I Wandered About Through These Camps Both On Foot And On Horseback
Day After Day; And Every Now And Then I Would Come Upon A Farm-House
That Was Still Occupied By Its Old Inhabitants.
Many of such houses
had been deserted, and were now held by the senior officers of the
army; but some of the old families remained, living in the midst of
this scene of war in a condition most forlorn.
As for any tillage
of their land, that, under such circumstances, might be pronounced
as hopeless. Nor could there exist encouragement for farm-work of
any kind. Fences had been taken down and burned; the ground had
been overrun in every direction. The stock had of course
disappeared; it had not been stolen, but had been sold in a hurry
for what under such circumstances it might fetch. What farmer could
work or have any hope for his land in the middle of such a crowd of
soldiers? But yet there were the families. The women were in their
houses, and the children playing at their doors; and the men, with
whom I sometimes spoke, would stand around with their hands in their
pockets. They knew that they were ruined; they expected no redress.
In nine cases out of ten they were inimical in spirit to the
soldiers around them. And yet it seemed that their equanimity was
never disturbed. In a former chapter I have spoken of a certain
general - not a fighting general of the army, but a local farming
general - who spoke loudly, and with many curses, of the injury
inflicted on him by the secessionists.
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