Dick, Warner and Pennington walked through the silent halls of the University of Virginia, the South’s most famous institution of learning, founded by Thomas Jefferson, one of the republic’s greatest men.

“I hope they will re-open it next year,” said Warner generously, “and that it will grow and grow, until it becomes a rival of Harvard.  We want to defeat the South, but not to destroy it.  Since it is to be a part of the Union again, and loyal forever I hope and believe, we want it strong and prosperous.”

“I’m with you in that,” said Dick, “and I feel it with particular strength while I am here.  There have been many great Virginians and I hope there’ll be many more.”

They also visited Monticello, the famous colonial mansion which the great Jefferson had built, and in which he had lived and planned for the republic.  They trod there with light steps, feeling that his spirit was still present.  Virginia was the greatest of the border states, but it seemed to Dick that here he was in the very heart of the South.  Virginia was the greatest of the Southern fighting states too, and it had furnished most of the great Southern leaders, at least two of her sons ranking among the foremost military geniuses of modern times.  For nearly four years they had barred the way to every Northern advance, and had won great victories over numbers, but Dick was sure as he stood on a portico at Monticello, in the very heart of valiant Virginia, that the fate of the South was sealed.

They did not stay long at Charlottesville and Monticello, but a portion of the army, including the Winchester men, went on, tearing up the railroad, while another column demolished a canal used for military purposes.  Then the two forces united at a town called New Market, but they could go no farther.  The heavy rains and the melting snows had swollen the rivers enormously, all the bridges before them were destroyed, and their own pontoons proved inadequate in face of the great rushing streams.  Then they turned back.

Dick and his comrades were secretly glad.  The rising of the waters had prevented them from going into North Carolina and joining Sherman.  Hence, they deduced that so active a man as Sheridan would march for a junction with Grant, and that was where they wanted to go.  They did not believe that the Confederacy was to be finished in North Carolina, but at Richmond.  They knew that Lee’s army yet stood between Grant and the Southern capital, and, there, would be the heart of great affairs.

Spring was now opening and Sheridan’s army marched eastward.  Men and horses were covered with mud, but they still had the flush of victories won, and the incentive of others expected.  They were even yet worn by hard marching and some fighting, but it was a healthy leanness, making their muscles as tough as whipcord, while their eyes were keen like those of hawks.