As I pressed the hand of my host, and looked around the poor apartment, I could not refrain from a sentiment of profound bitterness. Two days before I had dined at the table of a peddling blockade-runner, who ate canvass-backs, drank champagne, wore “fine linen,” and, dodging the conscript officers, revelled in luxury and plenty. And now here before me was a gentleman of ancient lineage, whose ancestors had been famous, who had himself played a great part in the history of the commonwealth,--and this gentleman was poor, lived in lodgings, had scarce a penny; he had been wealthy, and was still the owner of great possessions; but the bare land was all that was left him for support. He had been surrounded with luxury, but had sacrificed all to the cause. He had had two gallant sons, but they had fallen at the first Manassas--their crossed swords were above his poor bare mantel-piece. From the splendid table of the sneaking blockade-runner, I had come to the poverty-stricken apartment of this great statesman and high-bred gentleman. “Oh, Juvenal!” I muttered, “it is your satires, not the bucolics of Virgil, that suit this epoch!” The old statesman pointed, with all the grace of a nobleman, to a bare rocking-chair, and received my congratulations upon his speech with modest simplicity. “I am glad that my views are honored by your good opinion, colonel,” he said, “and that you approve of the tone of them. I am naturally given to invective--a habit derived from my friend, the late Mr. Randolph; but the country wants encouragement.” “And yet not to satirize is so hard, my dear sir!” “Very hard.” “Think of the army depleted--the soldiers starving--the finances in ruin, and entire destruction threatening us!” The old statesman was silent. A moment afterward he raised his head, and with his thin finger pointed to the crossed swords above his mantelpiece. “I try to bear and forbear since I lost my poor boys,” he said. “They died for their country--I ought to live for it, and do what I can in my sphere--to suppress my bitterness, and try to utter words of good cheer. But we are discussing gloomy topics. Let us come to more cheerful matters. I am in very good spirits to-day. My daughters have come to make me a visit,” and the old face glowed with smiles; its expression was quite charming. “I see you do not appreciate that great treat, my dear colonel,” he added, smiling. “You are yet unmarried, though I rejoice to hear you are soon to be united to a daughter of my old friend, Colonel Beverly, of “The Oaks.” Some day I hope you will know the great charm of paternity. This morning I was lonely--this evening I am no longer so. Georgia and Virginia have come up from my house, “Five Forks,” escorted by my faithful old Juba, and they burst in upon me like the sunshine!”