Only some eight or ten were sent to the train, and these quartered themselves in the caboose, and paid us no further attention.
The train rolled away amid cheering by ourselves and those we left behind.

One thousand happier boys than we never started on a journey.
We were going home.

That was enough to wreathe the skies with glory, and fill the world with sweetness and light.

The wintry sun had something of geniality and warmth, the landscape lost some of its repulsiveness, the dreary palmettos had less of that hideousness which made us regard them as very fitting emblems of treason.

We even began to feel a little good-humored contempt for our hateful little Brats of guards, and to reflect how much vicious education and surroundings were to be held responsible for their misdeeds.
We laughed and sang as we rolled along toward Savannah--going back much faster than the came.