gallant Dreux, the first martyr of the war. Ah! then I knew. Struggle
as they might, their brave hearts were wrung with anguish, for their
gallant leader had succumbed to the only conqueror he ever knew. The
impassioned oratory that had never failed to fire the hearts of men
was hushed forever. The ardent patriotism ever prompting to deeds of
daring was now only a memory. The brilliant intellect and
administrative ability so early recognized, so highly valued, were
lost to the Confederacy.

I no longer wondered that manly brows were clouded, or that the eyes
of soldiers moistened, as, even amidst pleasant conversation, a sudden
remembrance of their loss overcame them. For them the memory of that
death-scene was fresh. The echo of his last brave words had not yet
died away: "_Steady, boys_, steady," as if he would have said, "Let
not my fate appall; _still_ do your duty."

Before the sun was high the ambulance reappeared to convey our party
as far as Williamsburg, where young Little was to remain until he
could hear from his father; I and my boy were to go on to Richmond. My
husband was granted a furlough of two days that he might escort his
family as far as Williamsburg. As may be imagined, the ride was most
delightful. Although often oppressed by thoughts of the parting hour
so rapidly approaching, we were at times charmed into forgetfulness,
and keen enjoyment of the beautiful scenery and the incidents of the
journey. I now, for the first time, began to use from my little store
of gold and silver, and it proved the "open sesame" to much enjoyment.
Watermelons and other fruit, roasting ears, buttermilk, etc., were
purchased without stint, also a chicken. At noon the little party
camped in a grove by the roadside, where my soldier-husband proudly
showed off his new attainments in the way of cooking. The dinner was