all the changing vicissitudes of this life, and are leading thy lonely sister to the crystal portals where thou art basking. Doubtless, the heart of this soldier in blue would readily respond to the heartfelt sentiments expressed in those unsurpassingly beautiful lines of the magnanimous poet, which were composed on an occasion when the graves of the boys in blue, as well as those in the time-honored gray, were alike remembered by the weeping daughters of the South, whose homes and hearthstones had been made desolate by the ravages of a relentless war; yet when the last tattoo had been sounded, and the last clash of arms had been heard to startle the weary soldier from his broken slumbers, and his sweet visions of home and weeping friends, from whom he had sworn in his dreams never to part; and in reality, a fragment of the Southern braves had hastened to the once pleasant fields traversed so oft, in life's morning march, when their bosoms were young and thoughtless in regard to the desolation which, in at future day, was to be brought upon their childhood's happy home by the miscreant fanatic, and the sacred spot where sleeps their noble comrades was to have homage paid them by the strewing of flowers over their grass grown mounds. Those who sleep there, and fell in the contest for might, not right, are respected as our fallen enemies who can harm us no more. "By the flow of the inland river, Whence the fleets of iron have fled, Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; Under the one, the Blue Under the other, the Gray. "These in the robings of glory, Those in the gloom of defeat; All with the battle blood gory, In the dusk of eternity meet. Under the sod and the dew, Waiting the judgment day; Under the laurel, the BlueUnder the willow, the Gray. * "From the silence of sorrowful hours, The desolate mourners go, Lovingly laden with flowers Alike for the friend and the foe. "So with an equal splendor, "So when the Summer calleth, Wet with the rain, the Gray. In the storm of the years that are fading, Under the sod and the dew, "No more shall the war cry sever, When they laurel the graves of our dead! Waiting the judgment day; Love and tears for the Blue, Tears and love for the Gray.' We assume the privilege of appending the above lines, deeming them worthy of and an honor to the pages of any work touching on the late war, and they should teach a lesson to those who hold the reins of our once glorious and united, but now shattered Government in their hands. But they are still binding in chains a noble and charitable people, who are willing to bury the hatchet of strife, and let the past be forgotten, if the rulers will only give them the rights for which they struggled-their honorable admission back under the once sacred stars and stripes, with all their rights and privileges as honorable citizens and statesmen. But pardon our seeming digression, kind reader, and we will leave this weighty subject for a more able pen, and proceed on our journey homeward. Every means was used to save a portion of our earnings for the purpose of which we had never lost sight, and in the month of August, 1866, we were enabled, with very scanty means, to put our desires into execution; and on the 20th of the same month we bid a fond, yet sad farewell to all we held dear in the capital city of our once proud, but now downtrodden State; and at six o'clock P. M., August 20th, just three years after the Yankees gave us such a fright at Chattanooga, we reached our long desired home, the city of Memphis, after a lapse of something over four years of exile, amid the many soul-trying events which thousands as well as ourselves are too familiar with for us to deem it necessary to give any further comments. Thanks to our Divine Protector! His all omnipotent hand has guided us through all the fiery ordeals of the late disastrous conflict for Southern rights, and through His mercy we are all safe at home again, where we have the blessed privilege of again worshipping God within the walls of the fondly cherished sanctuary, Wesley Chapel, and of enjoying the society of many dear old friends, both in the city and those in the country, among whom we lived so long, and where the sacred treasure from whom we had wandered so long lie sweetly sleeping; and where, after our short race has been run, and the work which God has assigned us shall have been accomplished, and He sees fit to call us hence, we expect and desire to be laid beside them, to rest beneath our own native soil, which we love so dearly, until the Morning of the Resurrection. FINIS. CORRESPONDENCE. While the humble writer was engaged in the various duties of hospital life, she was in daily reception of letters from the soldiers in the field, of different States, divisions, brigades, regiments and companies belonging to the Tennessee Army. No clearer evidence of the soldiers grateful remembrance, and appreciation of the feeble services rendered them, while languishing in the hospitals, could be manifested than their own language which is expressed in their letters—a few of which we place before the reader, ver batim, claiming them as a most precious legacy of an bumble participant in the great struggle for a cause which, though lost, is nevertheless just and honored. With grateful acknowledgement to those who favored us with their interesting and heart cheering correspondence, we take great pleasure in appending as many as we have space for, deeming them a valuable addition to our humble work, and, doubtless, will be satisfactory to many friends, who, while they were at home, mourned their absent boys, and feared they would be neglected in time of need, and perhaps become careless in regard to cultivating the finer feelings taught them while under the parental roof. We hope we have not incurred the displeasure of any of our kindly remembered correspondents who are spared to share the ills of life with us, and lament the terrible fate which has befallen our once happy and prosperous nation, and mourn the loss of many comrades and friends who fell at their post, and whose letters are mingled with theirs. J |