had to be contributed mainly by wealthier neighbors. The work was
carried on at night as well as by day, for the occasion was urgent.
Meantime the men were being drilled by the Captain and his lieutenants,
who had been militia officers of old. We were carried to see the drill
at the cross-roads, and a brave sight it seemed to us: the lines marching
and countermarching in the field, with the horses galloping as they wheeled
amid clouds of dust, at the hoarse commands of the excited officers,
and the roadside lined with spectators of every age and condition.
I recall the arrival of the messenger one night, with the telegraphic order
to the Captain to report with his company at "Camp Lee" immediately;
the hush in the parlor that attended its reading; then the forced beginning
of the conversation afterwards in a somewhat strained and unnatural key,
and the Captain's quick and decisive outlining of his plans.

Within the hour a dozen messengers were on their way in various directions
to notify the members of the command of the summons, and to deliver
the order for their attendance at a given point next day. It seemed that
a sudden and great change had come. It was the actual appearance
of what had hitherto only been theoretical -- war. The next morning
the Captain, in full uniform, took leave of the assembled plantation,
with a few solemn words commending all he left behind to God,
and galloped away up the big road to join and lead his battery to the war,
and to be gone just four years.

Within a month he was on "the Peninsula" with Magruder, guarding Virginia
on the east against the first attack. His camp was first at Yorktown
and then on Jamestown Island, the honor having been assigned his battery
of guarding the oldest cradle of the race on this continent.
It was at "Little Bethel" that his guns were first trained on the enemy,
and that the battery first saw what they had to do, and from this time