"What is his name?"

   "Morton."

   "Bring him up,"said Stuart coldly, with a lowering glance from the blue eyes under the brown hat and black feather. As he spoke, two or three mounted men rode up with the prisoner.

   I can see him at this moment with the mind's eye, as I saw him then with the material eye. He was a young man, apparently eighteen or nineteen years of age, and wore the blue uniform, tipped with red, of a private in the United States Artillery. The singular fact was that he appeared completely at his ease. He seemed to be wholly unconscious of the critical position which he occupied ; and as he approached, I observed that he returned the dark glance of Stuart with the air of a man who says, "What do you find in my appearance to make you fix your eyes upon me intently In another moment he was in Stuart's presence, and calmly, quietly, without the faintest exhibition of embarrassment, or any emotion whatever, waited to be addressed.

   Stuart's words were curtest of the curt.

   "Is this the man ? "he said.

   "Yes, General,"replied one of the escort.

   "You say he is a deserter ?"

   "Yes, sir ; I knew him in Anglaize county, when he joined Captain Hollins's company; and there is no sort of doubt about it, General, as he acknowledges that he is the same person."

   "Acknowledges it!"

   "Yes, sir; acknowledges that he is Morton, from that county; and that after joining the South he deserted."

   Stuart flashed a quick glance at the prisoner, and seemed at a loss to understand what fatuity had

   A kinder-hearted person than General Stuart never lived; but in all that appertained to his profession and duty as a soldier, he was inexorable. Desertion, in his estimation, was one of the deadliest crimes of which a human being could be guilty ; and his course was plain, his resolution immovable.

   "What is your name?"said the General coldly, with a lowering brow.

   "Morton, sir,"was the response, in a mild and pleasing voice, in which it was impossible to discern the least trace of emotion.

   "Where are you from?"

   "I belonged to the battery that was firing at you, over yonder, sir."

   The voice had not changed. A calmer tone I never heard.

   "Where were you born ?"continued Stuart, as coldly as before.

   "In Shelby, Virginia, sir."

   "Did you belong to the Southern army at any time?"

   "Yes, sir."

   The coolness of the speaker was incredible. Stuart could only look at him for a moment in silence, so astonishing was this equanimity at a time when his life and death were in the balance. Not a tone of the voice, a movement of the muscles, or a tremor of the lip indicated consciousness of his danger. The eye never quailed, the colour in his check never faded. The prisoner acknowledged that he was a deserter from the Southern army with the simplicity, candour, and calmness of one who saw in that fact nothing extraordinary, or calculated in any, manner to affect his destiny unpleasantly. Stuart's eye flashed; he could not understand such apathy ; but in war there is little time to investigate psychological phenomena.

   "So you were in our ranks, and you went over to the enemy, ? "he said with a sort of growl.

   Yes, sir,"was the calm reply.

   You were a private in that battery yonder ?

   "Yes, sir."

   Stuart turned to an officer, and pointing to a tall pine near, said in brief tones:

   "Hang him on that tree!"

   It was then that a change-sudden, awful, horrible-came over the face of the prisoner; at that moment I read in the distended eyeballs the vision of sudden death. The youth became ghastly pale; and the eyes, before so vacant and apathetic, were all at once injected with blood, and full of piteous fright. I saw in an instant that the boy had not for a single moment realized the terrible danger of his position ; and that the words "Hang him on that tree!"had burst upon him with the sudden and appalling force of a thunderbolt. He had evidently regarded himself

   Terrible, piteous, sickening, was the expression of the boy's face. He seemed to feel already the rope around his neck; he choked ; when he spoke his voice sounded like the death-rattle. An instant of horror-struck silence ; a gasp or two as if the words were trying to force their way against some obstacle in his throat; then the sound came. His tones were not loud, impassioned, energetic, not even animated. A sick terror seemed to have frozen him ; when be spoke it was in a sort of moan.

   "I didn't know,"he muttered in low, husky tones. I never meant -- when I went over to Maryland to fight against the South. They made me; I had nothing to eat -- I told them I was a Southerner and so help me God I never fired a shot. I was with the wagons. Oh! General, spare me; I never-"

   There the voice died out; and as pale as a corpse, trembling in every limb-a spectacle of helpless terror which no words can describe, the boy awaited his doom.

   Stuart had listened in silence, his gaze riveted upon the speaker; his hand grasping his heavy beard; motionless amid the shell which were bursting around him. For an instant he seemed to hesitate -- life and death were poised in the balances. Then with a cold look at the trembling deserter, he said to the men :

   "Take him back to General Lee, and report the circumstances."

   With these words he turned and galloped off ; the deserter was saved, at least for the moment.

   I do not know his ultimate fate; but if he saw General Lee in person, and told his tale, I think he was spared, That great and merciful spirit inflicted the death-penalty only when he could not avoid it.

   Since that day I have never seen the face of the boy -- nor even expect to see it. But I shall never forget that vision of sudden death in his distended eyes, as Stuart's cold voice ordered, "Hang him on that tree."

   AMONG the numerous scouts employed by General Stuart, none was braver or more intelligent than a young man named Frank Sutledge. He certainly was a ranger -- born. He loved his friends, but lie loved his calling better still. It might have been said >of him that man delighted him not, nor, woman either. His chief delight was to penetrate the dense woods, assail the enemy wherever he found an opening, and inflict upon them all the injury in his power. In the eyes of the scout those enemies were wolves, and he hunted them: now and then they returned the compliment.

   In person Sutledge was suited to his calling; stout but active; a good hand with pistol and sabre; quick of eye; and with nerves which no peril could shake. Soldiers generally prefer broad daylight and an open country to operate in ; Sutledge liked a forest where no moon shone. When he found it necessary to penetrate

   It was in November, 1863, when the Federal army lay around Culpeper Court-House and Mitchell's Station, that Sutledge was sent on a scout to ascertain the number, position, and movements of the Federal forces. Taking with him two companions, he crossed the upper Rapidan, and carefully worked his way toward Mitchell's Station. General Meade had pushed forward his lines to this point a few days before,-. or rather had established large camps there ; it was Sutledge's mission to ascertain, if possible, his designs.

   In due time the small party reached the vicinity of the station, and it now became necessary to take the remainder of the journey on foot. They accordingly dismounted, and leaving their horses in a thick copse, "snaked "in the direction of a large Federal camp near at hand, taking advantage of every cover. In this manner they came close upon the camp, and

   After a fatiguing day, Sutledge and his party lay down in the woods near the Federal camp, to snatch an hour's sleep before proceeding to their nocturnal work.

   Sutledge had selected for his bivouac a retired spot where the encircling woods gave excellent promise of concealment, and the covert was so dense as to set him completely at his ease. Through the thick brushwood no glimmer of firelight could be seen; and the scouts ventured to kindle a fire, which the chill November night rendered far from unacceptable. By the carefully shaded blaze they warmed their benumbed fingers, ate their supplies of hard bread and bacon, and spread their blankets for a brief sleep. Sutledge took off his shoes; laid his hat at his head; and having picked up somewhere a certain "Life of Stonewall Jackson,"recently published in Richmond, now drew it from his haversack, and read a few passages by the firelight. This volume must have produced a soothing effect upon his feelings, for in a short time his eyelids drooped, the volume fell from his hands, and he sank to slumber. His companions were already snoring by his side.

   They slept longer than they designed doing -- in fact throughout the entire night. The weather, which

   The first intimation which Sutledge bad of the danger which menaced him was, he declared, an instinctive feeling that some dangerous foe was near; and this even before be woke. He was not long, however, to remain in doubt, or be compelled to question his instincts. He opened his eyes to find the blanket suddenly drawn away from his face, and to hear a harsh and sarcastic voice exclaim: "How are you, Johnny Reb? Come, get up, and we will give you more comfortable accommodations than out here in the rain !"

   Sutledge was wide-awake in an instant, and through his half-closed lids reconnoitred, counting his opponents. They were six in number, all armed and ready. The situation looked ugly. With his companions wide-awake and on the alert there might have been some ground for hope; but they were slumbering like the Seven Sleepers, and in utter unconsciousness of danger. As to Sutledge himself, he was in their very grasp, and practically disarmed; for it was obvious that at the first movement which he made to draw his pistol from the holster around his waist, the six muskets, cocked and pointing at his breast, would be discharged as one piece, and his body riddled with bullets.

   The situation was depressing : Sutledge and his companions were in a veritable trap. The least movement which he made would at once put an end to him, if six balls through the body could do so; and it was obviously necessary to surrender at once or betake himself to strategy. The first was out of the question, for Sutledge had made up his mind

   This reply highly tickled his adversaries; and so much did they relish the evident impression of the Johnny Reb that he was among his own comrades in the Confederate camp, that they shook all over in the excess of their mirth. Sutledge was a dangerous man, however, to jest with. While his opponents were thus indulging their merriment, and highly enjoying the surprise and mortification he would feel when awake to the real nature of the situation, Sutledge was busy executing the plan which he had determined upon. Pulling his blanket still further over his head, he drew a long laboured breath, turned as men do languidly in slumber, and cautiously moved his hand beneath the blanket toward the pistol in his belt. The hand slowly stole downwards under the cover, approached the weapon, and then he had grasped the handle. A second careless movement extracted the pistol from the holster; his finger was on the hammer -- without noise the -- weapon was cocked.

   THE scout was just in time. The squad had finished their laugh, enjoyed their little comedy sufficiently, and now designed bringing the affair to an end. The leader accordingly stooped down and dragged away the blanket -- when a shot followed, with the muzzle

   Sutledge's companions had been aroused by the firing, but were of no assistance to him. One disgracefully fled into the woods without firing a shot, and the other had committed the fatal fault of allowing his arms to become wetted by the rain. When he attempted to fire his pistol the cap snapped, and none of the barrels could be discharged.

   This proved, however, of no great importance. Sutledge had repulsed the whole party for the moment, and did not need assistance. What remained for them now was a rapid retreat from the dangerous locality. The sudden firing, and the men running in, had alarmed the Federal camp, and a large party were seen approaching rapidly to take vengeance for the blood of their comrades. Sutledge accordingly hastened to retire, and disappeared with his companion just as the enemy rushed upon the area near the bivouac fire. In this sudden change of base, stores of some value to him were necessarily abandoned. In fact, he was compelled to leave his horse, hat, shoes, blanket, and "Life of Jackson" -- to fly

   In a few moments it became plain to Sutledge that he was to be hunted down.

   He surveyed his position at a glance, and estimated the chances. It seemed that nothing but his own quick eye and knowledge of woodcraft could save him; if he was caught, there appeared to be small likelihood of his escaping death. He felt that he would probably be treated as a guerilla, if not as a spy, and shot without benefit of clergy. For this reason he did not intend to surrender. He proposed to escape if he could; if he could not, he would sell his life as dearly as possible.

   He had, however, been hunted before, and his brave heart did not recoil from the struggle. Running silently with bare head and shoeless feet through the woods, he paused from time to time to listen to the shouts of his pursuers, and it soon became obvious that they were rapidly approaching upon every side.

   The woods were open-without undergrowth and every moment was now precious. Sutledge redoubled his speed, and darting through the wood, suddenly found himself in a small open field, in the middle of which rose a clump of pines, one of which had recently fallen. In the bushy top of this fallen tree he now concealed himself, panting from his long run, and listening to the sound of his approaching foes closing in on every side. To fight and die seemed his only resource; and reloading his pistol,

   He did not wait long. A few minutes only had elapsed when a party of three or four Federals entered the little area, and approached the clump of pines. They passed close to the scout, looking everywhere for traces of him; but he crouched down, held his breath, and they seemed about to prosecute their search in some other direction. Sutledge was indeed congratulating himself upon his safety, when, raising his head, he caught the eye of one of the enemy, who had lingered behind the rest, fixed steadily upon him. He was discovered; and starting to his feet, was greeted with the shout, "Here he is!"which was instantly echoed by a hundred voices,

   Sutledge now saw that his life hung upon a thread. Unless he could force his way through the cordon hemming him in, he was lost. He was unwilling to waste the loads in his pistols before the final struggle took place -- the last desperate struggle which was to terminate all. But that conflict now seemed about to take place.

   For a single instant the scout and his foes stood looking at each other, and neither made any movement to fire. In presence of this desperate man, the enemy seemed averse to the encounter, and waited for their comrades to come up. This short pause gave the scout an opportunity to decide upon his course. If he could only secure a short start, -- if he were only mounted! His feet were bruised and sore, his strength greatly diminished by the close, hot chase. Oh! for a horse to charge them and, break through, as he felt he could though they were forty deep! As the thought flashed through his

   The mule had no sooner recovered from his first fright at finding himself so unceremoniously mounted, than he made violent attempts by roaching his back, and kicking up, to unseat his rider. At the fifth or sixth kick-up, accompanied by a movement which made the mule resemble an angry cat in outline, the scout was landed on the ground, amid the shouts of his enemies, who rushed toward him, firing as they came.

   They reached the spot, uttering outcries and curses; but their obstinate foe had once more eluded them. The scout had risen quickly, darted into the woods, and the chase again commenced with more ardour than at first.

   Sutledge now put forth all his remaining strength to distance the enemy, following more hotly than ever on his track. Panting and worn out almost, half resolving a hundred times to turn and fight and die, he still kept on, the shouts of his enemies in his very cars., He was growing desperate, and had become nearly exhausted. A burning thirst raged in his throat; and although the enemy were on his very heels, he could not resist the temptation as he reached a little meadow through which ran a limpid stream, to pause and quench his thirst. Throwing himself upon his knees on the margin of the brook, he stooped and swallowed one refreshing draught of the cool

   "Here's the scoundrel's knee-print in the sand, where he drank just now! He isn't far off!" This cry was the signal for all the detached parties to converge toward the spot; and very soon the field was full of them. The scout heard them deploying in every direction to guard all the outlets, preparatory to a rigid search of every species of covert in which a fugitive could conceal himself.

   The moment had now come which was to decide his fate. The pursuers had searched every portion of the field without success, and now returned to the point from which they had set forth, subjecting the covert to a second and more rigid inspection. Their feet were heard trampling amid the undergrowth; they stopped to put aside the bushes, and peer into every nook. Sutledge heard their very breathing, and cast an eye upon his pistols to see that he had neglected nothing ; that every tube was capped, every barrel loaded, and both weapons cocked. All was right, and he experienced the fierce joy of the man who feels that at least he need not die without dragging down more than one enemy in his fall.

   The steps were at his side; oaths and exclamations echoed in his very ears. One of the hostile party seemed determined to leave no inch of the ground unexplored, and bent down, plunging his glances into the very bushes over the scout's head.

   Sutledge grasped his pistols with a firmer clutch, strung his nerves for instant contest, and prepared to rise suddenly to his feet, to lay the curious individual before him dead with a pistol bullet through the heart, and to throw himself like a tiger at bay into the midst of his enemies.

   The bushes were thrust aside; an oath resounded within three feet of him ; he had covered the heart of his enemy with the muzzle of his right-hand pistol crossed over his breast-when the autumn foliage swayed back to its place, an exclamation of disappointment followed, and the footsteps retreated from his hiding-place.

   The scout drew a long breath. He was saved.

   All day long he lay hidden, hearing more than one sound which proved that his enemies were still hovering near; but they had given up the search in despair. At night he quietly rose, and found that the coast was clear. Proceeding cautiously to reconnoitre, he discovered that the ground around his hiding-place was only partially guarded, and had little difficulty in escaping. Eluding such parties as were still prowling around, be flanked the Federal pickets, travelled all night, and before daylight was safe within the Southern lines.

   I HAD received six soldiers who had been tried and sentenced to be shot for the crime of desertion. At Warrenton junction the sentences were to have been carried into execution. The field had been selected, coffins made and doom announced; but a sudden movement ordered for the day had caused a week's suspension, during which five of the fated ones were recommended to the President for pardon. For the sixth, however, a ringleader, the sentence was unchanged; and again my division was ordered to form on the morrow to witness his execution. The hopelessness of his reprieve had been communicated, the chaplain had performed his last office, the firing party had been detailed, when again an order to march at five o'clock in the morning threatened another inhuman interruption, -- which, however, did not happen, as will appear.

   With the stoutest of the troops this convict had arched sturdily and manfully to Greenwich, following his coffin for fifteen weary miles. Here, at the end of his last march, his last hour on earth had come. A field near the camp had been selected, and preparations made for a fitting termination of the ghastly ceremony, when the planter, who had heard that his own field was to be devoted to this novel use, bustled. up to ask with puffy earnestness, "Is it true, General, that you are going to shoot one of your men today?"Then, without awaiting a reply, he continued, "Now, my dear sir, you must not think any worse of me if I say this executing is a dreadful thing! And yet it is

   "If you are so inclined, you may,"I replied. And indeed he did so incline, for he took a position as near to the scene as he could with safety. With umbrella under his arm, a linen coat over his shoulders, a little dog in front of him, and three small children (aged six, eight, and ten) by his side, he was the first on the field and the last to leave it.

   Many years ago, hanging on the wall of an accustomed haunt, I remember finding a strange fascination in a coarse print of a military execution. Often have I stood spellbound before the picture. The condemned kneeling by the side of his grave, the coffin, the blindfolded victim, the platoon of soldiers with levelled muskets, the coming word, and in the distance a horseman galloping towards the spot, waving in his hand a pardon. Could be but fly! and did he reach there in time? I could never forget the dreadful reality, even with the consciousness that it was after all but a painting, a creation perhaps of the imagination. But this execution at Greenwich was not a dream. Here there was no coloring. A sad, stern duty was before me, and there was no reprieve. The hour had come; and the division was formed on three sides of a hollow square, leaving the fourth with an open grave and fresh earth on its edge, when a mournful procession approached.

   Advancing slowly, silently, a firing party of six soldiers preceded an ambulance in which a soldier was seated upon his coffin, his arms pinioned and his eyes cast down. The provost guard followed. The

   On their way back to their encampments the troops moved in column by the corpse. Death, so real, had set its seal upon this human face; death, so solemn, so earnest, had driven a soul so completely from its human tenement that I could hardly realize that this rigid form had ever felt a human passion, or given way to human weakness. When the last look had been taken and the field cleared of troops, a small burial party lowered the body, filled the grave with earth, covered the slight mound with a green sod, and left the scene of this tragedy alone with the dead. Of the six guns in the hands of the firing party but five were loaded ; no one, therefore, could tell who held the blank. But four guns were discharged; and from these but two bullets struck the condemned man, -- one passing through his arm, another through his breast, near his heart. He died without a struggle. He died, and left no word, save that, as at last he realized the awful truth, he begged that he might

   GENERAL ORDERS NO. 47. -- Captain Carter, 5th Indiana Volunteers, is hereby relieved from his command indefinitely, and will report at these headquarters immediately. By order of Major-General ROSECRANS.

    Lieut. Col. C. GODDARD, A. A. G.

   The above order was read upon dress parade to the gallant old 5th, in January, 1863. The regiment was struck dumb, so to speak, and the captain most of all. What could such an order mean? Surely, none deserved censure less than Captain Carter; but none could give a sufficient reason why he should be thus relieved; for, said they, does not the order imply disgrace? But these mutterings were not heard at headquarters, and were of no avail. The Captain retired to his tent, relieved himself of his accoutrements, called his servant Tom, and set out for headquarters, with none but his black companion.

   General Rosecrans was quartered in Judge Ready's house, and had a private suit of rooms on the second floor, with windows opening upon a veranda. He was sitting before a bright fire on the evening our story opens, in undress uniform, with nothing but the buttons to betoken rank. An orderly entered and announced Captain Carter. The General arose quickly, and advanced to meet him, with that easy, smiling look, that put the Captain's fears at rest. The General took him by the hand, while his countenance assumed a more thoughtful look, or rather settled in repose, and said :

   "This is Captain Carter, of the 5th Indiana?

   "It is, sir,"replied the Captain.

   "You received a peremptory order this evening to report forthwith."

   "I did, sir, and have done so."

   "Yes, yes ; take a seat, Captain. I am in want of a man of some experience, Captain, who has not only a 'hand to do and a heart to dare,' but also has judgment to guide and direct both. General Thomas, after quietly looking through his command, has picked on you ; and I have such confidence in the 'grizzled old hero' that I have summoned you here for secret service. Are you willing to undertake it, with all its risks?

   "Anything, General, for our country's good."

