ook us out to the public road and we bade adieu to to refugeeing for a time.
My mother, with no assistance but what we children could give, succeeded in cleaning up the house and we took up our abode in one room, as we could barely find furniture for that.
A stove was found, and fortunately before the shelling, my mother had gotten a good supply of wood, which was in the cellar.
That night about dark we heard a low tap on the window, and my mother asking who was there, found it was Beverley Brooks, a colored man, who had just heard she was in town and came with a loaf of bread and a pitcher of milk, and every night during the rest of that dreadful winter did he tap on the window and hand in a pitcher of milk and a loaf of bread.
He had staid in town during the shelling and had managed to keep his cow and all his belongings.
We three children with Ca'line would sit around the stove every night and toast our bread on the old bayonet brother had found on the battlefield.