In short, all George saw of Mr. Beauregard and his men
was the tails of their coats and the heels of their boots, away in
the shadowy distance. People said Mr. Beauregard did not do the
clean thing to slip away in such a manner. And there were those who
scolded General George for letting him get off in this shabby way;
but how he was to prevent it I never could see. Mr. Beauregard was
kind enough to leave us an army of log houses, and his smouldering
camp fires, around which a number of sooty negroes were grouped,
shivering and forlorn. And these were all we had to be thankful to
him for.
A great storm arose while we were at Manassas. Snow, rain, and hail
fell, the wind blew cold and piercing, and the face of the country
became melancholy. And the army became melancholy, and sick, for it
was stuck in the mud, and was suffering for something to eat, though
so near Washington. And the poor animals got sick, and began dying,
for there was nothing for them to eat. There was no following Mr.
Beauregard to Richmond over such a muddy road, which looked very
long then, and very dangerous. George was put to his wits to know
what to do next.
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