rebels back down, but harden their hearts as hard as Pharaoh's, and keep all hands going, till the train reaches the Depot of Emancipation!"

ESCAPED PRISONERS.

A noticeable thing about the war is the fact that the colored people of the South were, without an exception, friendly to the Union cause, and aided and abetted the Union army in every way in their power - which, from their intimate knowledge of the country, was much greater than many people suppose. When trusted by our men in distress they never betrayed them. They took tender care of sick and wounded Union soldiers whenever they fell into their hands, and in multitudes of instances aided prisoners in escaping from Andersonville, Salisbury, and other hells, where they were confined to suffer torture, starvation, and death. They concealed them by day in their cabins and other secure places, and piloted them on their way to our lines by night. Many an escaped prisoner owes his life to the men and women of that oppressed race.

A DYING SOLDIER PRAYS FOR PRESIDENT

LINCOLN.

Never, until we stood by the grave of the Green Mountain boy, did we realize how much stranger is truth than fiction. A private was court-martialed for sleeping on his post, out near Chain Bridge, on the Upper Potomac. He was convicted; his sentence was death. The finding was approved by the general, and the day fixed for his execution. He was a youth of more than ordinary intelligence. He did not beg for pardon, but was willing to meet his fate.

The time drew near. The stern necessity of war required that an example should be made of some one. His was an aggravated case. But the case reached the ears of the President; he resolved to save him; he signed a pardon and sent it out. The day came.

Suppose," thought the President, "my pardon has not reached him." The telegraph was called into requisition. An answer did not come promptly. "Bring up my carriage," he ordered. It came, and soon important state papers were dropped, and through the hot, broiling sun, and over dusty roads, he made his way to the camp, about ten miles, and saw that the soldier was saved.

He had doubtless forgotten the incident, but the

soldier had not. When the Third Vermont charged upon the rifle-pits the enemy poured a volley upon them. The first man who fell was William Scott, of Company K, with six bullets in his body. His comrades caught him up, and, as his life-blood ebbed away, he raised to Heaven, amid the din of war, the cries of the dying, and the shouts of the enemy, a prayer for the President; and, as he died, he remarked to a comrade that he had shown he was no coward, and not afraid to die.

He was interred in the presence of his regiment, in a little grave about two miles to the rear of the rebel fort, in the center of a group of holly and vines. A few cherry trees, in full bloom, are scattered around the edge. In digging his grave a skull and bones were found, and metal buttons: showing that the identical spot had been used, in the Revolutionary War, for our fathers who fell in the same cause. The chaplain narrated the circumstances to the boys, who stood around with uncovered heads. He prayed for the President, and paid the most glowing tribute to his noble heart that we ever heard. The tears started to their eyes as the clods of earth were thrown upon him in his narrow grave, where he lay shrouded in his coat and blanket.

The men separated; in a few minutes all were engaged in something around the camp, as though noth