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the 26th after daylight General Lee's army was massed on his extreme left near Mechanicsville. Huger and Magruder were ordered to hold their positions south of the Chickahominy in the lines before Richmond. General Lee told me that he waited in that position all the earlier part of the day expecting that General Jackson would every moment open upon the enemy in their rear. As the hours passed on he became anxious, particularly as the position and numbers of his troops could be seen by the Federals from their lines. He said his great fear was that McClellan seeing the mass of his (Lee's) troops on the extreme left, and that comparatively few men were between him and Richmond, might take the initiative and by a vigorous attack probably break through the thinly manned lines of Huger and Magruder who were guarding the direct road to the Confederate capital.

General Lee therefore decided that it was absolutely necessary to commence an attack on McClellan's right at Mechanicsville in order to occupy his attention and make him uneasy as to his communications so as to prevent him taking the initiative. "I did not think it safe to wait another night," said the General, "and" (raising his left hand open and moving it forward) "I knew by pressing vigorously on his right it would keep him occupied and prevent him making an attack on my own right where I was but ill prepared to meet it. I, therefore, ordered the attack and kept it up till nightfall, driving the Federals back from Mechanicsville to Beaver Dam. The next morning I had to renew the attack for the same reasons that induced me to begin it the day before and, as soon as Jackson's troops came up in the rear, it relieved the pressure upon my men and that afternoon we won the battle of Gaines' Mill." I asked him how it was that General Jackson did not arrive in time. He replied that it was through no fault of his, and spoke in the highest terms of him. He said that Jackson thought that other men

could press on and annihilate time and space as he could himself, which was more than could be expected. Trains getting off the track and difficulties caused by the roads had also delayed him, as well as time lost while he was coming to Richmond and returning.

I shall never forget the grand old soldier explaining his position and his views about this matter, gesticulating quietly with his right hand and his left while illustrating the movements of the two wings of his army. Nothing else could have made me conceive how thoroughly he was master of the position, calculating everything, divining almost by inspiration the thoughts of his opponents, and taking his measures confidently to meet any possible hostile movement. It is not generally known why Mechanicsville was fought, and Professor Dabney, in his Life of Jackson, refers to the fact that General Jackson's advance would have turned the Federal position and have given to A. P. and D. H. Hill an easy victory, and he attributes it to the fact of the presence of General Lee. and President Davis on the field, and to their urgency that an attack was made and "a bloody and useless struggle" carried on till 9 p. m. General Lee's explanation is not only a complete justification but a further proof that he was what military writers of future generations will certainly rank him—one of the greatest generals of this or of any other age.

The next day, Sunday, the general took me with him to the morning service. The church stands on the opposite side of the green, about 150 or 200 yards from the President's house. There were historic names in that little church. Besides the great hero himself, in the next pew sat his eldest son, General Custis Lee, a gallant soldier and a true gentleman; while a near pew belonged to the celebrated Commodore Maury, the author. I was also much struck with the appearance of the clergyman, a fine, manly

looking, old gentleman; with grey hair and beard, about 55 or 60 years of age, Having returned to the house after service, I was walking across the hall where General Lee and the minister happened to be standing talking together. As I was passing, the general said: "Allow me, colonel, to intro duce you to our minister, General Pendleton." I shook hands with him, and then knew for the first time, that the clergyman who had officiated in the pulpit, was the celebrated general who had been chief of artillery to Lee during a great portion of the war, and whose name so often appeared in the reports at the time.

On the same afternoon, after a quiet family dinner, I bade adieu to the General, to Mrs. Lee and their two daughters, and left by the evening packet-boat for Lynchburg. General Custis Lee walked with me as far as the first lock and saw me on board, and I returned to Richmond, and thence back to Canada, bearing with me reminiscences of a visit that I shall always contemplate with sincere pleasure.

