getting off was not
so pleasant when we thought we should be obliged to leave them behind.
Our common misfortunes had endeared us to each other, strangers as we
were a week ago. So we all lamented together, a perfect _Jeremiade_ of
despair. The overseer is very tender-hearted; he condoled, comforted,
and finally determined that if there was any way of getting them off,
they should go. A glimpse of sunshine returned to our lowering sky, and
cheerfulness reigned once more, to be violently dethroned some hours
later. Three of the Madisonville pickets were announced approaching the
house. Of course, they were coming after us! Oh, that vile Mr.
Worthington! We always _did_ hate him! There was such a sneaky look
about him. Hypocrite! we always felt we should hate him! Oh, the
wretch! "I won't go back!" cried mother. "I shall not," said quiet Mrs.
Bull. "He shall pay my expenses if he insists on taking me back!"
exclaimed Mrs. Ivy. "Spent all my money! Mrs. Bull, you have none to
lend me, remember, and Mrs. Morgan _shan't_! Oh, that Worthington!
Let's make him pay for all!" We smothered our laughter to sit trembling
within as the pickets stepped on the gallery. I believe we commenced
praying. Just think! Thus far, our journey has cost mother two hundred
and twenty dollars. It would cost the same to get back to blessed
Clinton, and fancy our spending that sum to settle there again!
Besides, we gave away all our clothes to our suffering friends; and
what would we do there now?

After half an hour of painful suspense, we discovered that it would
have been as well to spare poor Mr. Worthington; for the pickets were
not after us, but had come to escort Mrs. R----, a woman who was taking
the body of her son, who was killed at Murfreesboro, to the city for
interment. Poor woman! she rode all this distance sitting on her
child's coffin. Her husband was one of those who with B---- stole that
large sum of money from father which came so near ruining him. She
speaks of her husband as of a departed saint. I dare say she believes
him innocent of the theft in spite of his public confession. The grave
has wiped out even the disgrace of the penitentiary where he expiated
his offense.... When I told Tiche who the woman was, she clasped her
hands, saying, "The Lord is good! Years and years master suffered while
she grew rich, and now _her_ time comes! The Lord don't forget!" I
can't feel that way. It is well for the narrow-minded to look for G