“Don’t you think you’re rather hard on Pemberton?  He thought it his duty to wait for Johnston.”

“Some people may excuse him, ma’am, but we’ll curse him to our dying day.  Anyhow, you’ll see the blue-coats directly.”

Breakfast dispatched, we went on the upper gallery.  The street was deserted, save by a few people carrying home bedding from their caves.  Among these was a group taking home a little creature, born in a cave a few days previous, and its wan-looking mother.  About 11 o’clock a man in blue came sauntering along, looking about curiously.  Then two followed him, then another.

“H., do you think these can be the Federal soldiers?”

“Why, yes; here come more up the street.”

Soon a group appeared on the court-house hill, and the flag began slowly to rise to the top of the staff.  As the breeze caught it, and it sprang out like a live thing exultant, H. drew a long breath of contentment.

“Now I feel once more at home in my own country.”

In an hour more a grand rush of people set in toward the river,—­foremost among them the gentleman who took our cave; all were flying as if for life.

“What can this mean, H.?  Are the populace turning out to greet the despised conquerors?”

“Oh,” said H., springing up, “look!  It is the boats coming around the bend.”

Truly, it was a fine spectacle to see that fleet of transports sweep around the curve and anchor in the teeth of the batteries so lately vomiting fire.  Presently Mr. J. passed and called: 

“Aren’t you coming, Mr. L.?  There’s provisions on those boats:  coffee and flour.  ‘First come, first served,’ you know.”

“Yes, I’ll be there pretty soon,” replied H.

But now the new-comers began to swarm into our yard, asking H. if he had coin to sell for greenbacks.  He had some, and a little bartering went on with the new greenbacks.  H. went out to get provisions.  When he returned a Confederate officer came with him.  H. went to the box of Confederate money and took out four hundred dollars, and the officer took off his watch, a plain gold one, and laid it on the table, saying, “We have not been paid, and I must get home to my family.”  H. added a five-dollar greenback to the pile, and wished him a happy meeting.  The townsfolk continued to dash through the streets with their arms full, canned goods predominating.  Towards five Mr. J. passed again.  “Keep on the lookout,” he said; “the army of occupation is coming along,” and in a few minutes the head of the column appeared.  What a contrast to the suffering creatures we had seen so long were these stalwart, well-fed men, so splendidly set up and accoutered!  Sleek horses, polished arms, bright plumes,—­this was the pride and panoply of war.  Civilization, discipline, and order seemed to enter with the measured tramp of those marching columns; and the heart turned with throbs of added pity to the worn men in gray, who were being blindly dashed against this embodiment of modern power.  And now this “silence that is golden” indeed is over all, and my limbs are unhurt, and I suppose if I were Catholic, in my fervent gratitude, I would hie me with a rich offering to the shrine of “our Lady of Mercy.”