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Robert E. Lee Portrait
Page) tered the war as Colonel of the
Twenty-second Indiana Volunteers. In March, 1862, while yet a Colonel, he was
given a Major-General's command, taking an important part in the spring campaign
in the Missouri Department, which culminated in the
battle at Pea Ridge. He
commanded a portion of
General BUELL'S army in the Kentucky campaign against
General BRAGG, early in 1863 he occupied Shelbyville, Tennessee. In General
GRANT'S Western campaign he took an active and prominent part; and in the late
advance on Atlanta he deserves an honorable mention. When General PALMER
resigned he assumed the command of the Fourteenth Corps, and it was in the
exercise of this command that he fought the late decisive battle of
WE give on our
first page this
week an illustration of one of those brave actions which have conferred
distinction and honor upon our private soldiers, but which have most frequently
passed with only an occasional record. At the battle of Ezra Church HARRY DAVIS,
a soldier belonging to the Forty-sixth Ohio regiment, advanced far to the front
under the fire of rebel batteries, and reaching over the breast-works of the
enemy, grasped the colors of the Thirtieth Tennessee from the hands of the rebel
standard-bearer and brought them off as a trophy. Two weeks ago we gave the
Captain DE GRESS, who had distinguished himself by a gallant action
; and we deem it proper that the private soldier also should receive the merit
due to his bravery.
A FRIEND and I were strolling
down The gay and crowded street,
When with a pale and sad-eyed one
It was our chance to meet.
My friend had bowed to ladies
Who passed and were forgot; He
bowed to her, and on his cheek
I saw a crimson spot.
And yet it was no flush of shame
Upon his cheek that burned;
His look was soon as sad as hers:
To look at her I turned.
Her years they might have been
two score, Her step was sad and slow;
Not weariness—but just that pace
At which all mourners go.
Though poor, around her yet there
was That nameless grace, which says, Even to careless passers by,
"I have seen better days."
" Tell me," said I, "why you, who
wear A soldier's name and sword,
Changed color as she passed us
by---Passed us without a word."
His eyes flashed flame. "My
blood," he said, "It near to madness stirs
To meet that sad, that patient
one, And think what wrongs are hers.
" Two years ago—alas, how
changed!----A fond, proud wife was she,
And mother, too, of three fair
sons---Three fairer could not be.
"Her noble husband to his flag
And to his country true, "
Was foully slain, at midnight, by
A cruel traitor crew.
" Slain, not in open, manly fight
But on his own hearth-stone She
saw his life-blood ebb away,
And heard his dying groan.
" She heard the troopers' curses
deep Re-echo. through the hall ; She saw the lurid flames spread fast,
She saw the roof-tree fall.
"When morning came, half crazed
she stood There desolate and lone,
Gazing with tearless eye upon
A mass of whitened bone ;
"All that was left of him whose
love Had made her life so sweet
Now mingled with the ashes of Her
home now at her feet."
"But where were they, her noble
boys, In this her hour of woe?"
" Ah! they had sought the
battle-field Ere fell this fearful blow.
" Two were with Grant when
Vicksburg fell.' " The other, where was he ?"
" Another flag above him waved
At Richmond, under Lee.
" And him she mourns as worse
than dead, For in this deadly strife
He battles on the side of those
Who took his father's life.
"Bright-eyed, glad-hearted, once
she dwelt In lovely Tennessee ;
Slow-paced, sad-eyed, sad-hearted
now, She's here a Refugee."
WOMAN IN BROWN.
"MONEY! More money? Mrs. Wilde, I
am perfectly astonished !"
"It isn't for myself, Eugene,"
faltered the timid little wife, flushing up to the roots of her hair ; " but the
ladies in the church are trying to make up a little sum for the poor soldiers in
" Twen-ty-five dol-lars!" slowly
enunciated Mr. Wilde, as if every syllable were a hundred-pound weight hurled at
his defenseless partner. "For the soldiers! Do I pay taxes, Mrs. Wilde, or do I
not ? Are my resources drawn upon by the Government, every day in the year, or
are they not, for this very object ? I am not made of gold, Mrs. Wilde,
what-ever you may think ; I assure you that it is only by the practice of the
most rigid economy that I am able at the year's end to bring my expenses within
my annual income. Besides, I very cordially disapprove of these outside
charities. It's Government's business to provide for the sick soldiers ; I can't
afford to pay the debts of the whole War Department ; and what's more, I won't!"
