CHAPTER XIX.
The boys' Uncle William came the next day. The two weeks whichfollowed were the hardest the boys had ever known. As yet nothing hadbeen heard of Hugh or the General, though the boys' father went toRichmond to see whether they had been released.
The family lived on corn-bread and black-eyed pease. There was not amouthful of meat on the plantation. A few aged animals were all thatremained on the place.
The boys' mother bought a little sugar and made some cakes, and theboys, day after day, carried them over to the depot and left them witha man there to be sold. Such a thing had never been known before inthe history of the family.
A company of Yankees were camped very near, but they did not interferewith the boys. They bought the cakes and paid for them in greenbacks,which were the first new money they had at Oakland. One day the boyswere walking along the road, coming back from the camp, when they meta little old one-horse wagon driven by a man who lived near the depot.In it were a boy about Willy's size and an old lady with white hair,both in deep mourning. The boy was better dressed than any boy theyhad ever seen. They were strangers.
The boys touched their limp little hats to the lady, and felt somewhatashamed of their own patched clothes in the presence of thewell-dressed stranger. Frank and Willy passed on. They happened tolook back. The wagon stopped just then, and the lady called them:
"Little boys!"
They halted and returned.
"We are looking for my son; and this gentleman tells me that you liveabout here, and know more of the country than any one else I maymeet."
"Do you know where any graves is?--Yankee graves?" asked the driver,cutting matters short.
"Yes, there are several down on the road by Pigeon Hill, where thebattle was, and two or three by the creek down yonder, and there's onein our garden."
"Where was your son killed, ma'am? Do you know that he was killed?"asked the driver.
"I do not know. We fear that he was; but, of course, we still hopethere may have been some mistake. The last seen of him was whenGeneral Sheridan went through this country, last year. He was with hiscompany in the rear-guard, and was wounded and left on the field. Wehoped he might have been found in one of the prisons; but there is notrace of him, and we fear----"
THE BOYS SELL THEIR CAKES TO THE YANKEES.]
She broke down and began to cry. "He was my only son," she sobbed, "myonly son--and I gave him up for the Union, and----" She could say nomore.
Her distress affected the boys deeply.
"If I could but find his grave. Even that would be better than thisagonizing suspense."
"What was your son's name?" asked the boys, gently.
She told them.
"Why, that's our soldier!" exclaimed both boys.
"Do you know him?" she asked eagerly. "Is--? Is----?" Her voicerefused to frame the fearful question.
"Yes'm. In our garden," said the boys, almost inaudibly.
The mother bent her head over on her grandson's shoulder and weptaloud. Awful as the suspense had been, now that the last hope wasremoved the shock was terrible. She gave a stifled cry, then wept withuncontrollable grief.
The boys, with pale faces and eyes moist with sympathy, turned awaytheir heads and stood silent. At length she grew calmer.
"Won't you come home with us? Our father and mother will be so glad tohave you," they said hospitably.
After questioning them a little further, she decided to go. The boysclimbed into the back of the wagon. As they went along, the boys toldher all about her son,--his carrying Frank, their finding him woundednear the road, and about his death and burial.
"He was a real brave soldier," they told her consolingly.
As they approached the house, she asked whether they could give hergrandson something to eat.
"Oh, yes, indeed. Certainly," they answered. Then, thinking perhapsthey were raising her hopes too high, they exclaimed apologetically:
"We haven't got much. We didn't kill any squirrels this morning. Bothour guns are broken and don't shoot very well, now."
She was much impressed by the appearance of the place, which lookedvery beautiful among the trees.
"Oh, yes, they're big folks," said the driver.
She would have waited at the gate when they reached the house, but theboys insisted that they all should come in at once. One of them ranforward and, meeting his mother just coming out to the porch, told whothe visitor was.
Their mother instantly came down the steps and walked toward the gate.The women met face to face. There was no introduction. None wasneeded.
"My son----" faltered the elder lady, her strength giving out.
The boys' mother put her handkerchief to her eyes.
"I have one, too;--God alone knows where he is," she sobbed.
Each knew how great was the other's loss, and in sympathy withanother's grief found consolation for her own.
CHAPTER XX.
