go back."

"Never," cried the other angrily. "Who would think that a puny faced thing
like you could be so sly!"

Jeanne made no reply but sank into bitter thought. The rebel general,
Jefferson Thompson, received the refugees courteously and promised to
help them to reach friends and relatives in other parts of the South.
Meantime he gave them such refreshment as was at his disposal, resigning
to the Vances his own headquarters. For a few days they stayed here, being
joined by others from the city. Then they broke up into small parties
and scattered, each bent upon reaching his own objective point.

To her consternation Jeanne was told that her uncle and aunt were bound
for Alabama, the very midst of Secession. The girl's heart died within her
when she found that this was their destination. With no friends near how
could she, a mere girl, hope to reach her own people surrounded as she
would be on all sides by rebels? She was almost in despair.

At Waynesboro, they left the train and Mr. Vance, securing a carriage with
two good horses, announced his intention of driving through the rest of
the way. Madame Vance received the intelligence with demonstrations of joy
but Jeanne said nothing. In spite of her depression, however, she could
not but feel a sense of pleasure as they bowled along over the public road.

It was a pleasing ride, ennobling to the soul as a series of beautiful
scenes were unrolled to the view. Far in the azure blue the great banks
of white clouds seemed to lie at anchor, so slow of sail were they. The
gloom of the dense forest gently waving its boughs to the breeze greeted
the eye. Ever and anon the dulcet murmur of gurgling streams broke gently
on the ear. Quiet cottages surrounded by flowers and fruits, the abodes
of peace and content, were passed; grass green marshes with here and
there a tall pine or sombre cypress standing as sentinels of the rich
mead; song birds caroling their sweet lays as they flitted from bough
to bough, or lightly soared in space; fields of deadened trees, all
draped with the long gray Spanish moss, were silhouetted against the
sky; groups of great oaks, with clusters of the mistletoe pendent. On
past plantations, busy with slaves whose merry songs floated far on
the gentle zephyrs.

But as the day wore away proofs that grim-visaged war was raging in the
land came more and more into evidence.

Want and desolation mark the track of soldiers. Armies must be fed and
hun