after, and I never opened me mouth.  The next day was the day when all the Confederate flags came to Petersburg.  I had some papers in my pocket that would have done harrum to some people, so I chewed them all up and ate them, but I wouldn’t take the oath, and I never did take it.  The flags were brought in on dirt-cars, and as they passed the Federal camps them Yankees would unfurl them and shake them about to show them.  My journey from Burkesville to Petersburg was from eleven in the morning till eleven at night, and I sitting on my bundle all the way.  The Yankee soldiers in the car were cursing me, and calling me a damn rebel, and more ugly talk.  I said, ’Mabbe some of you has got a mother or wife; if so, you’ll show some respect for me.’  Then they were quiet.  I had to walk three miles to Captain Buckner’s headquarters.  The family were in a house near the battle-ground, but the door was shut, and I didn’t know who was inside, and I couldn’t see any light.  I sat down on the porch, and thought I would have to stay there all night.  After a while I saw a light coming from under the door, and so I knocked; when the door was opened and they saw who it was, they were all delighted to see me, because they were afraid I was dead.  I wanted to go to Richmond, but would not go on a Yankee transportation.  When the brigade came down, I cried me heart out because I was not let go on with them.  I stayed three months with Mrs. Cloyd, and then Mayor Rawle sent me forty dollars and fifty more if I needed it, and that brought me home to New Orleans.”

Mrs. Rooney is still cared for and cherished by the veterans of Louisiana.  At the Soldiers’ Home she holds the position of matron, and her little room is a shrine never neglected by visitors to “Camp Nichols.”

Upon every occasion when the association of A.N.Va. appear as an association, Mrs. Rooney is with them, an honored and honorary member.  Neatly dressed, her cap of the real Irish pattern surmounting her face, beaming with pride in “the b’ys.”

In fiery patriotism, unfaltering devotion, defiant courage the women of New Orleans had no rival, save the women of Baltimore.  I know no other place where the fiery furnace was so hot, the martyrdom so general or so severe.  In both instances the iron hand of despotism failed to crush or subdue.

Women continued to give aid and comfort to Confederate soldiers in hospital and prison, using every art they possessed to accomplish their ends.  The sick were nursed and fed and comforted.  Prisoners were assisted to escape, concealed until they could be spirited away, while their fair friends bravely faced and dared the consequences of discovery, never hesitating to avow their partisanship, crying, “If this be treason, make the most of it.”  A dozen arrests among these devotees did no good, for their name was legion.  Every house was a nest of “treason;” for here dwelt the women whose best beloved were Confederate soldiers.