   "Very well, sir; you will remain here to-night. Any of your effects you may need, send for by the orderly at the door. During the night I will inform you what your duties will be."

   One morning in February, 1863, two persons were making their way on horseback from Shelbyville to Spring Hill. The first of these was dressed in

   The other person was a negro, dressed like his master, broad brim, white neck-tic and all, mounted on a stout roadster. They were fast approaching a vidette post; were shortly halted by a cavalryman; they drew rein and dismounted.

   "Is thee a man of war?"asked the Quaker.

   "Don't know; reckon, tho', I mought be. But what's your business, Quaker?"

   "Does thee know a Mr. Van Dorn about here ?"

   "Well, I reckon I does ; but he'll mister ye if you call him that."

   "Well, I have business with him, and I desire admittance into thy camps."

   "All right, old fellow; wait till I call the corporal."

   General Van Dorn was examining some maps and charts, when an orderly entered and announced that a Quaker desired to see him.

   "Admit him,"said the General.

   "Is thee Mr. Van Dorn, whom carnal men call General? "

   "What is your business with me, sir ? "asked the General, without answering the question.

   "I am sent, friend Van Dorn, by my society, to administer comforts and consolation to these men of war, and would ask permission to bring such things as they may need or my means may supply."

   "Have you any recommendations? " "Yes, verily; "and the Quaker produced a bundle

   "Never mind,"said the General, while the corners of his mouth commenced to jerk; "here, Mr.

   "Thurston,"suggested the Quaker.

   "Mr. Thurston, here is a pass through the lines at will for such articles as you may see proper to bring. This is all, sir?"

   "May I ask, friend, how far it is to those ungodly men who are persecuting our people with fire and sword, whom the carnal men call the Yankees? "

   "Yes, sir. About fourteen miles. See that you give them a wide berth, for they have a curious way of burning men of your persuasion."

   "Yes, verily will I; "and with this the Quaker retired.

   "Queer character, that,"remarked the General to himself; but it takes all kinds to make a world."

   The Quaker passed out among the camps, meeting a smile here, and a rough jest there. The Quaker seemed to have a good supply of tracts and religious papers, which he scattered freely, with a word of gentle admonition to the card-players, and a hint of the world to come to all. He was particular in his inquiries for the sick, and even visited all the forts and fortifications, and made particular inquiries in and about them for the sick, writing a letter for one, furnishing a stamp to another ; so that at the close of the day he had visited all, and made a memorandum of what was needed, and was preparing to leave camp, when a Lieutenant

   came and accosted him with, "I say, stranger, haven't we met before ? "

   "Nay, verily,"replied the Quaker, "I go not about where carnal men do battle."

   "No! Well, I must have seen you at some place, but I don't recollect where. Likely I'm mistaken."

   "Very like, friend; good day to you."

   "Massa, did ye see dat debbil's eyes brighten up towards the last ? Tells ye, sure, we'd better be trablin."

   "Yes, Sam, I saw it, and my recollection is better than his, for I took him prisoner at Stone River,

   That night a despatch went to General Bragg, which read:

   "Look out for a Quaker, followed by a nigger. He is a spy. Arrest him.

   THE next day a negro rode into Murfreesboro', and passed on to General Rosecrans' headquarters, and presenting a pass, was admitted to his private apartments, and handed the General a paper which read: "2 overcoats and 6 hats, 37 shirts, 3200 tracts, 2000 for the unconverted at Spring Hill."

   General Rosecrans was eagerly looking over the document when General Thomas was announced. The latter was cordially met by General Rosecrans, who immediately handed him the paper he had just received. "This is all cipher to me, General,"said General Thomas.

   "I suppose so,"said the former, who had been writing." Well, here is something more intelligible: 'Two forts of six guns each ; thirty-seven additional guns; 3200 troops, 2000 of which are cavalry, at Spring Hill.'"

   "Humph! Some of Captain Carter's ingenuity,"said General Thomas.

   "Yes, he is doing his work nobly, so far. I only hope no harm may come to him."

   "Well, General,"said Thomas, "Colonel Blake of the 5th Indiana, was asking me to-day why the Captain was relieved of his command; of course I knew nothing about it."

   "That was right,"said Rosecrans; "the effectiveness of the 'secret service' would be greatly impaired by having the names of those engaged in it made known. I enjoined the utmost secrecy upon the

   Just then a gentleman, evidently a Southerner, was shown in.

   "Where do you reside? "asked General Bragg.

   "I live near Brandyville, General, and came down to see if something can't be done to keep these infernal Yankees from our section. They were down there yesterday, and took off over two thousand bushels of corn, and nearly all the wheat in the country."

   The speaker was a middle aged man of rather good features, but his countenance betokened the too free use of Confederate whiskey.

   "What did you say your name was, Colonel?"

   "Ashcroft, sir."

   "Yes, yes, I have heard of your family. You have done nobly for our cause, from report."

   "We have tried to do our duty, General, and what little I have left you are welcome to, but I don't want the Yankees to get it. I sent down by General Wheeler's command, the other day, a hundred bushels of meal as a gift."

   "I wish we had more like you,"said Bragg. "Let me fill your glass again, Colonel. I wish I had something better to offer you."

   "Permit me, General, to send to my portmanteau for a bottle of wine."

   "Yes, sah."

   "Rare vintage, this, General. It's one of a lot I got North before the war."

   "Excellent,"says Bragg. "I would like to have a

   "Riding a bay horse, with a nigger following?"

   "The same."

   "Why, yes. He came to my plantation last night. I insisted on his staying all night, but he was in a hurry, and could not stop."

   "He was a Yankee spy,"said Bragg.

   "The devil! and to think I gave the rascal his supper! "

   "Well, well, never mind, Colonel; we'll pick him up yet. I'm looking for some Georgia and Alabama troops up shortly, and if the cowardly Dutchman doesn't run, I'll make another Stone River for him."

   "Good for you, General. Don't leave even one of them on our soil. But it's getting late, and I must try and get some supplies before I go back. Will you accommodate me with a pass ?"

   "Certainly, and here is a bill of protection for your person and property. No thanks ; good day to you."

   "Golly, Massa Cap'n, you's bin talkin' to de ole debbil hissef."

   "Hush ! not so loud, Tom. I've got one more to visit, and then we'll be off, and take a straight shoot up Hoover's Gap."

   "Cap'n, Cap'n! dey's a regiment ob dese dirty rebels just started up de Manchester road, dat's going up from Hoober's Gap, for I heard de Kernel say so."

   "All right, Tom; we'll take the Shelbyville road, and run the risk of meeting Van Dorn. Go out

   "Missus, dey's a gentleman dat got a frow off his hoss out here, and would like to stop awhile wid ye, if ye please, Missus."

   "Very well; I'll send a boy out to help him in. Are you much hurt, sir ? "

   "No, madam, I think not; my horse got frightened at some object in the road, and threw me heavily on my right shoulder. A night's rest, madam, will enable me to pursue my journey, I think."

   Our hero found, upon examination, that there were no bones broken, and yet the bruise was severe enough to make him covet a night's rest, in preference to passing it on the saddle. So without more ado, he submitted to his hostess's desire to bathe the bruised shoulder, and prepare him a comfortable bed by the fire.

   During the night he was awakened by the loud clatter of horses' hoofs, followed immediately by a loud "hilloa."

   During the conversation which occurred outside, he heard the name of Van Dorn mentioned, and the thought that they might meet was anything but comfortable to him just at that time ; but he resolved to trust to luck, and if that failed, he would try what virtue there was in "right angles, horizontals,"etc. Presently the door opened, and an officer entered, dressed in the height of Confederate style, -- gilt buttons, gold lace, and all, -- a glance at which showed that he bore the rank of Lieutenant-General. The conversation that ensued informed our hero that he had the honor of

   "Run, Tom; the infernal Yankees are coming; put all the horses in the back pasture; take away every nigger with you."

   "Ha, ha! "laughed the General he's all right. I'll bet on him. But you see, madam, there is a spy in our lines that we are anxious to catch, and he has, so far, eluded us, and if we meet a stranger, we are anxious to find out his standing. I'm satisfied with this one, for a man will tell the truth when he's asleep."

   "Your supper's ready, sah."

   And I'm ready for it,"replied the General, and left the room.

   Our hero moved, grunted, and finally turned over, found his hostess still in the room, and behind her he saw Tom making motions for him to come out.

   The lady asked if he felt comfortable, had he slept well, to all of which he replied in the affirmative; upon which she left the room, and he followed soon after, and found Tom waiting for him.

   "Massa, dese debbils has 'sprised' us, and we'd better be a leabin'. I'se got a 'nigh shoot' from de niggahs, dat we can cut across to Manchester and up fru de gap from heah."

   "All right, Tom; where's the horses?"

   "I'se got um, Massa, out below here."

   "Here's for them, then, Tom; come on quickly."

   They reached our lines the following evening, and reported to General Rosecrans.

   The following order explains itself: --

   SPECIAL FIELD ORDER.

   Capt. Carter (5th Ind. Vols.) is hereby ordered to return to his command, and is recommended for promotion. By order

   OF all the duties performed by our soldiers in this war, none were more dangerous or exciting than those of the courier. True, the infantry and artillery fought the pitched battles, and the cavalry led the advance, held the outposts, or made long rides around the enemy's flanks; but they were conducted in person by officers of judgment and experience, and, besides, individual danger is immeasurably lessened by facing it en masse.

   To the courier, however, were intrusted the written commands for the movements of the army, with which he was expected to make his way alone (unless particular danger was foreseen) through a country that was probably penetrated by the enemy's scouts or infested by the more dreaded guerillas.

   We had just got settled into camp again, at Trenton,

   It was about ten o'clock on a cool night in the early part of September. Our little cabin blazed with a cheerful fire, which sent a gleam of dancing light out through the open doorway and across the road. The couriers, belted and spurred, stood or reclined in all sorts of positions around the fire, silently awaiting despatches. We had learned to be expectant at night, as experience bad proved that the majority of the mysterious packages came through at that time. Sergeant Daniels had just made a remark to that effect, when the familiar sound of horse's feet broke upon our ears. Mine were, perhaps, more alive to the sound at that moment than the rest, it being my turn to carry the next despatch. I walked to the door to listen. By the speed of the approaching

   In another moment the courier arrived. Sergeant Daniels examined the despatch, and handed it to me as I rode up to the door. By the light from within I glanced at the superscription and read: "Major General Thomas, commanding 14th Corps. Full speed."An instant later I was galloping away.

   The night was very clear, but chilly, and I braced myself anew for the weary ride. I had traversed those roads several times before at night, but on this occasion they appeared to be unusually gloomy. The fenceless fields by which I swept seemed more forlorn than usual; the woods were darker through which I felt my way; the hideous cry of the owls seemed to fill the air with demon voices. I could not shake from me the presentiment of some impending evil. Instinctively my hand sought the revolver at my side, and half-cocked it. The action caused Shiloh to prick up his ears and increase his speed, and in a short time I found myself under the bold brow of Lookout, which shut out half the heavens, and rendered the darkness more intense.

   The approach to the mountain lies through a dense woods, along the outer skirt of which flowed a small stream. Approaching the creek, I loosened the rein in order to allow my horse to drink, as he was accustomed to do at this place. The banks were rather steep, and as he lowered his nose and was about to

   But my horse had not proceeded twenty yards before I perceived that his strength was failing. His steps lagged more and more every moment, in spite of my utmost efforts to urge him forward. With a heavy heart I dismounted and examined him. My fears proved too true : he was wounded. I felt a perforation, from which the warm blood oozed slowly down his flanks. The brave beast finally succumbed, and with a deep drawn sigh staggered heavily to the ground. For awhile my own danger was forgotten in sympathy for the poor horse. He had borne me

   My situation was certainly alarming. The bushwhacker might follow me, and it was equally probable that others of his clan were lying in advance, to make sure of the victim. Those dreadful marauders seldom traveled alone.

   For aught I knew their practiced eyes might even then be staring through the darkness around me. For a moment or two I was in a painful state of indecision. In night rides I had always trusted implicitly to the instinct of my horse; but now that resource was denied me, and my topographical instincts were none of the best. Should I make my way back to the station, remount and bring a comrade with me ? A feeling of pride determined me to go forward at all hazards and deliver my despatch. Quickly stripping the bridle, blanket, and saddle-bags from the dead animal, and securing them about my person, I gave my belt an extra hitch, and started forward.

   By the position of the few stars that were visible I assumed the time to be near midnight. The road up the mountain was fearfully trying to legs and wind. For two hours (as I judged) I clambered up the rocky way, stopping every hundred yards to rest and fill my exhausted lungs. The air grew colder as I neared the summit, and the heavy dew saturated my cap and great-coat, already well soaked in the creek. It was growing lighter, too, as I ascended. I turned at times to look off into the valley behind, which stretched away dark and shadowy to the horizon.

   I turned away with a sigh and bent my steps again toward the summit. I had not gone far when "Halt! who comes there? "yelled out shrill and clear, as if

   "A courier with despatches."

   "Dismount, courier, and advance,"he replied.

   As I was already dismounted, I proceeded to obey the latter part of the injunction. I had gone but a few yards, however, when I was halted again. "Where's your horse?" inquired the sentinel, who was evidently growing suspicious. This question led to an explanation of affairs; and in a short time I was the centre of a gaping crowd on the mountain top, to whom I related my adventure in the valley. My listeners were a portion of Harrison's Mounted Infantry, who were returning from a scout. I hold in grateful remembrance a tin-cup full of hot coffee, which one of these brave boys prepared for my benefit. I think they called him "Gussy."Aided by the advice of these boys, and a captured mule which they loaned me, I was not long in finding the way into the other valley, where the newly risen sun and freshly traveled roads enabled me to keep track of the 14th Corps. I found the Head-Quarters of Thomas in the saddle, and delivered my despatch to one of his staff.

   I WAS sent as a prize-master to the Barclay. This was an important event in my life, and when it was decided that I was to take the ship to Valparaiso, I felt no little pride in finding myself in command at twelve years of age. This vessel had been recaptured from a Spanish guarda costa. The Captain and his mate were on board, and I was to control the men sent from our frigate, while the Captain was to navigate the vessel.

   This arrangement caused great dissatisfaction on the part of the Captain of the Barclay, a violent tempered old fellow; and, when the day arrived for our separation from the squadron, he was furious, and very plainly intimated to me that I would find myself off New Zealand in the morning; to which I most decidedly demurred.

   I considered that my day of trial had arrived (for I was a little afraid of the old fellow, as every one else was). But the time had come for me at least to play the man; so I mustered up courage and informed the Captain that I desired the maintopsail filled away,

   I called my right hand man of the crew, and told him my situation; I also informed him that I wanted the maintopsail filled. He answered with a clear "Aye, aye, Sir!"in a manner which was not to be misunderstood, and my confidence was perfectly restored. From that moment I became master of the vessel, and immediately gave all necessary orders for making sail, notifying the Captain not to come on deck with his pistols unless he wished to go overboard; for I would really have had very little trouble in having such an order obeyed.

   I returned to the Barclay, and everything went on amicably up to our arrival at Valparaiso. The passage was one of uniform good weather, unaccompanied by any event worthy of note. We made Hood's Island, one of the Marquessas group. On our approach, a canoe came out to meet us, with eight natives tattooed and ornamented with feathers. They invited us on shore, and promised us fruit and provisions in abundance. Finally we rounded a point and ran into a beautiful harbor, to be called, thereafter, Massachusetts Bay. The ship was hauled into a good berth, close in shore, the water being perfectly clear, with a sandy bottom.

   During our stay at this island, the youngsters, I among the number, were sent on board the vessel commanded by our Chaplain, for the purpose of continuing our studies, away from temptation. We were

   In such amusements the time passed pleasantly enough. We were considered too young to join in the battles which our people were carrying on with the Happars and Typees, and the Captain did not allow us to accompany him on these expeditions inland, at which, of course, we felt indignant.

   IN the winter of 1838-39 I was attending school at Ripley, only ten miles distant from Georgetown, but spent the Christmas holidays at home. During this vacation my father received a letter from the Honorable Thomas Morris, then United States senator from Ohio. When he read it he said to me, "Ulysses, I believe you are going to receive the appointment.""What appointment? "I inquired. "To West Point; I have applied for it.""But I won't go,"I said. He said he thought I would, and I thought so too, if he did.

   Besides this argument in favor of my going to West Point there was another very strong inducement. I had always a great desire to travel. Going to West Point would give me the opportunity of visiting the two great cities of the continent, Philadelphia

   During my first year's encampment, General Scott visited West Point, and reviewed the cadets. With his commanding figure, his quite colossal size and showy uniform, I thought him the finest specimen

   At last all the examinations were passed, and the members of the class were called upon to record their choice of arms of service and regiments. I was anxious to enter the cavalry, or dragoons, as they were then called, but there was only one regiment of dragoons in the army at that time, and attached to that, besides the full complement of officers, there were at least four brevet second lieutenants. I recorded, therefore, my first choice, dragoons; second, infantry; and got the latter.

   Having made alternate choice of two different arms of service with different uniforms, I could not get a uniform suit, until notified of my assignment. I left my measurement with a tailor, with directions not to make the uniform until I notified him whether was to be for infantry or dragoons. Notice did not reach me for several weeks, and then it took at least a week to get the letter of instruction to the tailor, and two more to make the clothes and have them sent to me. This was a time of great suspense.

   Two incidents happened soon after the arrival of the clothes, which gave me a distaste for military uniform that I never recovered from. Soon after the arrival of the suit I donned it, and put off for Cincinnati on horseback. While I was riding along a street of that city, imagining that everyone was looking at me, with a feeling akin to mine when I first saw General Scott, a little urchin, bareheaded,

   The other circumstance occurred at home. Opposite our house in Bethel stood the old stage tavern where man and beast found accommodation. The stable-man was rather dissipated, but possessed a sense of humor. On my return I found him parading the streets, and attending in the stable, barefooted, but in a pair of sky-blue nankeen trousers, just the color of my uniform trousers, with a strip of white cotton sheeting sewed down the outside seams in imitation of mine. The joke was a huge one in the minds of many people, and was much enjoyed by them; but I did not appreciate it so highly.

   I ENTERED the United States Navy as a midshipman on the 19th day of October, 1841, being then fourteen years of age. I was almost immediately ordered to the United States ship North Carolina, and on the 27th day of the same month reported for duty to Commodore Perry, then commanding the station at New York.

   I well recollect my extreme surprise at being addressed as "Mr."by the commodore, and being recalled to my senses by the sharp "William"of my father, who accompanied me to the Navy Yard.

   My father soon left me, and I was taken below to

   Several of the midshipmen hung about me watching a chance to perpetrate their jokes; but a greenhorn, like myself, happening to complain to them that he "could not find Cheeks, the marine, anywhere,"caused me to smile; for I was well up in Marryatt's novels. So they let me alone with the remark that they supposed my father and brother (both of whom were in the navy) had put me up to the usual navy jokes.

   About this time all hands were called to stand by the hammocks; and my surprise was great when I saw the hammocks taken out from the nettings; for I had previously supposed that naval officers, taking the hint from General Jackson's defences at New Orleans, had stuffed the ship's sides with bags of cotton, to resist shot! Fortunately, I

   When I was taken down to the orlop deck, and saw the hammocks swung, I could not imagine how I was to sleep in, or rather on one; for, not knowing that it was not unlashed and that it contained inside a mattress and blankets, I naturally thought it was the way of sailors to sit a- straddle of it, and repose in this unnatural attitude. It caused me much unhappiness that night in the gun-room, and I thought I had better, Perhaps, resign and go home at once ; but at two bells, nine o'clock, when we all went down to turn in, I was much relieved to see the hammocks spread out into a more reasonable shape.

   Here another surprise awaited me. Up to this time I had suffered much with ear-ache, and my mother had caused me to wear nightcaps. There was nothing strange to me in this, as other boys wore them at my boarding-school, but it seems it was not a "way they had in the navy."My caps were of many colors, -- red, blue, green, etc., -- for they were made of remnants of my sisters' dresses. Now, as I made my final preparations for repose, I opened my trunk, and put on a close-fitting nightcap.

