now. They died in a glorious cause, and it
is not in vain. This will end it. The sacrifice had to be made, but those
killed have gained immortal names." Then Rob rushed in with a new extra,
reading of the spoils captured, and grief was forgotten. Words cannot
paint the excitement. Rob capered about and cheered; Edith danced around
ringing the dinner bell and shouting, "Victory!" Mrs. F. waved a small
Confederate flag, while she wiped her eyes, and Mr. D. hastened to the
piano and in his most brilliant style struck up "Dixie," followed by "My
Maryland" and the "Bonnie Blue Flag."

"Do not look so gloomy, G.," whispered Mr. S. "You should be happy
to-night; for, as Mr. F. says, now we shall have peace."

"And is that the way you think of the men of your own blood and race?" I
replied. But an utter scorn choked me, and I walked out of the room. What
proof is there in this dark hour that they are not right? Only the
emphatic answer of my own soul. To-morrow I will pack my trunk and accept
the invitation to visit at Uncle Ralph's country-house.

_Sept. 25, 1861._ (_Home again from "The Pines."_)--When I opened the door
of Mrs. F.'s room on my return, the rattle of two sewing-machines and a
blaze of color met me.

"Ah! G., you are just in time to help us; these are coats for Jeff
Thompson's men. All the cloth in the city is exhausted; these
flannel-lined oilcloth table-covers are all we could obtain to make
overcoats for Thompson's poor boys. They will be very warm and
serviceable."

"Serviceable, yes! The Federal army will fly when they see those coats! I
only wish I could be with the regiment when these are shared around." Yet
I helped make them.

Seriously, I wonder if any soldiers will ever wear these remarkable coats.
The most bewildering combination of brilliant, intense reds, greens,
yellows, and blues in big flowers meandering over as vivid grounds; and as
no table-cover was large enough to make a coat, the sleeves of each were
of a different color and pattern. However, the coats were duly finished.
Then we set to work on gray pantaloons, and I have just carried a bundle
to an ardent young lady who wishes to assist. A slight gloom is settling
down, and the inmates here are not quite so cheerfully confident as in
July.

IV.

A BELEAGUERED CITY.

_Oct. 22, 1861._--When I came to breakfast this morning Rob was capering
over another victory--Ball's Bluff. He would read me, "We pitched the
Yankees over