shine in the blue vault above as, away yonder by the great white throne, and by the river of life, where the Almighty and Eternal God sits, surrounded by the angels and arch-angels and the redeemed of earth, we will meet again and see those noble and brave spirits who gave up their lives for their country's cause that night at Franklin, Tennessee. A life given for one's country is never lost. It blooms again beyond the grave in a land of beauty and of love. Hanging around the throne of sapphire and gold, a rich garland awaits the coming of him who died for his country, and when the horologe of time has struck its last note upon his dying brow, Justice hands the record of life to Mercy, and Mercy pleads with Jesus, and God, for his sake, receives him in his eternal home beyond the skies at last and forever.
NASHVILLE.
A few more scenes, my dear friends, and we close these memoirs, We march toward the city of Nashville. We camp the first night at Brentwood, The next day we can see the fine old building of sold granite, looming up on Capitol Hill—the Capitol of Tennessee. We can see the Stars and Stripes flying from the dome. Our pulse leaps with pride when we see the grand old architecture. We can hear the bugle call, and the playing of the bands of the different regiments in the Federal lines. Now and then a shell is thrown into our midst from Fort Negley, but no attack or demonstrations on either side. We bivouac on the cold and hard-frozen ground, and when we walk about, the echo of one footsteps sound like the echo of a tombstone. The earth is crusted with snow, and the wind from the northwest is piercing our very bones. We can see our ragged soldiers, with sunken cheeks and famine-glistening eyes. Where were our generals? Alas! there were none. Not one single General out of Cheatham's division was left—not one. General B. F. Cheatham himself was the only surviving General of his old division. Nearly all our Captains and Colonels
