I dun
loss it anyhow, an' my pore ole bones mity sore sleepin' on dem
shucks."
Mr. Grey, finding that the old creature's grievance was very real to
her, refrained from scolding, and, passing out through the little
flower-garden, proceeded to the stable to feed the stock, a piece of
work which before the war had employed many hands, but which now was
performed by himself, assisted only by one negro man.
Upon the summer air rang the sweet voice of Nelly as she sang at her
work. In the scented garden Mrs. Grey with her little boy weeded and
trimmed and twined the lovely flowers, feeling really a greater
delight in the fruit of their labor than if they had no real
acquaintance with the flowers, but only received them from the hands
of a gardener.
Dear reader, we must now say farewell to our Nelly. Let us hope that
the clouds which darkened her childhood and early youth have passed
never to return, and that although "into each life some rain must
fall," her rainy days may be few and far between.
CHAPTER II.
BRAVE BOYS.
I believe I may safely say that no cause ever fought for, no army ever
raised, numbered among its adherents and soldiers so many mere boys as
rallied around "The Bonnie Blue Flag," bringing to its defence the
ardor of youth, added to unquestioning loyalty and Spartan bravery.
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