   It was the signal for an indescribable scene of confusion. If I had put on a suit of mail, it could not have caused greater astonishment among these lighthearted youngsters. They rushed to my trunk, seized the caps, put them on, and joined in a wild dance on the orlop deck, in which were mingled red caps, blue caps, white caps, -- all colors of caps, in pleasing variety. I had to take mine off before turning in, as it really did seem to be too much for their feelings; but I managed to smuggle it under my pillow, and

   I WAS appointed an acting midshipman in the navy by Secretary Paulding, on the 18th day of February, 1841. In those days the appointments were thus made; and if the commanding officer with whom an, acting midshipman served made a favorable report on his aptitude for the service, at the end of six months a warrant was given to him creating him midshipman. He was then what was called a warrant officer, but not a commissioned officer, -- a most important distinction at that time, for there was an impassable gulf between those two classes, to which all can testify who have gone through the mill. The warrant man was often made to feel by the commission man that he was not only an inferior officer, but an inferior being altogether.

   There was no such thing as a Naval School deserving the name. Midshipmen were sent to the Naval Asylum at Philadelphia (a sort of sailors' home) after six years' service, and there made a kind of preparation for examination, but there was no organization. They did as they pleased, -- studied or idled, as

   In the spring of 1841 I was ordered to the Receiving-Ship North Carolina at New York. This line-of-battle ship was utilized for the purpose of receiving on board enlisted men, who were detained there until they were drafted for some sea-going. ship. On board the Old North, as we used to call her, there was a professor of mathematics of the name of Ward, and there was some pretence of having school, but it did not amount to much. All that I remember is that I was taught some expressions, such as "diff.,""lat.," and "departure,"but I do not think I had the most remote idea what they meant. I have never forgotten how the professor, when twelve o'clock was sounded, always sent for his plate of ship's soup, which was served to the crew, and how he smacked his lips and enjoyed it, which, indeed, we all did, for I remember how exceedingly good it was.

   There were two messes for the midshipmen on board the North Carolina, -- one, the gun-room mess, as it was called, and the other the steerage mess. I was assigned to the steerage, where we lived like pigs. The gun-room was far more respectable. Things became so bad in the steerage that it was finally abandoned, and we were transferred to the gun-room, much to my delight. I formed friendships there that were continued throughout my service, and my whole condition was very much changed for the better.

   During the summer months the ship was anchored off the Battery, and, to some extent, the duties were much the same as those performed in a regular

   I made several ineffectual attempts during the summer to get orders to sea. Finally in September, I was ordered to the Frigate United States, which was fitting out at the Norfolk Navy Yard.

   I reported at the Norfolk Yard to Commodore Warrington early in October, and, as the ship was not yet ready to receive the officers and crew, remained for several days at French's Hotel. I never shall forget how good the Lynn Haven Bay oysters tasted, when the negro waiters produced them before me, with the exclamation, "Navy officers very fond of oysters!"and I remember to have enjoyed my few days of case there very much indeed. I met at the hotel my future messmates, who were to be my close companions for three years. There we formed our plans for messing, and discussed the coming cruise with that enthusiasm which belongs to youth alone.

   We were not permitted long to enjoy our ease. Orders came for us to prepare on board the frigate, and we were placed in our proper messes in the steerage, had our places in watches and divisions assigned to us, and soon settled down to regular work. I was put in the larboard mess, -- somehow, for what reason I do not know, regarded as the swell place.

   After many trials and vicissitudes, we finally settled

   I WAS with the earliest of the troops to enter the Mills. In passing through to the north side, looking towards Chapultepec, I happened to notice that there were armed Mexicans still on top of the building, only a few feet from many of our men. Not seeing

   During the night of the 11th, batteries were established which could play upon the fortifications of Chapultepec. The bombardment commenced early on the morning of the 12th, but there was no further engagement during this day than that of the artillery. Later in the day in reconnoitring I found a church off to the south of the road, which looked to me as if the belfry would command the ground back of the garita San Cosme. I got an officer of the voltigeurs, with a mountain howitzer and men to work it, to go with me. The road being in possession of the enemy, we had to take the field to the south to reach the church. When I knocked for admission a priest

   The effect of this gun upon the troops about the gate of the city was so marked that General Worth saw it from his position. He was so pleased that he sent a staff officer, Lieutenant Pemberton, to bring me to him. He expressed his gratification at the services the howitzer in the church steeple was doing, saying that every shot was effective, and ordered a captain of voltigeurs to report to me with another howitzer to be placed along with the one already rendering so much service. I could not tell the General that there was not room enough in the steeple for another gun, because be probably would have looked upon such a statement as a contradiction from a second lieutenant. I took the captain with me, but did not use his gun.

   I received your letters with the greatest pleasure, and, as I always like to talk to you both together, I will not separate you in my letters, but write one to you both. I was much gratified to hear of your progress at school, and hope that you will continue to advance, and that I shall have the happiness of finding you much improved in all your studies on my return. I shall not feel my long separation from you, if I find that my absence has been of no injury to you, and that you have both grown in goodness and knowledge, as well as stature. But, ah! how much I will suffer on my return, if the reverse has occurred ! You enter all my thoughts, into all my prayers; and on you, in part, will depend whether I shall be happy or miserable, as you know how much I love you. You must do all in your power to save me pain.

   You will learn, by my letter to your grandmother, that I have been to Tampico. I saw many things to remind me of you, though that was not necessary to make me wish that you were with me. The river was so calm and beautiful, and the boys were playing about in boats, and swimming their ponies. Then there were troops of donkeys carrying water through the streets. They had a kind of saddle, something like a cart-saddle, though larger, that carried two ten-gallon kegs on each side, which was a load for a donkey. They had no bridles on, but would come along in

   We had a grand parade on General Scott's arrival. The troops were all drawn up on the bank of the river, and fired a salute as he passed them. He landed at the market, where lines of sentinels were placed to keep off the crowd. In front of the landing the artillery was drawn up, which received him in the centre of the column, and escorted him through the streets to his lodgings. They had provided a handsome gray horse, richly caparisoned, for him, but he preferred to walk, with his staff around him, and a dragoon led the horse behind us. The windows along the streets we passed were crowded with people, and the boys and girls were in great glee, the Governor's Island band playing all the time.

   There were six thousand soldiers in Tampico. Mr. Barry was the adjutant of the escort. I think you would have enjoyed with me the oranges and sweet-potatoes. Major Smith became so fond of the chocolate that I could hardly get him away from the house. We only remained there one day. I have a nice state-room on board this ship; Joe Johnston and myself occupy it, but my poor Joe is so sick all the time I can do nothing with him. I left Jem to come on with the horses, as I was afraid they would not be properly cared for. Vessels were expressly fitted up for the horses, and parties of dragoons detailed to take care of them. I had hoped they would reach here by this time, as I wanted to see how they were fixed. I took every precaution for their comfort, provided them with bran, oats, etc., and had slings made to pass under them and attached to the coverings above, so

   I had to sell my good old horse Jim, as I could not find room for him, or, rather, I did not want to crowd the others. I know I shall want him when I land. Creole was the admiration of every one at Brazos, and they hardly believed she had carried me so far, and looked so well. Jem says there is nothing like her in all the country, and I believe he likes her better than Tom or Jerry. The sorrel mare did not appear to be so well after I got to the Brazos. I had to put one of the men on her, whose horse had given out, and the saddle hurt her back. She had gotten well, however, before I left, and I told Jem to ride her every day. I hope they may both reach the shore again in safety, but I fear they will have a hard time. They will first have to be put aboard a steamboat and carried to the ship that lies about two miles out at sea, then hoisted in, and how we shall get them ashore again, I do not know; probably throw them overboard, and let them swim there.

   I do not think we shall remain here more than one day longer. General Worth's and General Twiggs's divisions have arrived, which include the regulars, and I suppose the volunteers will be coming on every day. We shall probably go on the 1st down the coast, select a place for debarkation, and make all the arrangements preparatory to the arrival of the troops. I shall have plenty to do there, and am anxious for the time to come, and hope all may be successful. Tell Rob he must think of me very often, be a good boy, and always love papa. Take care of Speck and the colts. Mr. Sedgwick and all the officers send their love to you.

   The ship rolls so that I can scarcely write. You must write to me very often. I am always very glad to hear from you. Be sure that I am thinking of you, and that you have the prayers of your affectionate father,

   WHEN the Tenth Indiana was recruited in the fall of 1861, they took for their drummer a little fellow named Johnny McLaughlin, whose parents reside at Lafayette, Indiana. He was then a little over ten years of age, and beat his tattoo at the head of the regiment for several months of active service.

   At Donelson and at Shiloh, when the drum-beats were drowned in the deeper roar of battle, Johnny laid down his sticks, and taking the musket and cartridge box from a dead soldier, went out to the front, and fought as bravely as the stoutest soldier in the regiment. Escaping unhurt in each of these engagements, he was enamoured of soldier life, and sought a transfer from the infantry to Colonel Jacob's Kentucky cavalry. Being favorably impressed with the spirit and zeal of the young warrior, Colonel Jacob put him into his best company, and mounted him on a good horse. At the engagement at Richmond, which soon followed, in the summer of 1862, he fought with as much coolness and skill as any of his company, handling his sabre, revolver, and revolving rifle with the address of a veteran.

   In October following, he was in another battle, at Perryville, where he received his first wound, a ball passing through the leg above the knee.

   In this engagement Colonel Jacob, with a part of his command, was temporarily separated from the greater part of the regiment, and while thus cut off was attacked by a largely superior force of the enemy, led by a Major. Colonel Jacob was deliberating for a moment on the demand to surrender, when

   A few weeks after, he was engaged in a skirmish with some of John Morgan's men, who were raiding through Kentucky, and the fighting was severe.

   Johnny was set upon by a strapping fellow, who gave him a pretty severe cut on the leg with his sabre, and knocked him off his horse. A moment after, another rebel seized him by the collar, and exclaimed: "We've got one little Yankee, anyhow."The little Yankee did not see it in that light, however, and quickly drawing his pistol, shot his captor dead,

   As he was going back to Indiana on furlough to give his wound time to heal, he was stopped at one point by a provost guard, and his pass demanded.

   "0,"said he, "the Colonel didn't give me one, but just told me to go along with the rest. But,"added the little soldier, showing his wound, "here's a pass the rebs gave me; isn't that good enough for a little fellow like me? "The guard thought it was.

   His wound proved quite serious, and, much to his surprise, and against his wishes, he received his discharge in consequence of this and his extreme youthfulness. Not relishing civil life as long as the hostilities lasted, he applied at a recruiting office, but the condition of his leg excluded him.

   Nothing daunted, however, he sought and obtained an interview with the President, who on bearing the story of the boyish veteran, gave a special order for his enlistment. He had now made up his mind to follow the life of a soldier, and joined the regular army of the United States as a bugler in the cavalry service, and makes as fine-looking, neat, and obedient a little dragoon as there is in the army.

   A FEW days before our regiment received orders to join General Lyon, on his march to Wilson's Creek, the drummer of our company was taken sick and

   On the following morning there appeared before the captain's quarters during the beating of the réveille, a good-looking, middle-aged woman, dressed in deep mourning, leading by the hand a sharp, sprightly-looking boy, apparently about twelve or thirteen years of age. Her story was soon told. She was from East Tennessee, where her husband had been killed by the rebels, and all their property destroyed. She had come to St. Louis in search of her sister, but not finding her, and being destitute of money, she thought if she could procure a situation for her boy as a drummer for the short time that we had to remain in the service, she could find employment for herself, and perhaps find her sister by the time we were discharged.

   During the rehearsal of her story the little fellow

   Upon being introduced to his new comrade, he stooped down, with his hands resting upon his knees, that were thrown forward into an acute angle, and after peering into the little fellow's face a moment, he observed: "My little man, can you drum ? ""Yes, sir,"he replied, "I drummed for Captain Hill in Tennessee."Our fifer immediately commenced straightening himself upward until all the angles in his person had disappeared, when he placed his fife at his mouth, and played the "Flowers of Edinborough,"one of the most difficult things to follow with the drum that could have been selected, and nobly did the little fellow follow him, showing himself to be a master of the drum. When the music ceased, our captain turned to the mother and observed: "Madam, I will take your boy. What is his name?""Edward Lee,"she replied; then placing her hand upon the captain's arm, she continued, "Captain, if he is not killed " -- here her maternal feelings overcame her utterance, and she bent down over her boy and kissed him upon the forehead. As she arose, she observed, "Captain, you will bring him back with you, won't you?"

   "Yes, Yes,"he replied, "we will be certain to bring him back with us, We shall be discharged in six weeks."

   In an hour after, our company led the Iowa First out of camp, our drum and fife playing "The girl I left behind me." Eddie, as we called him, soon became a great favorite with all the men in the company. When any of the boys had returned from a horticultural excursion, Eddie's share of the peaches and melons was the first apportioned out. During our heavy and fatiguing march from Rolla to Springfield, it was often amusing to see our long-legged fifer wading through the mud with our little drummer mounted upon his back, and always in that position when fording streams.

   During the fight at Wilson's Creek I was stationed with a part of our company on the right of Totten's battery, while the balance of our company, with a part of the Illinois regiment, was ordered down into a deep ravine upon our left, in which it was known a portion of the enemy was concealed, with whom they were soon engaged. The contest in the ravine continuing some time, Totten suddenly wheeled his battery upon the enemy in that quarter, when they soon retreated to the high ground behind their lines. In less than twenty minutes after, Totten had driven the enemy from the ravine, the word passed from man to man throughout the army, "Lyon is killed! "and soon after, hostilities having ceased upon both sides, the order came for our main force to fall back upon Springfield, while a part of the Iowa First and two companies of the Missouri regiment were to camp upon the ground and cover the retreat next morning. That night I was detailed for guard duty, my turn of

   I was about to desert my post to go to his assistance, when I discovered the officer of the guard approaching with two men. We all listened to the sound, and were satisfied that it w~s Eddie's drum. I asked permission to go to his assistance. The officer hesitated, saying that the orders were to march in twenty minutes. I promised to be back in that time, and he consented. I immediately started down the hill through the thick undergrowth, and upon reaching the valley I followed the sound of the drum, and

   soon found him seated upon the ground, his back leaning against the trunk of a fallen tree, while his drum hung upon a bush in front of him, reaching nearly to the ground. As soon as he discovered me he dropped his drumsticks and exclaimed, "0 Corporal! I am so glad to see you. Give me a drink,"reaching out his hand for my canteen, which was empty. I immediately turned to bring him some water from the brook that I could hear rippling through the bushes near by, when, thinking that I was about to leave him, he commenced crying, saying "Don't leave me, Corporal -- I can't walk."I was soon back with the water, when I discovered that both of his feet had been shot away by a cannonball. After satisfying his thirst, he looked up into my face and said: "You don't think I will die, Corporal, do you? This man said I would not -- he said the surgeon could cure my feet."I now discovered a man lying in the grass near him. By his dress I recognized him as belonging to the enemy. It appeared that he had been shot and fallen near where Eddie lay. Knowing that he could not live, and seeing the condition of the boy, be had crawled to him, taken off his buckskin suspenders, and corded the little fellow's legs below the knee, and then laid down and died. While he was telling me these particulars, I heard the tramp of cavalry coming down the ravine, and in a moment a scout of the enemy was upon us, and I was taken prisoner. I requested the officer to take Eddie up in front of him, and he did so, carrying him with great tenderness and care. When we reached the camp of the enemy the little fellow was dead.

   IN June, 1862, we started on our first real practice cruise, using for the purpose the sloop of war, John Adams. We were crowded into her like sardines in a box, and had no end of hard work, with whatever we could find to eat, and all in all about as little comfort as a set of youngsters ever experienced; but we made great headway in learning our business as seamen. The ship was uncomfortable, as all her class were, but at the same time seaworthy and safe. She would run well when off the wind, but with everything braced sharp up when there was any sea on she would butt three times at a sea and then go round it. Before the wind she rolled so that all hands had trouble in sleeping at night; but with all her defects she carried us safely as far south as Port Royal, South Carolina, and brought us safely back to Newport.

   At Port Royal we saw Admiral Dupont's splendid fleet, comprising many of the finest ships in the navy. Among them all the Wabash seemed to me the most perfect.

   I shall always remember an incident of my visit to this ship. As we went over the side, a large black

   During this cruise the midshipmen were stationed as a crew for the vessel, and did all the work of the different ratings. When off Hatteras on our way North our efficiency was thoroughly tested. At about ten o'clock the ship was struck by a sudden heavy squall, accompanied by rain and hail. All hands were called to reef topsails, the watch on deck having successfully handled the light sails. We were close enough to the Diamond Shoal to make haste a matter of importance, and the officers hustled us up without much ceremony. The topsails were quickly reefed, and I had just secured the learing on the main topsail yard when I heard the order, "Hoist away the topsails! "I was straddling the yard at that time, and just about to swing to the foot rope and lay down from aloft; but I changed my mind very suddenly, and instead hugged the topsail yard,

   During the winter of this year I again made acquaintance with the dark room on board the Constitution. Two of us were walking about during the evening in the park opposite our quarters, when I saw a watch-man sneaking through the trees to catch -- some fellows who were violating regulations. The chance was very tempting, and without waiting to count the cost I landed a good-sized stone fairly behind the watchman's car, sending him to the hospital for repairs. Unfortunately for me, there was a citizen nearby who gave the commandant so good a description of me that I was sent for the next morning, and promptly sent on board ship and locked up. This was bad enough in all reason, but I soon made it worse. The officer of the day, wishing to show proper respect for a senior, smuggled me a novel and a candle, and, having arranged my blanket so as to shut out curious eyes, I read my novel in peace until the sentry, a sailor with a cutlass, pried the blanket to one side. I blew the candle out at once, and then arranged the spring in the candlestick, so that I could shoot the candle out when necessary. Then I lighted it again, and taking a position favorable for my purpose, I waited for the

   In short while the commanding officer was on the scene, and then an end was put to my sport. I was marched out, the room searched, the door boarded up solid, and the key again turned on me. This time there was not the least semblance of fun about it. For two weeks I was kept locked up and then released; but for several days I could do nothing as the light hurt my eyes dreadfully. It seemed to require a very practical demonstration to convince me that I had to do as I was told. This last experience went a long way in that direction.

   THE expected battle has not Yet come off, and I am still awaiting the result; busying myself about many things, visiting and returning visits from my

   A proud, iron soldier the man was , I could see. The boy was delirious; so I shall tell you of the man. Refusing to be seated as long as a lady remained standing in the room, be stood stiffly upright at the head of the cot, keeping each fly from the face of the boy with the tenderness of a mother. A limp brown hat was on the side of his head, shading his eyes, that followed me in all parts of the room. A red cord and tassel hung from one side of his hat, and gave him a jaunty air that was quite out of keeping with the quaint stiffness of his manner. After speaking to the sick and wounded soldiers around, asking after their wounds and wants, I returned to the young boy's cot, and heard the old man's story. Don't be weary if I give it to you; he had so much pride in his boy, let that be my extenuation.

   We belong to the Texas Rangers, ma'am, the

   "Well, ma'am, so he staid with us; and when we got to Corinth, General Beauregard offered a cross of honor to the ones that showed themselves the best soldiers. So our boys talked a heap about who'd get it; but this boy says nothing. Well, one day we were ordered out to scout, and we came up with the Yankees, and we fought 'em a half hour or so, when I saw this youngster by. my side kind of drooping by a tree, but standing his ground. Well, we routed them at last, when I found the boy's leg was all shattered, and he had kept up as though nothing was the matter. So when we went back to Corinth, it got noised about from the soldiers to the officers -- how he'd held out. And, more'n all, the time when his leg was being cut off, we couldn't get any chloroform, morphine, or the like: he just sit up like a brave lad, and off it went, without a word out of him. So the doctors they talked of that; and he's been notified that he'll get the first cross, and the

   The boy that gained a double cross at Corinth has closed his eyes softly and calmly. Suffering will never disturb him more. He is dead. The old man has gone back to his company with spasms of pain in his heart, of which the world will never know.

   Let me tell you of the man's devotion. The boy's fever still raged, with slighter and slighter intervals. The medicine failed to procure the desired effect. The physicians looked anxious as they approached his cot. I wanted to take the old man's hand and tell him of the Friend in heaven, from whom death itself can never separate us ; but a foolish fear withheld me. One night the physicians met around the little cot, the old man, as usual when others were near, standing stiffly at the head, yet, with alarmed and burning eyes, intently reading each face. A sad reading, hopeless -- the eyes told that, while the hand sought the faintly beating pulse. "Doctor, may I try to save my boy my own way? "said the old man, following the physician into the hall. "Yes, do as you choose with him, only do not give him unnecessary pain."

