On Thursday, August 1, the three Marblehead companies arrived home. Arrangements had been made to give them an enthusiastic welcome. At three o'clock in the afternoon a procession was formed, consisting of the Marblehead Band, the "Home Guards," the boards of town officers, the entire fire department, and the scholars of the public schools. An interesting feature of the procession was thirteen young ladies, representing the original States, wearing white dresses, and red, white, and blue veils. The arrival of the train bringing the soldiers was announced by the ringing of bells, the firing of guns, and the joyful acclamations of the people. They were received at the depot at about six o'clock P.M., and escorted to the "Town House" where an address of welcome was delivered by Jonathan H. Orne, Esq., a member of the board of selectmen. On the afternoon of the following day, the veterans were given a grand reception. The procession was again formed, and they were escorted about town to Fort Sewall, where a dinner was served. Shortly after the return of the companies, Capt. Knott V. Martin resigned as commander of the Sutton Light Infantry, and recruited a company for the Twenty-third Regiment. More than half the members of this company were enlisted in Marblehead. They left for the seat of war during the month of November. It does not fall within the province of this article to trace the fortunes of the sons of Marblehead through the long and cruel war. Their experience, however, was not unlike that of thousands who suffered and died for the nation. With patient endurance and the fortitude of martyrs, they drank to the dregs the bitter cup of war. Through the long and fatiguing marches, in the many hard fought battles, and in the hopeless agony of life in the prison-pens, they were manly and true. It is unnecessary to say more. By the self-sacrificing devotion of heroes like these, the nation was saved. * * * * * EQUINOCTIAL. By Sidney Maxwell. The autumn day is almost spent. And yet No length' ning shadows mark the sun's decline, For all is shadowed by the cold, gray mist Which long has driven with the fitful wind, And still it is not gone. How chill the air! It seems but yesterday that summer's breath, Sultry and dry, distressed the thirsty fields-- And now the skies, repentant of their fault, Will more than make amends. It rains again, Beating a doleful measure on the pane, Sobbing in sad, wild cadence through the street While ever 'mid the rising, falling strains The eaves drop notes as those of muffled drum, Alone in rhythm, save, perchance, the beat Of some tired horse's hoofs, as, homeward bound, He treads the flooded pavement stones. And now The sun, weary of contest for the day, Forsakes the scene and sinks away to rest, Leaving the world to darkness and to rain. * * * * * EDITOR'S TABLE.