in the pantry by the ladies' own hands, but only to be sent to the
sick and wounded strangers lying in the numerous hospitals.

Opposite to the home just described arose the spacious but
unpretentious residence of President Davis, the Confederate "White
House" (in this case only in a figurative sense, for the executive
mansion was of dark brown stone or stucco). As nearly as I can
remember, the main entrance was on Clay Street. On one side the
windows opened on Twelfth Street, on the other lay a beautiful garden
extending quite to the edge of "Shokoe Hill," which overlooked the
classic valley of "Butchertown," through the midst of which ran
"Shokoe Creek." The boys of this region, from generation to
generation, had been renowned for exceeding pugnacity. Between them
and the city boys constantly-recurring quarrels were so bitter that
sometimes men were drawn in through sympathy with their boys. The law
seemed powerless to put an end to this state of things.

Regular arrangements were made, definite challenges were given and
accepted, and fights took place between successive sets of boys as
they grew old enough to throw down or take up the gauntlet. Richmond
was at that time considered a law-abiding city, and had only a few
policemen, whom the boys found it easy to elude. The appearance of
officers Chalkly and Tyler, however, generally served to close the
fight _until next time_.

Within the Presidential mansion was no magnificence of furniture or
appointments,--nothing in the style of living calculated to create
dissatisfaction or a sense of injustice in the minds of those who,
equally with their chosen leader, had already sacrificed much, and
were willing to give their _all_ to the cause. No pomp and