ing that glistened on them when he rose and slowly walked away, leaving but the pale moonbeams to haunt the spot. Certainly it was true that after this day he showed increasing concern in the young lovers who were holding clandestine meetings in his grounds. "Peter," he would say, "why, if they love each other, do they not get married? Something may happen." "I been spectin' some'n' to happ'n fur some time, ez dey been quar❜lin' right smart lately," replied Peter. Whether or not he was justified in this prediction, before the end of another week the colonel read a notice of their elopement and marriage; and several days later he came up from down-town and told Peter that everything had been forgiven the young pair, who had gone to housekeeping in the country. It gave him pleasure to think he had helped to perpetuate the race of farmers. THE YEARNING PASSED AWAY. It was in the twilight of a late autumn day in the same year that nature gave the colonel. the first direct intimation to prepare for the last summons. They had been passing along the garden walks, where a few pale flowers were trying to flourish up to the very winter's edge, and where the dry leaves had gathered unswept and rustled beneath their feet. All at once the colonel turned to Peter, who was a yard and a half behind, as usual, and said: "Give me your arm, Peter"; and thus the two, for the first time in all their lifetime walking abreast, passed slowly on. 66 'Peter," said the colonel gravely, a minute or two later, "we are like two dried-up stalks of fodder. I wonder the Lord lets us live any longer." "I reck'n He 's managin' to use us some way, or we would n' be heah," said Peter. Well, all I have to say is, that if He 's using me, He can't be in much of a hurry for his work," replied the colonel. "He uses snails, en I know we ain' ez slow ez dem," argued Peter, composedly. "I don't know. I think a snail must have made more progress since the war than I have." The idea of his uselessness seemed to weigh on him, for a little later he remarked, with a sort of mortified smile: "Do you think, Peter, that we would pass for what they call representative men of the New South ?" "We done had ou' day, Marse Rom," replied Peter. "We got to pass fur what we wuz. Mebbe de Lohd 's got mo' use fur us yit 'n people has," he added, after a pause. From this time on the colonel's strength gradually failed him; but it was not until the following spring that the end came. A night or two before his death his mind wandered backward, after the familiar manner of the dying, and his delirious dreams showed the shifting, faded pictures that renewed themselves for the last time on his wasting memory. It must have been that he was once more amidst the scenes of his active farm life, for his broken snatches of talk ran thus: "Come, boys, get your cradles! Look where the sun is! You are late getting to work this morning. That is the finest field of wheat in the county. Be careful about the bundles! Make them the same size and tie them tight. That swath is too wide, and you don't hold your cradle right, Tom. "Sell Peter! Sell Peter Cotton! No, sir! You might buy me some day and work me in your cotton-field; but as long as he 's mine, you can't buy Peter, and you can't buy any of my negroes. ... "Boys! boys! If you don't work faster, you won't finish this field to-day. .. You'd better go in the shade and rest now. The sun's very hot. Don't drink too much ice-water. There's a jug of whisky in the fence-corner. Give them a good dram around, and tell them to work slow till the sun gets lower." Once during the night a sweet smile played over his features as he repeated a few words that were part of an old rustic song and dance. Arranged, not as they now came broken and incoherent from his lips, but as he once had sung them, they were as follows: "O Sister Phoebe! How merry were we After this he sank into a quieter sleep, but soon stirred with a look of intense pain. "Helen! Helen!" he murmured. "Will you break your promise? Have you changed in your feeling towards me? I have brought you the pinks. Won't you take the pinks, Helen ?" He stretched out his hand and touched them caressingly, and his eyes sought Peter's with a look of grateful tenderness. "I want to be alone with Peter for a while," he said, turning his face towards the others. When they were left alone, it was some minutes before they could speak. Peter, not knowing what he did, had gone to the window and hid himself behind the curtains, drawing them tightly around his form as though to shroud himself from the coming sorrow. At length the colonel said, "Come here!" Peter, almost staggering forward, fell at the foot of the bed, and, clasping the colonel's feet with one arm, pressed his cheek against them. "Come closer!" Peter crept on his knees and buried his head on the colonel's thigh. "Come up here,- closer"; and putting one arm around Peter's neck he laid the other hand softly on his head, and looked long and tenderly into his eyes. "Peter," he said, with ineffable gentleness, "if I