Eustace Wilde was standing in
front of a garnet-clear coal-fire, on the hearth-rug, buttoning up his gloves
for the daily down-town jaunt that opened his day's business, a handsome,
stylish-looking man, with a silky black mustache and a portly figure at-tired in
garments that fitted him as only Broadway suits can fit; while Maggie, his wife,
sat before the coffee urn in a pretty morning dress of buff gingham, with deep
linen cuffs, and a little white collar tied with maize-colored ribbon. She had a
very sweet face, shadowed with heavy brown hair and bright hazel eyes, in whose
translucent depths there lurked just a gleam of piquant fire; but somehow there
was a weary, care-worn look about the delicately-moulded features, a tired droop
of the lashes, Ind a dark ring under the eyes that made one intinctively
remember patient Martha of old, "burdened with many cares."
She took up her little
porte-monnaie with a disappointed face to replace it in the pocket of her ,lack
" What shall I tell the
Committee, Eustace ?"
" Tell them, Mrs. Wilde," said
her husband, dogmatically, " that at the present scale of prices economy is the
chief duty of us all. The soldiers will, I have no doubt, be cared for by the
proper authorities. Imust decline to subscribe. You observe, my dear," he added,
glancing at a bank-note that lay on the shining damask table-cloth, " that I
have already placed housekeeping funds for the week at your disposal. I must beg
of you to use proper discretion in its expenditure."
" Five dollars is not enough,
Eustace," said Mrs. Wilde, with a stolid courage born of desperation. "Not e-nough?"
Maggie raised her eyebrows a
"If you think, Eustace, that five
dollars will pay the butcher, settle the baker's account and the ice-man's bill,
and then leave enough for daily marketing expenses, I should like to have you
remain at home and take charge of the finances yourself—that's all!"
"My dear, you must purchase
" But, Eustace, you know how
fastidious you are about your meals."
" That has nothing to do with the
question," said Mr. Wilde, a little shortly. " We must economize, my dear—we
Maggie Wilde colored, and bit her
lip. Economize !—when she had sat through all the sunshiny hours of yesterday
over a weary work-basket mending little dresses, and darning tiny socks, and
re-trimming her own bonnet to save unnecessary expenditure. Economize !---when
she wore her old shawl, and made over her old dresses, and heard the children's
lessons, to dispense with a governess's salary T. Poor Maggie ! It was rather
hard to be accused of extravagance under these circumstances. A quick answer
trembled on her lip, but she forced back the angry words, and answered in a
" Indeed, I try not to be
"But you must be, my dear, or
else where in the name of common sense does all the money go ? I never spend any
" Don't you ?"
"Never, my dear—never. Depend
upon it the escape valve is somewhere in the housekeeping. It would be much
better to devote your energies to domestic economy than to running about
collecting money for the soldiers—very much better, Maggie. And, moreover, I can
not very well let you have any more this morning; my funds are running decidedly
" You had fifty dollars in that
pocket-book the day before yesterday," said Maggie, quietly, " and I have used
but ten of it."
"Ten? you must have had more than
ten." "Not a cent," said Maggie, firmly.
"The coal bill. I paid the coal
bill out of it, and that was twenty, you remember, Mrs. Wilde," said Eustace,
" Then where are the other twenty
dollars?" Mr. Wilde twisted himself a little, as though his pearl-colored
over-coat were rather a tight fit.
"Business, my dear ; you can't be
expected to understand any thing about business matters."
"But what particular business?"
persisted his wife.
" Maggie," said Mr. Wilde,
solemnly, " this isn't to the purpose at all. A woman's mind isn't adapted to
comprehend business relations; she should confine herself to the one grand
point, economy. Reduce your expenses; bring every thing within the narrowest
possible outlay. I think it would be a very good plan, my dear, to keep a little
account of your daily disbursements, and I could glance over it every night, and
check oft any little items that struck me as clearly superfluous."
Maggie's dark eyes began to
sparkle ominously ; she played nervously with the golden circle of her
"You would find no items of that
description, Mr. Wilde."
" You think not, I have no doubt;
seldom understand the nicer
distinctions of economy, and—"
But Mrs. Maggie rose quietly to
her feet, and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind her with a good
deal of vehemence. The slender thread of her patience had been strained to its
utmost tension, and had snapped asunder at last.
She sat down, and—of course—cried
" And I was so sure of that money
for the poor soldiers," she thought, between the bright drops. " It seems so
little for us to give them, when they are doing and enduring so much for us ! I
can not brook this—I must not ! Eustace has harped quite long enough on this
particular string—it must be put an end to ! There is some difference between
pinching parsimony and judicious economy. 0 Maggie Wilde ! if woman's wit don't
help you out of this perplexity you deserve to sink into a mere household
drudge, whose idols shall be gold, silver, and copper !"
How haughtily the red arch of her
lips curved ! —how defiantly the brown eyes glittered through their moisture !
