r truth to be
expected from the morbid anxiety. No one reflected that these men must
have left Manassas before the fighting was even hotly joined; and could
only have gained their diluted intelligence from the rumors at
way-stations. As yet the cant of camp followers was new to the people,
who listened as though these terrible things must be true to be
related.

There was no sleep in Richmond that night. Men and women gathered in
knots and huddled into groups on the corners and doorsteps, and the
black shadow of some dreadful calamity seemed brooding over every
rooftree. Each splashed and weary-looking man was stopped and
surrounded by crowds, who poured varied and anxious questioning upon
him. The weak treble of gray-haired old men besought news of son, or
grandson; and on the edge of every group, pale, beseeching faces mutely
pleaded with sad, tearless eyes, for tidings of brother, husband, or
lover.

But there was no despairing weakness, and every one went sadly but
steadily to work to give what aid they might. Rare stores of old wines
were freely given; baskets of cordials and rolls of lint were brought;
and often that night, as the women leaned over the baskets they so
carefully packed, bitter tears rolled from their pale cheeks and fell
noiselessly on bandage and lint. For who could tell but that very piece
of linen might bind the sore wound of one far dearer than life.

Slowly the night wore on, trains coming in occasionally only to
disappoint the crowds that rushed to surround them. No one came who had
_seen_ the battle--all had _heard_ what they related. And though no man
was base enough to play upon feelings such as theirs, the love of
common natures for being oracles carried them away; and they repeated
far more even than that. Next day the news was more full, and the
details of the fight came in with some lists of the wounded. The
victory was dearly bought. Bee, Bartow, Johnson, and others equally
valuable, were dead. Some of the best and bravest from every state had
sealed their devotion to the flag with their blood. Still, so immense
were the consequences of the victory now judged to be, that even the
wildest rumors of the day before had not told one half.

At night the President returned; and on the train with him were the
bodies of the dead generals, with their _garde d'honneur_. These
proceeded to the Capitol, while Mr. Davis went to the Spotswood and
addressed a vast crowd that had collected befor