And so it went all through that grimy afternoon. With what unremitting thoughtfulness and care those fellows looked after our fair charges! The sanctity of her grief and anxiety rendered Miss Summers the object of the deepest respect and sympathy. Reclining at the rear of the car, her veil drawn over her face, none but Harrod ventured to approach her; but Kitty was the centre of incessant attention, and through her all manner of improvised delicacies were brought to Pauline. The dust was stifling, and indefatigable Mr. Turpin appeared from somewhere in front with a tin basin filled with cracked ice. The doctor came forward with a silver cup of delicious lemonade (he had levied on his pannier for lime-juice and powdered sugar) dexterously rendered soulful by a dash of Vini Gallici. Kitty smiled her thanks to both, and a duplicate of the beverage was grateful to her silent cousin. We flew over the rattling rails, and the jarring was incessant. The doctor produced an air-pillow for Pauline's head. We stopped somewhere for water, and the major disappeared. The ladies had brought luncheon in a large basket--but no appetites. The soldiers had rations and were filled. The officers had not had a mouthful since a breakfast at 3 A.M., and were hungry. No chance for a bite until 5 P.M., when, said the conductor, they might grab a sandwich at Ragsdale's, at Meridian. "But we can't stop three minutes, boys." Kitty overheard it. She was in animated conversation with a tall subaltern, who claimed to be from Kentucky. They were sitting three seats ahead of Miss Summers, who was undisturbed by their chatter; all voices were subdued as far as was possible. Mr. Turpin, who was a man of few words but vast action, was hovering about, eager for a chance to do something. She knew it. They all seem to have infinite intuition that way. "Oh, Mr. Turpin, would you please bring me our lunch-basket?" And Turpin was down upon us like his namesake of old, demanding the basket in a manner suggestive of "or your lives." Another second and it was deposited in front of her, and she bade him summon his brotherhood; and they went, even the stolid quartermaster, who felt sheepish apparently. And there she sat like a little Lady Bountiful, dispensing to each and all (a Southern lunch-basket reminds me of the parable of the loaves and fishes), and they surrounded her, eating and adoring. At five we rolled into Meridian, and Ragsdale's sandwiches were forgotten. Major Williams sprang from the train. "Yes, dear," I heard Harrod saying to his sister, "I will try and send a dispatch from here," and with that he rose. I went with him in search of the telegraph-office. At the door we met the major, some open dispatches in his hand. "Have we time to send a despatch to New Orleans?" asked Harrod, eagerly. "Hardly," said the major, with a quiet smile. "But won't this do?" and he placed in Harrod's hand one of the papers. The message read: