The Cootes had moved away in less than a year after the children were taken from them, and another and very different man, with a lovely wife and several children, had taken charge of the church and possession of the parsonage; all of which added very much to Ethel’s enjoyment of her visit to that neighborhood.
Both there and at home the war was ever the principal and most absorbing topic of conversation; each victory for the National arms brought joy—alas! not unmingled with poignant regret, often almost heart-breaking sorrow for the slain—to each family. George and Albert Eldon were in many engagements, both were wounded at different times, yet they escaped without loss of life or limb. First one and then the other came home on a short furlough—for they had re-enlisted for the war—were made much of by friends and relatives, their parents and sisters in particular, and wept over anew when at the expiration of their time of leave they went back to rejoin their regiment; for they belonged to the same one.
Mrs. Keith or her mother occasionally wrote to Ethel. In March of 1865 a letter came, telling the young girl they would be in the city the next day to get a sight of Mr. Rupert Keith—who had been at home for a time, a paroled prisoner, but was now returning to his regiment, having been exchanged—and of his nephews, Percy Landreth and Stuart Ormsby, lads of seventeen, who had just enlisted and were with their uncle on their way to the seat of war—and inviting her to meet them at the station, as they would like to see her and felt sure she would like to see the soldiers, who were ready to give their lives for the salvation of their country.
Ethel was delighted and easily obtained permission to go.
The troops dined in Philadelphia, and the Keith party had time for a brief interview with their relatives and friends with whom Ethel was. She was introduced to and shook hands with them. She was pleased with the looks of both uncle and nephews, and their evident ardent devotion to the cause of the Union for whose defence they had enlisted.
She and others watched with tear-dimmed eyes as again the troops took up their line of march for the South, keeping step to the music of the band. Would they ever tread those streets again? or were they doomed to die on some battlefield, or starve and freeze in those filthy prison-pens of Andersonville, Belle Isle, and Libby? Ah, who could say? And when would this dreadful war be over?
The last soldier had disappeared from sight, and with a sigh Mrs. Keith turned to Ethel.
“We have a little shopping to do, my dear,” she said; “so will have to bid you good-by unless you may go with us and care to do so.”
“Thank you, ma’am, I think I must go home now, when I have done an errand or two for Aunt Augusta and Cousin Adelaide,” replied the young girl. “But aunt told me to invite you ladies to go home with me to dinner. Won’t you?”
“No, my dear; we must finish our shopping and hurry home to our little folks, who are sure to be wanting mother and grandma. Take our thanks to your aunt, and tell her we hope to see her at our house one of these days.”