orrowful little cortege, as it passed beneath the trees, and
we were too sad for tears, as we watched it go slowly out of sight.
Nat Butler lived, and visited us a year later, but his life was a
brief one.

We were up late that night, bidding adieu to many friends. Indeed,
the past few days had been days of varied and intense excitement.
People who under ordinary circumstances would have scarcely recognized
each other as acquaintances now met and parted as old and dear
friends. Mounted officers would come cantering up just for a handshake
and a God-keep-you. We were admonished to take off rings or any little
bits of jewelry which we might wear. A gentleman sitting by me had
concealed my watch in my ball of knitting cotton. People everywhere
were wildly seeking places wherein to conceal their valuables. We had
no reason to imagine that our house was safer than others, but we
could not refuse to receive the trunks and boxes brought to us in
desperation, by refugees chiefly, who were leaving town in a panic,
and going they knew not whither. All that we could promise was that
they should be as well cared for as were our own; and so the garret
was packed with all sorts of trunks and boxes, many of which were not
claimed until the next autumn.

I cannot pretend to give you an idea of the excitement and turmoil of
that last week of the Confederacy. Every minute of your grandfather's
time was taken up with his duties as a state officer, until he, in
company with Governor Graham and Dr. Warren, were despatched by
Governor Vance to meet Sherman with a flag of truce and to surrender
the town. He was absent upon this mission upon a night that I happened
to go into the dining-room and found several rough-looking men, whom I
took to be Confederates, seated at supper. Robert was waiting upon
them, and Adelaide talking, while one of my little children was seated
cosily upon the knee of a particularly dirty-looking man. This did not
please me, for there was a freedom of manner about them which I had
never seen in one of our men before. Still, I had no suspicion that
they were not what they seemed, and, being called off, I left them,
although a certain uncomfortable feeling caused me to do so
unwillingly. Just as I left, a clatter of horses' feet was heard
outside, and Adelaide (always loquacious), exclaimed, "Here comes the
General and his staff!" The words were scarcely uttered before the
men jumped from their seats and dashed from t