[A] The author’s grandfather, Samuel Finley, had charge of the artillery (one cannon) at the battle of the Cowpens, was afterward complimented at the head of his regiment and called “the brave little major.”
CHAPTER XI
It was now a little past the children’s bedtime, so they bade good-night, and went within doors. Grace and Harold and Mr. Leland withdrew from the porch also, and the captain and Lucilla had it to themselves. They paced back and forth, arm in arm, conversing in rather subdued tones.
“You heard from Chester to-day?” he said inquiringly.
“Yes, sir; such a bright, cheerful letter. He is very well, prospering with his business, and enjoying himself morning and evenings at Ion, where they are most kindly insistent on entertaining him until my return. He has been out to Sunnyside and reports that everything is in fine order there—indoors and out. He says he will be delighted to see his wife when she returns, but hopes she will stay in the north until the weather is cooler.”
“That is all very satisfactory,” said her father. “I am glad you have so kind and affectionate a husband, and I hope to be able to return you to him in a very few weeks.”
“I am glad of that, since the return will not separate me, to any great extent, from the dear father who does so much to make my life bright and happy,” she said, with a sweet and loving smile up into his face. “Oh, father, how much easier and happier life seems to be to us than it was to those poor fellows who fought the battles of the Revolution through such poverty and suffering. It makes my heart ache to read and to think of the bleeding of their bare feet on the snow as they marched over it, and to know that they were in rags and sometimes had little or nothing to eat.”
“Yes,” said her father, “I feel very much as you do about it. I wish I knew they were all Christians, therefore happy in heaven now.”