de by a well-remembered porch, where all that
was brightest and gayest of Richmond's youth had passed many happy
hours. There was Styles Staple; his joyous face clouded now, his glib
tongue mute--with two weeping girls clinging to his hands. Solemnly he
bent down; pressed his lips to each pure forehead, in a kiss that was a
sacrament--threw himself into their mother's arms, as she had been his
own as well; then, with a wrench, broke away and hurled himself into
saddle. There was a black frown on Staple's face, as he rode up by me;
and I heard a sound--part sob; more heart-deep oath--tear out of his
throat. If the Recording Angel caught it, too, I dare swear there was
no record against him for it, when--thirty hours later--he answered to
his name before the Great Roll-Call! For no more knightly lips will
ever press those pure brows; no more loyal soul went to its rest, out
of that dire retreat.

Two hours after midnight, all was ready; and all was still, save the
muffled roll of distant wagons and, here and there, the sharp call of a
bugle. Now and again, the bright glare, above the smoke round the whole
horizon, would pale before a vivid, dazzling flash; followed by swaying
tremble of the earth and a roar, hoarsely dull; and one more ship of
the little navy was a thing of the past.

Later still came to the steady tramp of soldiers--to be heard for the
last time in those streets, though its echo may sound down all time!
The last scene of the somber drama had begun; and the skeleton
battery-supports filed by like specters, now in the gloom, now in the
glare of one of the hundred fires. No sound but the muffled word of
command came from their ranks; every head was bowed and over many a
cheek--tanned by the blaze of the fight and furrowed by winter
night-watches--the first tear it had ever known rolled noiselessly, to
drop in the beloved dust they were shaking from their feet.

Next came gaunt men, guiding half-starved horses that toiled along with
rumbling field-pieces; voiceless now and impotent, as once, to welcome
the advancing foe. And finally the cavalry pickets came in, with little
show of order; passed across the last bridge and fired it behind them.
Over its burning timbers rode General Breckinridge and his staff;--the
last group of Confederates was gone;--Richmond was evacuated!

_Dies irae--dies illa!_

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

AFTER THE DEATH BLOW WAS DEALT.

Just as dawn broke through the smoke-eddies