quiet, starlight night, and the people
of the village were all apparently yet wrapped in slumber. No signs of
life were visible, except occasionally a dog would run out in a front
yard and bark at me. The main road from Grafton, at that time, and
which passed near my home, wound along the river bottom a short
distance, and then, for a mile or more, ascended some high hills or
bluffs north of the town. The ascent of these bluffs was steep, and
hence the walking was fatiguing, and several times before reaching the
summit where the road stretched away over a long, high ridge, I had to
sit down and rest. The quails were now calling all around me, and the
chickens were crowing for day at the farm houses, and their notes
sounded so much like home! After attaining the crest, the walking was
easier, and I slowly plodded on, rejoicing in the sight of the many
familiar objects that appeared on every hand. About a mile or so from
home, I left the main highway, and followed a country road that led to
our house, where I at last arrived about nine o'clock. I had not
written to my parents to advise them of my coming, for it would not
have been judicious, in mere expectation of a furlough, to excite hopes
that might be disappointed, and after it was issued and delivered to
me, there was no use in writing, for I would reach home as soon as a
letter. So my father and mother, and the rest of the family, were all
taken completely by surprise when I quietly walked into the yard of the
old home. I pass over any detailed account of our meeting. We, like
others of that time and locality, were a simple, backwoods people, with
nothing in the nature of gush or effervescence in our dispositions. I
know that I was glad to see my parents, and the rest, and they were all
unmistakably glad to see me, and we manifested our feelings in a
natural, homely way, and without any display whatever of extravagant
emotions. Greetings being over, about the first inquiry was whether I
had yet had any breakfast, and my answer being in the negative, a
splendid old-time breakfast was promptly prepared. But my mother was
keenly disappointed at my utter lack of appetite. I just couldn't eat
hardly a bit, and invented some sort of an excuse, and said I'd do
better in the future, but, somehow, right then, I wasn't hungry, which
was true. However, this instance of involuntary abstinence was fully
made up for later.

While on my furlough I went with my father in the farm w