household goods passed out on every road. When the
President and his Cabinet were gone, and the whistling of the train was
heard for the last time, the soldiers disappeared up the river, but the
streets and roads were still crowded with the refugees, and the fires,
burning more fiercely than ever, spread now to private houses. Richmond
was a vast core of light.

Prescott will never forget that night, the sad story of a fallen city,
the passing of the old South, the weepings, the farewells, the people
going from their homes out upon the bare country roads in the darkness,
the drunken mob that still danced and fought behind them, and the
burning city making its own funeral pyre.

Midnight passed, but there was still no sign of the Yankees. Prescott
wished that they would come, for he had no fear of them: they would save
the city from the destruction that was threatening it and restore order.
Richmond was without rulers. The old had gone, but the new had not come.

The wheels of some belated guns rattled dully in the street, passing up
the river to join in the retreat. The horsemen supporting it filed by
like phantoms, and many of them, weatherbeaten men, shed tears in the
darkness. From the river came a dazzling flash followed by a tremendous
roar as another boat blew up, and then General Breckinridge, the
Secretary of War, and his staff rode over the last bridge, already set
on fire, its burning timbers giving them a final salute as they passed.
It was now half way between midnight and morning, and blazing Richmond
passively awaited its fate.

CHAPTER XXX

THE TELEGRAPH STATION

It had been a night of labour and anxiety for Prescott. In the turmoil
of the flight he had been forgotten by the President and all others who
had the power to give him orders, and he scarcely knew what to do. It
was always his intention, an intention shared by his comrades, to resist
to the last, and at times he felt like joining the soldiers in their
retreat up the river, whence by a circuitous journey he would rejoin
General Lee; but Richmond held him. He was not willing to go while his
mother and Lucia, who might need him at any moment, were there, and the
pathos of the scenes around him troubled his heart. Many a woman and
child did he assist in flight, and he resolved that he would stay until
he saw the Northern troops coming. Then he would slip quietly away and
find Lee.

He paid occasional visits to his home and always th