XXXV
HOME, SWEET HOME
AND so, as I was sitting on the porch, out there, one afternoon, and the old Jerry-horse was eating grass in the front yard, a couple of regiments of cavalry came up the road, just beyond, in command of a young colonel in a faded old uniform. When he got opposite he stopped and saluted like I was a major-general.
"God-a-mighty!" says I, putting on my glasses, "you're the first man who's acknowledge that I fought, bled and died—nearly—for the Union. Who are you? Wait! I want to shake hands!"
I salutes and runs down the yard, crazy for the Union the minute I sees the uniforms. When I got near, something, mostly the smile, I think, reminded me a little of Dave.
339
