On a bright Sunday morning Sally sat upon the gallery of her uncle’s house slowly swaying backward and forward in a low rocking-chair.  In her hand was her prayer-book, but I greatly fear she had not read as she ought, for while her finger was held between the shut covers, marking “the Psalms for the day,” her bright eyes wandered continually over the lovely scene before her.  Above her head branches of tender green were tossing merrily in the March wind, at her feet lay a parterre bright with spring buds and flowers.  Beyond the garden-fence the carriage-road described a curve, and swept away under the lofty pines which here bounded the view.  On either side lay fields of newly-planted cotton.  Behind the house, seen through the wide-open doors and windows, the orchard gleamed pink and white.  Still beyond, blue smoke curled upward from the cabins of the negroes in “the quarter,”—­almost a village in itself.  The noise of their children at play was borne upon the wind, mingled with the weird chanting of hymns by the older negroes.  The family, with the exception of Sally, had gone to church,—­a distance of twelve miles.

For weeks it had been known that “Wilson’s raiders” would be likely at any time to appear; but continued security had lulled the apprehensions of the planters hereabouts, and, besides, they depended upon Confederate scouts to give timely warning.  But suddenly on this peaceful Sunday a confused noise from the direction of “the quarter” startled Sally, and directly a crowd of frightened negroes ran to the house with the tale that a party of scouts had been driven in, reporting the Yankees approaching and only ten miles away.

The sense of responsibility which at once took possession of the girl’s mind overmastered her terror.  She, as well as a few servants considered worthy of trust, had received clear instructions how to act in such an emergency; but before anything could be accomplished a party of horsemen (Confederates) rode up, and hastily giving information that the Federals had taken the “Pleasant Hill road,” dashed off again.  This knowledge did not relieve Sally’s mind, however, for on the Pleasant Hill road lay the fine plantation of another uncle, Dr. ——­, who was, she knew, absent.

The overseer, unaware of the approach of the raiders, would, unless warned, not have time to run off the valuable horses.  By the road the enemy had taken the distance was several miles, but there was a “short cut” through the woods, which would bring a rapid rider to the plantation much sooner, and at once it occurred to our heroine to send a boy on the only available animal, an old white mule, which had long enjoyed exemption from all but light work as a reward for faithful services in the past.  Alas!  Sally found she had “reckoned without her”—­negro.  Abject terror had overcome even the habitual obedience of the servants, and not one would venture; they only rolled their eyes wildly, breaking forth into such agony of protestations that the girl ceased to urge them, and, dismayed at the peril she was powerless to arrest, sat down to consider matters.  She know that the family had that morning driven to church, and so the carriage-horses were safe for the present.