and consequently neglects eleven twelfths of his acres; and then
look into its even worse system of labor, we need search no farther for
the causes of this backwardness in agricultural pursuits. The implements
made use of here on the plantations are such as were rejected by New
England farmers over half a century ago; and the _methods_ of
cultivation are a century behind the times. Slavery and land-monopoly
are the incubus.

Who does not sincerely hope that the time is not far distant, when the
rich acres of this great State shall be properly shared by its
inhabitants, and when, freed from a burden and curse which have long
paralyzed their energies, instinct with new life and enterprise, the
people will realize the dignity of labor? Then will the almost
interminable forests disappear, and in their stead the industrious
yeoman will behold his rich fields of waving grain. Then, too, along the
now comparatively useless streams and swift water-courses, will spring
up the factory and the mill, whose rolling wheels and buzzing spindles
will bring wealth and prosperity to the nation. We are convinced, from
what we have seen, that Virginia has water-power enough to turn the
machinery of the world. With these changes the school-house will be
found by the side of every church, and intelligence and virtue will
bless the home of the Presidents.

We have also many times been led to think, while lying in these chilly
woods, that a greater warmth would be imparted to the atmosphere if the
forest-trees were felled and the land put under cultivation,--a change
sufficiently great to be appreciable throughout the State.

"UNCHRONICLED HEROES."

_Sunday, March 1._--The usual Sunday morning inspection was omitted on
account of rain. Rain, rain had fallen for many days almost incessantly.
The regiment has been earnestly at work throughout the day in building
stables for the horses, which have suffered greatly from being kept
standing too long in the mud. Under these circumstances our horses are
afflicted with the scratches, many of them so badly as to render them
unserviceable, and occasionally they lose their lives.

By this cause and through hard work my little black mare, which I drew
by lot at Camp Sussex in the autumn of 1861, has at last succumbed, and,
with a grief akin to that which is felt at the loss of a dear human
friend, I have performed the last rite of honor to the dead. The Indian
may love his faithful dog, but his at