“Yes,” put in Farmer Fielding. “The case of Trowbridge _versus_ Kay, closed that very morning, and my two brothers and myself were at liberty to come home. My two brothers, however, decided to stay over that evening, to attend a Union meeting, got up to make some little stand against the progress of the Secessionists. But I was anxious about my girl, and so I resolved to come home, and in good time, too, for I found her fortifying the house to withstand an assault. I was so astonished that my breath was suspended! But she soon told me what had happened; and I soon had reason to see the prudence of her preparations, and also their inefficiency!” “What a dreadful state of things!” “You would think so if you had been at our house that night!” “What night was that, by the way?” “Why last Monday night, of course.” “Oh, certainly—yes! I recollect Miss Elfie’s naming the day.” “It is a day to be remembered in the annals of my domestic life. Myself and my girl sat up and watched. But, for all that, I did not believe that our own old neighbors would pull the house down over our heads, merely because we were loyal to the old Union and the old flag. But what will not maniacs do? Myself and my brave girl watched until near daybreak, when, thinking that all was right for the time being, and that we would not have an attack that night, we separated, and went to bed, to get an hour or two of repose before breakfast. I had been some time asleep when I was rudely awakened by a terrific yell—such a yell as a hand of painted savages, armed with firebrands and tomahawks, might roar forth in surprising a peaceful home. “I sprang up and rushed to the window and threw up the sash and looked out. The eastern horizon was quite red, and by its light I saw a crowd of men armed with guns, pistols, swords, pitchforks and a variety of weapons, gathered around the house. As I bent out to look down, I saw a quantity of straw, shavings and dry brushwood piled around the posts that supported the porch. The moment they saw me they saluted me with a perfect howl of rage. “‘Come out of that, you——’ Here followed a volley of profane and indecent imprecations and vituperations—‘come out of that house with your devil’s imp of a daughter, unless you wish to be burned alive inside of it!’ “Before I could reply, my brave girl, who had heard the row, was by my side. She put a gun into my hand and said: “‘Pap, I have called up Ned, and he can do good service. Now you take this gun, and fire into them from this window, and I will fire from the other. And we’ll keep it up as long as the ammunition lasts; and then we’ll die game, pap!’