ge and the shelter of the cannon until a Maine regiment barred the
way, fighting like demons, and rallied the fleeing mob. When the smoke
of battle lifted the gray army had gone with the loss of only sixty-five
killed and a hundred and fifty wounded.

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

Butler's man who took his place lacked both his soldierly training and
his fine scruples as a Christian gentleman. There were no more guards
placed 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 Fairview
without so much as a knock for signal. To the shivering servant who
stood in the hall the leader called:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

They rushed the parlors and stripped them of every ornament. Jennie's
piano they dragged into the center of the floor, smashed its ivory keys
and split its rosewood case into splinters. An officer slashed the
portrait 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 armoir
whose single door was a fine French mirror was shivered with a blow from
a sledge hammer, emptied of every article and the shelves splintered
with axes. They broke every bureau and case of drawers, scattered their
co