   In the morning a large tub of cold water was taken to the ward and placed by the sick boy's cot; and, to the dismay of the soldiers in the beds around, the boy was lifted out, wounded as he was, by the strong and gentle arms of one in whose eyes he was more precious than the rarest of diamonds and gold. A quick douse, and he was rubbed well, covered closely, and soon slept soundly, the perspiration breaking out profusely

   The ladies wished to have a large funeral over the brave, Young soldier ; but the physicians would not consent to having him buried in town, saying that the soldiers were all worthy of attention, and that no distinction could be allowed. So, before he was buried, I went out to the hospital and looked my last on the young, dead face, from which all trace of suffering had fled: only peace and rest now forever!

   Pain and anguish were making a deep impress on the face of the man by the head: the drawn lines of watching and suffering were more evident, as with a strained smile, and almost a gasp of pain, he thanked me for the interest I had taken. "Everybody is so kind! "he said. He had gone into town that morning and purchased a little black coat, placing it on the small form. A black velvet vest, white bosom, and the cravat tied over the white, boyish throat, told of the tenderness that shrank not from the coldness of death.

   "He's like his mother, ma'am, more than ever, now,"he whispered, softly drawing the sheet over the inanimate form; and turning squarely around,

   IT is a custom as old as sailing, for aught I know, for every armed vessel on passing the equator to receive a visit from his aquatic Godship Neptune, who is supposed to hold his court in that locality, suffering no ship to pass until he has satisfied himself by personal inspection that there are none on board but regularly initiated sailors; that is, 'those who have previously crossed the line and submitted to his initiatory rites. We bad a number of novices among officers and men, and consequently the event was anticipated with even more than ordinary interest.

   It was just gone eight bells in the evening, when a rough voice over the bows was heard hailing the ship.

   "What's wanting ? "said the officer of the deck.

   "Heave to. I want to come on board,"was the surly response.

   The requisite orders were given, and a few moments after a gigantic figure was seen ascending the side, dressed in an oilskin coat, and wearing a wig of Manilla yarn, which, at a little distance, had the appearance of yellow curly hair.

   He was accompanied by another grotesque figure representing his wife, and the two were followed by a third, who was supposed to be His Majesty's confidential barber, provided with the utensils of his calling, which consisted of a bucket of slush, and a

   "What ship is this ? "he said, in an authoritative voice.

   "The Confederate Cruiser, Shenandoah,"replied the officer of the deck, touching his hat.

   "Are there any of my subjects on board who have never crossed the line before ? "was the next question.

   "There are several, I believe."

   "Bring them before me! "continued his Godship, and thereupon such of the company as had already passed the ordeal dispersed in search of the novices.

   We found them stowed away in every imaginable place of concealment, but they were scented out, and dragged before the Ocean Deity, where they were solemnly lathered from the slush-bucket, and shaved with the iron hoop, according to immemorial usage.

   The frolic was kept up till a late hour, and an additional zest was added to the festivities by the fact that two or three of our youngsters actually believed that they had been in the presence of the veritable Neptune, and it was only after the expiration of a considerable time that they discovered that they had been imposed upon by some of their own shipmates.

   ENTER with me into a Sibley tent which is not stockaded. If it is cold weather, we shall find the cone-shaped stove, which I have already mentioned,

   The dozen men occupying a Sibley tent slept with their feet toward the centre. The choice place to occupy was that portion opposite the door, as one was not then in the way of passers in and out, although he was himself more or less of a nuisance to others when he came in. The tent was most crowded at meal times, for, owing to its shape, there can be no standing or sitting erect except about the centre. But while there was more or less growling at accidents by some, there was much forbearance by others, and, aside from the vexations arising from the constitutional blundering of some, these little knots were quite family-like and sociable.

   The manner in which the time was spent in tents varied with the disposition of the inmates. It was not always practicable for men of kindred tastes to band themselves under the same canvas, and so just as they differed in their avocations as citizens, they differed in their social life, and many kinds of pastimes went on simultaneously. Of course, all wrote letters more or less, but there were a few men who seemed to spend the most of their spare time in this occupation. Especially was this so in the earlier part of a man's

   war experience. The side or end strip of a hardtack box, held on the knees, constituted the writing-desk on which this operation was performed. It is well remembered that in the early months of the war silver

   Many an old soldier can recall his disgust on finding, what a mess his stamps were in either from rain, perspiration, or compression, as he attempted, after a hot march, to get one for a letter. If he could split off one from a welded mass of perhaps a hundred or more, he counted himself fortunate. Of course they could be soaked out after a while, but he would need to dry them on a griddle afterward, they were so sticky. It was later than this that the postmaster-general issued an order allowing soldiers to send letters without prepayment; but, if I recollect right, it was necessary to write on the outside "Soldier's Letter."

   Besides letter-writing the various games of cards were freely engaged in. Many men played for money. Cribbage and euchre were favorite games. Reading was a pastime quite generally indulged in, and there was no novel so dull, trashy, or sensational as not to find some one so bored with nothing to do that he would wade through it.

   Chequers was a popular game among the soldiers, backgammon less so, and it was only rarely that the statelier and less familiar game of chess was to be observed on the board. There were some soldiers who rarely joined in any games. In this class were to be found the illiterate members of a company. Of course they did not read or write, and they rarely played cards. They were usually satisfied to lie on

   One branch of business which was carried on quite extensively was the making of pipes and rings as mementos of a camp or battle-field. The pipes were made from the root of the mountain laurel when it could be had, and often ornamented with the badges of the various corps, either in relief or inlaid. The rings were made sometimes of dried horn or hoof, very often of bone, and some were fashioned out of large gutta-percha buttons which were sent from home.

   The evenings in camp were less occupied in gameplaying, I should say, than the hours off duty in the daytime; partly, perhaps, because the tents were rather dimly lighted, and partly because of a surfeit of such recreations by daylight. But, whatever the cause, I think old soldiers will generally agree in the statement that the evenings were the time of sociability and reminiscence. It was then quite a visiting time among soldiers of the same organization. It was then that men from the same town or neighborhood got together and exchanged home gossip. Each one would produce recent letters giving interesting information about mutual friends or acquaintances, telling that such a girl or old schoolmate was married; that such a man had enlisted in such a regiment; that another was wounded and at home on furlough; that such another had been exempted from the forthcoming draft, because he had lost teeth,

   Then, there were many men not so fortunate as to have enlisted with acquaintances, or to be near them in the army. These were wont to lie on their blankets, and join in the general conversation, or exchange ante-war experiences, and find much of interest in common; but, whatever the number or variety of the evening diversions, there is not the slightest doubt that home, its inmates, and surroundings were more thought of and talked of then than in all the rest of the twentyfour hours.

   In some tents vocal or instrumental music was a feature of the evening. There was probably not a regiment in the service that did not boast at least one violinist, one banjoist, and a bone player in its ranks -- not to mention other instruments generally found associated with these -- and one or all of them could be beard in operation, either inside or in a company street, most any pleasant evening. However unskilful the artists, they were sure to be the centre of an interested audience. The usual medley of comic songs and negro melodies comprised the greater part of the entertainment, and, if the space admitted, a jig or clog dance was stepped out on a hardtack box or other crude platform. Sometimes a real negro was brought in to enliven the occasion by patting and dancing "Juba,"or singing his quaint music. There were always plenty of them in or near camp ready to fill any gap, for they asked nothing better than to be with "Massa Linkum's Sojers."But the men played tricks of all descriptions on them, descending at times

   A FALSE impression has obtained more or less currency both with regard to the quantity and quality of the food furnished the soldiers. I have been asked a great many times whether I always got enough to eat in the army, and have surprised inquirers by answering in the affirmative. Now, some old soldier may say who sees my reply, "Well, you were lucky. I didn't."But I should at once ask him to tell me for how long a time his regiment was ever without food of some kind. Of course, I am not now referring to our prisoners of war, who starved by the thousands. And I should be very much surprised if be should say more than twenty-four or thirty hours, at the outside. I would grant that he himself might, perhaps have been so situated as to be deprived of food a longer time, possibly when he was on an exposed picket post, or serving as rear-guard to the army, or doing something which separated him temporarily from his company; but his case would be the exception and not the rule. Sometimes, when

   I will now give a complete list of the rations served out to the rank and file, as I remember them. They were salt pork, fresh beef, salt beef, rarely ham or bacon, hard bread, soft bread, potatoes, an occasional onion, flour, beans, split pease, rice, dried apples, dried peaches, desiccated vegetables, coffee, tea, sugar, molasses, vinegar, candles, soap, pepper, and salt.

   It is scarcely necessary to state that these were not all served out at one time. There was but one kind of meat served at once, and this, to use a Hibernianism, was usually pork. When it was hard bread, it wasn't soft bread or flour, and when it was pease or beans it wasn't rice.

   The commissioned officers fared better in camp than the enlisted men. Instead of drawing rations after the manner of the latter, they had a certain cash allowance, according to rank, with which to purchase supplies from the Brigade Commissary, an official whose province was to keep stores on sale for their convenience.

   I will speak of the rations more in detail, beginning with the hard bread, or, to use the name by which it

   When the bread was mouldy or moist, it was thrown away and made good at the next drawing, so that the men were not the losers; but in the case of its being infested with the weevils, they had to stand it as a rule ; but hardtack was not so bad an article of food, even when traversed by insects, as may be supposed. Eaten in the dark, no one could tell the difference between it and hardtack that was untenanted. It was no uncommon occurrence for a man to find the surface of his pot of coffee swimming with weevils, after breaking up hardtack in it, which had come out of the fragments only to drown; but they were easily skimmed off, and left no distinctive flavor behind.

   Having gone so far, I know the reader will be interested to learn of the styles in which this particular article was served up by the soldiers. Of course, many of them were eaten just as they were received -- hardtack plain; then I have already spoken of their being crumbed in coffee, giving the "hardtack and coffee."Probably more were eaten in this way than in any other, for they thus frequently furnished the soldier his breakfast and supper. But there were other and more appetizing ways of preparing them. Many of the soldiers, partly through a slight taste for the business but more from force of circumstances, became in their way and opinion experts in the art of cooking the greatest variety of dishes with the smallest amount of capital.

   Some of these crumbed them in soups for want of other thickening. For this purpose they served very well. Some crumbed them in cold water, then fried the crumbs in the juice and fat of meat. A dish akin to this one which was said to make the hair curl, and certainly was indigestible enough to satisfy the cravings of the most ambitious dyspeptic, was prepared by soaking hardtack in cold water, then frying them brown in pork fat, salting to taste. Another name for this dish was skillygalee. Some liked them toasted, either to crumb in coffee, or if a sutler was at hand whom they could patronize, to butter. The toasting generally took place from the end of a split stick.

   Then they worked into milk-toast made of condensed milk at seventy-five cents a can ; but only a recruit with a big bounty, or an old vet, the child of wealthy parents, or a reenlisted man did much in that way. A few who succeeded by hook or by crook in saving up a portion of their sugar ration spread it upon hardtack. And so in various ways the ingenuity of the men was taxed to make this plainest and commonest yet most serviceable of army food to do duty in every conceivable combination.

   ORDERS to move ! Where ? when? what for ? are the eager questions of the men as they begin their preparations to march. Generally nobody can answer, and the journey is commenced in utter ignorance of where it is to end. But shrewd guesses are made,

   No wonder there is bustle in the camp. Rapid decisions are to be made between the various conveniences which have accumulated, for some must be left. One fellow picks up the skillet, holds it awhile, mentally determining how much it weighs, and what will be the weight of it after carrying it five miles, and reluctantly, with a half-ashamed, sly look drops it and takes his place in the ranks. Another having added to his store of blankets too, freely, now has to decide which of the two or three he will leave. The old waterbucket looks large and heavy, but one stout-hearted, strong-armed man has taken it affectionately to his care.

   This is the time to say farewell to the bread tray, farewell to the little piles of clean straw laid between two logs, where it was so easy to sleep; farewell to those piles of wood, cut with so much labor; farewell to the girls in the neighborhood ; farewell to the spring, farewell to our tree and our fire, good-by to the fellows who are not going, and a general good-by to the very hills and valleys.

   Soldiers commonly threw away the most valuable articles they possessed. Blankets, overcoats, shoes, bread and meat, -- all gave way to the necessities of the march; and what one man threw away would frequently be the very article that another wanted and would immediately pick up; so there was not much lost after all.

   The first hour or so of the march was generally quite orderly, the men preserving their places in ranks and marching in solid columns; but soon sorne lively fellow whistles an air, somebody else starts a song, the whole column breaks out with roars of laughter; route step takes the place of order, and the jolly singing, laughing, talking, and joking that follows no one could describe.

   Troops on the march were generally so cheerful and gay that an outsider, looking on them as they marched, would hardly imagine how they suffered. In summer time, the dust, combined with the heat, caused great suffering. The nostrils of the men, filled with dust, became dry and feverish, and even the throat did not escape. The grit was felt between the teeth, and the eyes were rendered almost useless. There was dust in eyes, mouth, cars and hair. The shoes were full of sand, and the dust penetrated the clothes. The heat was at times terrific, but the, men became greatly accustomed to it, and endured it with wonderful ease. Their heavy woolen clothes were a great annoyance; tough linen or cotton clothes would have been a great relief; indeed, there are many objections to woolen clothing for soldiers, even in winter.

   If the dust and heat were not on hand to annoy, their very able substitutes were: mud, cold, rain, snow, hail and wind took their places. Rain was the greatest discomfort a soldier could have ; it was more uncomfortable than the severest cold with clear weather. Wet clothes, shoes and blankets ; wet meat and bread; wet feet and wet ground; wet wood to burn, or rather not to burn; wet arms and ammunition; wet ground to sleep on, mud to wade through, swollen creeks to ford, muddy springs, and a thousand other

   Occasionally, when the column extended for a mile or more, and the road was one dense moving mass of men, a cheer would be heard away ahead -- increasing in volume as it approached, until there was one universal shout. Then some favorite general officer dashing by, followed by his staff, would explain the cause. At other times, the same cheering and enthusiasm would result from the passage down the column of some obscure and despised officer, who knew it was all a joke, and looked mean and sheepish accordingly. But no man could produce more prolonged or hearty cheers than the old hare which jumped the fence and invited the column to a chase; and often it was said, when the rolling shout arose: "There goes old General Lee or a Molly Cotton Tail !"

   The most refreshing incidents of the march occurred when the column entered some clean and cosy village where the people loved the troops. Matron and maid vied with each other in their efforts to express their devotion to the defenders of their cause. Remembering with tearful eyes the absent soldier, brother or husband, they yet smiled through their tears, and with hearts and voices welcomed the coming of the road-stained troops. Their scanty larders poured out the last morsel, and their bravest words were spoken as the column moved by.

   After all the march had more pleasure than pain. Chosen friends walked and talked and smoked together; the hills and valleys made themselves a panorama for the feasting of the soldier's eyes ; a turnip path here and an onion patch there invited him to occasional refreshment; and it was sweet to think that camp was near at hand, and rest, and the journey almost ended.

   IN the great dining-hall of the Briars, an old-time mansion in the Shenandoah Valley, the residence of Mr. John Esten Cooke, there hangs a portrait of a broad-shouldered cavalier, and beneath is written, in the hand of the cavalier himself,

"Yours to count on,
J. E. B. STUART,"

   I saw him for the first time when he was a colonel, in command of the little squadron of horsemen known as the first regiment of Virginia cavalry.

   My company arrived at the camp about noon, after a march of three or four days, having travelled twenty miles that morning. Stuart, whom we encountered as we entered the camp, assigned us our position, and ordered our tents pitched. Our captain, who was even worse disciplined than we were, seeing a much more comfortable camping-place than the muddy one assigned to us, and being a comfort-loving gentleman, proceeded to lay out a model camp at a distance of fifty yards from the spot indicated. It was not long before the colonel particularly wished to consult with that captain, and after the consultation the volunteer officer was firmly convinced that all West Point graduates were martinets, with no knowledge whatever of the courtesies due from one gentleman to another.

   We were weary after our long journey, and disposed to welcome the prospect of rest which our arrival in the camp held out. But resting, as we soon learned, had small place in our colonel's tactics. We had been in camp perhaps an hour, when a n order came directing that the company be divided into three parts, each under command of a lieutenant, and that these report immediately for duty. Reporting, we were directed to scout through the country around Martinsburg, going as near the town as possible, and to give battle to any cavalry force we might meet. Here was a pretty lookout, certainly! Our officers knew not one inch of the country, and might fall into all sorts of traps and ambuscades; and what if we should meet a cavalry force greatly superior to

   But it was not until General Patterson began his feint against Winchester that our colonel had full opportunity to give us his field lectures. When the advance began, and our pickets were driven in, the most natural thing to do, in our view of the situation, was to fall back upon our infantry supports at Winchester, and I remember bearing various expressions of doubt as to the colonel's sanity when, instead of falling back, he marched his handful of men right up to the advancing lines, and ordered us to dismount.

   "Attention! "he cried. "Now I want to talk to you men. You are brave fellows, and patriotic ones too, but you are ignorant of this kind of work, and I am teaching you. I want you to observe that a good man on a good horse can never be caught. Another thing: cavalry can trot away from anything, and a gallop is a gait unbecoming a soldier, unless he is going toward the enemy. Remember that. We gallop toward the enemy, and trot away, always. Steady now! don't break ranks!"

   And as the words left his lips a shell from a battery half a mile to the rear hissed over our heads.

   "There,"he resumed. "I've been waiting for that and watching those fellows. I knew they'd shoot too high, and I wanted you to learn how shells sound."

   We spent the next day or two literally within the Federal lines. We were shelled, skirmished with, charged, and surrounded scores of times, until we learned to hold in high regard our colonel's masterly skill in getting into and out of perilous positions. He seemed to blunder into them in sheer recklessness, but in getting out he showed us the quality of his genius; and before we reached Manassas we had learned, among other things, to entertain a feeling closely akin to worship for our brilliant and daring leader. We had begun to understand, too, how much force he meant to give to his favorite dictum that the cavalry is the eye of the army.

   I had been detailed to do some clerical work at his headquarters, and, having finished the task assigned me, was waiting in the piazza of the house he occupied, for somebody to give me further orders, when Stuart came out.

   "Is that your horse?"he asked, going up to the animal and examining him minutely.

   I replied that he was, and upon being questioned further informed him that I did not wish to sell my steed. Turning to me suddenly, he said:

   "Let's slip off on a scout, then ; I'll ride your horse and you can ride mine. I want to try your beast's paces; "and mounting, we galloped away. Where or how far he intended to go I did not know. He was enamoured of my horse, and rode, I suppose, for the pleasure of riding an animal which pleased him. We passed outside our picket line, and then, keeping in the woods, rode within that of the Union army. Wandering about in a purposeless way, we got a near view of some of the Federal camps, and finally finding ourselves objects of attention on the

   "General,"I cried presently, "there is a Federal picket post on the road just ahead of us. Had we not better oblique into the woods ?"

   "Oh no. They won't expect us from this direction, and we can ride over them before they make up their minds who we are."

   Three minutes later we rode at full speed through the corporal's guard on picket, and were a hundred yards or more away before they could level a gun at us. Then half a dozen bullets whistled about our ears, but the cavalier paid no attention to them.

   "Did you ever time this horse for a half-mile?"was all he had to say.

   It was on the day of my ride with him that I heard him express his views of the war and his singular aspiration for himself. It was almost immediately after General McClellan assumed command of the army of the Potomac, and while we were rather eagerly expecting him to attack our strongly fortified position at Centreville. Stuart was talking with some members of his staff, with whom be had been wrestling a minute before. He said something about what they could do by way of amusement when they should go into winter-quarters.

   "That is to say,"he continued, "if George B. McClellan ever allows us to go into winter-quarters at all."

   "Why, general? Do you think he will advance before spring?"asked one of the officers.

   "Not against Centreville,"replied the general

   In this prediction, as the reader knows, he was right. The conversation then passed to the question of results.

   "I regard it as a foregone conclusion,"said Stuart, "that we shall ultimately whip the Yankees. We are bound to believe that, anyhow; but the war is going to be a long and terrible one, first. We've only just begun it, and very few of us will see the end. All I ask of fate is that I may be killed leading a cavalry charge."

