“I can’t do it. Show your papers or turn back.” We set up a wail. “Here, we’ve come all the way from Baltimore, and the Yankees have sent us and have brought us all the way in a fine ambulance and cavalry escorts and big horses and gold lace and everything, and now we’ve got home, and our own people won’t let us in! tell us to turn back!” The sentry seemed impressed. Rags and musket, he was a pathetic if stern figure as he stood in that lonely, muddy road in the glare of our driver’s lantern. But he was firm. He told us that he was obeying orders and could not let us by since we had no passes. “I’m so tired, and my back is almost broken with this trunk sticking into it,” I moaned. “That _ain’t_ comfortable,” he admitted, but his resolute position in the middle of the road showed that we couldn’t pass, all the same. “Look here,” I said, plucking up some of my accustomed spirit, “do you know that my husband is an officer in the Confederate army? My husband is Captain Grey.” “Can’t help it. Got to obey orders.” “And _my_ brother,” said Mrs. Drummond, “is a _colonel_ in the Confederate army. To think that _I_--I, the sister of Colonel ----, am told that I can’t pass here!” “Law, ma’am! that’s my colonel!” said the man. “I tell you what I’ll do, ladies. I’ll send a note in to the colonel and see what _he_ says about it.” So we waited till he found a passer-by who would be a messenger; and then we waited until the messenger replied to the note, and we were permitted to pass. Soon after we reached the tavern the news of our arrival and exploits got abroad and soon the little tavern parlor was filled with people listening to the tales of the blockade-runners who were just from Yankeeland, bringing a trunk or two full of clothes. The news of our doughty deeds spread from house to house, and soldiers gathered in front of the tavern and gave us ringing cheers, and welcomed us home with all their lung power. Poor, ragged fellows! how I did wish that mother and I had worn home a hundred or two more Balmorals! The next morning we left Woodstock. We were traveling now in a comfortable spring wagon, and made good time, reaching Harrisonburg in time to take the train for Staunton. As we sat in the parlor of the hotel in Staunton who should walk in but an old friend and cousin of Dan’s, Lieutenant Nelson! But he could tell me nothing about Dan--he did not even know where he could be found. This was just before the second battle of the Wilderness, and the cavalry was being shifted constantly from place to place. But if Lieutenant Nelson could tell us nothing, he was greatly interested in our exploits. We told him of the Balmorals with pride. “And here are two shirts for Dan,” I said, pulling at our long scarfs. “Just think of our getting through with a full uniform--cloth, brass buttons, gold lace, and all!”