Four pairs of anxious, eager eyes watched that train of "damyankees" as it came rushing into the station sharp at 12.30. A crowd of sullen-looking "white trash" had gathered, a larger knot of curious and eager darkies, to see the sight. The engine whizzed past the platform; then two passenger-cars, from every window of which protruded blue-capped, dust-begrimed soldier heads; sentries stood at the doors, and only as the last car--a third passenger-car--came opposite us did the train stop. A sharp, business-like young fellow, in dust-covered fatigue dress with infantry shoulder-straps and cap, sprang out. "That coffee ready?" he asked, bounding at the agent at once. "Wall, I s'pose so," drawled the party addressed, as though desirous of giving all the annoyance he could. "If you want your money you'd better know, and lively too. We've no time to waste. Tumble out here, Sergeant Triggs. Bring six men while this party is waking up." Then as his men went into the kitchen to bring out the steaming caldrons, I asked if I could see the commanding officer on immediate and important business. "Certainly, sir; rear car. Come this way." We followed him, Harrod and I; found the forward half of the third car filled, as were the other two, with the rank and file. At the rear end were half a dozen sleepy, dusty, and disgusted-looking gentlemen. "This is Major Williams, sir," said the business-like youngster, and in an instant he was out on the platform again. A tall, dust-colored officer rose to meet my extended card and hand, mild surprise in his eyes. "Major," said I, "Major Vinton, of the cavalry, lies dangerously ill in New Orleans. He is engaged to the sister of my friend, Colonel Summers. No train leaves here until nine to-night, and in our eagerness to get to Vinton before it be too late we ask to be taken with you." For an instant the commanding officer was staggered by my impetuous harangue, but "he rallied." "Major Vinton, say you? I'm distressed to hear it. I know him well by reputation, though it has not been my good fortune to meet him. We--we must find some way----Excuse me, let me speak one instant with the quartermaster." He quickly stepped to a bulky, stolid-looking youth, and addressed him in few rapid words. The whistle blew,--my heart stood still. He sprang to a window, stuck out his head, and shouted,-- "A--a--Mr. _Tur_pin. Stop the train. Don't start till I tell you." "All right, sir," came back in the quick, sharp tones we had heard before. Again the major and the stolid youth met. We heard snatches of the latter's words,--"no precedent, no authority,"--and my heart again sank. Like Mr. Perker of blessed memory, I was about to interpose with "But my dear sir, my _dear_ sir," when Mr. Turpin burst in like a thunder-clap at the rear door. "Jupiter Ammon, fellows! Blow the dust from your eyes if you want to see the prettiest girl in the South!"