   The remark was not a boastful or seemingly insincere one. It was made quietly, cheerfully, almost eagerly, and it impressed me at the time with the feeling that the man's idea of happiness was what the French call glory, and that in his eyes there was no glory like that of dying in one of the tremendous onsets which he knew so well how to make. His wish was granted, as we know. He received his death-wound at the head of his troopers.

   THE possibility of escape was a subject of thought and conversation among us quite early in our imprisonment. After Henry's departure, I made up my mind to try the experiment as soon as matters seemed ripe for it. The reports of exchange just at hand, which coaxed us into hope from week to week, for

   Our plan, as finally agreed upon, was simple. Twice during the day we were allowed half an hour in the yard for exercise; being counted when we came in, or soon after, to assure the sergeant of the guard that we were all present. In this yard was a small brick building consisting of two rooms used as kitchens, -- one by ourselves, the other by the naval officers. The latter of these had a window opening into a woodshed; from which, part of the side being torn away, there was access to a narrow space between another small building and the jail-fence. Our intention was to enter this kitchen during our halfhour of liberty, as we were frequently in the habit of doing; to talk with those who were on duty for the day; remain there after the cooks had gone in, leaving lay-figures to be counted in our stead by the sergeant; thence through the woodshed, and, by removing a board of the high fence already loosened for the purpose, into the adjoining premises, from which we could easily gain the street. The latter part of the movement -- all of it, indeed, except the entrance into the kitchen, where we were to remain

   The street once gained, my comrade and I intended to take the railroad running northward along the banks of the Broad River, follow it during the first night, while our escape was still undiscovered, then strike as direct a course as possible for the North-Carolina line. Through the latter State, we hoped to make our way westward across the mountains, where we should find friends as well as enemies, ultimately reaching Burnside's lines in East Tennessee. The distance to be passed over we estimated at about three hundred miles; the time which it would occupy, at from twenty to thirty days. The difficulties in our way were very great, the chances for and against us we considered certainly no better than equal.

   Our preparations for such a trip were, of necessity, few. We manufactured a couple of stout cloth haversacks, in which, though hardly as large as the army pattern, we were to carry ten days' provision, -- each of us two dozen hard-boiled eggs, and about six quarts of corn parched and ground. Besides a rubber blanket to each, we concluded, for the sake of light traveling, to carry but a single woolen one. This, with one or two other articles of some bulk, we placed in a wash-tub and covered with soiled clothes, in order to convey them, without exciting suspicion, to the kitchen. My baggage, for the journey, besides what has already been referred to, consisted of an extra pair of cotton socks, a comb, toothbrush, and piece of soap, needle and thread, a piece of stout cloth, a flask about one-third full of excellent brandy, a piece of lard, a paper of salt, pencil and paper, and my home-photographs.

   Two dummies, or lay-figures, were to be made. The first was a mere pile of blankets; but its position in the second story of our double-tier bedstead protected it from close observation. For the second, I borrowed a pair of pants, and for one foot found a cast-off shoe. The upper part of the figure was covered with a blanket; and the face, with a silk handkerchief: attitude was carefully attended to. I flattered myself that the man was enough of a man for pretty sharp eyes, and was satisfied when Lieutenant Bliss came in, and unsuspectingly addressed him by the name of the officer whose pants he wore.

   After the last thing was done which could be done in the way of preparation, time passed very slowly. I was impatiently nervous, and spent the hours in pacing the rooms and watching the sluggish clockhands. The excitement of anticipation was hardly less than that which I have felt before an expected fight. The personal stake at issue was little different.

   My comrade in this venturesome move was Captain Chamberlain, of the 7th Connecticut. He was well-informed, an ex-editor, plucky, and of excellent physique, well calculated to endure hardship, and a good swimmer. He was that day on duty in the kitchen. At four P.M. we went out as usual for exercise. Entering the kitchen a few minutes before our halfhour had expired, I concealed myself in a snug corner, before which one or two towels, a huge tin boiler, and other convenient articles, were so disposed as to render the shelter complete should so unusual an event occur as a visit from the guard after that hour.

   It was but a few minutes before the corporal, acting for the day as sergeant, was seen to enter the room to which all but the cooks and myself had returned.

   Rather than pass the ordeal of a visit from him, had we anticipated it, we should probably have deferred our attempt another day, even at the risk of losing our chance altogether. He opened the door and went in. I waited anxiously to hear what would follow. He seemed to stay longer than usual. Was there anything wrong? Suspense lengthened the minutes; but it was of no use to question those who could see, while the door remained closed, no more than myself. Presently I was told that the door was open; he was coming out; there seemed to be no alarm; he was stepping briskly toward the yard. We breathed more freely. A moment more, and he was going back, evidently dissatisfied with something. He re-entered the room. "It's all up,"said my reporter. I thought myself that there was little doubt of it, and prepared, the moment any sign of alarm appeared, to come from my retreat, which I preferred to leave voluntarily rather than with the assistance of a file of men. Too bad to be caught at the very outset, without so much as a whiff of the air of freedom to compensate us for the results of detection! But no: Captain Senn comes quietly out, walks leisurely through the hall; and his pipe is lit, -- best evidence in the world that all is tranquil, his mind undisturbed by anything startling or unexpected.

   But it was too soon to exult: congratulations were cut short by sudden silence on the part of my friends. I listened: it was broken by a step on the threshold,

   After perhaps an hour of quiet, we set about what little was to be done before we were ready to leave the building, -- the rolling of our blankets, not yet taken from the tub in which they had been brought out, the filling of our haversacks, etc. To do this in perfect silence was no easy task. Any noise made was easily audible outside: the window looking toward the jail had no sash, and the blinds which closed it failed to meet in the center. A sentry stood not far distant. More than once, startled by the loud rattling of the paper which we were unwrapping from our provisions, or the clatter of some dish inadvertently touched in the darkness, we paused, and anxiously peeped through the blinds to see if the sentry had noticed it. The possibility of any one's being in the kitchen at that hour was probably the last thought to enter his mind. Many times

   The only communication between these rooms was by a small hole broken through the chimney-back, scarcely large enough to admit the body, and with the passage further embarrassed by the stoves on either side, so placed that it was necessary to lie down, and move serpent-wise for a considerable distance. Captain Chamberlain made the first attempt, and discovered that the door of the stove on the opposite side had been left open, and wedged in that position by the wood, crowded in for the morning's fire; so that the passage was effectually obstructed. The hole had to be enlarged by the tearing-away of more bricks, which, as fast as removed, he handed to me to be laid on one side. Patient labor at length made a sufficient opening, and he passed through. I handed to him the blankets, haversacks, and shoes, and with some difficulty followed.

   WE reached Chattanooga on June 1st, and I found it, to my chagrin, a military camp, containing seven thousand cavalry, under strict military rule. We

   We safely reached and passed the outer pickets, and then took to the woods, and struck in toward the Tennessee river, hoping to find a ferry where money, backed, if necessary, by the moral suasion of pistols, would put us across. I was growing desperate, and determined not to be foiled. We made some twelve miles, and then rested in the woods till morning, when selecting the safest hiding-place I could find, I left my companion with the horses and started out on a reconnoissance.

   Trudging along a road in the direction of the river, I met a guileless man who gave me some information of the name and locality of a ferryman, who had formerly acted in that capacity, though now no one was allowed to cross. Carefully noting all the facts I could draw out of this man, I strolled on and soon fell in with another, and gained additional light, one item of which was that the old flat lay near, and just below, the ferryman's house. Thus enlightened,

   I laid before my companion the rather dubious prospect, that the orders were strict that no man should be ferried across the river; the ferryman was faithful to the South; he had been conscientious in his refusal to many applications; no sum would induce him to risk his neck, etc. Yet my purpose was formed: we must cross the river that night, and this man must take us over, as there was no other hope of escape. Having laid the plan before my companion, as evening drew on I again sought the cabin of the retired ferryman. My second appearance was explained by the statement that I had got off the road, and wandering in the woods, had come round to the same place. After taking supper with the ferryman, we walked out smoking and chatting. By degrees I succeeded in taking him down near the ferry, and there sat down on the bank to try the effect upon his avaricious heart of the sight of some gold which I had purchased at Montgomery. His eye glistened as e examined an eagle with unwonted eagerness, while we talked of the uncertain value of paper-money, and the probable future value of Confederate scrip.

   As the time drew near when my companion, according to agreement, was to ride boldly to the

   I arranged, when we touched the bank, to be in the rear of the ferryman, and followed him as he stepped off the boat to take breath before a return pull. "Now, my good fellow,"said I, "you have done us one good turn for pay, you must do another for friendship. We are strangers here, and you must take us to the foot of Waldron's Ridge, and then we will release you."To this demand he demurred most vigorously; but my determined position between him and the boat, gentle words, and an eloquent exhibition of my six-shooter, the sheen of which the moonlight enabled him to perceive, soon ended the parley, and onward he moved. We kept him in the road slightly ahead of us, with our horses on his two flanks, and chatted as sociably as the circumstances would permit. For six long miles we guarded our prisoner-pilot, and, after apologizing for our rudeness on the plea of self-preservation, and thanking him for his enforced service, we bade him good-night, not doubting that he would reach the river in time to ferry himself over before daylight, and console his frightened wife by the sight of the golden bribe.

   We were now, at eleven o'clock at night, under the shadow of a dark mountain, and with no knowledge

   By nine o'clock the next morning we reached a farm-house, whose inmates, without many troublesome inquiries, agreed to feed our half-starved horses and give us some breakfast.

   We made some thirty miles that day, and ascending the Cumberland range in the evening, we again sought rest among the rocks. This we judged safest, since we knew not who might have seen us during the day, of an inquiring state of mind, as to our purpose and destination.

   On the morning of June 4th, by a détour to conceal the course from which we came, and a journey of a dozen of miles, we reached the home of my friend.

   The day after our arrival, he took to his bed and never rose again. The hardships he had endured in the journey home, acting upon a system enfeebled by his wound, terminated in inflammation of the lungs, which within a week ended his life.

   One more step was needed to make me safe; that was, to get within the Federal lines, take the oath of allegiance, and secure a pass. But how could this be accomplished? Should the Federal authorities suspect me of having been in the Rebel service, would they allow me to take the oath and go my way.?

   knew not ; but well I knew the Confederate officers were never guilty of such an absurdity.

   An incident which occurred about the 20th of June, both endangered my escape and yet put me upon the way of its accomplishment. I rode my pet horse Selim into the village of McMinnville, a few miles from the place of my sojourn, to obtain information as to the proximity of the Federal forces, and, if possible,

   The cavalry left the town in a few hours, after erecting a flagstaff and giving the Stars and Stripes to the breeze.

   I left soon after the Federals did, but in an opposite direction, with my final plan perfected. When hailed by the pickets, a mile from the town, I told them I wished to see the officer in command. They directed me where to find him, and allowed me to advance. When I found the officer, I stated that some Federal cavalry had taken my horse in McMinnville a few days ago, and I wished to recover him. He told me he could give me no authority to secure any horse, unless I would take the oath of allegiance to the United States. To this I made no special objection. With a seeming hesitation, and yet with a joy that was almost too great to be concealed, I solemnly subscribed the following oath:

   "I solemnly swear, without any mental reservation or evasion, that I will support the Constitution of the United States and the laws made in pursuance thereof; and that I will not take up arms against the United States, or give aid or comfort, or furnish information, directly or indirectly, to any person or persons belonging to any of the so-styled Confederate States who are now or may be in rebellion against the United States. So help me God."

   The other side of the paper contained a military pass, by authority of Lieutenant-colonel J. G. Parkhurst, Military Governor of Murfreesboro.

   RUMORS of Northern troops making raids and committing all kinds of depredations through the Southern states came to us frequently. Being so far south we were not disturbed by them until the war was almost ended. Our Postmaster, Mr. Petty, sent one morning in the ever-to-be-remembered spring, to let me know the startling news had been received that General Grierson, with a detachment of Union soldiers, was passing through adjacent counties, and would probably reach Clayton very soon. I had old Joe called in and told him what had come. The old man seemed very much troubled. He said little, but that night, after all the family had retired and were wrapped in unconscious sleep, he came to consult me about secreting some provisions before the arrival of these hostile troops, fearing they might destroy these necessary articles and leave us in a state of want, as they had done in many instances. I said, "Well, Joe, you can do so if you wish."

   He took his shovel-and spade and went into the vegetable garden, which was quite large as it furnished supplies for the entire family, white and colored. He began digging in good earnest and soon

   The next night he worked away until it was sufficiently large to hold what we thought necessary, then came to let me know that he was ready to make the transfer. With my basket of keys we went out to select the articles-bacon, sugar, syrup, wine, and many other things. After putting these things in the excavation, with bard work he covered them over, put earth on top until the great hole was entirely hid. Next morning after starting all to work he returned to the house, went into the garden, laid off the place where the things were hid in rows with a plow, and set out cabbage plants, so that in a few days they were growing as peacefully as though nothing but mother earth was resting beneath them. No one knew of this except Joe, his wife, Nancy, and myself, until peace was restored.

   ALL of a sudden it is very cold here. Two days ago it was hot like summer, but now I sit in my tent in my overcoat, writing, and thinking if I only were at home instead of being almost two thousand miles away.

   Away yonder, in the edge of the woods, I hear the drum-beat that calls the soldiers to their supper. It is only a little after five o'clock, but they begin the day very early and end it early. Pretty soon after dark they are all asleep, lying in their blankets tinder the trees, for in a quick march they leave their tents behind. Their guns are already at their sides, so that if they are suddenly called at night they can start in a moment. It is strange in the morning before

   Living in camp is queer business. I get my meals in General Grant's mess, and pay my share of the expenses. The table is a chest with a double cover, which unfolds on the right and the left; the dishes, knives and forks, and caster are inside. Sometimes we get good things, but generally we don't. The cook is an old negro, black and grimy. The cooking is not as clean as it might be, but in war you can't be particular about such things.

   The plums and peaches here are pretty nearly ripe. The strawberries have been ripe these few days, but the soldiers eat them up before we get a sight of them. The figs are as big as the end of your thumb, and the green pears are big enough to eat. But you don't know what beautiful flower gardens there are here. I never saw such roses; and the other day I found a lily as big as a tiger lily, only it was a magnificent red.

   So we live and listen and wait. I am reduced now to about the last stage. My poor blouse grows raggeder. My boots, as boys say, are hungry in many places. I have only one shirt; and that has shrunk about the neck., until buttons and buttonholes are

   Rations pall now-a-days. The thought of soft bread is an oasis in the memory. Instead of that, our wearied molars know only hardtack, and hard salt beef and pork. We pine for simple fruits and vegetables. The other day, however, I received a gift. An easy-conscienced friend of mine brought in a vast amount of provender from a foraging expedition, and bestowed upon me a superb turkey, -- the biggest turkey I ever saw; probably the grandfather

   IN spite of all the vexations of starting, every commander of troops will admit that, once mounted and on the march, the most harassing cares give place to buoyancy if not to exuberance of spirits. As I turned my face towards Richmond, I responded to my host's farewell and invitation, "Call again, General,"with at least a seeming cordiality; and greeted almost tenderly good Doctor Hubbard who came to express his regrets at our departure. He was very sad, and I gave him all the encouragement I could. Again I bore a brief interruption from two young women, who, propelled in a tip-cart by a single donkey, parleyed

   At one o'clock in the afternoon we encamped for the night, two miles beyond Barhamsville. It rained fiercely. The men were in the woods; myself and staff in a dirty and empty shanty adjacent. General Keyes occupied the best farm-house in the neighborhood; but not for comfort, -- it was a ruse. "Hush!"he uttered in bated breath; "still as death! this

   The dripping column that toiled heavily on its march from Barhamsville on the 25th of June, and halted in front of a dark and gloomy wood for the night, were soon transformed into happy dwellers, peopling the silent arches of the forest with song, or filling its dark recesses with a convivial glow. Soldiers, too, are mortal, with appetites pertaining to mortality. In common with races less civilized, they have a keen instinct for food, though they do not enjoy with the epicure the advantages of Fulton or Quincy market; hence, inroads on chickens, hogs, and cattle that are nurtured on sacred soil, and an accurate knowledge of the situation of smoke and spring house. Rank commands external respect: but rank, in common with . the lowest station, acknowledges demands of hunger; and rank, however exalted, will fail to secure the bounties of the surrounding country, if it does not provide against the wandering tribes that swarm over and into every hamlet within miles of the march of a column of troops.

   It was a pleasing idea, that of dinner, as I watched the leaping blaze from my camp-fire, and dried wet places in my clothing. It was a consoling thought that I had stationed a sentinel at yonder farm-house

   "Which is the house, Mr. White? Go on, and show us the way."

   "This is it, hey ? I admire your taste ; it is the best-looking house around here; and it was very prudent in you, too, to post this sentinel at the door. These dogs of soldiers are so sharp."

   "This is Doctor Jones, General,"said Mr. White, as he introduced a gentlemanly person as the master of the mansion.

   "Glad to see you, Doctor; we have come to dine with you."

   "Why, General, I sent your dinner to you more than an hour ago."

   "Eh! what?"

   "Didn't you send 'for it?"

   "Send for it ! "I echoed, feebly. "I see it all! Call up that sentinel. 'Has any soldier carried off a dinner while you have been on post?"

   "No, sir!"

   "Did any dinner walk off alone in your presence?"

   "Didn't see it, sir."

   "When did you send this -- this dinner, Doctor ?"

   "We cooked and sent it as quickly as possible after your arrival."

   "But this sentinel was posted as soon as we arrived, was he not, Mr. White?"I said to my aid.

   "I didn't post him until one hour after,"replied the conscience-stricken officer.

   "And before he appeared,"said the doctor, "a soldier came and said he was sent by the General to bring his dinner to him."

   "General who?"

   "General Gordon."

   "May that dinner choke that soldier!"I muttered. My aid was lost in meditation. But our dinner -- ah, our dinner! -- that was gone forever!

   Doctor, have you anything left to eat?"

   I am afraid not. Three chickens were cooked, but the soldiers came and carried them away. They also killed my sitting hens, and hens with chickens; took off my beehives, and ate all I had in the house. So you will have a mighty poor dinner, I'm afraid, gentlemen."

   And it was poor, but filling. Though the hungry officers were not, the pickled mangoes were, nicely stuffed. The doctor favored us at the table with his presence, but several young ladies concealed in upper chambers, brooding over secession and nursing hatred to Yankees, did not. In a short after-dinner conversation my host declared the Southern belief to be that we were waging this war for their total subjugation, and that such belief rendered it impossible for them to do anything but fight. He thought they would come back to the Union as it was, if we would consent.

Thomas J. Jackson, commonly called "Stonewall because his brigade at Bull Run stood "like a stone wall"was one of the ablest Confederate commanders.

   WE have seen what Jackson accomplished. Let us now endeavor to see what manner of man, outwardly, it was who thus overthrew all his enemies, and built himself a name which is the echo of glory and victory. How such men look is interesting how they dress and appear among their fellow-men. Jackson's costume and deportment were unique, and have doubtless contributed in some degree to that amazing individuality which he has secured in the popular mind. The writer of these lines first saw him soon after the battle of Port Republic, and can thus present an outline of the great athlete, as he appeared, all covered with the dust of the arena, whereon Banks and his compeers had been overthrown by him. Jackson was in his fighting costume at the moment; it was the conqueror of the Valley who moved before us; and, to complete the picture, he had, at the moment when we first encountered him, his war-look on -- was in his veritable element.

    The outward appearance of the famous leader was not imposing. The popular idea of a great general is an individual of stiff and stately bearing, clad in splendid costume, all covered with gold lace and decorations, who prances by upon a mettled charger, and moves on, before admiring crowds, accompanied by his glittering staff, and grand in all the magnificence of high command. The figure of General Stonewall Jackson was singularly different from this popular fancy. He wore an old sun-embrowned coat of gray cloth, originally a very plain one, and now almost out

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at elbows. To call it sun-embrowned, however, is scarcely to convey an adequate idea of the extent of its discoloration. It had that dingy hue, the result of exposure to rain and snow and scorching sunshine, which is so unmistakable. It was plain that the general had often stretched his weary form upon the bare ground, and slept in the old coat; and it seemed to have brought away with it no little of the dust of the Valley. A holiday soldier would have disdained to wear such a garb; but the men of the old Stonewall Brigade, with their brave comrades of the corps, loved that coat, and admired it and its owner more than all the holiday uniforms and holiday warriors in the world.

