Friendly Words but Hostile Eyes.
As the country was now comparatively safe, Davis and myself went in pursuit of beds. At the first house, two women assured us that they were good Union people, and very sorry they had not a single vacant couch. Their words were unexceptionable, but I could not see the welcome in their eyes. We afterward inquired, and found that they were violent Rebels.
The next dwelling was a roomy old farm-house, with pleasant and generous surroundings. In answer to our rap, a white-haired patriarch of seventy came to the door.
"Can you give us supper and lodging to-night, and breakfast in the morning? We will pay you liberally, and be greatly obliged beside."
"I should be glad to entertain you," he replied, in tremulous, childish treble, "but to-night my daughters are all gone to a frolic. I have no one in the house except my wife, who, like myself, is old and feeble."
Hospitalities of a Loyal Patriarch.
The lady, impelled by curiosity, now appearing, we repeated the request to her, with all the suavity and persuasiveness at our command, for we were hungry and tired, and the place looked inviting. She dryly gave us the same answer, but began to talk a little. Presently we again inquired:
"Will you be good enough to accommodate us, or must we look farther?"
"What are you, anyhow?"