e a part in their experiences. The narrative given is the final one
of a series of incidents in the life of the private soldier, related by
Private Carlton McCarthy. These papers, in their day, were widely read
and much admired, and an extract from them cannot fail still to be of
interest. We take up the story of the "Brave Survivors, homeward bound:"

"Early in the morning of Wednesday, the 12th of April, without the
stirring drum or the bugle call of old, the camp awoke to the new life.
Whether or not they had a country, these soldiers did not know. Home to
many, when they reached it, was graves and ashes. At any rate, there
must be, somewhere on earth, a better place than a muddy, smoky camp in
a piece of scrubby pines; better company than gloomy, hungry comrades
and inquisitive enemies, and something in the future more exciting, if
not more hopeful, than nothing to eat, nowhere to sleep, nothing to do,
and nowhere to go. The disposition to start was apparent, and the
preparations were promptly begun.

"To roll up the old blanket and oil-cloth, gather up the haversack,
canteen, axe, perhaps, and a few trifles,--in time of peace of no
value,--eat the fragments that remained, and light a pipe, was the work
of a few moments. This slight employment, coupled with pleasant
anticipations of the unknown, and therefore possibly enjoyable future,
served to restore somewhat the usual light-hearted manner of soldiers
and relieve the final farewells of much of their sadness. There was even
a smack of hope and cheerfulness as the little groups sallied out into
the world to combat they scarcely knew what. As we cannot follow all
these groups, we will join ourselves to one and see them home.

"Two 'brothers-in-arms,' whose objective-point is Richmond, take the
road on foot. They have nothing to eat and no money. They are bound for
their home in a city which, when they last heard from it, was in flames.
What they will see when they arrive there they cannot imagine, but the
instinctive love of home urges them. They walk on steadily and rapidly,
and are not diverted by surroundings. It does not even occur to them
that their situation, surrounded on all sides by armed enemies and
walking a road crowded by them, is at all novel. They are suddenly
aroused to a sense of their situation by a sharp 'Halt! Show your
parole.' They had struck the cordon of picket-posts which surrounded the
surrendered army. It was the first exercise of authori