I wonder how many men now living remember certain loaves of wheaten bread which the women of Richmond collected with difficulty in the last days of the war and sent to Miss Emily V. Mason, our "Florence Nightingale," for our own boys. "Boys," Miss Emily announced--sick soldiers, if graybeards, were "boys" to "Cap'n," as they all called Miss Emily--"I have some flour-bread which the ladies of Richmond have sent you." Cheers, and other expressions of thankfulness. "The poor, sick Yankees," Miss Emily went on falteringly--uneasy countenances in the ward--"_can't_ eat corn-bread--" "Give the flour-bread to the poor, sick Yankees, Cap'n!" came in cheerful, if quavering chorus from the cots. "_We_ can eat corn-bread. Gruel is good for us. We _like_ mush. Oughtn't to have flour-bread nohow." "Poor fellows!" "Cap'n" said proudly of their self-denial, "they were tired to death of corn-bread in all forms, and it was not good for them, for nearly all had intestinal disorders." Along with this corn-bread story, I recall how Dr. Minnegerode, Protestant, and Bishop Magill, Catholic, used to meet each other on the street, and the one would say: "Doctor, lend me a dollar for a sick Yankee." And the other: "Bishop, I was about to ask _you_ for a dollar for a sick Yankee." And how Annie E. Johns, of North Carolina, said she had seen Confederate soldiers take provisions from their own haversacks and give them to Federal prisoners _en route_ to Salisbury. As matron, she served in hospitals for the sick and wounded of both armies. She said: "When I was in a hospital for Federals, I felt as if these men would defend me as promptly as our own." In spite of the pillage, vandalism and violence they suffered, Southern women were not so biassed as to think that the gentle and brave could be found only among the wearers of the gray. Even in Sherman's Army were the gentle and brave upon whom fell obloquy due the "bummers" only. I have heard many stories like that of the boyish guard who, tramping on his beat around a house he was detailed to protect, asked of a young mother: "Why does your baby cry so?" She lifted her pale face, saying: "My baby is hungry. I have had no food--and so--I have no nourishment for him." Tears sprang into his eyes, and he said: "I will be relieved soon; I will draw my rations and bring them to you." He brought her his hands full of all good things he could find--sugar, tea, and coffee. And like that of two young Philadelphians who left grateful hearts behind them along the line of Sherman's march because they made a business of seeing how many women and children they could relieve and protect. In Columbia, during the burning, men in blue sought to stay ravages wrought by other men in blue. I hate to say hard things of men in blue, and I must say all the good things I can; because many were unworthy to wear the blue, many who were worthy have carried reproach.