How sadly were dashed the hopes of the husband and the lover who had expected not a war, but a military demonstration to last but a few days. The cheerful party of decorated pleasure seekers soon became a sober army, stripped of feathers, bent upon the shedding of blood. I may be pardoned this egotism, but it seemed that the South, more Anglo-Saxon, more American, fought with brighter fire and bravery than the miscellaneous nationalities gathered in the North. I know one thing, that the Southern soldier held the foreigner in contempt. He had, however, to face too much of his own blood. But I am going to follow the fortunes of no campaign; I am going to be as brief as possible. My Master was promoted for gallantry, and soon was placed at the head of a regiment of cavalry. I rode by his side, and I knew that beyond that blue line, away over yonder, my freedom and the freedom of my down-trodden race was lying, but I was true to him, and was proud of him.  
Letters from home were very irregular. Old [Pg 282]Master did not write. Old Miss wrote; but never came there a word for me. I wrote to Titine, but no answer reached me. Sometimes, at night, alone in the tent, master would read aloud Miss Potter's letter, and though the words were affectionate, they appeared to me to be mechanical and meaningless. But to him each sentence was a string of pearls.
 
For a time the Confederate arms were so successful that it looked as if the war might soon close, with victory for the South. But a change came. The old Puritan stock, the old blood that humbled a king and cut off his head, gathered in solemn and God-serving force. We had chaplains and held services; we prayed to God to bless our cause, but the Puritan mixed prayer with his powder and brightened his sword with a scriptural text.
 
We went with Bragg's invasion into Kentucky. How joyous it was again to turn our faces toward home. We did not think of the blood that was to flow at Perryville. One day we halted within fifteen miles of Old Master's house. And Young Master received permission to visit his home. We set out at night. First we were to go to Potter's. We were cautioned to be back by day-light, to overtake the army at a place called Elwood. The night was moon-flooded.[Pg 283] The turn-pike looked an endless strip of light. How delightful to see the first familiar object, an old mill where Bob and I had caught many a sun-fish. Now we were but a short distance from Potter's. We passed the toll-gate. The bar was up and no one came out. We met an old negro and he told us that the people had nearly all flocked to town, that they had been ordered in as a battle was expected.
 
"Here we are!" Bob cried, and he jumped from his horse in front of Potter's house. A dog barked, but there was no light. He went to the front door and the sharp fall of the brass knocker resounded afar off, throughout the stillness of the night. He called me and I went to him.
 
"I believe they are gone, too," he said, his voice choking with disappointment. "Let us go around and see if we can find anyone."
 
We went to the cabins in the rear of the house. All was dark. We mounted and rode on toward home, silent, desolate with the realization of war's uncompromising demands. I heard the creek and my heart leaped. We turned into the lane. The gate was down and heavy artillery had cut the road into deep ruts, here whe............