so cold! I hear the sweet music of the band upon the green. I see the groups of convalescent soldiers just come back from the hospitals standing about their general, who was so kind to them and so thoughtful of them. Alas! the longer I live the more I fear to utter that little word Good-bye.' That bridge between this world and the next which one may never again cross. But of that desolate home in Philadelphia who shall speak? Those sweet pic

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tured faces come before me with the smiles faded out and the eyes misty with tears. The boy's ringing 'papa,' as he bounded from his side that glorious bright day, makes my heart ache to remember. God send our country its equivalent for the costly lives laid down in its defence, and comfort the broken hearts which are learning, the land over, the stammering lesson, Thy will be done.'

"My men got homesick last winter,' said General Birney to me, so we got up a ball for them. There were many of the officers' wives there, and the bustle of preparation and decoration amused and cheered the poor fellows.' 'But these awful Virginia roads,' said I, with sides still aching from the bumps I had lately received; these awful Virginia roads!' 'Oh!' said he, 'we lighted fires, all along, but notwithstanding there were shrill cries of distress from some of the pitfalls! However, all went very merrily, and I congratulate myself that I made my men happy for a while at least.' For the same reason he had beautified the encampment where we found him. All the tents were ranged in the form of a circle, his own opposite the entrance. Each tent was perfectly covered with green boughs, which hung over it like a green curtain, leaving only room

to enter. The ground in the midst was graded off in the most careful manner, and recently sown with oats, that late in the season it might look green and pleasant; while a nicely gravelled path led through it from the general's tent to the entrance gate-posts, where was planted a flag-staff, surmounted by one of the enemy's shells. Nothing could exceed the neatness and beauty of the whole arrangement. But more beautiful still was the motive which prompted it all-'to make things look home-like for the men.' No wonder 'the men' fight well under such officers. I felt constantly, while with General Birney, how it could be that, in his sympathetic, magnetic atmosphere, those immediately connected with him could say, as they did, to me, 'We would any of us gladly die for him.'

"How different from those generals to whom their men' are but so many machines or automatons, wound up to work out their will; who never think that they, too, have homes and wives, and children, of whom they think, in the dreary days and nights, till the homesick longing to look upon them seems to dwarf every other thought.

"Oh, it is a great thing for a successful general to keep his heart warm in his breast, electrically responsive to the joys and sorrows and needs of those subordinate to him. Woman as I am, I know I could fight, undaunted, a thousand battles, if I lived so long, with such a general as that."

The Army and Navy Journal, of October 22d, noticed the death of General Birney in the following article:"MAJOR-GENERAL D. B. BIRNEY, the commander of the

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Tenth Army Corps, died at his residence in Philadelphia, on the 18th inst. He had but a few days previously come up from the army, his health seriously impaired by the effects of a malarious climate, and it was hoped that rest and a more salubrious air would restore him to health and duty. But death came speedily.

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“Of General Birney's record during this last campaign, it is not necessary to speak other than generally. His name, as his position, has been a conspicuous one, and he has on all fields won reputation as an industrious, efficient officer, ambitious of distinction in his profession, and willing to sacrifice health and ease in the cause of the country."

THE FUNERAL.

HE Councils of Philadelphia, immediately after General Birney's death, passed unanimously a joint resolution, tendering to the family the use of Independence Hall, so that the remains might lie in state. But, while grateful for this offer, it was declined, because the

family intended that the funeral should be conducted in the most simple manner. It was determined that the remains should be removed directly from the house to Woodlands Cemetery without display or ceremony, and Friday, October 21st, at two o'clock, P. M., was the time selected. It was found, however, impossible to make the funeral a private one. The numerous organizations, civil and military, of which General Birney had been a member, wished to participate in doing honor to his memory, and General Cadwalader, who was in command at Philadelphia, desired to do all in his power to pay proper military honors to the memory of his deceased friend. Yielding to these requests, prompted as they were by feelings which do honor to human nature, General Birney's family and immediate friends consented to a funeral, which

proved to be one of the most solemn and impressive ever witnessed in Philadelphia.

Before the time fixed the writer was in attendance at the house, and by one o'clock, P. M., an hour before the time announced for the ceremonies, the crowd was so great that he was compelled to send to the nearest police-station for policemen to preserve order and keep the street clear. They soon arrived and did their duty efficiently. Observing in the crowd a number of soldiers wearing the "red diamond," many of whom were on crutches, and all of whom were evidently inmates of hospitals, the writer approached them and ascertained that they had obtained leaves of absence for the day, from the various hospitals around Philadelphia, to attend the funeral; but, being unable to march in the procession, they had come to the house before the time fixed for the ceremonies, hoping to be able to see the remains of their general. They were at once. admitted, and such a scene as transpired in that parlor the writer had never witnessed before and hopes he may never again. These soldiers, wearing the "red patch," disfigured and maimed for life, surrounded the coffin and wept like children. Their grief was sincere, and its manifestation far exceeded the testimonials of respect which were shown to the deceased later in the afternoon. Quietly and sorrowfully this band of men, who all bore permanent marks of their encounters with the enemy, left the house to give place to the funeral ceremonies.

These ceremonies began an hour later than the time announced by the press. This delay was occasioned by the desire of the family to await the arrival of a brother and

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