of which the scanty railroads were utterly annihilated. Many an interesting diary of the adventures of these individuals, as they journeyed from Eastern Virginia to Western Texas, or possibly to Mexico, may well have been written. It is hoped that one or two such narratives may yet be given to the world.

Shortly after noon on the 12th, General Lee, escorted by a guard of honor of Federal cavalry, mounted his horse as a soldier for the last time, and started for the city of Richmond. On his road he arrived about evening at the headquarters of his "old war-horse," General Longstreet, and the last and saddest of their many interviews took place. There are scenes which are too sacred and affecting for descriptlon, even though the pen were guided by a Macaulay or a Hoffman. If ever there were two genuine simple-minded men upon earth, to whom any thing melo-dramatic or theatrical is utterly abhorrent, they are the men of whom I am now writing. I close this brief chronicle with the remark that, in proportion to the reader's estimate of the sustained heroisma with which Lee and Longstreet for four years bore up and stood erect under such a burden as never was yet laid upon man, will be his appreciation of the circumstances and emotions under which their parting interview took place.

GENERAL GREEN BELIEVES HE WAS SHOT AT

BRIGADIER-GENERAL GREEN, of Missouri, commanding the second division, was one of the most prominent men upon the field. His own brigade was the first to enter Corinth, and penetrated as far as the Tishomingo Hotel. This was

the critical moment of the day. This brigade, forming Price's centre, had surmounted all obstacles in their way, carrying entrenchmen after entrenchment, until they found themselves in the centre of the enemy's position. Lovell was to have encountered the enemy on the left, and thus to have compelled a withdrawal of a portion of his forces from the centre, while Green continued to force their centre back. For some reason, Lovell failed to do this, and the Federals threw their whole centre upon Green, and compelled him to retire, after having at such enormous sacrifices gained the position. Prior to his forcing the enemy from their position, he sent an aid to General Price, saying that there were heavy siege guns in front of him, which disputed his further progress. Price replied, "Then tell General Green to take them;" and take them he did-there being thirty in number -but being forced to retire after gaining possession of them, he was obliged to relinquish this heavy armament to its original owners. One of Price's staff riding by, observed General Green covered with gore from head to heels, and asked him if he had sustained any injury. IIe replied, that his horse had been shot in the neck, and dismounted to stop the flow of blood, when another bullet pierced the animal again, but without fatal effect. The general was attempting to staunch the wound, when still another ball struck his steed in the forehead, and which after a few convulsive plunges, caused his death. The bullets continued to pour hot and heavy, cutting off twigs and branches, and one scraped the skin off of General Green's hip. He turned around to a bystander, and quietly remarked: "I believe those d-d scoundrels are trying to hit me!" If such was their intention, they certainly came as close to this brave officer as they possibly could without injuring him.

A HERO.

GENERAL VAN DORN, while riding along the line on Friday, encountered a Missouri private with his face covered with blood and his hand pressed against his jaw. The general inquired if he was wounded and where he was going. He removed his hand, disclosing to sight a broken jaw, which he commenced working with his hand, and replied, as distinctly as he could, in broken sentences: "Only got my jaw broke they're giving 'em hell back there-be back again soon as can get face fixed up-just go down there and see what hell these Yanks are catching;" and in half an hour afterwards, with bandaged face, he returned to his company to go with them through the balance of the bloody struggle.

THE MOST EXTRAORDINARY MARCHIES ON

RECORD.

THE late marches of General Stuart and of General Pleasanton, as reported from Harrisburg-(the first, ninetysix miles in twenty-four hours; and the last, seventy-eight miles in the same time)-surpass any thing of military record. It is stated in General Halleck's work on military art and science, that Causar marched the legions from Rome to the Sierra Morena, in Spain, at the rate of twenty leagues a day. In the campaign of 1800, Macdonald, wishing to prevent the escape of an enemy, in a single day marched forty miles, crossing rivers and climbing mountains. Clansel, after the battle of Salamanca, retreated forty miles in twelve hours. In 1814, Napoleon, wishing to form a junction with

other troops for the succor of Paris, marched his army the distance of seventy-five miles in thirty-six hours.

It is said that the English cavalry under Lord Lake marched seventy miles in twenty-four hours.

The Kirby Smith brigade of cavalry, during the late advance into Kentucky, marched one hundred and sixty-five miles in seventy-four hours.

As a general rule, troops marching for many days in suc cession, will move at the rate of from fifteen to twenty miles per day. In forced marches, or in pursuit of a flying enemy, they will average from twenty to twenty-five miles a day. Only for two or three days in succession, with favorable roads, thirty miles a day may be calculated on. Where marches beyond this occur, they are the result of extraordi nary circumstances.

ALL QUIET ALONG THE POTOMAC.

"ALL quiet along the Potomac !" they say,

Except now and then a stray picket

Is shot, as he walks on his beat to and fro,
By a rifleman in the thicket!

"Tis nothing-a private or two, now and then,
Will not count in the news of the battle !
Not an oflicer lost-only one of the men-
Moaning out, all alone, the death-rattle"

All quiet along the Potomac to-night,

Where the soldiers lie peacefully dreaming;
Their tents, in the rays of the clear autumn moon,
Or the light of the watch-fires, are gleaming.

A tremulous sigh, as the gentle night-wind

Through the forest-leaves softly is creeping; While stars up above, with their glittering eyes,

Keep guard-for the army is sleeping.

There's only the sound of the lone sentry's tread,
As he tramps from the rock to the fountain,
And thinks of the two in the low trundle-bed
Far away in the cot on the mountain.
His musket falls slack-his face, dark and grim,
Grows gentle with memories tender,

As he mutters a prayer for the children asleep-
For their mother-may Heaven defend her!

The moon seems to shine just as brightly as then,
That night, when the love yet unspoken
Leaped up to his lips, when low-murmured vows
Were pledged to be ever unbroken.

Then, drawing his sleeve roughly over his eyes,
He dashes off tears that are welling,

And gathers his gun closer up to its place,
As if to keep down the heart-swelling.

He passes the fountain, the blasted pine tree-
The footstep is lagging and weary ;

Yet onward he goes, through the broad belt of light,
Toward the shades of the forest so dreary.
Hark! was it the night-wind that rustled the leaves?
Was it the moonlight, so wondrously flashing?
It looked like a rifle-" Ha! MARY, good-by !"
And the life-blood is ebbing and plashing!

All quiet along the Potomac to-night !—
No sound, save the rush of the river!

While soft falls the dew on the face of the dead-
The picket's off duty forever.