When walking from the railroad station to the city, the commissioners had passed through the lines of General Wheeler's cavalry, pressing in the direction of Chapel Hill. Half an hour after reaching the State House, a dozen men, the _débris_ of our army, were observed at the head of Fayetteville street, breaking open and plundering the stores. Governor Swain, who had remained at the State House, approached them, and stated that he was immediately from General Sherman's headquarters, and had assurance from him that if no resistance was offered to his advance-guard, the town should be protected from plunder and violence, and urged the soldiers to leave at once and join their retreating comrades. They replied, "D----n Sherman and the town too; they cared for neither." Robert G. Lewis, Esq., the first citizen of Raleigh who had yet been seen, came up just then, and joined his entreaties with earnestness. More and more vehement remonstrances were used without effect, till the head of Kilpatrick's column appeared in sight advancing up the street, when they all, with a single exception, sprang to their horses and started off in full gallop. Their leader, a lieutenant whose name and previous history are yet unknown, mounted his horse, and took his station midway between the old New-Berne bank and the book-store, drew his revolver, and waited till Kilpatrick's advance was within a hundred yards, when he discharged it six times in rapid succession in the direction of the officer at the head of the troops. He then wheeled, put spurs to his horse, and galloped up Morgan street, followed by a dozen fleet horsemen in hot pursuit. Turning a corner his horse fell. He remounted, and dashed round the corner at Pleasant's store on Hillsboro street. A few yards further on, near the bridge over the railroad, he was overtaken, and was brought back to the Capitol Square, where General Kilpatrick ordered his immediate execution. It is said that he asked for five minutes' time to write to his wife, which was refused. He was hung in the grove just back of Mr. Lovejoy's, and was buried there. He died bravely--a vile marauder, who justly expiated his crimes, or a bold patriot, whose gallantry deserved a more generous sentence, as friend or foe shall tell his story. No Southerner will cast a reproach on that solitary grave, or will stand beside it with other than feelings of deep commiseration. His crime was more the rash act of a passionate and reckless boy, an aimless bravado from one wild and despairing man to a hundred and twenty thousand. What our soldiers did or did not do in those last dark days of confusion and utter demoralization, we record with sad and tender allowance. Wrong was done in many instances, and excesses committed; but we feel that the remembrance of their high and noble qualities will in the end survive all temporary blots and blurs. And for those who perished in the wrong-doing engendered by desperation and failure and want, their