ting for their teeth to do its hasty
work. Humanity at its noblest, in Grant's instantly ordering food, and
in its most animal phase of necessity, in the hungry rebels devouring
sustenance, were illustrated on that day.

After work with the pen concerning the great battles in the
Wilderness, Carleton's great question was how to get his letters to
Boston. The first bundle was carried by Mr. Wing, of the New York
_Tribune_, the second by Mr. Coffin's nephew, Edmund Carleton. The
nearest point occupied by the Union army, which had communication with
the North by either boat, mail or telegraph, was Fredericksburg, more
than forty miles to the eastward. To reach this place one must ride
through a region liable at any moment to be crossed by regular
Confederate cavalry, Mosby's troops, or rebel partisans. There were
here and there outposts of the Union cavalry, but the danger, to a
small armed party, and much more to a single civilian rider, was very
great. Nevertheless, young Carleton was given his uncle's letters,
with the injunction to ride his horse so as not to kill it before
reaching Fredericksburg. "The horse's life is of no importance,
compared with the relief of our friends' anxiety; and, if necessary to
secure your purpose of prompt delivery, let the horse die, but
preserve its life if you can."

To make success as near to certainty as possible, young Carleton took
counsel with the oldest and wisest cavalrymen. He then concluded to
take the advice of one, who told him to give his horse a pint of corn
for breakfast and allow the animal plenty of time to eat and chew the
fodder well. Then, during the day, let the beast have all the water he
wanted, but no food till he reached his destination. Fortunately, his
horse, being "lean," was the one foreordained in the proverb for the
"long race." The young messenger lay down at night with his despatches
within his bosom, his saddle under his head, and his horse near him.
The bridle was fastened around his person, and all his property so
secured that the only thing that could be stolen from him without his
being awakened was his hat and haversack,--though this last was under
his saddle-pillow. Nothing else was loose.

The young man rose early. Alas! he had been bereaved indeed. Not only
his hat, but his haversack, with all toilet articles, his uncle's
historic spy-glass, and his personal notes of the campaign, were gone.
While his horse chewed its corn he found a soldier's