I shall not dwell upon the evening and night spent at "Five
Forks"--upon whose threshold I was met and cordially greeted by the
gray-haired Judge Conway.
In the great drawing-room I found the young ladies, who hastened to
procure me supper; and I still remember that waiter of every species of
edibles,--that smiling landscape above which rose the spire-like neck
of a decanter! These incessant "bills of fare" will, I fear, revolt
some readers! But these are my memoirs; and _memoirs_ mean
recollections. I have forgotten a dozen battles, but still remember
that decanter-phenomenon in March, 1865. I spent the evening in
cordial converse with the excellent Judge Conway and his daughters, and
on the next morning set out on my return to Petersburg. Mohun had not
been visible. At the first sound of the firing, he had mounted his
horse and departed at a gallop.
So much for my visit to Five Forks. I pass thus rapidly over it, with
real regret--lamenting the want of space which compels me to do so.
Do you love the queenly rose, and the modest lily of the valley,
reader? I could have shown you those flowers, in Georgia and Virginia
Conway. They were exquisitely cordial and high-bred--as was their
gray-haired father. They spoke, and moved, and looked, as only the
high-bred can.
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