Of course we could not follow them, but we anxiously waited for their return. The Colonel must have been touched by our mute grief, but he only said, "I have orders to burn the house, and though I find no proof against you, I must obey orders." Then father asked him to step out on the veranda. They talked a few minutes, clasped hands, and the Colonel, quickly wheeling around, ordered the troops out of the house. In a few minutes every one was in line and rapidly marching away. In answer to our astonished inquiries, we were told that a Masonic sign, the secret of true brotherhood, had saved our dear home from desolating flames. A LABOR OF LOVE A LABOR OF LOVE One day a little girl was reading a story-book on the green lawn in front of a Southern home; two gentlemen were seated near under a wide-spreading magnolia tree talking about the political situation, the number of Presidential candidates, and the possible results of the election. Suddenly one of them said, "Yes, there is trouble ahead. Before that child is grown this country will be plunged into bloody war." The child was startled. The prophetic words were indelibly stamped on her mind. She could not sleep until long after midnight, and when she slept she dreamed that she, like the "Maid of Monterey," gave food and water to the thirsty soldiers, and dressed their bleeding wounds. The dream came true. While she was attending school in the capital city, talk of secession began, and then came preparations for war. I remember the day the arsenal at Baton Rouge was seized by Louisiana, and all the citizens and the college girls marched down to the barracks on the river to see our soldiers drill. The women and girls went to work making clothes and little conveniences for the soldiers to take with them. In a few weeks we were thrilled with enthusiasm when our first companies marched through the city with their knapsacks, blankets, and a half loaf of bread strapped on their backs. Poor boys, they lived to learn that "a half loaf is better than none." Some time after two companies[2] were camped near us on the Comite River, and real work began. How young and brave the soldiers were, and how proud every woman was who had a son, brother, or sweetheart in the army! For a time all was excitement, gaiety, and preparation; bands played, soldiers drilled, and citizens flocked to the camps to encourage and help in every way possible. One sad day orders came to move to the front. Knapsacks were packed, tents were folded, the last good-byes were spoken, tears fell softly but were dashed away, and our boys were gone--gone to meet their fate, whatever it might be! [2] Bynum's and Buffington's.