takes care of the sparrows, would not forget his mother, and he felt
that Azalia would sometimes shed a tear when she thought of him.

But one morning there was an unusual stir among the prisoners. "You are
to be exchanged and sent home," said the Rebel officers. They had been
told the same thing so many times, and had been always so cruelly
deceived, that they did not believe the statement till orders were
issued for a portion of them to be ready to march to the cars at an
appointed hour. Paul was among those who were ordered away. All were
ready in an instant, for they had no baggage to pack up, no knapsacks,
no equipments, no overcoats,--nothing but the rags upon their bodies.

Those who were so weak that they could scarcely creep from place to
place rose and stood upon their feet when told that they were to go
home. Paul felt a fresh wave of life sweep over him, thrilling every
fibre of his wasted frame. Hope revived. Home! O the blissful thought!
He rose weak and trembling from his bed on the cold, damp ground,
wrapped his rags about him, and, leaning on a cane, supported by Uncle
Peter, hobbled out and took his place in the long line of skeletons,
and waited with eager eyes to see the gate turn upon its rusty hinges.

It was hard to part with Uncle Peter, who had been so kind to him. "God
bless you and reward you for all your kindness to me," said Paul,
bidding him good by, and shaking hands for the last time.

"I'se sorry to part with ye, Kurnel, but I bless de Lord you is gwine.
We'll meet again one of dese days, whar de Rebs won't trouble us, and
whar we will be free foreber," said the old negro, looking up into
heaven. He could not go. He was a slave. There was no freedom for him
till the rebellion was crushed, or till the grave opened.

The gates turned on their hinges, and the regiment of skeletons in rags
took up its march. Such a procession never before was seen on earth. A
thousand emaciated forms, tottering, reeling, hobbling on canes and
crutches, wending their way to the cars,--not to luxurious cushioned
seats, but to hard, jolting cattle-cars,--for a long ride of hundreds of
miles before reaching the sea-coast. But hope inspired them. They were
breathing fresh air, and were gazing on smiling fields, waving with
grain. They were on their way home. The birds cheered them, singing of
home. "Going home, going home!" said the car-wheels, as they passed from
rail to rail. In joy and gladness they sang: