The sunny April days brought many blossoms along the Tennessee ravines near Shiloh; trillium and butterwort, arbutus and violets were to be found, and masses of dogwood bloomed along the slopes, where only a few weeks earlier the fierce Battle of Shiloh had raged. The Union fleet had moved down the Tennessee; Beauregard, convinced that the campaign was lost, was about to leave Corinth in the possession of Grant’s army, and it was felt that the Union cause would soon triumph.

In the Arnolds’ cabin the little household had returned to the peaceful occupations of the days before the two armies had come so near to them. Berry’s garden flourished; Lily was becoming a well-trained servant, and Mr. Arnold was rapidly gaining strength. Within two weeks after Beauregard’s defeat Steve Bragg had appeared at his cabin, and was as warmly welcomed as if he had been a brave soldier returned from war. It was soon evident, however, that a change had come over Mr. Bragg, for he at once began to work steadily. He enlarged the garden; cut logs with which he built a shelter for the calf that Mr. Arnold gave him; made repairs on the old cabin, and was so praised by his wife and children for his industry that he firmly resolved that in the future no one should ever again truthfully speak of him as “Shiftless Steve.” When he looked at his wounded soldier son Mr. Bragg also made many other excellent resolves.

It was late in May when Mr. Arnold made his first trip since the preceding autumn to Corinth, and brought back the long-hoped-for letter from Francis, who was with the Union forces in Virginia, and wrote that he was well. But it seemed to Berry that her father had other good news; he smiled so often, she noticed, and Berry had been quick to see that, whatever it was, her mother was in the secret.

“Maybe it is about going back to Vermont this summer,” she decided, for Berry knew that her father and mother were both hopeful that a return to their New England home might soon be possible, and when Mrs. Arnold announced that she was going to have a party, Berry was convinced that she was right in her conclusions.

“Of course ‘a party’ means that we are to have the Bragg family to dinner,” said Berry. But Mrs. Arnold shook her head smilingly.

“That’s not what this party means. Although Len is so much better that we will ask them all to come up on next Sunday. This party is a surprise!” she responded.

“Tell me, Mother! Oh! Please tell me!” urged Berry, but Mrs. Arnold laughingly refused.

“No, my dear! Not until the very day comes. And then you are to wear your white muslin dress. I will let out the tucks and the seams so it will do, and your Roman sash, and be a real little Yankee girl. And Lily shall have a dress and a white apron and cap. And I shall wear my gray tibet dress, and your father will wear a white collar! Yes, indeed! It is to be a great occasion!” and Mrs. Arnold laughed again, as if her secret was one that meant a great pleasure near at hand.

So Berry was greatly puzzled, and she and Lily waited expectantly for the day to come when they would be told to discard knickerbockers and blouses and put on the dresses that were ready for them, and on the morning of June first, Berry awoke to find her mother taking the white muslin dress from the closet.

“Oh, Mother! Is to-day the party?” exclaimed the little girl, springing out of bed. “And who is it, Mother? Who is coming? You said you would tell me when the day came!” And Berry seized her mother’s arm and looked pleadingly up at her mother’s smiling face.

“Yes; as soon as you are dressed, dear!” responded Mrs. Arnold. “Put on your white stockings and slippers, and make these short curls as neat as you can!” and she touched Berry’s brown hair, and left the room.

“Oh! How can I wait!” thought Berry impatiently as she hurried to dress. “If I was in Vermont I should think it was either the minister, or Aunt Melvina coming to visit,” she decided, as she vigorously brushed her brown curls.

When Berry reached the kitchen she exclaimed in amazement, for the table was spread for six people. Its coarse cover was white as snow, and the blue of the dishes, the glass dish filled with wild strawberries, and the white bowl filled with violets, gave it a very festive air. Lily, in a blue dress, and wearing a white cap and apron, was busy at the stove, and Mrs. Arnold was just cutting out a pan of rolls, while Berry’s father, “dressed for church,” as the little girl exclaimed, stood in the open doorway over which hung the American flag.

