ciation for her services, and she was accordingly formally
proclaimed a Major of cavalry. The ladies of Nashville, hearing of
this promotion, prepared a costly riding habit trimmed in military
style, with dainty shoulder-straps, etc., and presented the dress to
Miss Cushman.

Dr. Mary Walker gave her services on the field as surgeon, winning an
acknowledged reputation in the Second corps, army of the Potomac, for
professional superiority. She applied for a commission as assistant
surgeon, but was refused by Surgeon-General Hammond because of her
sex. Dr. Walker suffered imprisonment in Castle Thunder, Richmond,
having been taken prisoner.

The special correspondent of the _N. Y. Tribune_, Headquarters Army of
the Potomac, Sept. 15, 1863, said: "She applied to both
Surgeon-Generals Finlay and Hammond for a commission as assistant
surgeon. Her competence was attested and approved, yet as the Army
Regulations did not authorize the employment of women as surgeons, her
petition was denied. A Senator from New York, with an enlightenment
which did him honor, urged her appointment to the Secretary of War,
but without success."

[23] Gilbert Hay, shortly before released from Fort La Fayette.

[24] LEE AT ARLINGTON.--Visitors to this noted place are so frequent
that his appearance attracted no attention. He walked through the
dreary hall, and looked in on the wide, vacant rooms, and passing to
the front, stood for some time gazing out over the beautiful panorama,
with its one great feature, the new dome of the old capitol,
surmounted by a bronze statue of Liberty armed, and with her back to
him, gazing seaward.

From this he passed to the garden, and looked over the line of the
officers' graves that bound its sides, saw the dying flowers and
wilted borders and leaf strewn walks, and continuing after a slight
pause, he stopped on the edge of the field where the sixteen thousand
Union soldiers lie buried in lines, as if they had lain down after a
review to be interred in their places. Some negroes were at work here
raking up the falling leaves, and one old man stopped suddenly and
stared at the visitor as if struck mute with astonishment. He
continued to gaze in this way until the stranger, walking slowly,
regained his horse and rode away, when he dropped his rake and said to
his companions: "Shuah as de Lord, men, dat was ole Massa Lee!"

One hastens to imagine the thoughts and feelings that must have
agitated this fallen