When we mounted our horses and rode back toward Burkesville station, leaving the provost marshal and a small force at Appomattox to parole the prisoners, it was conceded by both Yankee and rebel that the Army of the Potomac and the army of Northern Virginia would never again meet as enemies on the battlefield. The boys in blue felt that they had fought a good fight, won a glorious victory, and could now return to their homes proud to have been permitted to suffer and do battle under the flag of the Union. It was a happy army that faced about at Appomattox and took up the march for Washington. The bands played, and the victorious Federals sang. The bivouacs at night were camp meetings on a large scale. Somehow the boys did not need as much sleep as was required when in winter quarters. Discipline was relaxed, and colonels and corporals, captains and privates talked over the results of the last campaign without any “red tape nonsense,” as the boys were wont to call a strict observance of military discipline when there was no fighting to do. The song that was sung with the most expression on that homeward march, was a parody on “Dear Mother, I've come home to die,” the last word being changed to “eat.” Then there was that lively air: “When Johnny comes marching home again, Hurrah, hurrah! When Johnny comes marching home again, Hurrah, says I; The lads and lassies, so they say, With roses they will strew the way, And we'll all feel gay When Johnny comes marching home.” On the road between Farmville and Burkesville station I dismounted at a farmhouse and asked a little negro boy who stood near the fence with mouth and eyes wide open, for a drink of water. The lad seemed to be frightened, and ran away around the house. “You, Julius, come here!” shouted a middle-aged lady who stepped out on the piazza. She had overheard my request for water. The young darky returned at the lady's command. “I'se 'fraid dese Yankees,” he said. “I don't think they'll molest you, Julius. Bring the gentleman a drink of water.” I was invited to a seat on the piazza pending Julius's expedition to the spring house, a rod or two back of the dwelling. He returned with a large gourd dipper filled with deliciously cool water. In the meantime three young ladies, daughters of the middle-aged lady, appeared on the piazza and were presented by their mother to the Yankee. Then Julius went to the spring to fill my canteen. “I'm sorry we have nothing but water to offer you,” said the mother. The young ladies also ventured to speak. “The two armies, ours and yours, just took everything in the shape of provisions on the place.” “Yes; and the soldiers found where we had stored a few hams and a sack of flour down in the woods.”