She had a little, faded knot of Confederate colors
fastened in her old dress, and, almost hidden by the crowd, she was looking
up and down in some distress to see if she could not again get a place from
which she could see. Finally she seemed to give it up, and stood quite still,
tiptoeing now and then to try to catch a glimpse. I saw someone
about to help her when, from a gay and crowded portico above her,
a young and beautiful girl in a white dress, whom I had been observing
for some time as the life of a gay party, as she sat in her loveliness,
a queen on her throne with her courtiers around her, suddenly arose
and ran down into the street. There was a short colloquy.
The young beauty was offering something which the old lady was declining;
but it ended in the young girl leading the older woman gently up
on to her veranda and giving her the chair of state. She was hardly seated
when the old soldiers began to pass.
As the last mounted veterans came by, I remembered that I had
not seen "No. 4"; but as I looked up, he was just coming along.
In his hand, with staff resting on his toe, he carried an old standard
so torn and tattered and stained that it was scarcely recognizable as a flag.
I did not for a moment take in that it was he, for he was not in
the gray jacket which I had expected to see.
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