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Parrish, Randall, 1858-1923

"My Lady of the North"

It's been pretty
tough on all of you, but if you fellows only work like you fought
you'll have things a humming before long."
There was homely comfort in his philosophy which for the moment cheered
me. Perhaps he was right; the energy and bravery of the South, crippled
as it now was, might yet conquer our present misfortune, and prove it a
blessing in disguise. I had gone a hundred yards or more, this thought
still in my mind, when I became aware that he was calling after me.
"Hey, there, you gray-back!" he shouted, "hold on a bit!"
As I came to a pause and glanced back, wondering if there could be
anything wrong with my parole, he swung his cap and pointed.
"That officer coming yonder wants to speak with you."
Across the open field at my right, hidden until then by a slight rise
of ground, a mounted cavalryman was riding rapidly toward me, the wind
blowing back his cape so as to make conspicuous its bright yellow
lining. For the moment his lowered head prevented recognition, but as
he cleared the ditch and came up smiling, I saw it was Caton.
"By Jove, Wayne, but this is lucky!" he exclaimed, springing to the
ground beside me. "I've actually been praying for a week past that I
might meet you. Holmes, of your service, told me you had pulled
through, but everything is in such confusion that to hunt for you would
have been the proverbial quest after a needle in a haystack.


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