had served my Master as faithfully as you have served yours, I should not feel ashamed to stand in his presence.' "If my Marseter is ez mussiful to me ez you have been, he will save my soul in heaven." "I have fixed things so that you will be comfortable after I am gone. When your time comes, I should like you to be laid close We can take the long sleep together. to me. Are you willing?" "That's whar I want to be laid." The colonel stretched out his hand to the vase, and, taking the bunch of pinks, said very calmly: "Leave these in my hand when I am dead; I'll carry them with me." A moment more, and he added: "If I should n't wake up any more, goodbye, Peter!" "Good-bye, Marse Rom!" And they shook hands. After this the colonel lay back on the pillows. His soft, silvery hair contrasted strongly with his child-like, unspoiled, open face. To the day of his death, as is apt to be true of those who have lived pure lives but never married, he had a boyish strain in him,— a softness of nature, showing itself even now in the gentle expression of his mouth. His brown eyes had in them the same boyish look when, just as he was falling asleep, he scarcely opened them to say: ROMA Peter, on his knees, and looking across the colonel's face towards the open door, through which the rays of the rising sun streamed in upon his hoary head, prayed, while the colonel fell asleep, adding a few words for himself now left alone. Several hours later, memory led the colonel back again through the dim gateway of the past, and out of that gateway his spirit finally took flight into the future. Peter lingered a year. The place went to the colonel's sister, but he was allowed to remain in his quarters. With much thinking of the past, his mind fell into a lightness and a weakness. Sometimes he would be heard crooning the burden of old hymns, or sometimes seen sitting beside the old brass-nailed trunk, fumbling with the spelling-book and the Pilgrim's Progress. Often, too, he walked out to the cemetery on the edge of the town, and each time could hardly find the colonel's grave amidst the multitude of the dead. One gusty day in spring, the Scotch sexton, busy with the blades of blue-grass springing from the animated mold, saw his familiar figure standing motionless beside the colonel's restingplace. He had taken off his hat one of the colonel's last bequests — and laid it on the colonel's headstone. On his body he wore a strange coat of faded blue, patched and weather-stained and so moth-eaten that parts of the curious tails had dropped entirely away. In one hand he held an open Bible, and on a much-soiled page he was pointing with his finger to the following words: "I would not have you ignorant, brethren, concerning them which are asleep.' It would seem that, impelled by love and faith, and guided by his wandering reason, he had come forth to preach his last sermon on the immortality of the soul over the dust of his dead master. The sexton led him home, and soon afterwards a friend, who had loved them both, laid him beside the colonel. It was perhaps fitting that his windingsheet should be the vestment in which, years agone, he had preached to his fellow-slaves in bondage; for if it so be that the dead of this planet shall come forth from their graves clad in the trappings of mortality, then Peter should arise on the Resurrection Day wearing his old jeans coat. James Lane Allen. VOL. XXXV.-— 131. 1 Vicksburg; repossessed the Mississippi River; driven its foe over Missionary Ridge in flight. It knew how to fight, and was willing to fight. On May 7 our cavalry was driven through Mill Creek Gap. On that night, after we had gone into camp, Colonel Grigsby, who commanded the Kentucky cavalry brigade, was ordered to send a regiment to the front of Dug Gap, to guard the approaches to it. In obedience to that order the 9th Kentucky Cavzalry passed over Rocky-face Ridge, and near to midnight bivouacked on Mill Creek, about a mile from, and rin front of, Dug Gap. Heavy picket lines were thrown out on all the roads leading down the valley. There were several of these roads, and scouts were sent out to ascertain the movements of the enemy. By daylight it was discovered that very large bodies of troops were moving down the valley on all the roads leading to the south. General McPherson had marched from Chattanooga to Rossville, thence west of Chickamauga Mountain to Shipp's Gap and to Villanow, where the road forks, one branch leading down the east foot of Taylor's Ridge, the other leading across towards Rockyface; this road again forks, one leading through Dug Gap, the other down the valley to Snake Creek Gap. Until McPherson reached Villanow it was only a conjecture as to his course, and until the head of his column turned towards Snake Creek Gap his destination was uncertain. His march was concealed by Hooker's corps of the Army of the Cumberland, which corps, forming Thomas's right, marching from Ringgold via Nickajack Gap and Trickum, hid the flank movement of McPherson. The plan was for Hooker to seize Dug Gap and push