Such was the picturesque spectacle which rose a moment ago to my
memory.
Now for the sad scene which I witnessed, as I rode back with Stuart.
Passing a small house, a poor woman came out, and with eyes full of
tears, exclaimed, addressing Stuart:--
"Oh, child! stop a minute! Are they coming back? They have took every
thing I had--they are _not_ coming back!"[1]
[Footnote 1: Her words.]
Stuart stopped. He was riding at the head of his staff, preceded by his
battle-flag. Not a trace of amusement was seen on his features, as he
heard himself addressed in that phrase, "Oh, child!"
"Have they treated you so badly?" he said, in his grave, kind voice.
"Oh, yes!" exclaimed the poor woman, weeping bitterly, "they have took
every hog, cow, and ear of corn I have, and every thing from my
daughter; she is a widow, and lives near us. These are her children, my
grandchildren, come to get out of the way."[1]
[Footnote 1: Her words.]
And she pointed to two or three little girls, with frightened faces,
and eyes wet with tears.
Stuart seemed deeply affected. Under that stout heart, which never
shrunk, was a wealth of sweetness and kindness.
"Well, they are not coming back, my good woman," he said, in a voice of
deep feeling. "You need not be afraid--they are gone now.
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