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CHAPTER VI.

UP THE HILL.

AMMA," said Patty, as Frisky, some

"M what tired with his long journey, began Μ

to creep up the hill toward Arlington, - "mamma, what was Miss Brittania's name?"

"I thought I would not tell you," said Mrs. Gray, thoughtfully. "Miss Brittania is a private person, but her husband and son are well known as leaders in this sad rebellion. You will want to talk about her, and it will be just as well to call her Miss Brittania, as old Lundy does."

"Yes, mamma," said Patty, just as if she did not hear. She had turned round in the donkey cart, and her eager eyes rested on the beautiful river and the snowy outlines of the Capitol. The road to Arlington is a climb all the way, and every step the tired donkey took gave Patty a new glimpse of beauty.

Mrs. Gray watched her silently. There was nothing very pleasant to look at near by. As soon as the beautiful oaks had been left behind, the road grew broken and dusty. The fences were down; some of the oak trees had been felled to feed the camp fires.

Mrs. Gray touched Patty at last, and drew her attention to these things.

"These are the traces of the war," she said. "You used to think you would like to see them, Patty."

"But I don't, mamma," Patty said, with a troubled look. "How the cart jerks about! What makes it?"

"These heavy, half-frozen ruts were left by the army wagons," said her mother. "Do you see that burnt fence running back to the grove? Some soldiers made a camp fire there. Those bits of charcoal basket-work are pieces of the old summer-houses that Mr. Custis was so proud of."

“What a shame!" said Patty; "that was just because they were so lazy. See that old oak, mamma! they have just chipped off a little of the bark. Why, that tree would have fed their fires for ages and ages!"

Mrs. Gray smiled. "Look a little farther up the hill," she said. "There was once a hedge of fig trees; don't you see it is cut up wantonly? They couldn't even burn that wood.”

"Isn't fig-wood good for anything?" said Patty.

"No," said her mother. "It is a wood that insects do not eat. You cannot burn it or build with it; but the old Egyptians made their mummy cases of it, and it has not decayed."

"Wasn't that because of the spices?" said Patty.

"Perhaps so," said Mrs. Gray; "the wood is so soft and spongy, it would take in the odor easily."

At that moment Patty spied a rusty canteen and an open knapsack. She pointed to them silently. Out of the mouth of the knapsack an old rag fluttered in the wind. Patty could see that it was stained with blood; and the empty houses that they were passing made her think of all that had happened on those clayey fields.

Soon after this the road grew smoother. The fields were still green, but the trees were bare,

and, although neglected, the fences were whole and trusty.

Mamma pointed out two houses to Patty, as the donkey crept up the hill. They seemed to be inhabited, but they looked very dreary. They had been owned by two gentlemen, enemies of the United States, but who had never taken up arms, or done the rebels any service. Still, kind President Lincoln and sturdy General Grant thought they ought to be watched ; and all through the war, sentinels paced up and down before the two doors, and the two families were kept prisoners within their own decaying houses and desolate gardens.

Patty looked at the two houses, and thought she had never seen anything so miserable in all`

her life.

"What did they do all the time?” she said. "Did they have any books to read? Why didn't they mend their fences, and whiten the barns, and tie up the flowers, and prune the trees? Why, mamma, if General Grant were to shut me up, I would work just as hard as ever I could. I would have things just as nice!"

"That would be the best way," said Mrs.

Gray. "They were very lucky to keep their books and furniture, and to be kept from doing mischief that would have obliged the General to put them into a real prison. When I remember Libby, I am not quite satisfied to think how comfortable these men were; and after all, it only made them a little spiteful. They would not work. I suppose they did not know how. When their servants ran away, they found it hard enough to cook their own food and carry their own wood and water. Colonel Amory told me that they had a fancy that some time their houses would fall into the hands of the government, and so they were glad to see the furniture wear out, and the houses go to ruin."

"What stupid people!" said Patty.

They were just driving by one of the ruined fences. Near the gate a boy of twenty was lounging. His hat was slouched over his face so that Patty could not see it, and under one arm he carried a rude crutch. He wore gray

clothes.

Mrs. Gray touched Patty gently, and bent her whip a little aside to show Patty that she wanted her to look at him.

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