The day before Christmas they lost a little time in following and pitying a small lot of prisoners who passed along the road by the gate. The boys were always pitying the prisoners and planning means to rescue them, for they had an idea that they suffered a terrible fate. Only one certain case had come to their knowledge. A young man had one day been carried by the Holly Hill gate on his way to the headquarters of the officer in command of that portion of the lines, General Denby. He was in citizen’s clothes and was charged with being a spy. The next morning Ran, who had risen early to visit his hare-traps, rushed into his mother’s room white-faced and wide-eyed. “Oh, mamma!” he gasped, “they have hung him, just because he had on those clothes!” Mrs. Stafford, though she was much moved herself, endeavored to explain to the boy that this was one of the laws of war; but Ran’s mind was not able to comprehend the principles which imposed so cruel a sentence for what he deemed so harmless a fault. This act and some other measures of severity gave General Denby a reputation of much harshness among the few old residents who yet remained at their homes in the lines, and the children used to gaze at him furtively as he would ride by, grim and stern, followed by his staff. Yet there were those who said that General Denby’s rigor was simply the result of a high standard of duty, and that at bottom he had a soft heart. V. The approach of Christmas was recognized even in the Federal camps, and many a song and ringing laugh were heard around the camp-fires, and in the tents and little cabins used as winter quarters, over the boxes which were pouring in from home. The troops in the camps near General Denby’s headquarters on Christmas eve had been larking and frolicking all day like so many children, preparing for the festivities of the evening, when they proposed to have a Christmas tree and other entertainments; and the General, as he sat in the front room in the house used as his headquarters, writing official papers, had more than once during the afternoon frowned at the noise outside which had disturbed him. At length, however, late in the afternoon, he finished his work, and having dismissed his adjutant, he locked the door, and pushing aside all his business papers, took from his pocket a little letter and began to read. As he read, the stern lines of the grim soldier’s face relaxed, and more than once a smile stole into his eyes and stirred the corners of his grizzled moustache. The letter was scrawled in a large childish hand. It ran: “MY DEAREST GRANDPAPA: I want to see you very much. I send you a Christmas gift. I made it myself. I hope to get a whole lot of dolls and other presents. I love you. I send you all these kisses.... You must kiss them. “Your loving little granddaughter, “LILY.”