The visitors remained at Oakland for several days, as the lady wishedto have her son's remains removed to the old homestead in Delaware.She was greatly distressed over the want which she saw at Oakland--forthere was literally nothing to eat but black-eyed pease and the boys'chickens. Every incident of the war interested her. She was delightedwith their Cousin Belle, and took much interest in her story, whichwas told by the boys' mother.
Her grandson, Dupont, was a fine, brave, and generous young fellow. Hehad spent his boyhood near a town, and could neither ride, swim, norshoot as the Oakland boys did; but he was never afraid to tryanything, and the boys took a great liking to him, and he to them.
When the young soldier's body had been removed, the visitors left;not, however, until the boys had made their companion promise to paythem a visit. After the departure of these friends they were muchmissed.
But the next day there was a great rejoicing at Oakland. Every one wasin the dining-room at dinner, and the boys' father had just risen fromthe table and walked out of the room. A second later they heard anexclamation of astonishment from him, and he called eagerly to hiswife, "Come here, quickly!" and ran down the steps. Every one rose andran out. Hugh and the General were just entering the yard.
They were pale and thin and looked ill; but all the past was forgottenin the greeting.
* * * * *
The boys soon knew that the General was making his peace with theirCousin Belle, who looked prettier than ever. It required several longwalks before all was made right; but there was no disposition towardseverity on either side. It was determined that the wedding was totake place very soon. The boys' father suggested, as an objection toan immediate wedding, that since the General was just half his usualsize, it would be better to wait until he should regain his formerproportions, so that all of him might be married; but the Generalwould not accept the proposition for delay, and Cousin Belle finallyconsented to be married at once.
The old place was in a great stir over the preparations. A number ofthe old servants, including Uncle Balla and Lucy Ann, had one by onecome back to their old home. The trunks in the garret were ransackedonce more, and enough was found to make up a wedding trousseau of twodresses.
Hugh was to be the General's best man, and the boys were to be theushers. The only difficulty was that their patched clothes made themfeel a little abashed at the prominent roles they were to assume.However, their mother made them each a nice jacket from a stripeddress, one of her only two dresses, and she adorned them with themilitary brass buttons their father had had taken from his coat; sothey felt very proud. Their father, of course, was to give the brideaway,--an office he accepted with pleasure, he said, provided he didnot have to move too far, which might be hazardous so long as he hadto wear his spurs to keep the soles on his boots.
* * * * *
Thus, even amid the ruins, the boys found life joyous, and if theywere without everything else, they had life, health, and hope. The oldguns were broken, and they had to ride in the ox-
cart; but they hopedto have others and to do better, some day.
The "some day" came sooner than they expected.
The morning before the wedding, word came that there were at therailroad station several boxes for their mother. The ox-cart was sentfor them. When the boxes arrived, that evening, there was a letterfrom their friend in Delaware, congratulating Cousin Belle andapologizing for having sent "a few things" to her Southern friends.
SOME OF THE SERVANTS CAME BACK TO THEIR OLD HOME.]
The "few things" consisted not only of necessaries, but of everythingwhich good taste could suggest. There was a complete trousseau forCousin Belle, and clothes for each member of the family. The boys hadnew suits of fine cloth with shirts and underclothes in plenty.
But the best surprise of all was found when they came to the bottom ofthe biggest box, and found two long, narrow cases, marked, "For theOakland boys." These cases held beautiful, new double-barrelled gunsof the finest make. There was a large supply of ammunition, and ineach case there was a letter from Dupont promising to come and spendhis vacation with them, and sending his love and good wishes andthanks to his friends--the "Two Little Confederates."
THE END.
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes
Original spelling, hyphenation, capitalization, and punctuation havebeen retained except for the following changes:
Page 20: oe in Coeur was originally a ligature (C[oe]ur de Lion.)
Page 20: hen-roots changed to hen-roosts (hen-roots were robbed).
Page 86: litttle changed to little (looked a litttle rustier).
Page 107: throughly changed to thoroughly (throughly enjoyed theirholiday;).
Page 121: oe in manoeuvres was originally a ligature (theirman[oe]uvres for some time.).
Two Little Confederates Page 19