General Lee impressed one exceedingly. I have seen some men whom the world esteems great men, but I have no hesitation in saying that no man ever impressed me as did General Robert E. Lee. In stature he was about five feet ten inches but, from his splendid figure and magnificent carriage as well as from the massive appearance of his head, he seemed much taller. He looked the very personification of high and pure intelligence. No one could fail to be at

once impressed, nay awed, by the calm majesty of his intellect: while there was an almost childlike simplicity and kindness of manner that irresistibly won upon you at once. He was one of those men that made the ancients believe in demi-gods. His defeat served but to add to his greatness; for nothing could shake his equanimity. In all his reverses not a complaint escaped him, not a murmur did he utter, although he must have felt keenly the wrongs and sufferings of those for whom he had fought so well.

I shall conclude by quoting a few sentences from a speech made by General Gordon at the Lee Memorial meeting in Richmond, on the 3rd November, 1870:—

"Of no man whom it has ever been my fortune to meet can it be so truthfully said as of Lee, that, grand as might be your conception of the man before, he arose in incomparable majesty on more familiar acquaintance. This can be affirmed of few men who have ever lived or died, and of no other man whom it has been my fortune to approach. Like Niagara, the more you gazed the more its grandeur grew upon you, the more its majesty expanded and filled your spirit with a full satisfaction, that left a perfect delight without the slightest feeling of oppression. Grandly majestic and dignified in all his deportment, he was as genial as the sunlight of May, and not a ray of that cordial social intercourse, but brought warmth to the heart, as it did light to the understanding."

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MARGUERITE KNELLER, ARTIST AND WOMAN.

CHAPTER VIII.

TWO FACES UNDER A HOOD.

BY LOUISA MURRAY.

ruins of the fallen Empress of the world. Close to this was an open archway, still showing some defaced and mutilated remnants of stucco-works that had once ornamented

HE scene of this story must now change the

THE scene of this tutdry in Rome once in stuns and dryads, hand in hand, peeping

part of a magnificent palazzo, but for years
only occupied by foreign art-students who
visited the Eternal City in the course of their
Wanderjahre. It was a large lofty chamber
with a great tall window, traces of painted
flowers and arabesques on the ceiling and
cornices, the walls coloured a dull red but
almost hidden by studies and sketches in oils
and water-colours,-prints of Italian cos-
tumes-pifferari, contadini, shepherds from
the Campagna, and all the picturesque figures
to be seen in the streets of Rome-among
which pistols, stilettos, and a couple of
mandolins were suspended. On shelves a
number of plaster casts of feet and hands
and other anatomical models, ram's and buf
falo's horns, fragments of precious old mar-
bles, pieces of bronze, bits of mosaic, antique
vases, and such like "
properties" of art
were piled; and on a table colour-boxes
bottles of glass and tin, compressed tubes,
plates covered with every shade and tint
which paint can produce, sheaves of brushes,
sketching-blocks, sponges, and all the hetero-
geneous litter of a studio were mixed up
with pipes, tobacco, gourd drinking-cups,
flasks, books and bouquets of flowers.
one corner was a study of leaves, grouped in
and around a great stone vase, dark, glossy
sprays of ivy, vine-leaves looking as if they
had been steeped in sunshine, delicate,
graceful ferns and fennel leaves, grey, misty
olive leaves, the classic acanthus, gathered
from the wealth of foliage with which every
year the lovely Italian spring weaves fresh
robes and garlands to veil the crumbling

In

through clusters of grapes and vine-leaves. A crimson curtain which served the purpose of a door, was drawn back, and through the archway a vine-covered balcony could be seen, with a glimpse of two tame pigeons expanding their white and purple plumage to the sun.

Opposite was a door, also open, and beyond, a little vestibule and a stone staircase leading to the street. A lay figure which had done duty for a wonderful variety of characters and costumes-masculine, feminine, classic, romantic, mediæval and modern in Maurice's numberless designs for great pictures, and which now appeared as a Nea politan "tarantella "-dancer, a tambourine. in her hand, was a conspicuous object in the room. Easels held pictures in various stages of progress, and at one of them Maurice Valazé was at work, lightening his labour by whistling Charmante Gabrielle.

