Every one knows that on that night our army was beaten back to their intrenchments upon Hatcher’s Run, where they made a final stand. The next day, when the wounded were looked up, Mim was found with his leg hurt beside his dead horse. And some distance farther on Billingcoo was found dead—transfixed with a splinter driven into his body by a shell that had torn its way through the old log cabin behind which the poor creature, with his usual fatuity, had hidden himself in fancied security. Our army were now in undisputed possession of Hatcher’s Run. And the City Point Railroad was in good working order up to this post. But, as every one knows, it was three weeks later, and after almost incessant fighting along the White Oak Road, culminating in the terrific battle of the Five Forks, that the South Side Railroad was at length seized and destroyed, the Confederate army totally routed, and the way opened to the occupation of Richmond and Petersburg by our troops. It would be presumptuous in a mere story-writer to dwell upon these magnificent themes, so much beyond her power of treatment. This story does not pretend to be a history of the campaign or of any portion of it; it is only a simple narrative of the part taken therein by certain persons in whom we are interested. And besides, it would be useless to dilate upon events that are still fresh in the memory of all. All recollect—how from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and from the Lakes to the Gulf—how all the land rang with joy, how all the cities glowed with light, how all the banners waved in triumph—when the vibrating telegraphic wires flashed East and West—flashed North and South—the proud words: “Richmond and Petersburg are ours! One third of Lee’s army is destroyed. And for the rest there is no escape.” And yet, even among the most loyal of the Union party, _mostly_ among them perhaps, was this joy mingled with sadness, for they were no alien foes that our arms had vanquished. CHAPTER XLIII. DELIVERANCE AT LAST. Who knew, she thought, what the amazement, The eruption of clatter and blaze meant, And if, in this morning of wonder, No outlet mid lightning and thunder, Lay broad, and her shackles all shivered, The captive, at last, was delivered? Aye, that was the open sky o’erhead! And you saw by the flash in her forehead, By the hope in those eyes, broad and steady, She was leagues o’er the free earth already.—ROBERT BROWNING. “I was sick, and in prison and ye visited me not!” Ah! in all our great cities, how many human beings there are “sick and in prison,” whose lot is much more miserable than that of the poorest beggar who enjoys the free air! These are not always criminals, but they are almost always friendless; for who dreams of visiting them?