iers.

And when the end came, when the bravest soldiers returned, wretched
and despairing, even weeping bitter tears within the faithful arms
that sheltered them, the faces which bent above them still bravely
smiled. Beloved voices whispered of encouragement and hope, patient
hearts assumed burdens under which men fainted and failed.

From the root of patriotism, deeply buried in the hearts of Southern
women, sprung a new and vigorous growth. Its tendrils overspread and
concealed desolate places; the breath of its flowers filled all the
land, stealing over the senses like an invigorating breeze.

"There is life in the old land yet," said men to each other. Let us
cherish and develop it. And so, once more each lifted his heavy
burden, and finding it unexpectedly lightened, turned to find at his
side, no longer a helpless clinging form which should hamper his every
step, but a true woman, strong in the love which defied
discouragement, "with a heart for any fate," a _helpmeet_, indeed, who
hereafter would allow no burden to remain unshared.

Thus faithful to the living, the women of the South never forgot their
dead heroes. At first it was impossible to do more than to "keep
green" their sacred graves, or to deposit thereon a few simple
flowers, but the earliest rays of the sun of prosperity fell upon many
a "storied urn and animated bust," raised by tireless love and
self-sacrifice, to mark "the bivouac of the dead." In connection with
one of these, erected by the ladies of New Orleans, in Greenwood
Cemetery, I know an anecdote which has always seemed to me
particularly beautiful and touching, as illustrative of an exquisite
sentiment which could have had its birth only in the heart of a true
and tender woman. After the removal of the bones of the Confederate
soldiers, who had died in and about New Orleans, from their lowly
graves to their last resting-place, under their grand and beautiful
monument, many people repaired thither as to a shrine. Among them
appeared one evening Mrs. H----, a sister of the gallant and
ever-lamented Major Nelligan, of the First Louisiana. After viewing
the monument, Mrs. H---- strolled over among the graves, and there
came upon a few bones of Confederate soldiers, which had been
accidentally left upon the ground.

They seemed to her so precious, so sacred, that they must have
sepulchre; but how should she accomplish this end? Nothing that she
had or could get, in short, nothing that ha