-as sweet, as beautiful as when I held her in these arms!" And she clasped her arms together on her breast as if indeed she held her to that home of sorrow. "Oh! often have I entreated her to come to me before; but never until now has she obeyed my earnest summons. I told her that if she would lay her sweet hand on my brow-speak to me-smile on me once more-the dark chain would be loosened that coiled around my brain, and all the thoughts so long captive there be set free from their prison house. It was long before my prayer was answered. At last she came, with her long white floating garments, her folded plumes; and there seemed to breath out from her presence unutterable peace and joy. Thrice she said to me: 'Mother, take comfort: I am blessed.' And she hath promised to come again."

Then was Mrs. Forrester aware that all the while that dark lethargy and stupor of the senses prevailed over the whole outward being of Helen, her fettered and wounded spirit had been engaged in its darkness with one awful and unutterable image. This aberration of her mind-if such indeed it were-was the only symptom of her disease that remained with Helen. Never again, never was the name of Eudora unnecessarily spoken to human ears by her bereaved mother. She retained not one garment, one relic that had belonged to her-nothing but one long curl of dark silken hair, which was worn in her bosom in sleeping or waking.

But during their short sojourn together, Mrs. Forrester remarked not unfrequently that in the midst of conversation or commonplace occupations, a sudden rapture would seem to possess her; and at such times, in the fullness of her faith in the power of love to survive the grave, she believed the angel child was revealed to the earthly mother.

As soon as Helen had recovered sufficiently from the debility consequent on her long and severe illness, she left the residence of Lady Dartmore, and retired, temporarily, into the convent of St. Genevieve, situated near Florence. She deemed it indelicate to remain, circumstanced as she was, under the same roof with Captain Sedley and his sister; and Lady Dartmore-to whom all had been explained confidentially-loved her too well, and pitied her too sincerely, to wish her to do violence to her feelings.

become a part of any family, or mingle in that world whose bitter cup she had drained in agony. Desolation, despair like hers, demand self-sacrifice, physical exertion, to counterbalance their weight and pressure; and it was for a life of this sort that she prepared herself in the deep retirement of the cloister. Here she meditated much and deeply on the beauty and the majesty of the religion she had chosen-its soothing severity (if such an expression may be permitted), its deep and enthusiastic self-abnegation-and found her only consolation in such thoughts.

From the calm retirement of that convent she addressed letters to Bernard St. Mar and his sister Theresa-giving to each a faithful and unvarnished history of her life, from the time of her private marriage and fatal deviation from truth and duty, to the hour of her fearful affliction and terrible despair. I will give one extract only from the letter to the former:

"Seek not to find me," she said toward the conclusion of that long and tear-blotted communication, "or, from any sudden impulse, to trace my steps. Poor, friendless as I came to you, I depart, to walk through life alone. My very name, my very existence, will be changed and merged from the knowledge of all who knew me. Profit by your freedom to lead a purer life, to seek a fitter companion; and know that as long as my heart continues to beat, its fervent prayers shall ascend for you and yours."

Her farewell was eternal, and to the letter she received no reply. The letters were both dispatched to Carolina-that to her husband first, as she believed it indeed the intention of St. Mar to join her there. She was mistaken: the letter reached him in England, whither it was sent by his sister, who had received his direction, together with a demand for a considerable remittance-with which she had the generosity to comply.

It aroused, for a time, in his breast a sense of shame, sorrow, and remorse, that, however, excited no lasting effect over his vain and frivolous character. He was free at last, and hastened to take advantage of his freedom.

Dying before the receipt of Helen's letter of explanation, and understanding perfectly the helpless position in which she was placed by her husband's condition, Theresa St. Mar, with a noble friendship, secured to her the

Never again (she felt so then) could she revenues of half her estate during her life;

at the expiration of which the slaves on her rice plantation were to be manumitted and, with means provided elsewhere for them and held securely in trust, transported to Liberia, and there comfortably established.

This bequest, which was absolute, no way affected the resolution of Helen to lead a life of humility, self-sacrifice, and atonement. She had never beheld Captain Sedley since the death of her child. She now desired to meet him, and wrote to the Countess Clare, expressing a wish that on the following day at sunset she would come with her brother to the convent. The summons was promptly obeyed.

charity. It was thus she revealed to them her design. They had not dreamed of it before.

No emotion, no embarrassment of any kind, marked her meeting with Arthur Sedley; in her manner all was cold, calm, serene as the grave whose atmosphere breathed around her; but many moments elapsed before he could speak in answer to her salutation.

