fine houses, trees, and finely kept grounds, all resemble those of Concord. We had several hours there, and drove about the city, visiting Hollywood Cemetery which might be the retreat of loveliness itself. The most conspicuous monument there is that erected to the memory of the Confederate soldiers lost in the rebellion. It is not far from the entrance, pyramidic in form, built of the native stone, and is handsome and imposing. Our visit was the day following the passage of the 9th Massachusetts regiment through the city. The residents were indignant at the ill conduct of the troops. A prominent merchant gave the gentlemen of the party an account of it, expressing his disapprobation in forcible terms.
On returning our party became separated by an incident which deserves to be told as illustrative of the southern way of doing things, so incomprehensible to northerners.
The cars back to West Point were crowded. Centennial visitors hailing from New York and Boston, soldiers, negroes, poor whites, and that inevitable accessory of all trips by land or sea, wherever you go, a bridal party. I shall never forget that bride and groom. A sympathetic woman told us they had just been married at St. Joseph's church and were on a bridal tour to the centennial. The bride was very large boned, and wore her black hair in startling frizzes; and she wore an immense Gainsborough hat of light beaver, extravagantly trimmed with feathers of various shades of yellow, a great white lace fichu over her snuff colored traveling suit, a great many bracelets and chains and neck ornaments,—and she looked so conscious and so unutterably happy and so inexpressibly silly! The bridegroom was small, with black curly hair, a regular-featured, little dollish face that wore a continual smirk, and he wore full evening dress, buttonhole boquet and all! He thought he was handsome, and he too looked unutterably happy and inexpressibly silly, though probably no sillier than usual. The fates forbid that the pandemonium to which they were going should be symbolical of their future wedded life, though I should not be surprised if it were, she looked so strong and big and resolute, and he so weak and foolish.
A gang of pickpockets operated at West Point, boarding the trains and taking their opportunities when the passengers changed from the cars to the steamer. They crowded about the car doors, hindering the passengers in passing out, and then picked their pockets in the crush. One of our party, an officer of the Governor's staff, discovered his pocket-book changing hands. He gave the thief a vigorous shaking and let him go, for what could he do? There was no one with authority to arrest him and no place to put him if he were arrested. But the tale of one of their victims is most pitiful. An old man and his wife, their daughter and her husband—a shiftless looking fellow—and seven small children were started for Nevada. They had sold their farm between Richmond and Yorktown for three hundred dollars. This was every cent they had in the world, and the old man carried it in his pocket to buy a farm in Nevada. They belonged to the poor white class. The thieves pinioned the old man's arms to his sides by crowding closely up to him, and took his money and ran off into the crowd at West Point. There was no one to interfere, no one to help him get his money away from them. We knew of his loss by means of a tender motherly-hearted lady of our own party, the wife of a New Hampshire senator. The baby was sick and fretful and cried distressingly. We had become familiarized to the family coming from Richmond on the cars, and after we had got on board the crowded steamer, the lady went to them to see if she could not assist them or comfort the crying child. They told her the story of the robbery, and she came back with tears streaming down her cheeks and told her friends.