   The general rode in a peculiar fashion, leaning forward somewhat, and apparently unconscious that he was in the saddle. His air was singularly abstracted; and, unless aware of his identity, no beholder would have dreamed that this plainly clad and absent-looking soldier was the idolized leader of a great army corps, at that very instant hurling themselves, column after column, upon the foe.

   The glittering eye beneath the yellow cap would have altered somewhat the impression that this man was a nobody -- that wonderful eye, in whose blaze was the evidence of a slumbering volcano beneath; but beyond this, there was absolutely nothing in the appearance of General Jackson to indicate his great rank or genius as a soldier.

    Such was the outward man of the famous general, as he appeared soon after the campaign of the Valley-and this plainness of exterior had in no small degree endeared him to his soldiers. His habits were still greater claims on the respect and regard of the best men of his command. He was known to be

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wholly free from all those vices which are the peculiar temptation of a military life. He lived as plainly as his men, and shared all their hardships, never for a moment acting upon the hypothesis that his rank entitled him to any luxury or comfort which they could not share. His food was plain and simple; his tent, when he had one, which was seldom, no better

AN ARMY POST OFFICE.

than those of the men; he would wrap himself in his blankets and lie down under a tree or in a fence corner, with perfect content, and apparently from preference; for to fight hard and live hard seemed to be the theory of war. He was a devout Christian, and rarely allowed passion to conquer him; when he yielded, it was on exciting occasions, and when great

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designs were thwarted by negligence or incapacity on the part of those to whom their execution was intrusted. Such occasions seldom occurred, and Jackson's habitual temper of mind was a gentle and childlike sweetness; a simplicity and purity of heart, which proved that he had indeed become as a little child walking humbly and devoutly before his God. Prayer was like breathing with him -- the normal condition of his being. Every morning he read his Bible and prayed, and the writer will not soon forget the picture drawn by one of his distinguished associates, who rode to his headquarters at daylight, last November, when the army was falling back to Fredericksburg from the Valley, and found him reading his Testament, quietly in !is tent, an occupation which he only interrupted to describe, in tones of quiet simplicity, his intended movements to foil the enemy. Before sitting down to table he raised both hands, and said grace. When he contemplated any movement, his old servant is said to have always known it by his wrestling in prayer for many hours of the night; and on the battle-field thousands noticed the singular gestures with the right arm, sometimes both arms, raised aloft. Those who looked closely at him at such moments saw his lips moving in prayer. Like Joshua,. he prayed with uplifted hand for victory.

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70. Three War Songs

MARCHING THROUGH GEORGIA

These songs are not very poetic, but were sung by hundreds of thousands of soldiers and also by numbers of school children in the North.

BRING the good old bugle, boys! we'll sing another
     song
Sing it with a spirit that will start the world along --

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Sing it as we used to sing it fifty thousand strong,
     While we were marching through Georgia.


Chorus. -- Hurrah! Hurrah! we bring the jubilee!
Hurrah! Hurrah ! the flag that makes you
     free ! "
So we sang the chorus from Atlanta to the
     sea,
While we were marching through Georgia.


How the darkeys shouted when they heard the joyful
     sound!
How the turkeys gobbled which our commissary
     found!
How the sweet potatoes even started from the ground,
     While we were marching through Georgia. --
     Chorus.


Yes, and there were Union men who wept with joyful
     tears,
When they saw the honor'd flag they had not seen
     for years;
Hardly could they be restrained from breaking forth
     in cheers,
     While we were marching through Georgia. --
     Chorus.


Sherman's dashing Yankee boys will never reach
     the coast! "
So the saucy rebels said -- and 'twas a handsome
     boast,
Had they not forgot, alas! to reckon on a host,
     While we were marching through Georgia. --
     Chorus.

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So we made a thoroughfare for Freedom and her train,
Sixty miles in latitude -- three hundred to the main
Treason fled before us, for resistance was in vain,
     While we were marching through Georgia. --
     Chorus.

THE BATTLE-CRY OF FREEDOM

YES, we'll rally round the flag, boys, we'll rally once
     again,
     Shouting the battle-cry of freedom,
We will rally from the hill-side, we'll gather from the
     plain,
     Shouting the battle-cry of freedom.


Chorus. -- The Union forever, hurrah! boys, hurrah,
     Down with the traitor, up with the star,
While we rally round the flag, boys, rally
     once again,
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom.


We are springing to the call of our brothers gone be-
     fore,
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom,
And we'll fill the vacant ranks with a million freemen
     more,
     Shouting the battle-cry of freedom. -- Chorus.


We will welcome to our numbers the loyal, true, and
     brave,
     Shouting the battle-cry of freedom,
And altho' they may be poor, not a man shall be a
     slave,
     Shouting the battle-cry of freedom. -- Chorus.

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So we're springing to the call from the East and from
     the West,
Shouting the battle-cry of freedom.
And we'll hurl the rebel crew from the land we love
     the best,
     Shouting the battle-cry of freedom. -- Chorus.

TRAMP, TRAMP, TRAMP

IN the prison cell I sit,
Thinking, mother dear, of you,
And our bright and happy home so far away,
     And the tears they fill my eyes,
Spite of all that I can do,
     Tho' I try to cheer my comrades and be gay.


Chorus. -- Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are march-
     ing,
     Oh, cheer up, comrades, they will come,
And beneath the starry flag we shall breathe
     the air again,
     Of freedom in our own beloved home.


In the battle front we stood
     When the fiercest charge they made,
And they swept us off a hundred men or more,
     But before we reached their lines
They were beaten back dismayed,
And we heard the cry of vict'ry o'er and o'er.-Chorus.


So within the prison cell
     We are waiting for the day
That shall come to open wide the iron door,
     And the hollow eye grows bright,
And the poor heart almost gay,
     As we think of seeing friends and home once
     more. -- Chorus.

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71. A Rainy Night
By REVEREND GEORGE HUGHES HEPWORTH (1863)

   THAT night, our advance encamped within six miles of the enemy's works. I accepted the kind invitation of Colonel Bullock, of the Thirtieth, to share his tent, and slept as comfortably on the dry grass and dead leaves as though I had had a bed of down. A hard ride of six or eight hours naturally inclined me to hunger and sleep. I relished a pile of crackers and cheese more than Vitellius ever did his dainty dish of birds' tongues, and was soon afterwards on my back, giving good evidence of my condition.

    I slept soundly until about half-past ten; when a faint, booming sound awoke me. It occurred at regular intervals of about a minute ; and, as soon as I gathered my scattered senses, I knew that the gunboats were hard at work. I lay quietly for some time, awed by the solemnity of the occasion; for it was then pitch dark, and the dull, heavy sound was freighted with success or defeat; and, on opening my eyes again, I could distinctly trace the course of the shell through the air by the light of the fuses. I watched them until about two o'clock, when I ordered my horse, and set out for headquarters. It was so dark that I could not keep the road, and so trusted to the instincts of my noble beast. It was a lonely ride, -- five miles through dense woods, the silence only broken by the gruff " Who goes there ? "of the guard, and the ominous clicking of the hammer as he cocked his gun.

    I had just reached headquarters when the welcome news came that a part of the fleet had succeeded in

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getting by the fort. Still there was something ominous in a certain glare of light, which ever and anon burst up from the tree-tops in the distance. One of our vessels must have caught fire. It could not be a common gunboat, for the flames had already lasted several hours. At last a courier came, saying that the Mississippi had caught fire. That noble vessel was part of the price we were to pay for the victory hoped for.

THE ENCAMPMENT AT NIGHT.

   I have never witnessed a scene so magnificent as that which closed the career of this war-ship. One moment, the flames would die away, and then the black darkness of the night seemed heavier than ever; in another minute, the flames would curl up again above the tree-tops, and tinge the cloud-edges with a lurid light. At length came the catastrophe. I thought the fire had gone out; and was just turning away, when fold After fold of cloudy flame, driven with terrific force, rose higher and higher, until the

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entire heavens were illuminated, as though the sun itself had burst; and immediately after came a sound that shook the earth, -- a crash so awful, that it seemed as though one could feel it; which thundered along the entire horizon, frightening the birds in their coverts and the horses in their stalls; and then all was still and dark. The Mississippi was no more. That noble vessel, which had made for herself a history, had at last fallen a victim to the chances of war. She was a splendid ship; and every American will remember with regret the hour when she was lost.

    That night, fortune did not favor me. I had escorted Colonel Clarke, who had been wounded, beyond our lines, on the Baton-Rouge road; and, a second time, accepted the hospitality of Colonel Bullock. I was quietly and with great zest gnawing a beef-bone, wondering at the novelty of a soldier's life, when I was surprised out of my dream by the patter of rain. I was fully prepared for fine weather; but rain I had not reckoned upon. The ground was so low and marshy, that, in the course of the first half hour, there were at least three inches of water on it. I perched myself on a bread-box, however, and crossed my legs, feeling that delightful indifference to all fortune, which is the charm and necessity of a soldier's life. My bone and my hunger were enough to occupy all my thoughts. My inner man, astonished at the utter neglect of the last eighteen hours, was determined that I should concentrate my attention upon one thing only. That luscious beef-bone, which, only a few hours before, had been trotting about gayly in those very woods, seemed to me the richest luxury in the world.

    When I had satisfied my hunger, I began to recognize

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the fact, that the tent was pitched in four inches of water, and that it was raining most lustily. I splattered out, tied my horse under a large tree, laughed heartily at the look of perfect surprise he put on as I turned to leave him, and then hunted until I came across a stretcher which would lift me just six inches from the ground, and serve very comfortably for a bed. Fortune did indeed favor me. I was two inches above the water, and had a covering above my head, which only once in a while played the sieve, and showered me. I slept soundly as only the , tired man can. In the morning, my faithful horse waked me with his neighing; and, if he had had the power of speech, I do not doubt he would have scolded me well for leaving him all night in a pond.

    I was surprised at the uniform cheerfulness of the men under these trying circumstances. They had no covering except their rubber-blankets, which they stretched out -- a very poor roof -- upon four upright stakes. They were, most of them, drenched to the skin. Yet around the camp-fires were heard only mirth and wildest hilarity. Once in a while, I came across some poor unfortunate, who had dropped his blanket in the mud, and down whose back the rain was trickling mercilessly; and who seemed to have arrived at the sage conclusion, that a soldier's life is not always gay, as generally represented, and that camp-life and camp-meeting are two very different things. But even he soon gathered his muddy clothes about him; and, crawling alongside the bright fire, got into a better humor with himself and the fortunes of war.

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72. An Incident in the March to the Sea
BY GENERAL WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN (1864)

    THE afternoon was unusually raw and cold. My orderly was at hand with his invariable saddle-bags, which contained a change of underclothing, my maps, a flask of whiskey and bunch of cigars, Taking a drink and lighting a cigar, I walked to a row of negro-huts close by, entered one and found a soldier or two warming themselves by a wood-fire. I took their place by the fire, intending to wait there till our wagons had got up, and a camp made for the night. I was talking to the old negro woman, when some one came and explained to me that, if I would come further down the road, I could find a better place. So I started on foot, and found on the main road a good double-hewed log-house, in one room of which Colonel Poe, Dr. Moore and others, had started a fire. I sent back orders to the "plum bushes"to bring our horses and saddles up to this house, and an orderly to conduct our head-quarter wagons to the same place.

    In looking around the room, I saw a small box, like a candle box, marked Howell Cobb, and, on inquiring of a negro, found that we were at the plantation of General Howell Cobb, of Georgia, one of the leading rebels of the South, then a general in the Southern army, and who had been Secretary of the United States Treasury in Mr. Buchanan's time. Of course, we confiscated his property, and found it rich in corn, beans, peanuts, and sorghum-molasses.

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GENERAL SHERMAN.

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Extensive fields were all around the house. I sent back word to General Davis to explain whose plantation it was, and instructed him to spare nothing. That night huge bonfires consumed the fence-rails, kept our soldiers warm, and the teamsters and men, as well as the slaves, carried off an immense quantity of corn and provisions of all sorts.

    In due season the head-quarter wagons came up, and we got supper. After supper I sat on a chair astride, with my back to a good fire, musing, and be-came conscious that an old negro with tallow candle in his hand, was scanning my face closely.

    I inquired, "What do you want, old man?"

    He answered, "Dey say you is Massa Sherman."

    I answered that such was the case, and inquired what he wanted. He only wanted to look at me, and kept muttering, " Dis nigger can't sleep dis night."I asked him why he trembled so, and he said that he wanted to be sure that we were in fact Yankees, for on some former occasion some rebel cavalry had put on light blue overcoats, personating Yankee troops, and many of the negroes were deceived thereby, himself among the number -- had shown them sympathy, and had, in consequence, been unmercifully beaten therefor. This time he wanted to be certain before committing himself; so I told him to go out on the porch, from which be could see the whole horizon lit up with camp-fires, and he could then judge whether he had ever seen anything like it before.

    The old man became convinced that the Yankees had come at last, about whom he had been dreaming all his life; and some of the staff officers gave him a strong drink of whiskey, which set his tongue going.

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Lieutenant Snelling, who commanded my escort, was a Georgian, and recognized in this old negro a favorite slave of his uncle, who resided about six miles off ; but the old slave did not at first recognize his young master in our uniform. One of my staff officers asked him what had become of his young master George. He did not know only that he had gone off to the war, and he supposed him killed, as a matter of course. His attention was then drawn to Snelling's face, when he fell on his knees and thanked God that he had found his young master alive and along with the Yankees.

    Snelling inquired all about his uncle and the family, asked permission to go and pay his uncle a visit, which I granted, of course, and the next morning he described to me his visit. The uncle was not cordial by any means, to find his nephew in the ranks of the host that was desolating the land, and Snelling came back, having exchanged his tired horse for a fresher one out of his uncle's stables, explaining that surely some of the bummers would have got the horse, had he not.

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73. Sheridan's Ride
By THOMAS BUCHANAN READ (1864)

   Up from the South, at break of day, Bringing to Winchester fresh dismay, The affrighted air with a shudder bore, Like a herald in haste, to the chieftain's door, The terrible grumble and rumble and roar, Telling the battle was on once more, And Sheridan twenty Miles away.

    This spirited poem was published a few days after the battle of Cedar Creek, when Sheridan's arrival prevented a defeat.

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    And wider still those billows of war Thundered along the horizon's bar, And louder yet into Winchester rolled The roar of that red sea, uncontrolled, Making the blood of the listener cold As he thought of the stake in that fiery fray, And Sheridan twenty miles away.

    But there is a road to Winchester town, A good, broad highway, leading down; And there, through the flush of the morning light A steed, as black as the steeds of night, Was seen to pass as with eagle flight: As if he knew the terrible need, He stretched away with his utmost speed. Hill rose and fell; but his heart was gay, With Sheridan fifteen miles away.

    Still sprung from those swift hoofs, thundering south, The dust, like the smoke from the cannon's mouth, Or the trail of a comet, sweeping faster and faster, Foreboding to traitors the doom of disaster; The heart of the steed, and the heart of the master Were beating, like prisoners assaulting their walls, Impatient to be where the battle-field calls. Every nerve of the charger was strained to full play, With Sheridan only ten miles away.

    Under his spurning feet the road Like an arrowy Alpine river flowed; And the landscape sped away behind Like an ocean flying before the wind; And the steed, like a bark fed with furnace ire, Swept on with his wild eyes full of fire. But lo ! he is nearing his heart's desire;

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    He is snuffing the smoke of the roaring fray, With Sheridan only five miles away.

    The first that the General saw were the groups Of stragglers, and then the retreating troops. What was done-what to do -- a glance told him both; Then, striking his spurs, with a terrible oath, He dashed down the line 'mid a storm of huzzas, And the wave of retreat checked its course there because The sight of the master compelled it to pause. With foam and with dust the black charger was gray. By the flash of his eye, and his red nostrils' play, He seemed to the whole great army to say: "I have brought you Sheridan, all the way From Winchester down, to save you the day!

    Hurrah, hurrah, for Sheridan! Hurrah, hurrah, for horse and man! And when their statues are placed on high, Under the dome of the Union sky The American soldiers' Temple of Fame, There, with the glorious General's name, Be it said, in letters both bold and bright:

    "Here is the steed that saved the day By carrying Sheridan into the fight,

    From Winchester, twenty miles away!

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PART VI
UNDER FIRE

74. A Private in Battle
By CARLTON MCCARTHY (1861)

    THE column, hitherto moving forward with the steadiness of a mighty river, hesitates, halts, steps back then forward, hesitates again, halts. The colonels talk to the brigadier, the brigadiers talk to the major-general, some officers hurry forward and others hurry to the rear. Infantry stands to one side of the road, while cavalry trots by to the front. Now some old wagons marked "Ord. Dept."go creaking and rumbling by. One or two light ambulances, with a gay and careless air, seem to trip along with the ease of a dancing girl. They and the surgeons seem cheerful. Some, not many, ask, "What is the matter? "Most of the men there know exactly: they are on the edge of battle.

    Presently a very quiet almost sleepy looking man on horseback, says, "Forward, 19th!"and away goes the leading regiment. A little way ahead the regiment jumps a fence, and -- pop ! bang! whis! thud ! is all that can be heard until the rebel yell reverberates through the woods. Battle? No! skirmishers advancing. Ordinance Department.

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    Step into the woods now, and watch these skirmishers. See how cheerfully they go in. How rapidly they load, fire and reload. They stand six and twelve feet apart, calling to each other, laughing, shouting, cheering, but advancing. There : one fellow has dropped his musket like something red hot. His finger is shot away. His friends congratulate him, and he walks sadly away to the rear. Another staggers and falls, with a ball through his neck, mortally wounded. Two comrades raise him to his feet and try to lead him away, but one of them receives a ball in his thigh, which crushes the bone, and he falls groaning to the ground. They have at last driven the enemy's skirmishers in upon the line of battle, and are waiting. A score of men have fallen here, some killed outright, some slightly., some sorely, some mortally wounded.

    Now a battery has been hurried into position, the heavy trails have fallen to the ground, and at the command "Commence firing! "the cannoneers have stepped in briskly and loaded. The first gun blazes at the muzzle, and away goes a shell. The poor fellows in the woods rejoice as it crashes through the trees over their heads, and cheer when it explodes over the enemy's line.

    But help is coming. At the edge of the woods, where the skirmishers entered, the brigade is in line. Somebody has ordered, "Load! "

    The ramrods glisten and rattle down the barrels of a thousand muskets. "Forward!"is the next command, and the brigade disappears in the woods, the canteens rattling, the bushes crackling, and the officers never ceasing to say, "Close tip, men ; close up ! guide centre! "

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    The men on that skirmish line have at last found it advisable to lie down at full length on the ground, t hough it is so wet, and place their heads against the trees in front. They cannot advance and they cannot retire without, in either case, exposing themselves to almost certain death. They are waiting for the line of battle to come to their relief.

    At last, before they see, they hear the line advancing through the pines. The snapping of the twigs, the neighing of horses, and hoarse commands, inspire a husky cheer, and when the line of the old brigade breaks through the trees in full view, they fairly yell! Every man jumps to his feet, the brigade presses firmly forward, and soon the roll of musketry tells all who are waiting to hear that serious work is progressing away down in the woods. Brigade after brigade and division after division is hurried into line, and pressed forward into action. Battalions of artillery open fire from the crests of many hills, and the battle is begun.

    Ammunition trains climb impassable places, cross ditches without bridges and manage somehow to place themselves in reach of the troops. Ambulances, which an hour before went gayly forward, now slowly and solemnly returned loaded. Shells and musket balls, which must have lost their way, go flitting about here and there, wounding and killing men who deem themselves far away from danger. The negro cooks turn pale as these unexpected visitors enter the camps at the rear, and the rear is extended at once.

    At the front, a battery of the enemy is replying and shells are bursting overhead, or ploughing huge furrows in the ground. Musket balls are rapping on

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the rims of the wheels and sinking with a deep thud into the bodies of the poor horses. Smoke obscures the scene, but the cannoneers in faint outline can be seen cheerfully serving the guns.

    As the opposing battery ceases firing, and having limbered up, scampers away, and the last of the enemy's infantry slowly sinks into the woods out of sight and out of reach, a wild cheer breaks from the cannoneers, who toss their caps in the air and shout, shake hands and shout again, while the curtain of smoke is raised by the breeze and borne away.

