ere the masters of the city and a sort of temporary
Providence, dictating what sort of clothes the people were to wear, what
they might eat, what they might do, what they might say and think; in
short, allowing the people to live, as it were, on a "limited" ticket.

But among other things the forager brought information to the effect
that he had secured employment for both at the cheering rate of five
dollars per week.

So one day these two "laid down the shovel and the hoe," and made most
excellent time for Richmond, arriving there early in the day, and
entering at once upon the new work.

[Illustration: C.S. Buttons off]

During the stay at the farm the survivors felt that they were not yet
returned to civil life, but "foraging" on the neutral ground between war
and peace,--neither soldiers nor citizens. But now, in regular
employment, in a city,--_their own city_!--with so much per week and the
responsibility of "finding themselves," and especially after the provost
made them cut the brass buttons off their jackets, and more especially
after they were informed that they must take the oath before doing
anything else, they began to think that probably the war was nearing
its end. But a real good hearty war like that dies hard. No country
likes to part with a good earnest war. It likes to talk about the war,
write its history, fight its battles over and over again, and build
monument after monument to commemorate its glories.

A long time after a war, people begin to find out, as they read, that
the deadly struggle marked a grand period in their history!

CHAPTER XI.

CAMP-FIRES OF THE BOYS IN GRAY.

The soldier may forget the long, weary march, with its dust, heat, and
thirst, and he may forget the horrors and blood of the battle-field, or
he may recall them sadly, as he thinks of the loved dead; but the
cheerful, happy scenes of the camp-fire he will never forget. How
willingly he closes his eyes to the present to dream of those happy,
careless days and nights! Around the fire crystallize the memories of
the soldier's life. It was his home, his place of rest, where he met
with good companionship. _Who kindled the fire?_ Nobody had matches,
there was no fire in sight, and yet scarcely was the camp determined
when the bright blaze of the camp-fire was seen. _He_ was a shadowy
fellow who kindled the fire. Nobody knows who he was; but no matter how
wet the leaves, how sobby the twigs, no matter if there w