gentlemen, who had come in no friendly mood, bade us good night and took their leave. Thus the Lord of Hosts, in his infinite mercy, furnished a just tribunal to pass judgment upon my acts as a Southern woman, and that judgment, influenced by facts and surroundings, was just and the verdict humane.

CHAPTER XV.

The Battle of the 22d of July, 1864-The Death of Toby.

The excitement incident to the morning and evening of yesterday left my mother and myself in no frame of mind for repose, and we spent the night in suspense and painful apprehenson of trouble yet to come greater and more dreadful than that through which we had passed. The medicine left for Toby by the physician summoned last night was faithfully administered according to direction, and the morning found him better, though able to sit up only for a short while at a time. Measles had developed, and we felt hopeful that it would prove to be a very slight attack; and such it might have been could we have controlled him properly, but the excitement and ever varying scenes in the yard, and as far as vision extended, were so new and strange to him that, when unobserved, he spent much of his time at a window, commanding the best view of the scene, and thus exposed to a current of air, the disease ceased to appear on the surface and a troublesome cough ensued.

Having been without food since the preceding morning, our thoughts turned to the usual preparation for breakfast, but alas, these preparations had to be dispensed of, as we had nothing to prepare. This state of affairs furnished food for at least serious reflection, and the inquiry, "What are we to do?" found audible expression.

The inexorable demands of hunger could not be stifled, and we knew that the sick boy needed hot tea and the nourishment which food alone could give, and yet we had nothing for ourselves or for him-so complete had been the robbery of the "advance guards" of the Grand Army of the Republic that not a thing, animate or inanimate, remained with which to appease our hunger. "What are we to do?" was iterated and reiterated, and no solution of the question presented itself. Even then appetizing odors from the camp-fires were diffusing themselves upon the air and entering our house, but aliens were preparing the food and we had no part in it. We debated this question, and finally resolved not to expose ourselves to the jeers. and insults of the enemy by an act of ours that would seem to ask for food; but that we would go to our Southern citizens in the war-stricken and almost deserted town, and, if they were not completely robbed, ask them to share their supplies with us until we could procure aid from outside of the lines so arbitrarily drawn.

In this dilemma an unexpected relief came to us, and convinced us that there was good even in Nazareth. A large tray, evidently well-filled, and covered with a snowwhite cloth, was brought in by an Irishman, who handed a card to my mother containing these words:

"To Mrs. Stokes and daughter, Miss Gay, with compliments of (MAJOR) CAMPBELL. "Please accept this small testimonial of regard and respectful sympathy."

The latter part of the brief message was the sesame that secured acceptance of this offering, and my mother and myself jointly acknowledged it with sincere thanks,

The

and again we thought of Elijah and the ravens. contents of the tray-coffee, sugar, and tea, sliced ham and a variety of canned relishes, butter, potatoes, and oatmeal and bread, were removed and the tray returned. That tray on its humane mission, having found its way into our house, more than once opportunely reappeared. We enjoyed the repast thus furnished, although briny tears were mingled with it.

The day passed without any immediate adventure. Great activity prevailed in army ranks. The coming and going of cavalry; the clatter of sabre and spur; the constant booming of cannon and report of musketry, all convinced us that the surrender of Atlanta by the Confederates was quite a matter of time. A few thousand men, however, brave and gallant, could not cope successfully with "three hundred thousand" who ignored every usage of civilized warfare, and fought only for conquest.

I can not say how long this state of affairs lasted before Wheeler's Cavalry, supported by Confederate infantry, stole a march upon the Yankees and put them to flight. Garrard and his staff officers were in our parlor-their parlor pro tem.-holding a council; the teamsters and army followers were lounging about promiscuously, cursing and swearing and playing cards, and seeming not to notice the approaching artillery until their attention was called to it, and then they contended that it was their men firing off blank cartridges. I intuitively felt that a conflict was on hand. Ma and I held whispered conversations and went from one window to another, and finally rushed into the yard. Men in the camps observed our excitement and said,

"Don't be

alarmed, it is only our men firing off their blank cartridges."

The irony of fate was never more signally illustrated than on this occasion. I would have laid down my life, yea, a thousand breathing, pulsing lives of my own, to have witnessed the overthrow of the Yankee army, and yet, I may have been the means of saving a large portion of it on that occasion. Dreading for my mother's sake and for the sake of the deaf girl and the sick boy,an attack upon the forces which covered our grounds, I ran to one of the parlor doors and knocked heavily and excitedly. An officer unlocked the door, and opening it said:

"What is it?"

"Our men must be nearly here," I replied.

"Impossible," he said, and yet, with a bound he was in the yard, followed in quick succession by each member of the conclave.

A signal, long, loud and shrill, awakened the drowsy, and scattered to the four winds of heaven cards, books and papers; and, in a few minutes, horses and mules were hitched to wagons, and the mules, wagons and men were fairly flying from the approach of the Confederates. Women and children came pouring in from every direction, and the house was soon filled. Before Garrard's wagon train was three hundred yards away, our yard. was full of our men-our own dear "Johnnie Rebs." Oothcaloga Valley boys, whom I had known from babyhood, kissed, in passing, the hand that waved the handkerchief. An officer, ah, how grand he looked in gray uniform, came dashing up and said:

"Go in your cellar and lie down; the Federals are