I was careful to take down these items, in writing, as he gave them, in his office. O, what changes, what reverses, were here experienced. A. R. Brooks, who bought himself fourteen years ago, was now a wealthy man, owned ten horses, and six fine hacks and carriages, and his former master, by the fall of the Confederate government, was reduced almost to beggary. A few months ago he sold his plantation of three thousand acres for Confederate money, and is now penniless. Last February his wife died, and his former slave, A. R. Brooks, bore the entire expense of her burial. He said he praised the Lord for giving him the ability to do it. But how greatly was that wealthy planter, Henry A. Winfy, now changed in his prospects, when, a few months before, he considered himself the owner of three thousand acres, "well stocked" with slaves to work it. With every day come new scenes, and yet such a similarity; investigating, relieving, reading Scriptures, advising, and often by the cot of the sick and dying. I often felt myself a stranger in a strange land, and yet I was never alone. Although, boisterous waves dashed around me, yet the dear Savior was near at hand. I learned of much suffering on the Peninsula, and decided to take the rest of my supplies down the James River to Williamsburg. While arranging my packages for leaving Libby, a multitude of people were thronging the street near the prison. I inquired for the cause of this excitement, and was informed that a Union soldier was about to be executed for murdering a man for his money, horse, and buggy. As he was led out of prison upon the scaffold I hurried away, trembling with the terrible thought that a young life was about to be taken. As it was impossible for me to speak to him I hastened to escape the sound of the drop, but did not succeed. The horrors of war no pen can describe, no tongue can utter, no pencil can paint. The demoralizing influence over the soldier is dreadful. No doubt desertion was this fellow's aim, and, to serve his purpose, he fell into this strong temptation and crime. Desertion cost the life of one whom I saw in Mississippi sitting on a white-pine coffin and followed by his armed comrades, who were soon to take his life. It was then as now, too late to speak a word to that soldier-boy. And I hastened to outdistance the report of the guns that took his life. But I failed, as in the present sad event. I called on a number of friends and co-laborers in Richmond; for here, as in every place, I have found kindred spirits. I spent the night with dear sisters in Christ, who labored in his vineyard to uplift the lowly. Scripture reading and prayer closed this eventful day. On March 3d, at six o'clock A. M., I left Richmond and took the steamer _Martin_ at the Rockets, followed by my friend, Mrs. Morris, with a basket of fresh cakes, apples, oranges, and a bottle of wine. I asked her to excuse me for objecting to the bottle of wine, as I never drank it.