I was sorry when the cold weather came. The snows not only put an end to the military reviews, but covered up the beautiful green. There were very few diversions for us, but I was just as happy as it was possible for me to be. Indeed, those were the very happiest days of my whole life and I was almost sorry when General Rufus Ingalls wrote to my Soldier, inclosing a kind personal letter from General Grant, together with the following official assurance of his safety:
"HEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMIES OF THE UNITED STATES
Washington, D. C, March 12th, 1866.
Geo. E. Pickett, a paroled officer of the Southern Army, is exempt from arrest by Military Authorities, except directed by the President of the United States, Secretary of War or from these Hd. Qrs. so long as he observes the conditions of his parole.
The restriction requiring paroled officers to remain at their homes is removed in this case, and he, Pickett, will be allowed to travel unmolested throughout the United States.
U. S. Grant,
Lt. Gen."
General Grant also wrote that it had not been at all necessary for us to go away in the first place, and that the terms of his cartel should have been respected, even though it had necessitated another declaration of war.
We stopped in New York en route to Virginia, expecting to remain there only three or four days, but we found that our board had been paid in advance for two weeks, that a carriage had been put at our service for that length of time, and that in our box was a pack of wine-cards marked "Paid." To this day I do not know how many people's guests we were, for a great many of my Soldier's old army friends were there at the time, and they all vied with each other in making us happy.
XXX TURKEY ISLAND
As soon as we could make our plans we returned to our ruined home on Turkey Island by the James River, where we built a small cottage in the place of the colonial mansion which had been burned by Butler.
The ancestral trees had all been cut, even the monuments in the family cemetery had been broken, but it was home and we loved it. The river and the woods and our own garden supplied our table. We planted vines to wind lovingly around the melancholy stumps of the old oaks and elms which had fallen victims of the vandalism of war. In our own flowers my Soldier found the perfumes that he loved. He gathered geranium leaves to keep around him, scattered rose-petals through his bureau drawers, and put fragrant blossoms into bags and laid them in the folds of his clothing. In war-time a friend going North asked him, "What shall I bring you!"