whose tender feet were newly set in a thorny pathway, as well as from the pale, stricken faces of those whose hearts the thorn had pierced.
Among the tender and true women with whom I have corresponded since the war is the mother of Colonel Robadeaux Wheat, the noble Louisianian who fell at Gaines's Mill.
I have several of her letters by me, written in the tremulous hand of one who had passed her seventy-ninth birthday, but glowing with love for the cause, and fondest pride in the sons wh, his heart seemed to return to the simple faith of his boyhood, and, gathering his subordinate officers around him in his tent, he read reverently the service of prayer which committed himself and them to the protection of the God of battles.
Mrs. Wheat's letters are, I think, among the most beautiful and touching I ever read, yet sprightly and interesting.
Believing that all my readers will feel an interest in the mother of glorious Bob Wheat, I will here transcribe a small portion.