homes of the land once overflowing with plenty, it was a question each day where food could be procured. The government had impressed every particle, except just sufficient to keep the inmates alive. What the commissaries had left, the “Yankee cavalry” took. A lady of Goochland said to a Federal officer, “General, I can understand why you destroy railroads and bridges, but why do you burn mills, and the houses over women and children?” The officer bowed, and replied, “Madam, your soldiers are so brave that we can’t beat you; and we are trying to _starve you_!” The interior of these homes of the country was a touching spectacle. The women were making every sacrifice. Delicate hands performed duties which had always fallen to menials. The servants had gone to the enemy, and aristocratic young women cooked, washed, swept, and drudged--a charming spectacle perhaps to the enemy, who hated the “aristocracy,” but woeful to fathers, and sons, and brothers, when they came home sick, or wounded. Clothes had long grown shabby, and were turned and mended. Exquisite beauty was decked in rags. A faded calico was a treasure. The gray-haired gentleman, who had always worn broadcloth, was content with patched homespun. It was not of these things that they were thinking, however. Dress had not made those seigneurs and dames--nor could the want of it hide their dignity. The father, and care-worn wife, and daughter, and sister, were thinking of other things. The only son was fighting beside Lee--dying yonder, in the trenches. He was only a “poor private,” clad in rags and carrying a musket--but he was the last of a long line, perhaps, of men who had built up Virginia and the Federal government which he was fighting--he was “only a private,” but his blood was illustrious; more than all, he was the treasure of the gray-haired father and mother; the head of the house in the future; if he fell, the house would fall with him--and it was nearly certain that he would fall!