In October of the same year the Confederates, unable to hold Galveston, surrendered that place to Commodore Eagle of the blockading squadron, and withdrew to Virginia Point on the mainland about six miles distant. Many of the citizens of the town also left their homes; and amid a silence almost as profound as that in which Lafitte landed on the island nearly fifty years before, several hundred soldiers stepped ashore from their boats and took possession of the place. The United States flag was hoisted on the Custom-house; the soldiers settled into their quarters on one of the wharves; the imposing vessels of the Federal squadron filled the bay and the harbor. A mournful cry echoed throughout Texas: “Galveston has fallen!” 2. THE BLUE AND THE GRAY. The holiday look had long since disappeared from Texas. No battles had been fought within her borders, but the blood of her brave sons had dyed the sod of many a battlefield elsewhere. For the deadly conflict was raging. The North and the South, fighting as brother against brother, were pouring out their kindred blood day by day; the smoke of their hostile guns darkened the very heavens. Many heroic deeds were done on both sides—deeds which to-day thrill us with wonder and admiration. But there were frightful gaps in the ranks of those who had marched away from Texas to the tune of “Dixie” or “The Bonnie Blue Flag.” The gallant lads who had showed off their brave uniforms in the holiday camps were tramping about, barefoot, ragged, and hungry, in Virginia, in Tennessee, in Georgia,—wherever there was an enemy to be attacked or an outpost to be held. Their mothers and sisters at home were making lint and cartridges, weaving and wearing homespun, making their own shoes and gloves, and cheering the far-away “boys” with letters and with home-made gifts, and praying, praying always. There were few able-bodied men left in the state. The women with the old men and boys, aided by the negroes who remained loyal and trustworthy, made the crops. As the war went on the prices of everything rose. Old bills show that forty dollars a yard (Confederate money) was paid for calico for a little girl’s “best” dress; and seventy-five dollars was paid for a boy’s first pair of boots. A war-time arithmetic has among its examples the following: “A cavalryman paid 200 dollars for his pistol and 4000 dollars for his horse; how much did both cost him?” “At 20 dollars a pound, how much coffee can you buy for 40 dollars?” “If one hat costs 120 dollars, how much would eight hats cost?” Coffee and tea were replaced by drinks made of parched potatoes, or burnt peas, and sassafras roots. The real articles which were brought into the country occasionally by blockade-runners were known as “blockade” coffee and tea, and were kept for the use of the sick.