CHAPTER X
VIRGINIA AGAIN THE BATTLE-GROUND
The day came at last when our regiments were to march. They were to rendezvous at the head of Sycamore Street, and march down to the lower depot. Every old man and boy, matron, maiden, and child, every family servant, assembled to bid them God-speed.
The reigning belles and beauties of Petersburg were all there,—Alice Gregory, Tabb Bolling, Molly and Augusta Banister, Patty Hardee, Mary and Marion Meade, pretty Helen, and my own friend Agnes.
"We are not to cry, you know," said Agnes, laying down the law by right of seniority.
"Of course not!" said Helen, winking away her tears and smiling.
Just then the inspiring notes of "Dixie," with drum and clash of cymbal, rent the air—the first time I had heard that battle-song.
"Forward! March!" And they were moving in solid ranks, all of us keeping step on the sidewalk, down to the depot.
APPOMATTOX.