Two white arms had met the poor paroled prisoner, on
his return to Eagle's Nest--a pair of violet eyes had filled with happy
tears--and the red lips, smiling with exquisite emotion, murmured "All
is well, since you have come back to me!"
It was this beautiful head which the sunshine of that autumn of 1867
revealed to me, on the lawn of the good old chateau of the mountains!
And behind, came all my good friends of the Oaks--the kind lady of the
manor, the old colonel, and Charley and Annie, who were there too! With
his long gray hair, and eyes that still flashed, Colonel Beverly came
to meet me--brave and smiling in 1867 as he had been in 1861. Then,
with Annie's arm around me--that little sister had grown
astonishingly!--I went in and was at home.
At home! You must be a soldier to know what that simple word means,
reader! You must sleep under a tree, carry your effects behind your
saddle, lie down in bivouac in strange countries, and feel the longing
of the heart for the dear faces, the old scenes.
"Tell my mother that I die in a foreign land!" murmured my poor dear
Tazewell Patton, at Gettysburg. I have often thought of those words;
and they express much I think. Oh! for home! for a glimpse, if no more,
of the fond faces, as life goes! You may be the bravest of the brave,
as my dear Tazewell was; but 'tis home where the heart is, and you sigh
for the dear old land!
The Oaks was like home to me, for the somebody with violet eyes, and
chestnut hair, was here to greet me.
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