had
alarms from the Rebel troops, who 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 head-quarters would all put on their best bonnets and come
down stairs, and the ambulance (or, as some of the men called it, "the
omelet") 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 directions, 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
came 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 li