He then ordered the division out to witness the execution. The brigade formed three sides of a square in a large old field flanked by second growth of pines; the grave had been dug in the center of it, his coffin resting on the further side from the firing squad. The condemned man asked not to be blindfolded; his hands were tied behind his back, he knelt on his coffin, and in the presence of the whole division, including his old 46th Georgia Regiment and his comrades therein, and was shot to death, placed in his box, or coffin, and was buried right there in that old field. The saddest part of it was that the testimony showed he had been so good and gallant soldier in his adopted regiment, and he stated the only reason he left the 46th Georgia was that he got tired of inaction down on the coast and wanted to be where he could do some fighting. He also stated that he had a wife and child at home in Georgia. I wish I knew his name and Company, but I do not. Major Cumming may. I think these facts are substantially correct, and hope they will be of some service to you. M. P. CARROLL. [Illustration] [Illustration: BOOK REVIEWS] =Poem Outlines.= By Sidney Lanier. Charles Scribner’s Sons, Publishers, New York. D’Israeli’s “Calamities and Quarrels of Authors” may be ransacked in vain for an example of misfortune, suffering and heroic combat with adversity, more pathetic and more admirable than that of Sidney Lanier. The literary history of our own country presents many an instance of the neglected genius, struggling with poverty, but none of them appeals to us quite so powerfully as does that of the Georgia poet who wrote the “Hymn to Sunrise”—wrote it when his hand was too weak to lift food to his mouth and when his fever temperature was 104. Born in Macon, Ga., in 1842, he had hardly graduated, with the first honor, at Oglethorpe College, before the Civil War drew him, a youth of eighteen, into the Macon Volunteers, the first Georgia troops that went to the front. At the end of the war,—in which he had been in several battles and had spent months in prison—he returned on foot to Georgia. After a long and desperate illness, he went to Alabama, where he clerked in a store in Montgomery, and then became a school teacher. He married in 1868 and soon afterwards had the first hemorrhage from the lungs. Returning to Macon, he studied law and began its practice, with his father. The lung trouble was a fixture, however, and he went to New York for treatment. The remainder of his life presents the distressing spectacle of pursuer and pursued—the Disease in chase of the victim. We find him now in Texas, then in Florida, now in Pennsylvania, then in North Carolina,—with his remorseless enemy on his trail, always.