As they strode to and fro with martial air, fully armed and
equipped to answer roll-call, or bent over the camp-fires preparing
breakfast, it seemed to me that no such splendid soldiers were ever
before seen. Several invitations to breakfast were received; that of
the officers' mess, having been first, was accepted.
Major ---- came in person to escort his guests to a lovely spot near
the cabin, where, under a large shady oak, upon a table of rough
boards covered with a nice white cloth, a delicious meal was set,
consisting of broiled chickens, omelet, fragrant coffee, buttermilk,
corn bread, and batter-cakes. A likely young negro boy attended at
table, industriously flourishing a green branch to keep away the
flies, and seemingly delighted to show off his company manners.
After breakfast I sat long upon the little gallery of the log cabin
entertaining soldier visitors and enjoying the situation with all my
heart. I soon discovered, however, an air of sadness and restraint
which was unaccountable until my husband told me of the death of the
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.
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