the battle-field—whose daily care it was to
watch the flowers they had so carefully
planted over their much-loved dead. The
first poor pilgrim we came upon was busily
employed watering from the neighbouring
brook the flowers she had newly planted,
trudging patiently to and fro to fill the
small mug she had brought with. her.
Another was carefully weeding the grass,
which, despite her care, intruded on the
garden that enshrined the mound where all
she cared for lay, and it was ever the same
tale—killed at this battle, or fallen at that
battle—so many hours of glory for the dead,
and an age of misery for those who survived.

I can still vividly recal the perfect anguish
of one poor trembling girl, who, with head
bowed down, leaned upon a simple wood rail
that partitioned off a freshly-made grave.
So recently had this earth been disturbed,
that there had been as yet no time for
decoration either of flowers or headstone;
there was merely a rough board, with a
brief inscription. With a hasty glance I
read upon the temporary pine-plank that
"Lieut.——, aged twenty-two," had died
from wounds received at the battle of
Frazier's Farm.

"Come away, come." whispered my
friend, who, observing my head to be
turned in the direction of the grave,
imagined I was scrutinising the mourning
figure of the woman. "Come away.
I knew him! He was buried from the
hospital only yesterday."

In these few words I understood the
whole story. Beneath that freshly-turned
mound lay her young love, and engulfed
with it her young life!

Perhaps the most impressive sight I
witnessed in Richmond was the service at
St. Paul's Church on the first Sunday
after my arrival in the Confederate capital.
Here, again, I noticed the preponderance of
mourners among the women, and as they
passed up the aisle in their deep weeds,
it seemed more like the meeting of one
vast family for a funeral, than that of an
ordinary Sunday congregation. There was
a hushed solemnity in the movements of
all—a dead quiet that denoted the crushed
feelings of those who came to pray. The
earnestness of the devotion was unmistakable,
and when the clergyman read from
the Litany the prayer:

"From lightning and tempest; from
plague, pestilence, and famine; from battle
and murder, and from sudden death," all
present responded, and in one fervent and
solemn chorus came the entreaty:

"Good Lord deliver us!"

The sermon, as might have been
expected, was inspired by the condition of
war in which the struggling nation was
plunged, and the minister impressively
called upon his hearers to prepare
themselves by repentance and contrition. He
alluded in feeling terms to those who had
so lately fallen at the very gates, as it were,
of the city, and as he swept his glance
over those beneath him, as if referring to
the craped throng around, he spoke of the
murky wings of the angel of death that
had cast their deep shadow of grief over
the length and breadth of the land. Then
half-suppressed and choking sobs burst
forth, and heads were bent downwards to
hide emotion.

I have never seen, and hope I shall
never see again, such a picture of woe as
that service presented. The body of the
church was black and gloomy with mourning,
relieved but slightly by the grey uniforms
of the military; the dark bonnets of
the women contrasted strangely with the
bandaged heads of the men, whose pale and
wan features had so lately rested on the
pillows of the hospital couch. Then there
was the attentive care of young girls, seeking
out in the book of prayer the places in
the service for the soldier whose maimed
arm lay suspended across his chest; and
then, again, were the spaces left among the
standing throng, showing where some poor
fellow with wounded or amputated leg was
compelled to keep his seat. And in the
solemn pauses of prayer might be heard
the dull reverberation of distant cannon,
the fleeting sounds of the terrible storm
that had left havoc and destruction around
and about the city. It had but passed for
a brief period, leaving desolation in its
track. The thunder-cloud of war was soon
again to burst over the doomed capital.

In closing this brief paper, I will narrate
one incident that cannot fail to bring
before the reader yet more vividly the
dire chances of the conflict to those who
send forth their youth to battle for their
homes. Towards the close of the
murderous struggle, which for four years had
mown down its victims by tens of thousands,
Richmond was again threatened by
an overwhelming force. Works for its
protection were constructed within three
miles of the outskirts of the city, and many
a time, from the eastern extremity of
Maine-street, have I seen the shells bursting
in the air. A family with whom I was
on the most intimate terms had given the