    The cavalry is gone. With jingle and clatter they have passed through the lines and down the hill and are already demanding surrender from many a belated man. There will be no rest for that retreating column. Stuart, with a twinkle in his eye, his lips puckered as if to whistle a merry lay, is on their flanks, in their rear, and in their front. The enemy will send their cavalry after him, of course, but he will stay with them, nevertheless.

    Add now the streams of wounded men slowly making their way to the rear; the groups of dejected prisoners plodding along under guard, and you have about as much of a battle as one private soldier ever sees.

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75. The Cavalry Charge
By EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN (1864)

OUR good steeds snuff the evening air,
     Our pulses with their purpose tingle;
The foeman's fires are twinkling there;
     He leaps to hear our sabres jingle!

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     Halt!
Each carbine sent its whizzing ball:
Now, cling! clang! Forward, all,
     Into the fight!


Dash on beneath the smoking dome:
     Through level lightnings gallop nearer!
One look to Heaven! No thoughts of home;
     The guidons that we bear are dearer.
     Charge!
Cling! clang! Forward, all!
Heaven help those whose horses fall-
     Cut left and right !


They flee before our fierce attack!
     They fall! they spread in broken surges.
Now, comrades, bear our wounded back,
     And leave the foeman to his dirges.
     Wheel!
The bugles sound the swift recall:
Cling! clang! Backward, all!
     Home, and good-night!

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76. Battle of Bull Run
By EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN (1861)

   By the time I reached the top of the hill, the retreat, the panic, the hideous headlong confusion, were now beyond a hope. I was near the rear of the movement, with the brave Captain Alexander, who endeavored by the most gallant but unavailable exertions to check the onward tumult. It was difficult to

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The rout at Bull Run, July, 1861, was due to tile lack of time for drill and organization; on the whole it was a good thing for the North, for it compelled the country to face the necessity of large and good armies. believe in the reality of our sudden reverse. "What does it all mean?"I asked Alexander. "It means defeat,"was his reply. "We are beaten ; it is a shameful, a cowardly retreat! Hold up, men!"he shouted, "don't be such infernal cowards!"and he rode backwards and forwards, placing his horse across the road and vainly trying to rally the running troops. The teams and wagons confused and dismembered every corps. We were now cut off from the advance body by the enemy's infantry, who had rushed on the slope just left by us, surrounded the guns and sutlers's wagons, and were apparently pressing up against us. "It's no use, Alexander,"I said, "you must leave with the rest.""I'll be d -- d if I will,"was his sullen reply, and the splendid fellow rode back to make his way as best he could. Meantime I saw officers with leaves and eagles on their shoulder-straps, majors and colonels, who had cl~!serted their commands, pass me galloping as if for dear life. No enemy pursued just then; but I sup. pose all were afraid that his guns would be trained down the long, narrow avenue, and mow the retreating thousands, and batter to pieces army wagons and everything else which crowded it. Only one field officer, so far as my observation extended, seemed to have remembered his duty. Lieut.-Colonel Speidel, a foreigner attached to a Connecticut regiment, strove against the current for a league. I positively declare that, with the two exceptions mentioned, all efforts made to check the panic before Centreville was reached, were confined to civilians. I saw a man in citizen's dress, who had thrown off his coat, seized a musket, and was trying to rally the soldiers who came by at the point of the bayonet. In a reply to

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E. B. Washburne, later minister to France. Kellogg was a special friend of Lincoln. a request for his name, he said it was Washburne, and I learned he was the Member by that name from Illinois. The Hon. Mr. Kellogg made a similar effort. Both these Congressmen bravely stood their ground till the last moment, and were serviceable at Centreville in assisting the halt there ultimately made. And other civilians did what they could.

   But what a scene! and how terrific the onset of that tumultuous retreat. For three miles, hosts of federal troops-all detached from their regiments, all mingled in one disorderly rout-were fleeing along the road, but mostly through the lots on either side. Army wagons, sutlers' teams, and private carriages, choked the passage, tumbling against each other, amid clouds of dust, and sickening sights and sounds. Hacks, containing unlucky spectators of the late affray, were smashed like glass, and the occupants were lost sight of ha the débris. Horses, flying wildly from the battle-field, many of them in death agony, galloped at random forward, joining in the stampede. Those on foot who could catch them rode them bare-back, as much to save themselves from being run over, as to make quicker time. Wounded men, lying along the banks -- the few neither left on the field nor taken to the captured hospitals -- appealed with raised hands to those who rode horses, begging to be lifted behind, but few regarded such petitions. Then the artillery, such as was saved, came thundering along, smashing and overpowering everything. The regular cavalry, I record it to their shame, joined in the melée, adding to its terrors, for they rode down footmen without mercy. One of the great guns was overturned and lay amid the ruins of a caisson, as I passed it. I saw an artillery-man running between

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the ponderous fore and after-wheels of his gun-carriage, hanging on with both hands, and vainly striving to jump upon the ordnance. The drivers were spurring the horses ; he could not cling much longer, and a more agonized expression never fixed the features of a drowning man. The carriage bounded from the roughness of a steep hill leading to a creek, he lost his hold, fell, and in an instant the great wheels had crushed the life out of him. Who ever saw such a flight? Could the retreat at Borodino have exceeded it in confusion and tumult? I think not. It did not slack in the least until Centreville was reached. There the sight of the reserve -- Miles's Brigade-formed in order on the hill, seemed somewhat to reassure the van. But still the teams and foot soldiers pushed on, passing their own camps and heading swiftly for the distant Potomac, until for ten miles the road over which the grand army had so lately passed southward, gay with unstained banners, and flushed with surety of strength, was covered with the fragments of its retreating forces, shattered and panic-stricken in a single day. From the branch route the trains attached to Hunter's Division had caught the contagion of the flight, and poured into its already swollen current another turbid freshet of confusion and dismay. Who ever saw a more shameful abandonment of munitions gathered at such vast expense? The teamsters, many of them, cut the traces of their horses, and galloped from the wagons. Others threw out their loads to accelerate their flight, and grain, picks, and shovels, and provisions of every kind lay trampled in the dust for leagues. Thousands of muskets strewed the route, and when some of us succeeded in rallying a body of fugitives, and

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forming them in a line across the road, hardly one but had thrown away his arms. If the enemy had brought up his artillery and served it upon the retreating train, or had intercepted our progress with five hundred of his cavalry, he might have captured enough supplies for a week's feast of thanksgiving. As it was, enough was left behind to tell the story of the panic. The rout of the federal army seemed complete.

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77. Stonewall Jackson's Way
By JOHN WILLIAMSON PALMER (1862)

For Stonewall Jackson see note to No. 69, above. "BlueLight,"i.e., strict Presbyterian. Jackson was a very religious man. General Banks, a Union commander.

COME, stack arms, men! Pile on the rails,
     Stir up the camp-fire bright;
No matter if the canteen fails,
     We'll make a roaring night.
Here Shenandoah brawls along,
There burly Blue Ridge echoes strong,
To swell the brigade's rousing song
     Of "Stonewall Jackson's Way."


We see him now -- the old slouched hat
     Cocked o'er his eye askew,
The shrewd, dry smile, the speech so pat,
     So calm, so blunt, so true.
The "Blue-Light Elder "knows 'em well;
Says he, "That's Banks -- he's fond of shell ;
Lord save his soul! we'll give him -- "well,
     That's "Stonewall Jackson's way,"

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Silence! ground arms! kneel all! caps off!
     Old Blue-Light's going to pray.
Strangle the foot that dares to scoff j
     Attention! it's his way.
Appealing from his native sod,
In forma pauperis to God --
"Lay bare thine arm, stretch forth thy rod!
     Amen! "That's "Stonewall's way."


He's in the saddle now. Fall in!
     Steady! the whole brigade!
Hill's at the ford, cut off -- we'll win
     His way out, ball and blade!
What matter if our shoes are worn ?
What matter if our feet are torn ?
Quick-step! we're with him before dawn!
     That's "Stonewall Jackson's way."


The sun's bright lances rout the mists
     Of morning, and by George!
Here's Longstreet struggling in the lists,
     Hemmed in an ugly gorge.
Pope and his Yankees, whipped before,
"Bay'nets and grape!"hear Stonewall roar;
"Charge, Stuart! Pay off Ashby's score!
     Is "Stonewall Jackson's way."


Ah! maiden, wait and watch and yearn
     For news of Stonewall's band!
Ah! widow, read with eyes that burn
     That ring upon thy hand.
Ah! wife, sew on, pray on, hope on!
Thy life shall not be all forlorn.
The foe had better ne'er been born
     That gets in "Stonewall's way."

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78. Bridging the Rappahannock
By CHARLES CARLETON COFFIN (1862)

This episode preceded the terrible battle of Fredericksburg, December, 13, 1862, in Which 1200 Union troops were killed and 9600 wounded.

   AT five o'clock on the morning of the 11th of December two signal-guns were fired on the heights of Fredericksburg. Deep and heavy their roar, roll-ing along the valley, echoing from hill to hill, and rousing the sleepers of both armies. We who listened upon the Falmouth hills knew that the crossing was not a surprise, but that the Rebels were ready for battle. And now as the day dawned there came a rattling of musketry along the river. The Rebel pickets opened the fire. The gunners at the batteries we were quick to respond, and sent grape and canister across the stream. The Rebel pickets at the lower bridges soon retired, and the engineers completed their work. But in the town the Mississippians took shelter in the buildings, and poured a deadly fire upon the bridge-builders. Almost every soldier who at-tempted to carry out a plank fell. For a while the attempt was relinquished.

    "The bridge must be completed,"said General Burnside.

    Once more the brave engineers attempted it. The fog still hung over the river. Those who stood on the northern bank could only see the flashes of the rifles on the other shore. The gunners were obliged to fire at random, but so energetic was their fire that the engineers were able to carry the bridge within eighty or ninety feet of the shore, and then so deadly in turn was the fire of the Rebels that it was murder to send men out with a plank.

    General Burnside stood on the piazza of the Phillips

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House, a mile from the pontoons. General Sumner and General Hooker were there. Aids and couriers came and went with messages and orders.

    "My bridge is completed, and I am ready to cross,"was Franklin's message at half-past nine.

    "You must wait till the upper bridge is completed,"was the reply to Franklin.

    Two hours passed. A half-dozen attempts were made to complete the upper bridge without success. Brave men not belonging to the engineers came down to the bank, surveyed the scene, and then volunteering their services, seized planks and boards, ran out upon the bridge, but only to fall before the sharpshooters concealed in the cellars of the houses not ten rods distant. Captain Brainard of the Fiftieth New York, with eleven men, volunteered to finish the nearly completed work. They went out upon the run. Five fell at one volley, and the rest returned. Captain Perkins of the same regiment led another party. He fell with a ghastly wound in his neck. Half of his men were killed or wounded. These were sacrifices of life with nothing gained.

    General Burnside had no desire to injure the town, but under the usages of war he had a right to bombard it; for the Rebels had concealed themselves in the houses, making use of them to slaughter his men.

    "Bring all your guns to bear upon the city and batter it down,"was the order issued to General Hunt, chief of artillery. There were in all thirty-five batteries, with a total of one hundred and seventy-nine guns, all bearing upon the town. The artillery men received the orders to prepare for action with a hurrah. They had chafed all the morning, and longed for an opportunity to avenge the death of their gallant comrades.

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   The hour had come. They sprang to their pieces. The fire ran from the right to the left, -- from the heavy twenty-four pounders on the heights of Falmouth to the smaller pieces on the hills where Washington passed his boyhood. The air became thick with the murky clouds. The earth shook beneath

A PONTOON BRIDGE.

the terrific explosions of the shells, which went howling over the river, crashing into the houses, battering down walls, splintering doors, ripping up floors. Sixty solid shot and shells a minute were thrown, and the bombardment was kept up till nine thousand were fired. No hot shot were used, but the explosions set fire to a block of buildings; which added terrible grandeur to the scene.

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    The Rebel army stood upon the heights beyond the town and watched the operations. Lee's Rebel artillery was silent, and the Mississippians. concealed in the houses were alone participants in the contest.

    The fog lifted at last and revealed the town. The streets were deserted, but the houses, the churchsteeples, the stores were riddled with shot ; yet no impression had been made on the Mississippians.

    Burnside's artillery men could not depress their guns sufficiently to shell them out. A working party went out upon the bridge, but one after another was killed or wounded.

    The time had come for a bold movement. It was plain that the Mississippians must be driven out before the bridge could be completed, and that a party must go over in boats, charge up the hill, and rout them from their hiding-places. Who would go? Who attempt the hazardous enterprise? There were brave men standing on the bank by the Lacey House, who had watched the proceedings during the long hours. They were accustomed to hard fighting: they had fought at Fair Oaks, Savage Station, Glendale, Malvern, and Antietam.

    "We will go over and clean out the Rebels,"was the cry of the Twentieth Massachusetts.

    "You shall have the privilege of doing so,"said General Burnside.

    There were not boats enough for all, -- not enough for one regiment even. A portion of the Seventh Michigan was selected to go first, while the other regiments stood as a supporting force.

    The men run down the winding path to the water's edge, jump into the boats, and push out into the stream. It is a moment of intense anxiety. No one

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knows bow large the force opposing them. The Rebel sharpshooters are watching the movement from their hiding-places. They have a fair view and can pick their men. The men in the boats know it, yet they move steadily onward, steering straight across the stream, without a thought of turning back, though their comrades are falling, -- some headlong into the river, others dropping into the boats. The oarsmen pull with rapid strokes. When one falls another takes his place. Two thirds the distance over , -- the boats ground in shoal water. The soldiers wait for no word of command, but with a common impulse, with an ardor which stops not to count the cost, they leap into the water, wade to the shore, and charge up the bank. Some fall to rise no more, but their surviving comrades rush up the slippery ,,lope. A loud hurrah rings out from the soldiers who watch them from the Falmouth shore. Up, up they go, facing death, firing not, intent only to get at the foe and win victory with the bayonet! They smash the windows, batter down doors, driving or capturing the foe.

    Loud and hearty the cheers of the regiments upon the other shore. The men of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Massachusetts would give anything to be there. All the while the cannon are roaring, hurling solid shot and shell into the doomed city.

    When the bridge-builders saw the soldiers charge up the hill, they too caught the enthusiasm of the moment, and finished their work. The other regiments of the brigade, before the last planks were laid, rushed down the bank, ran out upon the bridge, dashed up the bank, joined their comrades, and drove the Rebels from the streets nearest the river.

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    History furnishes but few records of more daring exploits than this action of the Seventh Michigan. Their work was thorough and complete. In fifteen minutes they cleared the houses in front of them, and took more prisoners than their own party numbered!

    But now the Yankees were there, marching through the streets. The houses were battered, torn, and rent. Some were in flames, and a battle was raging through the town.

    As soon as the bridge was completed, the other brigades of General Howard's division moved across the river. The Rebel batteries, which till now had kept silence, opened furiously with solid shot and shell, but the troops moved steadily over, and took shelter along the river bank. The Rebels were falling back from street to street, and the men from Michigan and Massachusetts were pressing on.

    I stood upon the bank of the river and watched the scene in the deepening twilight. Far up the streets there were bright flashes from the muskets of the Rebels, who fired from cellars, chamber windows, and from sheltered places. Nearer were dark masses of men in blue, who gave quick volleys as they moved steadily on, demolishing doors, crushing in windows, and searching every hiding-place. Cannon were flaming on all the hills, and the whole country was aglow with the camp-fires of the two great armies. The Stafford hills were alive with men, -- regiments, brigades, and divisions moving in column from their encampments to cross the river. The sky was without a cloud. The town was lighted by lurid flames. The air was full of hissings, -- the sharp cutting sounds of the leaden rain. The great twenty-pounder guns on the heights of Falmouth were roaring the

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while. There were shouts, hurrahs, yells, and groans from the streets. So the fight went on till the Rebels were driven wholly from the town to their intrenchments beyond.

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79. A Cavalry Raid
By JOHN ESTEN COOKE (1862)

    THE order was given, in ringing voice: "Form fours! draw sabre! charge ! "and now the Confederate people pursued at headlong speed, uttering shouts and yells sufficiently loud to awaken the seven sleepers! The men were evidently exhilarated by the chase, the enemy just keeping near enough to make an occasional shot practicable. A considerable number of the Federal cavalrymen were overtaken and captured, and these proved to belong to the company in which Colonel Fitz Lee had formerly been a lieutenant.

    The gay chase continued until we reached the Tottapotamoi, a sluggish stream, dragging its muddy waters slowly between rush-clad banks, beneath drooping trees; and this was crossed by a small rustic bridge. The line of the stream was entirely undefended by works; the enemy's right wing was unprotected. The picket at the bridge had been quickly driven in, and disappeared at a gallop, and on the high ground beyond, Colonel Lee, who had taken the front, encountered the enemy. The force appeared to be about a regiment, and they were drawn up in line of battle in the fields to receive our attack. It came without delay. Placing himself at the head of his horsemen, Colonel Lee swept forward at the

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pas de charge, and with shouts the two lines came together. The shock was heavy, and the enemy stood their ground bravely, meeting the attack with the sabre. Swords clashed, pistols and carbines banged, yells, shouts, cheers resounded ; then the Federal line was seen to give back, and take to headlong flight.

    Fitz Lee immediately pressed on and burst into the camp near Old Church, where large supplies of boots, pistols, liquors, and other commodities were found. These were speedily appropriated by the men, and the tents were set on fire amid loud shouts. The spectacle was animating; but a report having got abroad that one of the tents contained powder, the vicinity thereof was evacuated in almost less than no time. We were now at Old Church.

    "I think the quicker we move now the better,"I said, with a laugh.

    "Right,"was the reply; "tell the column to move on at a trot."

    So at a rapid trot the column moved.

    The gayest portion of the raid now began. From this moment it was neck or nothing, do or die. We had one chance of escape against ten of capture or destruction.

    Everywhere the ride was crowded with incident. The scouting and flanking parties constantly picked up stragglers, and overhauled unsuspecting wagons filled with the most tempting stores. In this manner a wagon, stocked with champagne and every variety of wines, belonging to a General of the Federal army, fell a prey to the thirsty gray-backs. Still they pressed on. Every moment an attack was expected in front or rear.

   

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    The column was now skirting the Pamunkey, and a detachment hurried off to seize and burn two or three transports lying in the river. Soon a dense cloud rose from them, the flames soared up, and the column pushed on. Everywhere were seen the traces of flight -- for the alarm of "hornets in the hive" was given. Wagons had turned over, and were abandoned -- from others the excellent army stores had been hastily thrown. This writer got a fine red blanket, and an excellent pair of cavalry pantaloons, for which he still owes the United States. Other things lay about in tempting array, but we were approaching Tunstall's, where the column would doubtless make a charge; and to load down a weary horse was injudicious. The advance guard was now in sight of the railroad. There was no question about the affair before us. The column must cut through, whatever force guarded the railroad; to reach the lower Chickahominy the guard here must be overpowered. Now was the time to use the artillery, and every effort was made to hurry it forward.

    Turnstall's was now nearly in sight, and that good fellow Captain Frayser, came back and reported one or two companies of infantry at the railroad. Their commander had politely beckoned to him as he reconnoitred, exclaiming in wheedling accents, full of Teutonic blandishment, "Koom yay! "But this cordial invitation was disregarded; Frayser galloped back and reported, and the ringing voice of the leader ordered "Form platoons! draw sabre! charge!"At the word the sabres flashed, a thundering shout arose, and sweeping on in column of platoons, the gray people fell upon their blue adversaries, gobbling them up, almost without a shot. It was here that

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my friend Major Foote got the hideous little wooden pipe he used to smoke afterwards. He had been smoking a meerschaum when the order to charge was given; and in the rush of the horsemen, dropped and lost it. He now wished to smoke, and seeing that the captain of the Federal infantry had just filled his pipe, leaned down from the saddle, and politely requested him to surrender it.

    "I want to smoke! "growled the Federal captain.

    "So do I,"retorted Major Foote.

    "This pipe is my property,"said the captain.

    "Oh ! what a mistake! "responded the major politely, as he gently took the small affair and inserted it between his lips. Anything more hideous than the carved head upon it I never saw.

