the condition of mind and the conduct of the men was, of course, very
great. Of those feelings I witnessed a significant manifestation in a
hotel at Savannah. At the public dinner-table I sat opposite a lady in
black, probably mourning. She was middle-aged, but still handsome, and
of an agreeable expression of countenance. She seemed to be a lady of
the higher order of society. A young lieutenant in Federal uniform
took a seat by my side, a youth of fine features and gentlemanly
appearance. The lady, as I happened to notice, darted a glance at him
which, as it impressed me, indicated that the presence of the person
in Federal uniform was highly obnoxious to her. She seemed to grow
restless, as if struggling with an excitement hard to restrain. To
judge from the tone of her orders to the waiter, she was evidently
impatient to finish her dinner. When she reached for a dish of pickles
standing on the table at a little distance from her, the lieutenant
got up and, with a polite bow, took it and offered it to her. She
withdrew her hand as if it had touched something loathsome, her eyes
flashed fire, and in a tone of wrathful scorn and indignation she
said: "So you think a Southern woman will take a dish of pickles from
a hand that is dripping with the blood of her countrymen?" Then she
abruptly left the table, while the poor lieutenant, deeply blushing,
apparently stunned by the unexpected rebuff, stammered some words of
apology, assuring the lady that he had meant no offense.

The mixing of a dish of pickles with so hot an outburst of Southern
patriotism could hardly fail to evoke a smile; but the whole scene
struck me as gravely pathetic, and as auguring ill for the speedy
revival of a common national spirit.


[Illustration: A PHOTOGRAPH OF GENERAL HOWARD, TAKEN AT GOVERNOR'S