“But, mother dear, don't cry; I thought we could trust a gentleman.” “So we could, but we should have known better than to trust a Yankee.” I believe that I would have shot the bummer who confiscated that goose had he been within range of my revolver while I was under fire on that piazza. I never felt quite so mean in the presence of ladies before. “Go and join your partner,” said the mother. “Leave us, sir!” chorused the daughters. What a predicament for a youthful soldier. There I stood, despised and hated by four ladies with whom I had been apparently on good terms a few moments before. Had a band of bushwhackers opened fire on me at that moment I should have been happy again. The bushwhackers did not come, but Julius did. I shall never forget Julius. “Miss Julia, dis yere Yankee doan' know nuffin 'bout stealin' dat goose.” “How do you know, nigger?” “Cos' what dat oder Yankee say.” “What did he say?” “He tole me 'fi made de leas bit of holler so dat Yankee sittin' on de porch wid you all see he, he would don' cut my brack hed off wid he's s'od. Deed he did, Miss Julia.” “How did he know about the goose?” “Spec I'se de nigger to blame. He axed me whar missus kept her pervisions, an' fo' I know'd what I do'n, I say, 'Nuffin left but one ole goose, Massa.' Den he say, 'Whar dat goose?' an' what wor a poor nigger to do, Miss Julia?” “We have done you an injustice, sir,” said the mother, again turning to me. “Pardon us, sir,” said the younger ladies. “Don't mention it, ladies. I am so glad that I am relieved from the suspicion of complicity in the stealing of that goose, that I would stay and help cook a dinner to celebrate Col. Bob's return were it not for the fact that I must go on and report to Gen. Meade.” We parted very good friends. A goodly store of flour, meat, coffee and sugar was sent to the ladies from the Union commissary department, and no doubt Col. Bob reached home in time to share the rations with his charming family. Although twenty-six years have come and gone since my experience on the piazza of that Virginia farmhouse, I cannot repress a feeling whenever I recall the circumstances, that I would be pleased to meet that “other Yankee” who did steal that goose and choke him till he cried “_peccavi! _” CHAPTER XIV. _Assassination of Lincoln--The Return March--A Homeless Confederate--Not Destroyed by the Yankees--The Goddess of Liberty--The Grand Review--Grant's Final Order._ [Illustration: 9218]