there. When H. related the circumstance at
dinner, his partner, Mr. R., became very angry, being ignorant of H.'s
real opinions. He jumped up in a rage and marched away to the village
thoroughfare. There he met a batch of the volunteers, and said, "We know
what you have said of us, and I have come to tell you that you are
liars, and you know where to find us."

Of course I expected a difficulty; but the evening passed, and we
retired undisturbed. Not long afterward a series of indescribable sounds
broke the stillness of the night, and the tramp of feet was heard
outside the house. Mr. R. called out, "It's a serenade, H. Get up and
bring out all the wine you have." Annie and I peeped through the parlor
window, and lo! it was the company of volunteers and a diabolical band
composed of bones and broken-winded brass instruments. They piped and
clattered and whined for some time, and then swarmed in, while we ladies
retreated and listened to the clink of glasses.

_March 22._--H., Mr. R., and Mike have been very busy the last few days
getting the acre of kitchen-garden plowed and planted. The stay-law has
stopped all legal business, and they have welcomed this work. But to-day
a thunderbolt fell in our household. Mr. R. came in and announced that
he had agreed to join the company of volunteers. Annie's Confederate
principles would not permit her to make much resistance, and she has
been sewing and mending as fast as possible to get his clothes ready,
stopping now and then to wipe her eyes. Poor Annie! She and Max have
been married only a few months longer than we have; but a noble sense of
duty animates and sustains her.

VII

THE FIGHT FOR FOOD AND CLOTHING

_April 1._--The last ten days have brought changes in the house. Max R.
left with the company to be mustered in, leaving with us his weeping
Annie. Hardly were her spirits somewhat composed when her brother
arrived from Natchez to take her home. This morning he, Annie, and
Reeney, the black handmaiden, posted off. Out of seven of us only H.,
myself, and Aunt Judy are left. The absence of Reeney will be not the
least noted. She was as precious an imp as any Topsy ever was. Her
tricks were endless and her innocence of them amazing. When sent out to
bring in eggs she would take them from nests where hens were hatching,
and embryo chickens would be served up at breakfast, while Reeney stood
by grinning to see them opened; but when accused she was imperturbable