Startled by hounds.--An unpleasant predicament.--A Christian gentlewoman.--Appeal to Mrs. Colonel Taylor.--"She did all she could."--A meal fit for the gods.--Aunt Katy.--"Lor' bress ye, marsters!"--Uncle Zeb's prayer.--Hoe-cake and pinders.--Woodcraft _versus_ astronomy.--Canine foes.--Characteristics of the slave.--Meeting escaped prisoners.--Danger.--Retreat and concealment. It is the morning of November twenty-eighth, 1864. The sun has just risen above the eastern hills, and his slanting beams fall upon the goodly heritage of Colonel Alexander Taylor, "C. S. A." There are, as yet, none of the usual features here of a war-stricken country; everything around is rich and substantial. The residence is a stately mansion in the Elizabethan style, and the lady who, accompanied by two sweet children, walks the broad piazza, is evidently a refined gentlewoman. The colonel himself, like a gallant (but mistaken) knight, has "gone to the wars." She marvels what makes "Rupert," a noble hound, that but a moment ago stretched himself at full length across the hallway, rise and bound over the lawn, barking loudly and fiercely as he runs. She calls him--at first gently, and then peremptorily, until the old hound with evident reluctance obeys the summons, and crouches at her feet. She then directs a negro, whose tokens of age and long service are as pronounced as those of his canine rival, to find out what there is in the clump of trees beyond the north hedge, to excite "Rupert's" anger. The venerable negro, with the deliberateness of his race, proceeds in the direction indicated, but is saved the necessity of much exertion, by the startling appearance of a young soldier in a motley uniform of gray and blue--his coat of one color--his nether garments of another! He advances boldly toward the house, and the lady scrutinizes the intruder. The result of her examination shows her visitor to be a slight, but sinewy young man, with a frank and honest expression, and seemingly not more than eighteen years of age. The motley stranger drew near, and bowing gracefully saluted her with, "Good-morning, madam."