magnificent riding-horse, fully accoutred, was a negro man belonging to a neighboring plantation, who had guided the Federals to “ole ——­’s place.”  Just behind, upon a sorry mule, escorted by a mixture of negroes and Yankees riding his own fine horses, came Colonel M——­, his head erect, his eyes blazing scornfully, glancing from side to side, or drawing a sharp, hard breath between his clinched teeth as he overheard some ribald jest.  His house and gin-house had been burned, his fields laid waste; he had left his young daughters without protection and without shelter.  What the ladies felt as they saw this sad cavalcade pass out of sight may not be told.  Morning dawned upon a scene of desolation, sickening in the extreme,—­ruin, waste, wreck everywhere.  The house emptied of everything valuable, floors filthy with the prints of muddy feet, the garden ruined, furniture battered and spoiled.  Outside, broken barrels, boxes, etc., strewed the earth; lard, sugar, flour, meal were mingled together and with the sandy soil; streams of molasses ran down from broken casks; guns which had belonged to the family were broken and splintered and lay where they had been hurled; fences were broken down.  Had there been any stock left, there was nothing to keep them out of garden or yard.  Only old Whitey was left, however, and he walked gingerly about sniffing at the cumbered ground, looking as surprised as he was able.  The carriage and buggy had been drawn out, the curtains and cushions cut and smeared thoroughly with molasses and lard.  Breakfast-time arrived, but no Ruthy came up from the quarter; no smoke curled upward from the kitchen-chimney; a more hopeless, dismal party could not well be imagined than the three women who walked from room to room among the debris, neither noticing or caring for the losses, only intensely anxious regarding the helpless prisoner, who was surely suffering, but whom they could not hope to relieve.  As the day wore on, some of the women from the quarters ventured near, bringing some coarse food which had been cooked in their own cabins; they would not, however, go inside the house, “Mass Yankee tole us we gwine ter get kill ef we wait on you all.”  Towards evening Mrs. ——­ walked down to the “quarter.”  Not a man was to be seen.  The women were evidently frightened and uncertain as to how far the power of “Mass Yankee” extended.  Their mistress had been a kind friend, and their habitual obedience and respect for her could not at once be overcome, but the threats and promises of the Federals had disturbed and unsettled them.  Aunt Sophy was an old servant who had nursed Mrs. ——­’s mother.  For years she had been an invalid, kindly nursed and cared for by her master and mistress, receiving her meals from the family table, and having always some of the younger servants detailed to wait on her.  Passing by her cottage now, Mrs. ——­ was astonished to see it empty.  “Where is Sophy? what has happened to her?” “Oh, she dun gone to