Sure enough, in a day or two the Federals came. Before we knew it the house was entirely surrounded by troops. The officer dismounted and knocked at the door. He asked to see my father, who met him at the hall door.
"Sir," he said, "I am informed that you are tanning leather, and making boots for the Confederate army. I have come to destroy your tannery and burn down your house. Take your family out immediately."
My father, my aged mother, and we, his daughters, who had enjoyed and loved the beautiful home so long, were speechless for a moment, and pale with fear. Then father said, slowly, "The report is false. We have a rude tannery, but only for home use," and begged him to spare the sacred old place. The Colonel said that he must search the house and see if any evidence could be found against us, and, taking several well-armed soldiers with him, he went through every room.
Of course we could not follow them, but we anxiously waited for their return. The Colonel must have been touched by our mute grief, but he only said, "I have orders to burn the house, and though I find no proof against you, I must obey orders." Then father asked him to step out on the veranda. They talked a few minutes, clasped hands, and the Colonel, quickly wheeling around, ordered the troops out of the house. In a few minutes every one was in line and rapidly marching away. In answer to our astonished inquiries, we were told that a Masonic sign, the secret of true brotherhood, had saved our dear home from desolating flames.