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 circumstance chilled loyal hearts.

Jefferson Davis, the statesman to whose wisdom had been entrusted the destinies of the South; the patriot who merged his ambition, his hopes, himself, in his devotion to the right; the Christian, who humbly committed his ways unto the Lord, whose dignity enhanced prosperity, whose fortitude conquered adversity,—­Jefferson Davis, the chosen exponent of undying principles, was yet in his own house simply a Southern gentleman,—­a kindly, genial host, extending genuine hospitality to all.

Of Mrs. Davis my recollections are very pleasant.  Always meeting from her a cordial reception, admiring the unaffected courtesy which put her visitors at their ease, I yet became distinctly conscious that in her the feelings of wife and mother were stronger than any other; that no matter into what station of life it should please God to call her, devotion to these womanly duties would be paramount.

From the very first there was among the people of the South an earnest dependence upon God, a habit of appeal to His mercy and loving-kindness, and a marked attention to religious duties.  On Sundays the churches were crowded with devout worshippers.  Every service was attended by more or less Confederate soldiers, generally in squads, but sometimes even in companies, marshalled by some of their officers.

The first Sunday after my arrival in Richmond, kneeling in St. James’s Church, I heard for the first time the changed prayer for the “President of the Confederate States and all others in authority.”  A death-like silence prevailed during the most solemn and impressive reading of the prayer.  Then from every mouth welled forth a fervent, heartfelt “Amen!” The earnest, manly voices of the soldiers added depth and volume to the sound which thrilled every pulse of one’s being.  It did not seem to us that we were merely going through a form of prayer for one of “those in high places,” but that our President was one of ourselves, and all hearts went out toward him, earnestly desiring for him heaven’s choicest blessings,—­the all-wise guidance he was so sure to need.

Scattered all over the city in many a shady nook were cosey, pleasant retreats, where wounded or sick soldiers were gladly welcomed,—­private hospitals presided over by ladies, sustained by their constant attention and unbounded liberality.  One lady generally had direction of the affairs of one particular hospital, assisted by others whose duties lay just there, and who devoted each in turn on successive days their entire care and attention to this labor of love.  For instance, on Monday certain ladies sent in all the cooked food needed by the patients.  Others personally nursed the sick.  Still others attended to the distribution of the food or superintended the servants, and so with all duties required.  On Tuesday another set of ladies were on duty, and so on.