proclamation has been issued that we will shoot our rebel prisoners, if they kill any of our men, I am unable to say what general effect it has had so far. I only know that none of the men who have fallen alive into their hands have ever since been heard of, and I fear the worst. But of one thing I am sure, and that is, that the ’black soldiers’ so far has done as good fighting as the ’white soldiers,’ and he has either won or been defeated with the latter on many a hard fought field. He has had his full share in disaster and victory alike; and thus he will still assist in pulling down this terrible rebellion,—but I must lay down my pen. With much love to yourself and all, I am, "Your most affectionate, "THOMAS." CHAPTER VII. _Tom’s Letter From the Seat of War—The Pilgrim’s Progress—Niagara Falls—Visit to Canada—Letters From Richmond Hill—Great War Interest in Canada—The Girl’s Letter to Papa—Tom’s Letter and Poem on the Great Fight With the Bloodhounds in South Carolina._ I have always believed that it was because the Lord loved me that He gave me so good a husband, who, by the bye, is preserved to me yet, and for the same reason, that He allowed me to have my dear mother with me again. She has been the very joy of my life, and is with me still. I would have missed my gallant and devoted Tom in no small degree when he went away to the war among so many others of the brave and true, only he was so attentive about writing me letters during his absence. I have kept all those missives of his, and laid them carefully away, and I have always said they would make a good book if they were printed; and some day I may put them in book form. And Tom’s numerous and well-written letters were not only a perpetual treat and joy to myself, but the two sweet girls, and Mr. and Mrs. John B. Sutherland, and a few select friends who came round the house seemed never to tire of reading his letters. He also wrote each of them a separate letter occasionally, but as a general thing, his long letters to myself had to serve for all. During all this time the girls were growing up finely, and every twelve months I had their photographs taken and sent to him to let him see how nicely they looked in their New Year’s dresses. Tom sent up photographs of himself in his plain soldier’s dress, and also in his officer’s dress, after his promotion. Poor Tom! My eyes often filled with tears when his letters came, and I sat down with an anxious heart to read their contents. I knew, of course, that the children and I should be provided for, should Tom be numbered with the slain, but we all longed to see him, and prayed much to Almighty God that if it was His gracious will our Tom might come home to us once more from the war. [Illustration: _SCENES AT NIAGARA FALLS._]