hardships vanished away at the thought of her
for his little housekeeper. It was such easy work for fancy to convert
the work-days into holidays, and the thick wilderness into the shining
village, where the schoolhouse stood open all the week, and the sweet
bells called them to church of a Sunday; easy work for that deceitful
elf to make the chimney-corner snug and warm, and to embellish it with
his mother in her easy-chair. When they parted that night, each young
heart was trembling with the sweetest secret it had ever held; and it
was perhaps a fortnight thereafter that the same secret took wing, and
flew wildly over the neighborhood.

John Walker's little farm was gone for good and all. The few sheep, and
the cows, and the pig, and the fowls, together with the greater part of
the household furniture, were scattered over the neighborhood; the smoke
was gone from the chimney, and the windows were curtainless; and the
grave of John, with a modest but decent headstone, and a rose-bush newly
planted beside it, was left to the care of strangers. The last visits
had been paid, and the last good-byes and good wishes exchanged; and the
widow and her younger children were far on their journey,--Hobert
remaining for a day or two to dispose of his smart young horse, as it
was understood, and then follow on.

At this juncture, Mr. Bowen one morning opened the stair-door, as was
his custom, soon after daybreak, and called harshly out, "Jinny! Jinny!
its high time you was up!"

Five minutes having elapsed, and the young girl not having yet appeared,
the call was repeated more harshly than before. "Come, Jinny, come! or
I'll know what's the reason!"

She did not come; and five minutes more having passed, he mounted the
stairs with a quick, resolute step, to know what was the reason. He came
down faster, if possible, than he went up. "Mother, mother!" he cried,
rushing toward Mrs. Bowen, who stood at the table sifting meal, his gray
hair streaming wildly back, and his cheek blanched with amazement,
"Jinny's run away!--run away, as sure as you're a livin' woman. Her
piller hasn't been touched last night, and her chamber's desarted!"

And this was the secret that took wing and flew over the neighborhood.

THE RETREAT FROM LENOIR'S AND THE SIEGE OF KNOXVILLE.

Late in October, 1863, the Ninth Army Corps went into camp at Lenoir's
Station, twenty-five miles southwest of Knoxville, East Tennessee. Since
April, the corps had