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Supported by the hope of Mr. Clay's return, and knowing hewould seek me first among those of our kin who were nearestto the coast, I lingered on Beech Island until late in January,1865, though I did so against the advice of Colonel Clay, whourged me to go southward, and the assurances of Mr. Davisthat I might safely return to Richmond,A cartoon which appeared about this time in a Richmond paper wasa graphic demonstration of the shrunk value of Confederate money.It represented a man going to and returning from market. In thefirst scene he carried a bushel basket piled high with currentbills, in the second, the basket was empty, and in his hand wasan infinitesimal package, which was supposed to contain a beefsteak! A. S.which city, the President was confident, would continueto prove an impregnable refuge. In the last days of Decembertwo such messages, equally positive and each positivelyopposed to the other in its significance, sped to me by courierfrom the capital. Who was to decide when such correspondentsdisagreed? Yet the need for some move became more andmore urgent. To return to Huntsville was out of the question.Northern Alabama was overrun with Federal soldiers, to whomthe name alone of Clay, borne as it was by three men allactively labouring for the preservation of the ConfederateStates, was a challenge to the exercise of fresh authority. Iheard distressing news of the contemplated transportation, toNashville, of the aged ex-Governor Clay (our uncle, Mr.McDowell, a non-combatant full of years, had already died inthat prison under most pitiful circumstances), yet I waspowerless to send him even a line of comfort or encouragement.Mail routes in every direction were in possession of the enemy,or liable to be interrupted by them, and straggling companiesof Union soldiers were on the lookout to intercept suchmessengers as might attempt to bear our letters from point topoint.

Such kindly aid unexpectedly extended to us by a strangernow and then had its own part in stimulating and encouragingus during a voyage in which a thousand hopes and fears andmemories tortured us. The very coast-line, there in thedistance, seemed to write on the horizon the story of ourdisasters. We passed on our way within one hundred yards ofdesolate, historic Sumter, over which the Union flag floated,and the solitary sentinel pacing his rounds was visible to us.Beyond lay Charleston, her outlines placid, though we knewshe was scarred within.

At no time did Cazeau make an effort toovertake her until traversing an old fallowmeadow that was level and hard as a table.The sight of a great solitary oak-tree, withits seemingly immutable outlines, that hadbeen a landmark for ages - or was it the odorof elderberry stealing up from the gully to thesouth? or what was it that brought vividlyback to Cazeau, by some association of ideas,a scene of many years ago? He had passedthat old live-oak hundreds of times, but itwas only now that the memory of one daycame back to him. He was a very small boythat day, seated before his father on horseback.They were proceeding slowly, andBlack Gabe was moving on before them at alittle dog-trot. Black Gabe had run away, andhad been discovered back in the Gotrainswamp. They had halted beneath this big oakto enable the negro to take breath; for Cazeau'sfather was a kind and considerate master, andevery one had agreed at the time that BlackGabe was a fool, a great idiot indeed, for wantingto run away from him.

One day she walked miles down the trackto talk with the old flagman, who stayeddown there by the big water tank. Yes, heknew. Those people came from the great citiesin the north, and were going to the cityin the south. He knew all about the city; itwas a grand place. He had lived there once.His sister lived there now; and she would beglad enough to have so fine a girl as Calineto help her cook and scrub, and tend thebabies. And he thought Caline might earnas much as five dollars a month, in the city.

And after all, the hand which I claspedacross the counter was that of the self-sameCavanelle I had left. It was no fuller, nofirmer. There were even some additional linesvisible through the thin, brown beard. 2ff7e9595c