United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
Harry was not with us. The settlement of his trouble with Gholson
awaited his return out of the region north of us, whither Ferry had
suggested his riding on an easy reconnaissance. Camille and I were just
turning again, when there came abruptly into our scene the last gallant
show of martial finery any of us ever saw until the war was over and
there was nothing for our side to make itself fine for. On the road from
the house we heard a sound of galloping, and the next moment General
Austin and his entire staff (less only Harry) reined up at the edge of
the pond, ablaze with all the good clothes they could muster and
betraying just enough hard usage to give a stirring show of the war's
heroic reality. The General, on a beautiful cream-colored horse, wore
long yellow gauntlets and a yellow sash; from throat to waist the
sunlight glistened upon the over-abundant gold lace of his new uniform,
his legs were knee-deep in shining boots, and his soft gray hat was
looped up on one side and plumed according to Regulations with one
drooping ostrich feather. Behind halted in pleasing confusion captains
and captains, flashing with braids, bars, buckles, buttons, bands,
sword-knots, swords and brave eyes, and gaily lifting hats and caps,
twice, and twice again, and once more, to the ladies--God bless them!
Major Harper, the oldest, most refined and most soldierly of them all,
was also the handsomest. Old Dismukes was with them; burly, bushy,
dingy, on a huge roan charger. Camille asked me who he was, and I was
about to reply that he was a bloodthirsty brute without a redeeming
trait, when he lifted his shaggy brows at me and smiled, and as I smiled
back I told her he was our senior colonel, rough at times, but the
bravest of the brave. Meantime the General rode forward over a stretch
of shallow water, Ned Ferry ran back along the margin to meet him, and
at the saddlebow they spoke a moment together privately, while at more
distance but openly to us all Major Harper informed his sister that with
one night's camp and another day's dust the brigade would be down in
Louisiana. Camille turned upon me and hurrahed, the Arkansas colonel
smiled upon her approvingly, the ladies all waved, the General lifted
his plumed hat, faced about, passed through his turning cavalcade and
drew it after him at a gallop.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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