Band after band of brave-hearted, bright-faced youths from Southern plantation homes came to bleed and die on Virginia soil; and for four long years old Virginia was one great camping ground, hospital and battle field. The roar of cannon and the clash of arms resounded over the land. The groans of the wounded and dying went up from hillside and valley. The hearts of women and children were sad and careworn. But God, to whom they prayed, protected them in our plantation homes--where no white men or even boys remained--all having gone into the army. Only the negro slaves stayed with us, and these were encouraged by our enemies to rise and slay us; but God in His mercy willed otherwise. Although advised to burn our property and incited by the enemy to destroy their former owners, these negro slaves remained faithful, manifesting kindness, and in many instances protecting the white families and plantations during their masters' absence. Oh! the long terrible nights helpless women and children passed, in our plantation homes; the enemy encamped around them; the clash of swords heard against the doors and windows; the report of guns on the air which might be sending death to their loved ones. But why try to describe the horrors of such nights? Who that has not experienced them can know how we felt? Who can imagine the heart sickness, when stealing to an upper window at midnight we watched the fierce flames rising from some neighboring home, expecting our own to be destroyed by the enemy before daylight in the same way? Such pictures, dark and fearful, were the only ones familiar to us in old Virginia those four dreadful years. At last the end came--the end which seemed to us saddest of all. But God knoweth best. Though "through fiery trials" He had caused us to pass, He had not forsaken us. For was not His mercy signally shown in the failure of the enemy to incite our negro slaves to insurrection during the war? Through His mercy those who were expected to become our enemies, remained our friends. And in our own home, surrounded by the enemy those terrible nights, our only guard was a faithful negro servant who slept in the house, and went out every hour to see if we were in immediate danger; while his mother--the kind old nurse--sat all night in a rocking chair in our room, ready to help us. Had we not then amidst all our sorrows much to be thankful for?