On the evening referred to above, Mrs. Gawthmey and myself, escorted by Commodore Maury, passed through the square on our way to the hotel, where we expected to meet a brilliant circle of distinguished Southerners.  Arrived in front of the monument, we paused involuntarily.  The same thoughts which had before come to me seemed to possess all our minds.  Mrs. Gawthmey remarked, “If Patrick Henry had been living, I reckon Virginia would have stepped out of the Union side by side with South Carolina.”  “Well,” replied Commodore Maury, “he would have acted as he thought.  There would have been no ’pros and cons,’ and his irresistible eloquence would have carried all before it.”  Then baring his head, while the moonlight seemed to glorify his grand intellectual countenance, he repeated a portion of that grand oration of Mr. Henry ending, “Give me liberty or give me death.”  As those immortal words fell from his lips all remained silent, though wrought up to the highest pitch of patriotic excitement.  After a moment we walked on very quietly, until, passing out of the mellow moonlight, we entered the brilliantly-lighted parlors of the Spottswood Hotel.

The hum of conversation, the sound of careless, happy laughter, the music of a band playing outside, soon brought us down from the heights of enthusiasm to the delightful realities of the present.  For, spite of battle and death and perplexities, even certain trouble ahead, Richmond was gay, hopeful, and “all went merry as a marriage bell.”  The gaunt spectres of privation, want, disease, death, of ruined homes, starving families, and universal desolation, were shadows which fled before the legions of hope pressing so gladly and gayly to the front.  Here in one corner laughing girls bewitched and held in thrall young soldier boys,—­willing captives,—­yet meeting the glances of bright eyes with far less courage than they had shown while facing the guns upon the battlefield.  Thrilling tales of the late battle wore poured into credulous ears:  “We were here. We were there. We were everywhere.  Our company accomplished wonderful deeds of valor;” and if Beauty’s smile be indeed a fit reward, truly these young heroes received it.

Our party exchanged greetings with several groups, seating ourselves at last within the brilliant circle surrounding Judge and Mrs. Hopkins, of Alabama.  Here were several ladies, wives of distinguished officers in the Confederate service, members of the Cabinet, and others, and splendid-looking officers in handsome uniforms were constantly coming and going, exchanging courteous greetings, lingering for a few moments in conversation, grave or gay.  Here, perhaps, a stately form strode up and down the large rooms so engrossed in thought as to be regardless of all that was passing.  There, in deep converse, stood a group equally regardless of their surroundings, whose grave faces and earnest questions showed the importance of the subject under discussion.  Among those who upon that evening and afterward, “many a time and oft,” were met together in those brilliant rooms there was not one heart untouched by the fire of patriotism,—­a flame fed by every thought, word, and action, burning ever with steadily-increasing brightness.