re scattered over the land like,
locusts, speculating on the necessities of the people, and their
aiders and abettors are those who calmly sat with folded arms, and
essayed not to aid his family. Rise, O my readers and aid the poor of
our land. Let your hearts be filled with mercy to the unfortunate.
Remember that

"The quality of mercy is not strain'd
It droppeth, as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath; it is twice blessed,
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes:
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest; it becomes
The crowned monarch better than his crown:"

and in performing an act of charity you bless yourself as well as the
one who is benefited by such charity.

We shall now close our remarks with the hope that the reader will
appreciate the motive which prompted the writing of this book. As will
be seen, it has no plot--it never was intended to have any. The Author
intended merely to write a simple narrative when he commenced this
work, and to place before the public in the most agreeable form of
reading, a subject of vital importance to the Confederacy, and to
impress upon the minds of the wealthy their duty to the poor. He knows
not whether he has succeeded in the latter hope, and he could have
wished that some other pen had taken up the subject and woven it into
a tale that could have had a better and more lasting effect than the
foregoing is likely to have. Nevertheless he trusts that all his labor
is not lost, but that some attention will be paid to his words and a
kinder feeling be manifested towards refugees and the poor than has
hitherto been shown. If this be done then nothing but the happiest
results can follow, and the blessings of thousands, the heartfelt
blessings of thousands on earth, will follow those who aid in the work
of charity, called for by the present emergency, and from the
celestial realms the voice of God will be heard thanking His children
on earth for their kindness to their fellow mortals.

* * * * *

For the publication of this work the Author has to thank the kind
proprietor of the "Atlanta Intelligencer," Col. Jared I. Whitaker. To
this gentleman is he indebted for being able to present the work to
the public, and to him does the Author extend his sincere thanks. In
Col. Whitaker the Confederacy has one son who, uncontaminated by the
vile weeds of mortality which infest us, still remains pure and
undefiled,