“I don’t know’m,” he said, without his usual smile, when I essayed a little fun with him, and I evidently heard him sigh. But knowing there was no alternative, I started in a brisk walk towards Decatur, and said to him, “Come on, or I’ll get home before you do.” He rallied and kept very close to me, and we made pretty good time. The gloaming was upon us, the period of all others auspicious to thought, and to thought I abandoned myself. The strife between the sections of a once glorious country was a prolific theme, and I dwelt upon it in all of its ramifications, and failed to find cause for blame in my peculiar people; and my step became prouder, and my willingness to endure all things for their sakes and mine was more confirmed. In the midst of these inspiring reflections, Toby, who had somewhat lagged behind, came running up to me and said:
“Oh! Miss Mary, just look at the soldiers. And they are ours, too!”
To my dying day I shall never forget the scene to which he called my attention. In the weird stillness it appeared as if the Lord had raised up of the stones a mighty host to fight our battles. Not a sound was heard, nor a word spoken, as those in the van passed opposite me, on and on, and on, in the direction of Decatur, in what seemed to me an interminable line of soldiery. Toby and I kept the track of the destroyed railroad, and were somewhere between General Gartrell’s residence and Mr. Pitts’, the midway station between Atlanta and Decatur, when the first of these soldiers passed us, and we were at Kirkwood when that spectre-like band had fully gone. Once the moon revealed me so plainly that a cheer, somewhat repressed, but nevertheless hearty, resounded through the woods, and I asked:
“Whose command?”
“Wheeler’s Cavalry,” was the simultaneous response of many who heard my inquiry.
“Don’t you know me? I am the one you gave the best breakfast I ever ate, that morning we dashed into Decatur before sun-up.”
“And I’m the one too.”
“O, don’t mention it,” I said. “You are giving your lives for me, and the little I can do for you is nothing in comparison. May God be with you and shield you from harm until this cruel war is over.”
I missed Toby, and looking back, saw him sitting down. I hurried to him, saying, “What is it, my boy?”
“O, Miss Mary, I am so sick. I can’t go any further. You can go on home, and let me stay here—when I feel better I’ll go too.”