Early in the morning, earlier even than I had supposed possible, the conductor's voice was heard announcing to somebody that we would be in New Orleans in less than half an hour. I had been sleeping somewhat uneasily, curled up on one of the seats. I was dimly conscious of the fact that at some unknown hour in the night another telegram had been received referring to Vinton, and that Miss Summers was wide awake when it came. I remember Harrod's bending over and kissing her, and hearing the words, "That is better yet." Then sleep again overpowered me. Now, at daybreak, I arose and gazed around the dimly-lighted car. Miss Summers, Harrod, and Major Williams were the only occupants apparently astir. The former was sitting near the opened window; the cool, salty breeze from the Gulf was playing with the ripples of fair hair that clustered about her forehead. She looked very white and wan in the uncertain light, but there was a womanly tenderness and sweetness about her face that made it inexpressibly lovely to me. She was gazing wistfully out over the sea of marsh and swamp, as though longing to bridge the distance that still separated us from the city, where he lay battling with that insidious enemy. Harrod and the major were in earnest conversation. Other occupants of the car were beginning to stir uneasily, as though warned that soon they must be up and doing; but Kitty still slept, and the cloak of army blue still covered her. Mr. Turpin had disappeared. A few moments more and the officers had been aroused; the men were donning their belts and equipments; Pauline herself stepped forward, and, bending over her pretty cousin, roused her from her baby-like sleep; and glancing from the windows, I could see that we were rolling up the "Elysian Fields." Then came the curving sweep around on the broad levee. All looked quiet, even deserted, as we passed the Mint and the wide thoroughfare of Esplanade Street. Some of the lamps still burned dimly in the _cafés_ and bars, but no trace of commotion or excitement could be discerned. It was with some little surprise then that our eyes met the warlike scene as we rolled into the station at the foot of Canal Street. The instant the train stopped, our car was boarded by an alert gentleman in civilian dress whom I had often seen, and whom I knew to be an aide-de-camp on the staff of the commanding general. He came at once to Major Williams; shook hands with him, and conveyed some orders in a low tone of voice; then asked to be presented to Colonel Summers. Major Williams brought him to where our group of four was then standing, at the rear of the car,--Miss Summers, Kitty, Harrod, and myself. "Let me introduce Colonel Newhall, of General Emory's staff," he said, and the colonel, raising his hat in general salutation to the party, spoke in the hurried, nervous way I afterwards found was habitual with him, despite the _sang-froid_ that distinguished him at all times save in the presence of ladies.