Then he turned his attention to the house he was to occupy as
his headquarters.
It was a fine specimen of the old colonial planter's house, with its
broad veranda, its great detached offices and negro quarters, and had,
thus far, escaped the ravages and billeting of the war. It had been
occupied by its owner up to a few days before the engagement, and so
great had been the confidence of the enemy in their success that it had
been used as the Confederate headquarters on the morning of the decisive
battle. Jasmine and rose, unstained by the sulphur of gunpowder,
twined around its ruined columns and half hid the recessed windows;
the careless flower garden was still in its unkempt and unplucked
luxuriance; the courtyard before the stables alone showed marks of the
late military occupancy, and was pulverized by the uneasy horse-hoofs of
the waiting staff. But the mingled impress of barbaric prodigality with
patriarchal simplicity was still there in the domestic arrangements of
a race who lived on half equal familiarity with strangers and their own
servants.
The negro servants still remained, with a certain cat-like fidelity
to the place, and adapted themselves to the Northern invaders with
a childlike enjoyment of the novelty of change.
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