would bring down cannon to the
opposite side of the Ferry, about two miles beyond us, and throw shot
and shell over upon our side. Then the officer at the Ferry would think
that there was to be an attack made, and couriers would be sent, riding
to and fro, and the men would all be called to arms in a hurry, and the
ladies at headquarters would all put on their best bonnets and come down
stairs, and the ambulance would be made ready to carry them to a place
of safety before the expected fight. On such occasions Baby was in all
her glory. She shouted with delight at being suddenly uncribbed and
thrust into her little scarlet cloak, and brought down stairs, at an
utterly unusual and improper hour, to a _piazza_ with lights and people
and horses and general excitement. She crowed and gurgled and made
gestures with her little fists, and screamed out what seemed to be
her advice on the military situation, as freely as if she had been a
newspaper editor. Except that it was rather difficult to understand her
precise direction, I do not know but the whole Rebel force might have
been captured through her plans. And at any rate, I should much rather
obey her orders than those of some generals whom I have known; for she
at least meant no harm, and would lead one into no mischief.

However, at last the danger, such as it was, would be all over, and the
ladies would be induced to go peacefully to bed again; and Annie would
retreat with them to her ignoble cradle, very much disappointed, and
looking vainly back at the more martial scene below. The next morning
she would seem to have forgotten all about it, and would spill her bread
and milk by the fire as if nothing had happened.

I suppose we hardly knew, at the time, how large a part of the sunshine
of our daily lives was contributed by dear little Annie. Yet, when I now
look back on that pleasant Southern home, she seems as essential a
part of it as the mocking-birds or the magnolias, and I cannot convince
myself that in returning to it I should not find her there. But Annie
went back, with the spring, to her Northern birthplace, and then passed
away from this earth before her little feet had fairly learned to tread
its paths; and when I meet her next it must be in some world where there
is triumph without armies, and where innocence is trained in scenes of
peace. I know, however, that her little life, short as it seemed, was a
blessing to us all, giving a perpetual image of seren