llowed to see. He was stained and
blackened now, and he could watch in safety, slipping out afterward to
join his own army. The fires still roared, and overhead the clouds of
smoke still drifted. Afar sounded the low, steady beat of a drum. The
vanguard of the North was entering the Southern capital, and even those
fighting the fires deserted their work for awhile to look on.

Slowly the conquerors came down the street, gazing at the burning city
and those of its people who remained. They themselves bore all the marks
of war, their uniforms torn and muddy, their faces thin and brown, their
ranks uneven. They marched mostly in silence, the people looking on and
saying little. Presently they entered the Capitol grounds. A boy among
the cavalry sprang from his horse and ran into the building, holding a
small tightly wrapped package in his hand.

Prescott, looking up, saw the Stars and Bars come down from the dome of
the Capitol; then a moment later something shot up in its place, and
unfolding, spread its full length in the wind until all the stripes and
stars were shining. The flag of the Union once more waved over Richmond.
A cheer, not loud, broke from the Northern troops and its echo again
came from the crowd.

Prescott felt something stir within him and a single tear ran down his
cheek. He was not a sentimental man, but he had fought four years for
the flag that was now gone forever. And yet the sight of the new flag
that was the old one, too, was not wholly painful. He was aware of the
feeling that it was like an old and loved friend come back again.

Then the march went on, solemn and somber. The victors showed no
elation; there were no shouts, no cheers. The lean, brown men in the
faded blue uniforms rarely spoke, and the watchful, anxious eyes of the
officers searched everywhere. The crowd around them sank into silence,
but above them and around them the flames of the burning city roared and
crackled as they bit deep into the wood. Now and then there was a rumble
and then a crash as a house, its supports eaten away, fell in; and at
rare intervals a tremendous explosion as some magazine blew up, to be
followed by a minute of intense, vivid silence, for which the roaring
flames seemed only a background.

The drunken mob of the under-world shrank away at the sight of the
troops, and presently relapsed, too, into a sullen silence of fear or
awe. The immense cloud of smoke which had been gathering for so many
hour