Forty trumpeters, each man with his right hand aloft, holding his instrument, his left hand at his side, bearing the cap which he had removed, rode on across the field of Louisburg.

The music was no longer the hymn of triumph.
Softly and sadly, sweetly and soothingly, the trumpets sang a melody of other days, an air long loved in the old-time South.

And Annie Laurie, weeping, heard and listened, and wept the more, and blessed God for her tears!.