swung through the streets of those towns where the Unionist sentiment was strong, the women, standing in the porches, waved the Stars and Stripes defiantly in their faces.  But the only retort of “the dust brown ranks” was a volley of jests, not always unmixed with impudence.  The personal attributes of their fair enemies did not escape observation.  The damsel whose locks were of conspicuous hue was addressed as “bricktop” until she screamed with rage, and threatened to fire into the ranks; while the maiden of sour visage and uncertain years was saluted as “Ole Miss Vinegar” by a whole division of infantry.  But this was the limit of the soldier’s resentment.  At the same time, when in the midst of plenty he was not impeccable.  For highway robbery and housebreaking he had no inclination, but he was by no means above petty larceny.  Pigs and poultry, fruit, corn, vegetables and fence-rails, he looked upon as his lawful perquisites.

He was the most cunning of foragers, and neither stringent orders nor armed guards availed to protect a field of maize or a patch of potatoes; the traditional negro was not more skilful in looting a fowl-house;* (* Despite Lee’s proclamations against indiscriminate foraging, “the hens,” he said, “had to roost mighty high when the Texans were about.”) he had an unerring scent for whisky or “apple-jack;” and the address he displayed in compassing the destruction of the unsuspecting porker was only equalled, when he was caught flagrante delicto, by the ingenuity of his excuses.  According to the Confederate private, the most inoffensive animals, in the districts through which the armies marched, developed a strange pugnacity, and if bullet and bayonet were used against them, it was solely in self-defence.

But such venial faults, common to every army, and almost justified by the deficiencies of the Southern commissariat, were more than atoned for when the enemy was met.  Of the prowess of Lee’s veterans sufficient has been said.  Their deeds speak for themselves.  But it was not the battle-field alone that bore witness to their fortitude.  German soldiers have told us that in the war of 1870, when their armies, marching on Paris, found, to their astonishment, the great city strongly garrisoned, and hosts gathering in every quarter for its relief, a singular apathy took possession of the troops.  The explanation offered by a great military writer is that “after a certain period even the victor becomes tired of war;” and “the more civilised,” he adds, “a people is, the more quickly will this weakness become apparent."* (* The Conduct of War.  Von der Goltz.) Whether this explanation be adequate is not easy to decide.  The fact remains, however, that the Confederate volunteer was able to overcome that longing for home which chilled the enthusiasm of the German conscript.  And this is the more remarkable, inasmuch as his career was not one of unchequered victory.  In the spring of 1863, the Army of the Potomac, more numerous than ever, was