(At St. Paul’s) “He wore the gown over the Confederate gray—it was strange to see the bright military buttons gleam beneath the canonicals. Every thing is strange now!”—Diary of a Southern Refugee, Judith White McGuire.

Sunday, 16th.—This morning we left home early, to be present at the funeral of Captain Wise, but we could not even approach the door of St. James’s Church, where it took place. The church was filled at an early hour, and the street around the door was densely crowded. The procession approached as I stood there, presenting a most melancholy cortege. The military, together with civil officers of every grade, were there, and every countenance was marked with sorrow. As they bore his coffin into the church, with sword, cap, and cloak resting upon it, I turned away in sickness of heart, and thought of his father and family, and of his bleeding country, which could not spare him. We went to St. Paul’s, and heard an excellent sermon from the Rev. Mr. Quintard, a chaplain in the army. He wore the gown over the Confederate gray—it was strange to see the bright military buttons gleam beneath the canonicals. Every thing is strange now!