low face peered in at the door.

As we jumped into the carriage awaiting us and Wormley banged the door,
a knot of loungers ran up to say good-bye. They were all
men-about-town; and if not very dear to each other, it was still a
wrench to break up associations with those whose faces had been
familiar to every dinner and drive and reception for years. We had
never met but in amity and amid the gayest scenes; now we were plunging
into a pathless future. Who could tell but a turn might bring us face
to face, where hands would cross with a deadly purpose; while the hiss
of the Minie-ball sang accompaniment in place of the last galop that
Louis Weber had composed.

"Better stay where you are, boys!"--"You're making a bad thing of
it!"--"Don't leave us Styles, old fellow!"--"You'll starve down South,
sure!"--were a few of the hopeful adieux showered at us.

"Thank you all, just the same, but I think we won't stay," Staple
responded. "What would 'the house' do? God bless you, boys! Good-bye,
Jim!"

CHAPTER II.

"THE CRADLE OF THE CONFEDERACY."

Evening had fallen as evening can fall only in early Washington spring.
As we plunged into the low, close cabin of the Acquia Creek steamer of
that day, there was a weak light, but a strong smell of kerosene and
whisky. Wet, steamy men huddled around the hot stove, talking blatant
politics in terms as strong as their liquor. So, leaving the reek
below, we faced the storm on deck, vainly striving to fix the familiar
city lights as they faded through the mist and rain; more vainly still
peering into the misty future, through driving fancies chasing each
other in the brain.

The journey south in those days was not a delight. Its components were
discomfort, dust and doubt. As we rattled through at gray of dawn,
Richmond was fast asleep, blissfully ignorant of that May morning when
she would wake to find herself famous, with the eyes of all the
civilized world painfully strained toward her. But from Petersburg to
Wilmington the country side was wide awake and eager for news. Anxious
knots were at every station and water tank, and not overclean hands
were thrust into the windows, with the cry: "Airy paper?" Sometimes
yellow faces, framed with long, lank hair, peered in at the doors;
while occasional voices indescribably twanged: "You'uns got any news
from thar 'nauggeration?"

Staple's ready, while not very accurate, replies were hungrily
swallowed; proffered papers of any