ed upon it than upon any other place in the
world. Many thousands of men were dying in an attempt to reach this
small Virginia city, and many other thousands were dying in an equally
strenuous effort to keep them away.

Such thoughts, however, did not worry Prescott at this moment. His face
was set resolutely toward the bright side of life, which is really half
the battle, and neither the damp nor the cold was able to take from him
the good spirits that were his greatest treasure. Coming from the bare
life of a camp and the somber scenes of battlefields, he seemed to have
plunged into a very whirlwind of gaiety, and his eyes sparkled with
appreciation. He did not notice then that his captain's uniform was
stained and threadbare enough to make him a most disreputable figure in
a drawing-room, however gallant he might appear at the head of a forlorn
hope.

The street was crowded, the pressure of the armies having driven much of
the life of the country into the city, and Prescott saw men, women and
children passing, some in rich and some in poor attire. He saw ladies,
both young and old, bearing in their cheeks a faint, delicate bloom, the
mark of the South, and he heard them as they spoke to each other in
their soft, drawling voices, which reminded him of the waters of a
little brook falling over a precipice six inches high.

It is said that soldiers, after spending a year or two in the serious
business of slaying each other, look upon a woman as one would regard a
divinity--a being to be approached with awe and respect; and such
emotions sprang into the heart of Prescott when he glanced into feminine
faces, especially youthful ones. Becoming suddenly conscious of his
rusty apparel and appearance, he looked about him in alarm. Other
soldiers were passing, some fresh and trim, some rusty as himself, but a
great percentage of both had bandaged limbs or bodies, and he found no
consolation in such company, wishing to appear well, irrespective of
others.

He noticed many red flags along the street and heard men calling upon
the people in loud, strident voices to come and buy. At other places the
grateful glow of coal fires shone from half-opened doorways, and the
faint but positive click of ivory chips told that games of chance were
in progress.

"Half the population is either buying something or losing something," he
said to himself.

A shout of laughter came from one of the open doorways beyond which men
were staking