“Who is it? Who is it that is coming? I should think it was General Grant himself!” exclaimed Berry as she ran toward her father.

Before Mrs. Arnold could speak and fulfil her promise there was the sound of hoofs, the jangle of harness, and Mr. Arnold ran down the path. Berry was close behind him, but she suddenly stopped short.

“It’s Colonel Peabody!” she exclaimed, and then noticed a bearded man, mounted on a fine gray horse, whom her father was eagerly welcoming. Behind these two officers rode the young soldier, whom Berry instantly remembered as the one who had guided Lily and herself from the camp at Pittsburg Landing.

The two officers dismounted, and the young soldier took charge of their horses.

Berry stood on the path not knowing quite what to do, but Colonel Peabody came to meet her, and in a moment Berry was being led toward that quiet, unimposing, and unostentatious officer, Brigadier-General U. S. Grant; whom, in 1862, neither public opinion, nor his own thought, had marked out for the mighty achievements before him.

As Berry heard Colonel Peabody say: “General Grant, here is the little messenger of whom I told you, the Yankee girl of Shiloh!” she looked up to meet the steady, friendly glance of the grave eyes of the great General of the Civil War, and it was Berry who walked beside him to the cabin door, and who sat at his right hand at that simple breakfast party where the war-worn soldiers feasted on hot rolls and coffee, and praised the broiled chicken and hominy that Mrs. Arnold and Lily had so carefully prepared.

The visit was a brief one; within an hour the “party” was over, and General Grant and his companions were again on horseback. As Berry bade them good-bye General Grant rested his hand lightly on the curly head, and said gravely:

“Good-bye, Berenice. Be sure I shall not forget you,” and Berry smiled up at the serious face and responded:

“I wish I were a soldier, like my brother Francis, and could fight in your army, General Grant.”

After the last sound of the horses’ feet had died away, and Berry had ceased to exclaim over the “surprise,” Mr. Arnold told the little girl more fully of the great honor that had befallen her.

“General Grant’s visit was wholly for you, Berry,” he said soberly. “Colonel Peabody told me of the plan on the day of my visit to Corinth. And you must not forget the honor of such a visit.”

Berry nodded silently. Her thoughts drifted back to the night when in Shiloh woods she crouched listening to the words of the Confederate generals planning their attack on Grant’s army.

“I never can forget it,” she responded, and added quickly: “Nor the Battle of Shiloh, Father! Or anything that has happened this winter. But I do wish we could go home to Vermont.”

“Well, my dear, that is just what we are going to do. General Grant has given us passes through the Union lines, and within a few weeks we will start,” replied Mr. Arnold smilingly.

“Oh, Lor’! W’ot’s gwine ter become ob me?” wailed a smothered voice close at hand, and Berry turned to find Lily, with her apron thrown over her head, swaying back and forth on the path.

“You will go with us, of course!” Berry declared, and Mr. Arnold promptly repeated her words: “‘Of course,’” and instantly Lily was smiling radiantly.

But Mollie Bragg heard the news of Berry’s departure with a sad heart. Not even the gifts that the Arnolds bestowed on Mollie’s mother could comfort the little mountain girl for the loss of the only playmate she had ever known. The only comfort for Mollie was the fact that Berry promised to write to her, from far-off Vermont.

“And you can write to me, Mollie,” Berry reminded her, and at this a smile crept over the little girl’s face.

“Yes, I kin,” she responded proudly. “Len says I’m a right smart writer.”

“And sometime I’ll come back and see you,” Berry promised.

Mollie’s pale eyes brightened. “Oh, Berry! I hopes you will come back,” she said eagerly. “Promise you will.” And again Berry promised. But it was many years before the little Yankee girl visited the cabin on the ridge beyond the battlefield of Shiloh, and fulfilled the promise to the little mountain girl.

The Stories in this Series are:
A YANKEE GIRL AT FORT SUMTER
A YANKEE GIRL AT BULL RUN
A YANKEE GIRL AT SHILOH
A YANKEE GIRL AT GETTYSBURG (in press)