ntly knew what I referred to, for she handed out over the
pulpit a package just exactly the shape of what I had supposed, in my
guileless innocence, was a portion of the female form. That is, I had
suspected it was not all human form, but didn't know. That was also full
of medicines, of which quinine was the larger part, though there was
about a pint of gun caps.

"Speaking about stockings," I said, "please take them off and hand them
over."

[Illustration: Two very long stockings, came over the pulpit 185]

She kicked about taking off her shoes and stockings, and said no
gentleman would compel a lady to do that. I said I would wait about two
minutes, and then, if it was too much trouble for her to take them off,
I would come around the pulpit and help. Bless you, I wouldn't have
gone for the world, as I was already more than satisfied with what I had
found. She said I needn't trouble myself, as she guessed she could
take off her shoes without my help. I heard her unlacing her shoes, and
pretty soon two dainty shoes and two very long stockings, came over the
pulpit, the heel of one shoe hitting me in the ear. As I picked up the
shoes I heard the crumpling of a letter behind the pulpit, and I told
her I must have all the messages she had. She said it was only a letter
to one she loved. I told her I must have it, and she handed it over. I
read, "My darling husband," and handed it back, saying I would not pry
into her family secrets. She began to cry, and insisted on my reading
it, which I did. It was to her husband, an officer in the Confederate
army, and was about as follows:

"My Darling Husband:--This life of deception is killing me.
I want to do all in my power to help our cause, but I am
each day more nervous, and liable to detection. The Yankee
officers are frequently at our house, and I have to treat
them kindly, but it is all I can do to keep from crying, and
I am expected to laugh. I fear that I am suspected of
smuggling, as the subject is frequently brought up in
conversation, and I feel my face burn, though I try hard not
to show it. I think of you, away off in Virginia, with your
armless sleeve, our children in New Orleans, and I wonder if
we will ever be united again. O, God, when will this all
end. I have no fault to find with the Federal troops. The
officers are very kind and through one fatherly general I am
allowed to pass into our