and I shuddered with horror, as I
recognized that dismal opening into the side of the hill. Clinging to the
tree trunk I attained my feet, still swaying from weakness, and was thus
able to glance about over the edge of the bank, and gain some conception
of my immediate surroundings.

It was early dawn, the eastern sky that shade of pale gray which precedes
the sun, a few, white, fleecy clouds sailing high above, already tinged
with red reflection. I must have been in that earth prison since the
morning of the previous day; it seemed longer, yet even that expiration
of time proved that those who had imprisoned me there had left me to die.
God! I couldn't believe that--not of her! Clear as the evidence appeared,
I yet fought down the thought bitterly, creeping on hands and knees over
the edge of the bank, to where I could sit on the grass, and gaze about
in the growing light. The house was to the left, an apple orchard
between, and a low fence enclosing a garden. I could gain but glimpses of
the mansion through the intervening trees, but it was large, imposing, a
square, old-fashioned house, painted white, with green shutters. It
appeared deserted, and no spirals of smoke ascended from the kitchen
chimney. Apparently not even the servants were yet stirring. However,
there was smoke showing farther to the right, but I had to move before I
could see the cause clearly--the smouldering remains of what must have
been a large barn. I advanced in that direction, skirting the orchard,
and a row of negro cabins. These were deserted, the doors open, and two
of them exhibited evidences of fire. A storehouse had its door battered
in, a huge timber, evidently used as a ram, lying across the threshold,
and many of the boxes and barrels within had been smashed with axes. The
ground all about had been trampled by horses' hoofs, and only a
smouldering fragment of the stables remained.

I stared about perplexed, unable to decipher the meaning of such
destruction. Surely Grant would never dare such a deed with his unarmed
force. Besides Elmhurst was the property of a loyalist, ay! the Colonel
of his regiment. Not even the madness of anger would justify so wanton an
act. The Hessians might be guilty for sake of plunder, but not while
under Grant's command, and knowing they must march under parole through
rebel territory to again attain their own lines. And this had occurred
during the night; indeed, it seemed to me, the raiders must have dep