Beware, Mr. Eustace Wilde—your wife will be a match for you yet, although you
rejoice in a beaver hat and a mustache, and the superb consciousness of manhood,
whim she—is no-thing but a woman !
"Bridget," said Mrs. Wilde,
coming into the kitchen where her Milesian cook was chopping spices for some
elaborate made-dish wherein the heart of Eustace Wilde delighted, " will you
lend me your old bonnet and cloak to-morrow ?"
Bridget stared in open-mouthed
" Sure, ma'am, and why would ye
be after want-in' 'em ? They're not dacent for the likes o' you."
"Never Mind; I wish to borrow
them for a particular reason, and your old brown dress also, if you will lend
"You're welcome as flowers in
May, ma'am," said honest, puzzled Bridget ; " but it's a queer fit they'll be
for you, darned, an' patched, an' faded."
But Mrs. Wilde only laughed.
The rain was pattering drearily
against the breakfast-room window the next morning as Eustace Wilde sauntered
slowly in, but Maggie's chair was empty.
"Where's your mistress, Mary?" he
asked the waitress.
" She's breakfastin' with the
childer, Sir. Master Charlie's got the toothache, and won't be quiet without his
" Maggie spoils those children,"
thought Mr. Wilde, shrugging his shoulders. Breakfast was rather a dismal meal
without his wife's bright face opposite to him, and he did not linger long over
" A bleak day," he soliloquized
as he opened his umbrella and strode forth into the rain and wind. " It's a good
thing the stages run only a block off."
He took his seat, unfolding the
morning paper, all unconscious of the shabbily-dressed woman, veiled and wrapped
in a coarse brown cloak, who entered the stage at the next corner. Nor did he
observe that she descended at the same street where he pulled the check-string
As he entered the covered
stairway leading to his office, in a massive marble building, a bluff-looking
man advanced to meet hint.
" Look here, Wilde, I've been
waiting here these fifteen minutes, and I'm in a deuce of a hurry too."
"I am a little behind time this
morning," said Eustace, shaking the rain-drops in a dingy shower from his
umbrella. "Come up to the office, Hall."
"I can't; I haven't a minute to
stay. I just. came round to see if you could pay that little bill."
" What bill ?"
"Why, your share of the supper at
D—'s, and the ride afterward."
" Oh ! yes---yes. Well, how much
is it?" "Only a trifle--eight dollars."
Mr. Wilde leisurely opened his
pocket-book and placed one or two bills in his companion's hand.
"That's right, I believe. A very
unpleasant day. Good-morning, Hall!"
He ran briskly up the long flight
of stairs, two steps at a time, while the shabby woman, who had been standing
just outside the threshold during this colloquy, as if waiting for somebody,
came into the vestibule to escape the driving rain.
" Give us a box of your very
nicest cigars—tiptop !" bawled Jemmy Stokes, the office-boy, diving into the
tobacco-store next door. " Quick ! our boss is in a hurry. Ten dollars? that
ain't much for a good article. I say, you might give me one for myself; I always
get Mr. Wilde's cigars here."
" Take it, then, and get along
with yourself," said the man of smoke. "What can I do for you, mem ?"
" A penny-worth of Scotch snuff;"
that was all the shabby woman in the faded brown cloak want-ed. But even through
the dingy veil her eyes sparkled—she must have been very fond of Scotch snuff!
The big bell of the City Hall was
booming the first iron strokes of twelve as Mr. Wilde stood once more in the
vestibule preparing to open his umbrella.
" Going to dinner, Martin ?" he
asked, as an-other legal luminary rattled down the stairs.
" Well, I suppose it's about time
to think of such a thing," returned Mr. Martin.
" They have some capital turtle
soup round the corner," said Wilde. " Come round with me, and try it, will you
Mr. Martin would certainly; he
was not in the habit of declining such invitations, and the two set forth in
high spirits. While close behind them glided the woman in brown !
The waiter looked a little
surprised as the shabby apparition crept in and took her seat at one end of the
long table where Eustace Wilde and his friend, Mr. Martin, had snugly
established themselves; but waiters in a down-town restaurant soon cease to be
surprised at any thing, and he came briskly forward to take her order.
" Cup o' tea, m'm—yes, m'm. Dry
toast and sandwich—right off, m'm !"
Rather an abstemious meal
compared with the dainty fare in which her neighbors were indulging —turtle
soup, with flakes of unctuous green fat
floating on the surface, roasted
woodcocks, garnished with rich amber jelly, a bottle of rose-r, d claret to
finish off with, and a basket of black Hamburg grapes, arranged with superb late
"Beg your pardon, m'm—you've got
the wrong check—this 'ere's yourn !" ejaculated the waiter, as the woman in
brown took up the check stamped " $6."
