there were gentle cares, and unasked luxuries, and pleasant talk, and music-sprinklings from the piano, with a sweet voice to keep them company,—­and all this after the swamps of the Chickahominy, the mud and flies of Harrison’s Landing, the dragging marches, the desperate battles, the fretting wound, the jolting ambulance, the log-house, and the rickety milk—­cart!  Thanks, uncounted thanks to the angelic ladies whose charming attentions detained him from Saturday to Thursday, to his great advantage and my infinite bewilderment!  As for his wound, how could it do otherwise than well under such hands?  The bullet had gone smoothly through, dodging everything but a few nervous branches, which would come right in time and leave him as well as ever.

At ten that evening we were in Philadelphia, the Captain at the house of the friends so often referred to, and I the guest of Charley, my kind companion.  The Quaker element gives an irresistible attraction to these benignant Philadelphia households.  Many things reminded me that I was no longer in the land of the Pilgrims.  On the table were Kool Slaa and Schmeer Kase, but the good grandmother who dispensed with such quiet, simple grace these and more familiar delicacies was literally ignorant of Baked Beans, and asked if it was the Lima bean which was employed in that marvellous dish of animalized leguminous farina!

Charley was pleased with my comparing the face of the small Ethiop known to his household as “Tines” to a huckleberry with features.  He also approved my parallel between a certain German blonde young maiden whom, we passed in the street and the “Morris White” peach.  But he was so good-humored at times, that, if one scratched a lucifer, he accepted it as an illumination.

A day in Philadelphia left a very agreeable impression of the outside of that great city, which has endeared itself so much of late to all the country by its most noble and generous care of our soldiers.  Measured by its sovereign hotel, the Continental, it would stand at the head of our economic civilization.  It provides for the comforts and conveniences, and many of the elegances of life, more satisfactorily than any American city, perhaps than any other city anywhere.  It is not a breeding-place of ideas, which makes it a more agreeable residence for average people.  It is the great neutral centre of the Continent, where the fiery enthusiasms of the South and the keen fanaticisms of the North meet at their outer limits, and result in a compound that turns neither litmus red nor turmeric brown.  It lives largely on its traditions, of which, leaving out Franklin and Independence Hall, the most imposing must be considered its famous water-works.  In my younger days I visited Fairmount, and it was with a pious reverence that I renewed my pilgrimage to that perennial fountain.  Its watery ventricles were throbbing with the same systole and diastole as when, the blood of twenty