I was so savagely disappointed
that I hardly listened to my new friend, as he proceeded to give some
useful hints on our route and conduct, whenever we should succeed in
getting over the river. I only remember one suggestion: "if I was
stopped anywhere this side of Winchester, I might give a fictitious
name, and say that I was going to visit _my son_, an officer in the
Federal army." Now, as I have barely entered on my eighth lustre, I can
only suppose that the great bitterness of my heart imparted to my face,
for the moment, a helpless--perhaps imbecile--look of senility. I had no
alternative, however, but to retreat, as my men had done; the place was
evidently too hot to hold me: already, through the window, I saw a
shabby dragoon paying auspicious attention to my horses, contraband, and
saddle-bags. I was greatly relieved, on going out, to find that the
warrior was too stupidly drunk, to be actuated by anything beyond an
idle, purposeless curiosity. So, after receiving directions as to where
I was likely to rejoin my companions, I set my face northeast again, and
rode out into the deepening darkness with feelings not much less sullen
than the black rock of clouds massed up behind, that broke upon, us,
right soon, with wind and drenching ruin.
My horse, as well as I, must have been glad when we reached the
homestead we were seeking, for throughout the afternoon I had ridden
quickly wherever there was level ground, calculating on a night's rest
in Sharpsburg.
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