She laid it quietly down again :
she had discovered all she wanted, and moved out of the restaurant as
noiselessly as she had entered.
" It's very strange !" said
Eustace Wilde, thought-fully.
" What's strange ?" inquired his
friend, detaching a black-purple berry from the bunch of grapes on his plate.
" That woman who has just gone
out in the faded cloak—did you observe what a delicate white hand she had ?"
" She didn't look like one of the
white-handed kind," observed Martin, carelessly.
"No; and that's what struck me as
being so singular."
And with that Mr Wilde dismissed
the subject from his mind.
Meanwhile the little brown
phantom sped swiftly down the next street, fluttered up the long flight of
marble stairs, and tapped softly at the door of Eustace Wilde's snug office.
" Come in."
Jemmy Stokes was sitting on the
corner of the table cutting his initials neatly on the green morocco cover—an
operation which he called "keeping office." He looked up rather disdainfully.
" Is—is Mr. Wilde in ?"
" Gone to dinner," said Jemmy,
laconically. " Be back in twenty minutes. Take care, ma'am —your wet dress '11
spoil Mr. Wilde's new office-chair. Take the old 'un, if you please!"
"The old one" was a handsome
arm-chair whose green leather cushions were scarcely defaced; the "new one" was
a superb affair of black walnut and crimson reps, with a movable desk attached
to the arm.
"Is that style of chair very
expensive ?" asked Maggie, meekly, motioning her head toward it.
" Guess it is !" returned Mr.
Stokes, with laud-able pride. "Let me see; the bill's here some-where; it only
came this morning. Oh ! here it is. Forty-five dollars that 'ere chair cost."
As the visitor made no comment
Jemmy applied himself once more to the curl of the letter S on the morocco
table-cover, secretly wondering what business that rusty female could have with
the fashionable lawyer his master, while the penetrating eyes under the veil
took in all the elegant little accessories of the luxurious office.
Click! click! came a pair of
knuckles against the door. She started like a guilty thing, but it was only a
half-grown boy, the very counterpart of Mr. James Stokes.
" Here's the books your boss
ordered, and t1 s bill."
" Jus' you leave 'em," said Jemmy
; "Mr. Wilde 'll send the money round this afternoon. How much?"
" Twelve dollars fifty cents."
It was a handsome illustrated
edition of a popular author, but the visitor dared not linger to look at it.
Murmuring something about " calling again," she withdrew, much to Jemmy Stokes's
was she too precipitate in her
movements; she turned into Broadway her cloak brushed against
Eustace Wilde's broadcloth
She hailed a passing stage with
one finger of the little white hand that was so incongruous to her rusty dress
and misshapen bonnet.
" Quite enough for one clay,"
said the brown phantom to herself, as she stood on tip-toe to pay the fare.
"I'll have a little settlement with my lord to-night that shall astonish
And she laughed until the dimples
danced over her cheeks, all alone by herself in the stage, and careless of
drenched skirts and driving rain.
She was sitting at her
work-table, the brown hair shining like bands of satin, and the neat figure
at-tired in a black silk dress trimmed with glistening bugles, when Eustace came
in that night. The table was set in the middle of the room, forming a pretty
picture with its pearly damask and gilded china, and the urn steamed merrily on
"This looks comfortable," said
Eustace Wilde, throwing himself into an easy-chair ; " it's a dreary night
" Is it?" said Maggie,
"My dear, you haven't any idea
how dreary," said Mr. Wilde. "That's one of your feminine ad-vantages; we men
are forced to battle with the world in all weathers!"
Mrs. Wilde took her seat at the
tea-table with-out remark, but her lips twitched a little at the corners.
" Eustace," she said, when her
husband had lighted his evening cigar, and was just taking up an uncut Harper, "
I am ready for you to look over my day's housekeeping accounts."
"Ah, very right," said he,
approvingly, glancing his eye down the column of petty items. " Bread
—vegetables—starch—steaks—total, one dollar, sixty cents. Don't you think, my
dear, that we might economize by Bridget's making our bread instead of buying
" Perhaps so," said Mrs. Wilde,
smiling. " And now, Eustace, suppose we make a little estimate of your day's
Mr. Wilde started at his wife, as
if he thought her slightly demented.
" Oh, just to compare our ideas
of economy." "Nonsense!"
" No nonsense at all."
" But I don't remember—I couldn't
"Perhaps I can assist your memory
a little, Sir. For your share of the supper at. D—'s and the ride afterward, you
paid eight dollars—a package of cigars, ten—a dinner of turtle soup, claret,
etc., six. Your new office-chair—very splendid certainly —was forty-five—your
illustrated edition of ----'a