United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
“Yes, an' they seem ter want ter do the very things thet'll show
ther contempt o' righteousness, an' provoke the wrath o' the Lord.
Thar, where ye see thet house, all lit up from the basement ter the
look-out on the ruf, is whar one o' the most 'ristocratic families
in all Tennessee lives. There datter is bein' married to-night,
an' Major-Gineral Polk, the biggest gun in all these 'ere parts,
next ter ole Bragg, an' who is also 'Piscopalian Bishop o' Tennessee,
does the splicin'. They've got ther parlors, whar they'll dance,
carpeted with 'Merican flags, so thet the young bucks an' gals kin
show ther despisery of the banner thet wuz good enough for ther
fathers, by trampin' over hit all night. But we'll show hit ter
'em in a day or two whar they won't feel like cuttin' pigeon-wings
over hit. Ye jes stand still an' see the salvation o' the Lord.”
“I hope we will,” said Rachel, her horror of the storm that was
about to break giving away to indignation at the treatment of her
country's flag. “Shan't we go on? My long ride has made me very
tired and very hungry, and I know my horse is the same.”
Shortly after crossing the river they passed a large tent, with
a number of others clustered around it. All were festooned with
Rebel flags, and brilliantly lighted. A band came up in front of
the principal one and played the “Bonnie Blue Flag.”
“Thet's ole Gineral Bragg's headquarters,” explained Fortner. “He's
the king bee of all the Rebels in these heah parts, an' they think
he kin 'bout make the sun stand still ef he wants ter.”
They cantered on into the town, and going more slowly through the
great public square and the more crowded streets, came at last to
a modest house, standing on a corner, and nearly hidden by vines
and shrubbery.
A peculiar knock caused the door to open quickly, and before Rachel
was hardly aware of it, she was standing inside a comfortable room,
so well lighted that her eyes took some little time to get used to
such a change.
When they did so she saw that she was in the presence of a slender,
elderly woman, whose face charmed her.
“This is yer Aunt Debby Brill,” said Fortner, dryly, “who ye came
so fur ter see, an' who's bin 'spectin' ye quite anxiously.”
“Ye're very welcome, my dear,” said Aunt Debby, after a moment's
inspection which seemed to be entirely satisfactory. “Jest lay
off yer things thar on the bed, an' come out ter supper. I know
ye're sharp-set. A ride from Nashville sech a day ez this is mouty
good for the appetite, an' we've hed supper waitin' ye.”
Hastily throwing off her hat and gloves, she sat down with the rest,
to a homely but excellent supper, which they all ate in silence.
During the meal a muscular, well knit man of thirty entered.
“All clar, outside, Bill?” asked Fortenr.
“All clar,” replied the man. “Everybody's off on a high o' some
kind.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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