ed in my sister's home, they were buried with military honors.
The children, happily, recovered, but my sister was taken ill and died, a victim to her love for the stricken South.
Some amusing incidents occurred in Warrenton.
When the Yankee soldiers would pass through and ask for food, the ladies growing tired and determined to save all sustenance for our boys in gray, determined to make the enemy pay for food.
I had a cousin who was married to a Presbyterian minister by the name of Pollock.
He was from Maine and was the tallest, thinest and most cadaverous looking man I ever saw. One day it was reported that my cousin had hidden some Yankee bones in her yard.
The union soldiers were trying to gather up all the bones of those who were killed and bury them.
A squad of union soldiers marched up to my cousin's house and said to her: We hear Madam, that you have a bag of Yankee bones hidden in your house.
She looked at the captain a moment, and answered smartly: Yes, I have a