hand and the torch in the other.  Not only thus confronted, they were at the mercy of four or five millions of negro slaves, waiting for freedom, as only a people could after two centuries of slavery.  The enemy was ready and willing to excite these otherwise harmless, peaceful, and contented negroes to insurrection and wholesale butchery.  But be it said to the everlasting credit and honor of the brave women of the South, that they never uttered a reproach, a murmur, or a regret at the conditions in which circumstances had placed them.  But the negro, faithful to his instincts, remained true, and outside of an occasional outburst of enthusiasm at their newly found freedom, continued loyal to the end to these old masters, and looked with as much sorrow and abhorence upon this wanton destruction of the old homestead, around which clustered so many bright and happy memories, as if they had been of the same bone and the same flesh of their masters.  Notwithstanding the numberless attempts by Federal soldiers now spread over an area of fifty miles to excite the negro to such frenzy that they might insult and outrage the delicate sensibilities of the women of the South, still not a single instance of such acts has been recorded.

Such were the feelings and condition of the country when Kershaw’s Brigade, now under General Kennedy, boarded the train in Richmond, in January, 1865.  We came by way of Charlotte and landed in Columbia about nightfall.  The strictest orders were given not to allow any of the troops to leave or stop over, however near their homes they passed, or how long they had been absent.  In fact, most of the younger men did not relish the idea of being seen by our lovely women just at that time, for our disastrous valley campaign and the close investiture of Richmond by Grant—­the still closer blockade of our ports—­left them almost destitute in the way of shoes and clothing.  The single railroad leading from our State to the capital had about all it could do to haul provisions and forage for the army, so it was difficult to get clothing from home.  We were a rather ragged lot, while the uniforms of the officers looked shabby from the dust and mud of the valley and the trenches around Richmond.  Our few brief months in winter quarters had not added much, if any, to our appearance.  By some “underground” road, Captain Jno.  K. Nance, of the Third, had procured a spick and span new uniform, and when this dashing young officer was clad in his Confederate gray, he stood second to none in the army in the way of “fine looking.”  New officers did not always “throw off the old and on with the new” as soon as a new uniform was bought, but kept the new one, for a while at least, for “State occasions.”  These “occasions” consisted in visiting the towns and cities near camp or in transit from one army to another.  An officer clad in a new uniform on ordinary occasions, when other soldiers were only in their “fighting garments,” looked as much out of place as the stranger did at