It was early in April, and the day, like the year, was in its freshest prime. The street below was filled with contadini driving mules laden with fruit and vegetables for market. Sometimes flower-girls carrying baskets of violets which filled the air with perfume passed by, and one among them-a slight, pale, gentle-looking girl, very unlike her companions, who all had large finely-moulded figures, strongly-marked sculpturesque features, glowing with rich dark colour and vivid with impassioned life, and a haughty, hard insolent air and carriage which Julia or Livia of old imperial Rome could hardly have surpassed-stopped at the old palazzo, climbed the stone staircase, passed though the

vestibule, and pausing at the open door of the studio looked timidly in. At that moment Maurice was closely absorbed in some effective finishing touches which he was giving to his picture, and he neither heard her light footsteps, nor saw her quiet figure at the door. She waited a minute, keeping perfectly still, and then seeing that the young artist was too busy to notice her, she threw a bunch of violets lightly into the room and retreated as noiselessly as she had come.

Scarcely had she vanished when the sound of many footsteps very different from the little flower-girl's light tread, loud gay voices talking rapidly, and frequent peals of laughter came up the stairs, and several young men with long hair and beards, and wearing velvet jackets and sombreros, rushed into the studio.

"Behold him, mes amis," exclaimed the foremost, waving his hand with a theatrical flourish, "if it is not his ghost!"

"Ghost!" cried Maurice, springing up, throwing down his palette and catching hold of the speakers, "Do I feel like a ghost ?" "Ma foi, no! No ghost ever gave such a grip. But, why were you not at the café this morning ?"

"Oh, I took a sudden fit of industry, and have been hard at work since daybreak. But you all seem possessed with quite the contrary spirit. It is easy to see work has no place in your programme for to-day." "The truth is, Maurice, mon cher, that when you were missed at the café this morning, old Herr Frederic-Karl's compatriote -declared something must have happened to you and began to tell us of all the fine fellows he had known murdered in the streets, or on the staircases since he came to Rome; calling it a cursed old city, a heap of heathenish ruins, only fit for thieves and wild beasts to live in, till the eyes of all the Italians began to glare furiously, and we should have had a tragedy on the spot if Karl had not contrived to silence him.”

"Fancy Herr Frederic, the greatest Ro

man enthusiast in the world, calling his beloved city a heap of heathenish ruins !" said Maurice, with assumed gravity; "why, he must have gone mad.”

"C'est ça," said Camille, twisting his moustache. "Eh bien, Gustave then took it into his wise head that Lazaro has found out you borrowed his diabolically handsome face for your Judas, and in revenge had poignarded you, and sent you to join Father Tiber's hidden treasures." Here cries of No, no!" were heard from Gustave, but Camille coolly continued, "Then Alphonse offered to wager his magnificent stiletto against Gustave's maul-stick, that if you were assassinated it was not Lazaro who had done the deed, but some hired bravo paid to put you out of the way of the thousand and one Contessas and Principessas who have fallen in love with your beaux yeux. "It was now Alphonse's turn to protest, but Camille, raising his voice a little, and making a deprecating gesture, went on: "But Adrien being more hopeful and less romantic was ready to stake his new palette against an old plate that His Holiness knowing what a pious son of the Church you are, had sent for you in hot haste to paint his portrait, and that when it was finished you were to be the bearer of it to the Queen of Spain."

But the patience of his hearers was by this time quite exhausted, and Camille was silenced amidst a storm of hisses and groans.

Certainly Camille can improvise like an Italian," said Maurice, when he could be heard. "But you are all so tête montée that it is clear you have some grand scheme of pleasure in view; out with it, if you don't wish me to expire of curiosity.”

"What do you think of a festa somewhere between the Tiber and Monte Gennaro ! I forget the name of the place, but Luigi and Tibaldi and the other natives know all about it. All the men at the café were talking about it to-day, and those who have been there say it is the most gloriously

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