This let

"I have sent for you, Captain Sedley, as the only person to whom I could appeal in the transaction of some business, important not to me alone, but to nearly a hundred human beings and fellow-creatures. ter will explain to you my meaning." And she gave him that containing the bequest of Theresa St. Mar. "I would ask of you to see its injunctions obeyed, as though I were really dead. To the world I am so. I relinquish my share in this bequest, and ask to have its provisions instantly fulfilled. The trustee for the slave fund will gladly coöpe

The gardens of the convent were large and very beautiful. The building had been erected on the site of an ancient temple, and there still remained a few of the ruins of that olden fane in one of the shaded avenues that branched away from the monastery. It was among these ruins that, by the request of Helen, Captain Sedley and his sister awaited her approach-the former with feel-rate with you." ings of inexpressible agitation, but in the breast of Mrs. Forrester all was peace and quiet serenity. It was sunset and it seemed to her the sky had something more than beautiful about its gorgeous coloring. Like "Keep it," she said, "as a matter of refermany who have known sorrow and disap- ence," as he offered her the letter in return; pointment, she was keenly alive to the influ-" and, if you can, forgive me as you would ences of nature in all its moods. The gay, the happy, are but little affected either by the joy or gloom of mere weather

"They bring the summer with them;"

but how darkly the low, rainy sky seems to close over the heart which owes every ray of joy to external circumstances, and which looks within only to behold regret, sorrow, depression, too many sufferers can declare.

He read the letter attentively, and Helen could not but remark, even in her melancholy abstraction, the excessive emotion which shook him in every limb.

the dead. To the world I am lost forever."

"I have already done so most freely," he replied in a choked and broken voice; and turning away he paced the avenue for a moment or two in a paroxysm of inexpressible agitation. He returned and stood before her silently again, and she continued her monotonous speech:

"Much have you suffered-much have you sacrificed for me; and this consciousness has urged me, on the principle common to the selfish and dependent, to ask of you still further services still further sacrifices. Say, will you grant or refuse me the boon I ask?"

As I have said, the influence of that beautiful evening was keenly felt by Mrs. Forrester; and something like hope that a better fate still awaited the unhappy Helen-of which the gorgeous sunset might seem a fitting emblem-filled her heart and escaped "There is nothing that I would refuse you her lips. She spoke of this, and the brother-nothing which hand or heart could accomand sister sat for a space gazing on the glow-plish," he responded.

"Nay! this is madness," he exclaimed- her earnest wish, that she would dwell with 'suicide."

FIELD AND CAMP;

OR, THE RECOrded facts oF AN EYE-WITNESS TO NUMEROUS IMPORTANT EVENTS And occurrences, BOTH IN FIELD AND CAMP, DURING THE LATE FOUR YEARS' WAR.

OFFICER.

in prisoners. I saw nearly a brigade brought in at one time. Among the whole of them I did not see a single officer. I remarked this to the officer in charge, who said that as soon as captured, they had removed all insignia of rank from their uniforms, and denied being officers. They had done this because General Lee had declared he would not parole officers.

marked this to some one near, and said I
believed the man was alive. "Yes," said one
of the ambulance corps, "he is alive and in
his senses. I have been talking to him."
This seemed incredible. The whole side of
the skull was gone, and the brain from the
forehead to the back of the head exposed,
and yet the man was not insensible! I
heard him ask to be removed a little, that the
sun might not shine in his face.
A man
similarly wounded on another part of the
field, ran some distance, and approaching
Col. Liddell, called to him wildly: "Where
is the woods ?"-continuing to repeat it, until
he was shot down by some of his own men
(the Yankees).

On Sunday morning a long passenger train came up the Manassas road from Alexandria, filled with citizen Yankees, decked out in their best clothes, and, no doubt, anticipating a delightful Sunday excursion-for the purpose of seeing the rebels run! Much to their surprise, General Stuart captured the whole of them, and somewhat spoiled their sport. In another place I saw a Yankee kneeling About twelve o'clock, I saw the cavalry near a ditch bank. His body was perfectly trotting them up the Warrenton Turnpike. erect, with one hand resting on the bank in As the passed by they made a dismal attempt front of him. All who saw him, at first to smile, calling out to us: "You see, it is on thought him alive; but, on approaching him, to Richmond!" They were mostly dressed he was found stone dead. Several officers in black, which brought out their white told me they had, on another part of the. shirts in bold relief, contrasting them strongly field, seen a man sitting upright on a caisson, with our dirty, ragged crowd. This suggest-perfectly dead. Men killed advancing to a ed the idea to one of the men that they looked like bald-face horses; and he called to his comrades, asking if they did not think $0. His sally was met with a shout of laughter.

During the day I rode over a large portion of the field. Details were engaged in every direction burying the dead. In many places the bodies had been collected in piles; and, generally, a pit or trench was dug in which they were laid side by side. They were all buried without coffins, only some few being rolled up in their blankets-the rest without any thing around them. I could not help feeling shocked as I saw the detail roll the earth down into the pale, wasted faces of the dead after they had laid them in the little shallow trench which was to serve them for a grave. In some places there was not even a trench or pit dug, but the bodies were collected together and the earth heaped up over them. In one place I saw a large number of our officers collected together for burial. They were laid in a row side by side, many of them looking as if they were only asleep, while on the faces of some a sad smile still lingered.

charge, or standing in line of battle, are almost invariably found lying on their backs; those killed while running, are always found with their faces downward. In numbers of cases, where death is instantaneous, the muscles do not seem to relax, but become rigid in the attitude in which death happens to find them. It is very common to see the arms extended as if in the act of striking or pulling trigger, or raised as if to ward off a blow.

