspection no doubt. And then she broke into a foolishlaugh. The strain was over. What did it matter--this clutter of goodsand chattels on the floor--she was young--it was the morning of life andshe had met her fate!

  In a sudden rush of emotion she threw her arms around her grandmother'sneck and cried:

  "Thank the good Lord, grandma, they didn't shoot you!"

  The sweet old lady was strangely quiet, and her eyes had a queer setlook. She bore the strain without a break until they entered the wreckof the stately parlor. She saw the slashed portrait of the Colonel lyingon the floor and sank in a heap beside it without a word or sound.

  Jennie succeeded at last in obtaining a pass to New Orleans, consigningthe body to Judge Roger Barton. She stepped on board the little steamerabsolutely alone. Every servant had gone to the camp of the soldiers orhad entered the service of the crowd of marauders who decided to returnto Fairview and occupy the house.

  Jennie had gone through so much the tired spirit refused to respond tofurther sensations. She obeyed orders in a dumb mechanical way.

  The officers at New Orleans opened her baggage and searched it withoutceremony, or the slightest show of interest on her part.

  They were administering the "oath" of loyalty to the United States. Shewould have to turn Yankee to do this last duty of love. She covered herface with her hands and prayed breathlessly for the boys and for theConfederacy while the words of the oath were mumbled by the officer--

  "So help you God?"

  Jennie's only answer was to close her eyes and pray harder.

  "So help you God?" the officer shouted again.

  The girl lifted her tear-stained face and nodded, closed her eyes againand prayed.

  "Help them, O God,--my brothers Tom and Jimmie and Billy and DickWelford--and--and the man I love--save them and their cause for Jesus'sake--I don't know what they made me say--I only did it for poorgrandpa's sake--I didn't mean it. Forgive me, dear Lord, and save mypeople!"

  The Judge met them with a carriage and hearse. He slipped his strong armaround the girl, drew her close and kissed the waving brown hair againand again.

  "Dear little sis--you're at home now," he said softly.

  A shiver ran through her figure and she sat bolt upright.

  "No, Big Brother," she answered firmly, "I'm not. New Orleans is in thehands of the enemy. I'd set it on fire and wipe it from the face of theearth to-morrow if I could sweep old Ben Butler and his men into thebottomless pit with its ashes--"

  She paused at the look of pain on his face.

  "Except you--dear--you're my brother, always my dear Big Brother andI'll love you f
orever. What you think right is right--for you. You arefor the Union, because you believe it's right. I honor you for beingtrue to your convictions--"

  "You can never know what it has cost me--Honey--"

  She drew him down and kissed him tenderly.

  "Yes, I do know--and it's all right--even if you draw your sword andmeet us in battle--you're fighting for the right as God shows it toyou--but I've just one favor to ask--"

  "I'll do anything on earth for you I can--you know that--"

  She looked at him steadily a moment in silence and spoke in hard coldtones.

  "Get me out of New Orleans inside the Confederate lines--anywhere--aguerilla camp--a swamp--anywhere, you understand. I'll find my way toRichmond--"

  He pressed her hand in silence and then softly answered:

  "I understand, dear--and I'll arrange it for you. I'll hire a schoonerto set you across Lake Pontchartrain."

  The old Colonel looked on the face of his dead wife and went to bed. Hemade no complaints. He asked no questions. The book of life was closed.Within a week he died as peacefully as a child.

  Ten days later Jennie had passed the Federal lines and was whirlingthrough the Carolinas, her soul aflame with a new deathless courage.