works on the northern side of
the James unoccupied, before daylight. Then the officer with the
burning party went his rounds, putting the torch to every armory,
machine-shop and storehouse belonging to the Government. By midnight
these had begun to burn briskly; one lurid glare shot upward to the
sky, from the river; then another and another. The gunboats had been
fired, and their crews, passing to the shore equipped for camp,
followed the line of the retreating army up the river bank.

Who, that was in it, will ever forget that bitter night? Husbands
hastily arranged what plans they might, for the safety of families they
were forced to leave behind; women crept out into the midnight, to
conceal the little jewelry, money or silver left them, fearing general
sack of the city and treachery of even the most trusted negroes. For
none knew but that a brutal and drunken mob might be let loose upon the
hated, long-coveted Capital, in their power at last! None knew but that
the black rule of Butler might be re-enacted--excelled; and women--who
had sat calm and restful, while the battle of Seven Pines and the roar
of Seven Days, and the later Cold Harbor, shook their windows--now
broke down under that dreadful parting with the last defenders of their
hearths! Death and flame they had never blanched before; but the
nameless terrors of passing under the Yankee yoke vanquished them now.

Pitiful were leave-takings of fathers with their children, husbands
with new-made brides, lovers with those who clung to them in even
greater helplessness. Ties welded in moments of danger and doubt--in
moments of pleasure, precious from their rarity--all must be severed
now, for none knew how long--perhaps forever! For man, nor woman, might
pierce the black veil before the future. Only the vague oppression was
there, that all was over at last; that days to come might mean
protracted, bloody mountain warfare--captivity, death, separation
eternal!

So men went forth into the black midnight, to what fate they dreamed
not, leaving those loved beyond self to what fate they dared not dream!

But even in that supreme hour--true to her nature and true to her
past--the woman of Richmond thought of her hero-soldier; not of
herself. The last crust in the home was thrust into his reluctant hand;
the last bottle of rare old wine slyly slipped into his haversack.
Every man in gray was a brother-in-heart to every woman that night!

Long after midnight, I ro