Late in the evening we received orders to move forward. Every body was pleased at this, as the battle field was becoming exceedingly offensive. We marched but a short distance, and bivouacked on Bull Run, near Sudley Mills. The enemy had made a stand at Centerville; and we were moving to the left for the purpose of turning them. The next day, Monday, we moved early, and crossing Bull Run, marched along by-roads across the country to Pleasant Valley, on the Little River turnpike. Turning down this, we marched directly toward Germantown. A thundergust passed, and for a while it rained quite hard. The firing had already commenced, and Jackson's corps was pressing the enemy. As we reached the field, the clouds suddenly broke away; and a bright rainbow spanned the eastern sky. Some one

In another place I saw a Yankee with the whole right side of his skull shot away. While pausing to look at him a moment, I thought I saw him move his hand. I re-said: "Behold the bow of promise."

We

and were evacuating the city. The wildest excitement prevailed among the men. Parties of officers and men were collected in every direction, talking together, and the one subject of conversation was the anticipated occupation of the Yankee capital. Some went so far as to invite their friends to vari

moved on; and soon the enemy were reported retiring; and orders came for us to halt and bivouac in line of battle where we were. The infantry were engaged, but our artillery did not participate in the fight. We had captured Centerville during the day with all the stores deposited there, and a number of prisoners; the enemy falling back to "Oxous entertainments, when we should reach Hill," where he next attempted to make a stand. That night, he retreated rapidly toward the Potomac; and when morning dawned, what was left of his army was safely ensconced behind the fortifications of Alexandria and Washington! In less than one month from the day we left Richmond, we had beaten the enemy in four great battles-had compelled him to retreat, in utter confusion, behind the fortifications of his own capital, from which, but recently, he had marched forth, breathing out threatenings of "fire and sword" against the South, and promising to end the rebellion in sixty days. Just before dark an ambulance came up and deposited a dead man in a house near by. He proved to be Major-General Phil. Kearny, U.S.A. During the fight he had accidently ridden on one of our regiments, when the men called out to him to surrender. Disregarding this, he suddenly wheeled his horse about and attempted to gallop off, when he was shot, and died almost immediately. He had lost an arm in Mexico-was a large, handsome man, and as he lay there buttoned up in his uniform, presented a splendid specimen of physical strength. Our men, of course, crowded around to see a Yankee general. One poor, ragged, barefooted fellow cast a longing look at the fine cavalry boots he had on, remarking, as he did so: 66 Number nines-just fit me;" and turned away, no doubt thinking it a great hardship, that he was not permitted to appropriate them to his own use.

there, while others selected, in prospection, the quarters they intended to occupy. A cavalry officer came by, telling us he had been within a mile or two of the Long Bridge, and had seen the enemy withdrawing their guns from Arlington Hights; then another told us that a flag of truce had just come in with an offer from the enemy to surrender. The men all believed this religiously, and it only hightened their expectations. After a while, an ambulance, with a pair of gray horses, drove up and halted near the head of our column. It was General Lee, who, from a slight accident received at Manassas, was unable to ride on horseback, and still had his arm in a sling. A number of general officers collected around the ambulance and talked for some time earnestly together; then they dispersed, and the ambulance drove off. After waiting for an hour or so longer, orders came for us to about face and march back to Leesburg. In all my life I never saw such disappointment as this order stamped upon the faces of the men. Silently and sullenly they shouldered their arms and commenced moving back. For hours scarcely a word was uttered. Then I heard a man say to another: "Well, if old Mars Bob (General Lee) says move back, it is all right. He knows what he is about." This was repeated from rank to rank; the smile once more came back to their bronzed faces, and the rest of the day they moved on cheerfully. Late that night, we encamped on Goose Creek, near Leesburg. The next day a general inspection of transportation and artillery was held; and then the order came for us to march again. We now learned that we were going into Maryland. The news, however, did not awaken any enthusiasm

The next morning we moved over to the Leesburg road, and marched rapidly down it in the direction of Washington, halting that night near Dranesville. All sorts of wild rumors were rife in the camp-the most prominent of which was, that the next morn-among the men. As we passed through ing we would move on Washington-and every body was in a feverish state of excitement. The next day at dawn we were again in motion, marching toward the great Mecca of our hopes. About 11 A. M. we suddenly halted. News came from the front At 11 P. M. we halted near White's Ford, that the enemy had burned the Chain Bridge | some four miles from Leesburg. The next

Leesburg, we met a number of barefooted men, who seemed rather pleased to be sent to the rear. They called out to us as they passed, that they were going back to a blacksmith shop to get shod.