forward sufficiently to protect the flank of McPherson, and strike the flank of Johnston if he turned on McPherson; while McPherson, marching C through Snake Creek Gap to Resaca, should not only destroy but hold the only railroad tributary to Johnston. The possession of Dug Gap by Hooker not only rendered Dalton untenable, but made a retreat from Dalton by the line of the railroad extremely hazardous, and it completely protected McPherson from attack on his left flank. With Hooker descending from Rocky-face on our left flank and rear, McPherson holding Resaca, Thomas, with the corps of Howard and Palmer, pushing to Dalton, and Schofield to his left, our army would have been in perilous posture. The march of Hooker and McPherson was discovered early on the morning of May 8 by the scouts of the 9th Kentucky Cavalry, and timely information given that at least an attack on Dug Gap was certain, and that the columns on the march were very heavy, and their movements guarded by forces too large to be either resisted or developed by the detachments sent out by the 9th Kentucky. On this information the remainder of Grigsby's brigade was ordered to Dug Gap, and reached there none too soon. All possible delay to the march of Hooker's corps was made, but about 2 P. M. Geary's division of that corps drove the 9th Kentucky across the creek and slowly up the mountain-side, until the regiment fell back in its proper position in the gap, where it found the brigade drawn in mere skirmish line along the edge of the mountainside. As one-fourth of cavalry soldiers hold the horses, I presume that we had about 800 of our brigade in the fight and 250 Arkansas troops; and this handful of men held that gap until nightfall, repelling every assault. After nightfall Granbury's Texas brigade relieved us, but the assault was over. Hooker had failed in his part of the mission. That flank of our army was safe. The importance of holding that gap was so manifest that Generals Hardee and Cleburne, with their staffs, galloped to the scene to encourage us by their presence and to aid Colonel Grigsby by their suggestions; and though the fight was made under their eye, that command needed no encouragement, and its officers and men knew that they were holding one of the doors to Dalton. I hold in my hand the official report of General Geary, by whom that attack was made, and on the whole it is a fair and soldierly report. But he is mistaken in his belief that we had two lines of intrenchments, or that we were ever driven from our first position. Our loss was very small — in killed and wounded not a score. He reports that he made that attack with two brigades of infantry and two batteries, being an aggregate of perhaps 4500 men, or about four to one, besides the batteries. Assault after assault was made from 3 o'clock until after dark, and each assault repulsed with loss. At first, in a mere spirit of exuberant fun, some of the men rolled stones down the mountain-side; but when the effect was noticed they were directed to use these means as part of our defense; great stones were rolled down on the supporting lines on the mountain-sides or at its foot; and as these bowlders would go leaping, crashing, breaking off limbs, crushing down saplings, we fancied we could see the effect of the unexpected missiles. It also proved a valuable resource to us, for our ammunition would have given out, and was about exhausted when the attack ceased. General Geary reports an aggregate loss of 357 officers and men, of whom some 50 were the adventurous advance, who actually reached the crest, only to be made prisoners. After dark our brigade, being relieved by the Texas brigade of Granbury, was ordered to the foot of the mountain to feed and to obtain ammunition. While this attack had been going on, McPherson had steadily marched towards Snake Creek Gap, to protect which gap no steps had been taken. Undoubt edly if a cavalry force had been started to Snake Creek Gap at the same moment Grigsby was ordered to Dug Gap, it would have reached there before McPher son, and held it during the night of the 8th, during which time infantry support could have reached there. I do not wish to be understood as offering any criticism on these facts; I am merely stating the facts as I believe them. Why these gaps were left unguarded, why a prompt effort was not made to hold Snake Creek Gap, I neither pretend to know nor venture to guess; nor do I offer any criticism. That they were not guarded, and that this gave Sherman the easy means of causing the evacuation of Dalton and the retreat to Resaca, are undoubtedly true. That we could have held Dalton or made an attack on Sherman if these gaps had been held is a problem over which military men may differ. Whatever may have been the reason or cause, the fact is that the provision made to hold Snake Creek Gap was an order to Grigsby during the night of the 8th to move his brigade to its mouth. The 9th Kentucky had been on duty continuously for over twenty-four hours; the whole brigade for over twelve hours, and |