    In an hour the column moved again. Meanwhile a little incident had happened which still makes me laugh. There was a lady living some miles off in the enemy's line whom I wished to visit, but I could not obtain the General's consent. "It is certain capture,"he said ; '.'send her a note by some citizen, say Dr. Hunt; he lives near here."This I determined to do, and set off at a gallop through the moonlight for the house, some half a mile distant, looking out for the scouting parties which were probably prowling on our flanks. Reaching the lonely house, outside the pickets, I dismounted, knocked at the front door, then the back, but received no answer. All at once. however, a dark figure was seen gliding beneath the trees, and this figure cautiously approached. I recognised the Doctor, and called to him, whereupon he quickly approached, and said, "I thought you were a Yankee! "and greeting me cordially, led the way into the house. Here I wrote my note and entrusted

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it to him for delivery -- taking one from him to his wife, within our lines. In half an hour I rode away, but before doing so asked for some water, which was brought from the well by a sleepy, sullen, and insolent negro. This incident was fruitful of woes to Dr. Hunt! A month or two afterwards I met him looking as thin and white as a ghost.

    "What is the matter? "I said.

    "The matter is,"he replied, with a melancholy laugh, "that I have been starving for three weeks in Fortress Monroe on your account. Do you remember that servant who brought you the water that night of the raid ? "

    "Perfectly."

    "Well, the very next day he went over to the Yankee picket and told them that I had entertained Confederate officers, and given you all information which enable you to get off safely. In consequence I was arrested, carried to Old Point, and am just out! "

    At the first streak of dawn the Chickahominy was in sight, and we were spurring forward to the ford.

    It was impassable! The heavy rains had so swollen the waters that the crossing was utterly impracticable! Here we were within a few miles of an enraged enemy with a swollen and impassable stream directly in our front-the angry waters roaring around the half-submerged trunks of the trees -- and expecting every instant to hear the crack of carbines from the rear-guard indicating the enemy's approach! The situation was not pleasing. I certainly thought that the enemy would be upon us in about an hour, and death or capture would be the sure alternative. This view was general.

    The scene upon the river's bank was curious, and

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under other circumstances would have been laughable. The men lay about in every attitude, half-overcome with sleep, but holding their bridles,, and ready to mount at the first alarm. Others sat their horses asleep, with drooping shoulders. Some gnawed crackers; others ate figs, or smoked, or yawned. Things looked blue, and that colour was figuratively spread over every countenance.

    The column was ordered to move on down the stream to a spot where an old bridge had formerly stood. Reaching this point, a strong rear-guard was thrown out, the artillery placed in position, and we set to work vigorously to rebuild the bridge, determined to bring out the guns or die trying.

    The bridge had been destroyed, but the stone abutments remained some thirty or forty feet only apart, for the river here ran deep and narrow between steep banks. Between these stone sentinels, facing each other, was an "aching void " which it was necessary to fill. A skiff was procured; this was affixed by a rope to a tree, in the mid-current just above the abutments, and thus a movable pier was secured in the middle of the stream. An old barn was then hastily torn to pieces and robbed of its timbers; these were stretched down to the boat, and up to the opposite abutment, and a footbridge was thus ready. Large numbers of the men immediately unsaddled their horses, took their equipments over, and then returning, drove or rode their horses into the stream, and swain them over. In this manner a considerable number crossed; but the process was much too slow. There, besides, was the artillery, which we had no intention of leaving. A regular bridge must be built without a moment's delay.

   

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    Heavier blows resounded from the old barn; huge timbers approached, borne on brawny soldiers, and des~ending into the boat anchored in the middle of the stream, the men lifted them across. They were just long enough ; the ends rested on the abutments, and immediately thick planks were hurried forward

A MILITARY BRIDGE.

and laid crosswise, forming a secure footway for the cavalry and artillery horses.

    At last the bridge was finished; the artillery crossed amid hurrahs from the men, and then the General slowly moved his cavalry across the shaky footway. A little beyond was another arm of the river, which was, however, fordable, as I ascertained and reported to the General; the water just deep enough to swim a small horse; grid through this, as through the

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interminable sloughs of the swamp beyond, the head of the column moved. The prisoners, who were numerous, had been marched over in advance of everything, and these were now mounted on mules, of which several hundred had been cut from the captured wagons and brought along. They were started under an escort across the ford, and into the swamp beyond. Here, mounted often two on a mule, they had a disagreeable time; the mules constantly falling in the treacherous mud-holes, and rolling their riders in the ooze. When a third swamp appeared before them, one of the Federal prisoners exclaimed, with tremendous indignation, "How many Chicken-hominies are there, I wonder, in this infernal country!"

    The gentlemen of the county, we afterwards heard, had been electrified by the rumour that "Stuart was down at the river trying to get across,"and had built a hasty bridge for us lower down. We were over, however, and reaching Mr. Cutter's, the General and his staff lay down on a carpet spread on the grass in the June sunshine, and went to sleep. This was Sunday. I had not slept since Friday night, except by snatches in the saddle, and in going on to Richmond afterwards fell asleep every few minutes on horseback.

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80. On the Firing Line
By JAMES KENDALL HOSMER (1863)

    WE have had a battle. Not quite a week ago we began to hear of it. We knew nothing certain, however, until Saturday. (It is now Tuesday.) Toward the end of that afternoon, the explicit orders came. This was on the lower Mississippi River.

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The assault was to be made the next morning, and our regiment was to have a share in it. We were not to go home without the baptism of fire and blood.

    Before dark, we were ordered into line, and stacked our arms. Each captain made a little speech. "No talking in the ranks; no flinching. Let every one see that his canteen is full, and that he has hard bread enough for a day. That is all You will carry beside gun and equipments."We left the guns in stack, polished, and ready to be caught on the instant; and lay down under the trees. At midnight came the cooks with coffee and warm food. Soon after came the order to move; then, slowly and with many halts, nearly four hundred strong, we took up our route along the wood-paths. Many other regiments were also in motion. The forest was full of Rembrandt pictures, -- a bright blaze under a tree, the faces and arms of soldiers all aglow about it; the wheel of an army-wagon, or the brass of a cannon, lit up; then the gloom of the wood, and the night shutting down about it.

    At length, it was daybreak. We were now only screened from the rebel works by a thin hedge. Here the rifle-balls began to cut keen and sharp through the air about us; and the cannonade, as the east now began to redden, reached its height, -- a continual deafening uproar, hurling the air against one in great waves, till it felt almost like a wall of rubber, bounding and rebounding from the body, -- the great guns of the "Richmond,"the siege-Parrotts, the smaller field-batteries ; and, through all, the bursting of the shells within the rebel lines, and the keen, deadly whistle of well-aimed bullets. A few rods down the military road, the column paused, The banks of the

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ravine rose on either side of the road in which we had halted: but just here the trench made a turn; and in front, at the distance of five or six hundred yards, we could plainly see the rebel rampart, red in the morning -- light as with blood, and shrouded in white vapor along the edge as the sharpshooters behind kept up an incessant discharge, I believe I felt no sensation of fear, nor do I think those about me did.

    We climb up the path. I go with my rifle between Wilson and Hardiker; keeping nearest the former, who carries the national flag. In a minute or two, the column has ascended, and is deploying in a long line, under the colonel's eye, on the open ground. The rebel engineers are most skilful fellows. Between us and the brown earth-heap which we are to try to gain to-day, the space is not wide; but it is cut up in every direction with ravines and gullies. These were covered, until the parapet was raised, with a heavy growth of timber; but now it has all been cut down, so that in every direction the fallen tops of large trees interlace, trunks block Lip every passage, and brambles are growing over the whole. It is out of the question to advance here in line of battle; it seems almost out of the question to advance in any order: but the word is given, "Forward!"and on we go. Know that this whole space is swept by a constant patter of balls: it is really a leaden rain. We go crawling and stooping: but now and then before us rises in plain view the line of earth-works, smoky and sulphurous with volleys; while all about Lis fall the balls, now sending a lot of little splinters from a stump, now knocking the dead wood out of the old tree-trunk that is sheltering me, now driving up a

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cloud of dust from a little knoll, or cutting off the head of a weed just under the hand as with an invisible knife. "Forward! " is the order. We all stoop; but the colonel does not stoop : he is as cool as he was in his tent last night, when I saw him drink iced lemonade. He turns now to examine the ground, then faces back again to direct the advance of this or that flank. Wilson springs on from cover to cover, and I follow close after him. It is hard work to get the flag along; it cannot be carried in the air; and we drag it and pass it from hand to hand among the brambles, much to the detriment of its folds. The line pauses a moment. Captain Morton, who has risen from a sick-bed to be with his command, is coolly cautioning his company. The right wing is to remain in reserve, while the left pushes still farther forward. The major is out in front of us now. He stands upon a log which bridges a ravine, -- a plain mark for the sharpshooters, who overlook the position, not only from the parapet, but from the tall trees within the rebel works. Presently we move on again, through brambles and under charred trunks, tearing our way, and pulling after us the colors; creeping on our bellies across exposed ridges, where bullets hum and sing like stinging bees; and, right in plain view, the ridge of earth, its brow white with incessant volleys.

    Down into our little nook now come tumbling a crowd of disorganized, panting men. They are part of a New York regiment, who, on the crest just over us, have been meeting with very severe loss. They say their dead and dying are heaped up there. We believe it; for we can hear them, they arc so near: indeed, some of those who come tumbling down are

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wounded; some have their gun-stocks broken by shot, and the barrels bent, while they are unharmed. They are frightened and exhausted, and stop to recover themselves; but presently their officers come up, and order them forward again. From time to time, afterwards, wounded men crawl back from their position a few yards in front of where we are.

    We begin to know that the attack has failed. We know nothing certainly. There are rumors, thick as the rifle-balls, of this general killed, that regiment de. stroyed, and successful attempts elsewhere. The sun goes down on this day of blood. We have lost several killed, and several more wounded, and have done all we were called upon to do. The colonel tells us we have been cool, prudent, and brave. We have not been as much exposed as some other regiments, and our loss has not been large, The fire, however, seemed very hot, and close at hand; and the wonder to us all is, that no more fell. Darkness settles down; shots are received and returned, but only at random now, and, ever and anon, from the batteries goes tearing through the air a monstrous shell, with a roar like a rushing railroad-train, then an explosion putting every thing for the moment in light.

    At dusk, I creep back to the ravine, where I am to sleep. For food to-day, I have had two or three hard crackers and cold potatoes. We have no blank. ets : so down I lie to sleep as I can on the earth, without covering; and, before morning, am chilled through with the dew and coldness of the air.

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81. Keenan's Charge
By GEORGE PARSONS LATHROP (1863)

At the battle of Chancellorsville, 1862.

BY the shrouded gleam of the western skies,
Brave Keenan looked in Pleasonton's eyes
For an instant -- clear, and cool, and still;
Then, with a smile, he said: "I will."


"Cavalry, charge! "Not a man of them shrank.
Their sharp, full cheer, from rank on rank,
Rose joyously, with a willing breath --
Rose like a greeting hail to death.
Then forward they sprang, and spurred and clashed;
Shouted the officers, crimson-sashed;
Rode well the men, each brave as his fellow,
In their faded coats of the blue and yellow;
And above in the air, with an instinct true,
Like a bird of war their pennon flew.


With clank of scabbards and thunder of steeds,
And blades that shine like sunlit reeds,
And strong brown faces bravely pale
For fear their proud attempt shall fail,
Three hundred Pennsylvanians close
On twice ten thousand gallant foes.


Line after line the troopers came
To the edge of the wood that was ringed with flame;
Rode in and sabred and shot -- and fell;
Nor came one back his wounds to tell.
And full in the midst rose Keenan, tall
In the gloom, like a martyr awaiting his fall,
While the circle-stroke of his sabre, swung
'Round his head, like a halo there, luminous hung.

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Line after line; ay, whole platoons,
Struck dead in their saddles, of brave dragoons
By the maddened horses were onward borne
And into the vortex flung, trampled and torn;
As Keenan fought with his men, side by side.


So they rode, till there were no more to ride.


But over them, lying there, shattered and mute,
What deep echo rolls? -- 'Tis a death-salute
From the cannon in place; for, heroes, you braved
Your fate not in vain: the army was saved!


Over them now -- year following year
Over their graves the pine-cones fall,
And the whip-poor-will chants his spectre-call;
But they stir not again: they raise no cheer:
They have ceased. But their glory shall never cease,
Nor their light be quenched in the light of peace.
The rush of their charge is resounding still
That saved the army at Chancellorsville.

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82. The Federals are Coming!
BY A SOUTHERN LADY (1863)

    AT breakfast, on the morning of the 17th, we heard discussed the question, whether there was a masked battery on the opposite shore or not ? After some words on the subject, pro and con, we ranged the shore with the glass, seeing what the gentlemen believed to be a battery. They had been talking some moments, when I took the glass and saw a number of Federal soldiers walking on the levee toward the

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spot where the battery was supposed to be. Several others seemed to be engaged on this very place removing the branches. I called one of the gentlemen to look. I had given up the glass but a few moments, when a volume of smoke burst from the embankment, and two shells were sent, one after the other, exploding at the depot just below us. It was indeed

DESTROYING A RAILROAD.

a battery, with two guns, which commenced playing on the city vigorously.

    We were to leave that morning, and hearing that the cars would not venture up to the depot, went to a point below, where we found many anxious persons awaiting their arrival. We entered the cars, and were sitting quite securely and comfortably, when it was whispered around, much to the consternation of passengers, that they were ordered to approach the depot as near as possible, and take on freight; and thus we were carried up, under shelter of a high

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bluff, with many misgivings on my part, as shell after shell exploded on the hill above us. A nervous gentleman leaned forward and told me that we were in great danger, and, speaking in the 'same manner to many of the ladies, suggested that, if we made the request, the conductor would doubtless back into a safe place.

    Although so frightened, his mode of relief was so evidently selfish that the gentlemen began joking him most unmercifully. In looking out of the window, although I felt a sympathy for the poor fellow, I could not but be amused at the ludicrous scene that presented itself : the porters bringing the baggage and small freight from the depot acted as if wild now halting to await the course of a shell-then dashing forward, determined to reach the cars before another came. Two negroes were coming with a small trunk between them, and a carpet bag or two, evidently trying to show others of the profession how careless of danger they were, and how foolish "niggars"were to run "dat sort o' way."A shell came ricochetting through the air and fell a few yards beyond the braves, when, lo! the trunk was sent tumbling, and landed bottom upward; the carpet bag followed -- one grand somerset ; and amid the cloud of dust that arose, I discovered one porter doubled up by the side of the trunk, and the other crouching close by a pile of plank. A shout from the negroes on the cars, and much laughter, brought them on their feet, brushing their knees and giggling, yet looking quite foolish, feeling their former prestige gone. Yet gentlemen and servants avoided the depot as much as possible; and whenever a portion of earth was seen to arise in a small volume, accompanied

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by smoke, men of both colors immediately ran (without casting a look behind) swiftly in the opposite , direction, " gentlemen of color "generally, in their haste, stumbling and turning one or two somersets before reaching a place of safety. And so the shell continued coming, exploding on all sides, yet not happening to reach us. Soon the glad sound of the whistle was heard, and, after our long suspense, we felt the motion of the cars again, and were glad to leave Vicksburg, with the sound of the cannon and noise of the shell still ringing in our cars.

    Some young lady friends of mine were laughing and telling me of their experience during the danger of the previous night; of the fright and trouble they were in at the time 'the gunboats passed. Major Watts, of the Confederate army, had given a very large party, which they attended; one dressed in a corn-colored silk trimmed with black lace; another in blue silk trimmed with white point, and still another in white lace. In the confusion and alarm, as the first shell fell, one of the young girls, who was dancing with a brigadier-general, clasped her hands and exclaimed, 11 Where shall we go ? "In jest he said, " To the country for safety."Believing him serious, in the confusion that ensued, she told her young friends. They set out alone with all speed, frightened and trembling. Fortunately a gentleman friend, discovering their absence, overtook, and proceeded with them. As a shell would be heard coming, he would cry, "Fall!"and down they would drop in the dust, party dresses and all, lying until the explosion took place; then up, with wild eyes and fiercely beating hearts, flying with all speed onward. After running about a mile in the fewest moments

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possible, and falling several times, they stopped at the first house, and remained until their friends sent out for them in carriages.

    "If you could have seen our party dresses when we reached home, and our hair, and the flowers, full of dust, you would never have forgotten us,"cried one. "Ah!"said another, "We laugh gayly this morning, for we are leaving the guns behind us; but last night it was a serious business, and we absolutely ran for our lives."

    Soon the rumor came that from Canton a large Federal force was advancing on Jackson. Jackson was to be defended, which I doubted. Soon General Pemberton left and went to Vicksburg-Mrs. Pemberton to Mobile. Batteries were being erected in different parts of the town-one directly opposite the house I was in. I stood considering one morning where it was best to go, and what it was best to do, when a quick gallop sounded on the drive, and a friend rode hastily up and said, "Are you going to leave? ""Yes,"I answered, "but I have not yet decided where to go.""Well, I assure you there is no time for deliberation; I shall take my family to Vicksburg, as the safest place, and, if you will place yourself under my charge, I will see you safely to your husband."So the matter was agreed upon, and we were to leave that evening. Still, I was in doubt; the Federal army was spreading all over the country, and I feared to remain where I was. Yet I thought, may I not be in danger in Vicksburg? Suppose the gunboats should make an attack? Still, it was true, as my friend had said, we were in far more danger here from the rabble that usually followed a 1arge army, who might plunder, insult, and rob us.

   

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    Very hurriedly we made our arrangements, packing with scarcely a moment to lose, not stopping to discuss our sudden move and the alarming news. Our friends, also, were in as great a panic and dismay as ourselves. Mrs. Arden had some chests of heavy silver. Many of the pieces were such that it would have taken some time to bury them. Her husband was absent, and she feared to trust the negro men with the secret. Another friend feared to bury her diamonds, thinking in that case she might never see them more; feared, also, to retain them, lest, through negroes' tales, the cupidity of the soldiers might become excited, and she be a sufferer in consequence. Every tumult in the town caused us to fly to the doors and windows, fearing a surprise at any time; and not only ladies, with pate faces and anxious eyes, met us at every turn, but gentlemen of anti-military dispositions were running hither and thither, with carpet bags and little valises, seeking conveyances, determined to find a safe place, if one could be found, where the sound of a gun or the smell of powder might never disturb them any more; and, as they ran, each had an alarming report to circulate; so that with the rush and roar of dray, wagon, and carriage, the distracting reports of the rapid advance of the Federal army, and the stifling clouds of dust that arose -- with all, we were in a fair way to believe ourselves any being or object but ourselves.

    The depot was crowded with crushing and elbowing human beings, swaying to and fro-baggage being thrown hither and thither -- horses wild with fright, and negroes with confusion; and so we found ourselves in a car, amid the living stream that flowed

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and surged along -- seeking the Mobile cars -- seeking the Vicksburg cars -- seeking anything to bear them away from the threatened and fast depopulating town.

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83. Cave Life in a Besieged City
By A SOUTHERN LADY (1863)

    So constantly dropped the shells around the city, that the inhabitants all made preparations to live under the ground during the siege. Martin sent over and had a cave made in a hill near by. We seized the opportunity one evening, when the gunners were probably at their supper, for we had a few moments of quiet, to go over and take possession. We were under the care of a friend of Martin's, who was paymaster on the staff of the same General with whom Martin was Adjutant. We had neighbors on both sides of us; and it would have been an amusing sight to a spectator to witness the domestic scenes presented without by the number of servants preparing the meals under the high bank containing the caves.

    Our dining, breakfasting, and supper hours were quite irregular. When the shells were falling fast, the servants came in for safety, and our meals waited for completion some little time; again they would fall slowly, with the lapse of many minutes between, and out would start the cooks to their work.

    Some families had light bread made in large quantities, and subsisted on it with milk (provided their cows were not killed from one milking time to another), without any more cooking, until called on to replenish. Though most of us lived on corn bread and bacon, This is one of the most graphic accounts of the siege of Vicksburg, which was taken, 1863, by General Grant.

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served three times a day, the only luxury of the meal consisting in its warmth, I had some flour, and frequently had some hard, tough biscuit made from it, there being no soda or yeast to be procured. At this time we could, also, procure beef. And so I went regularly to work, keeping house under ground. Our new habitation was an excavation made in the earth, and branching six feet from the entrance, forming a cave in the shape of a T. In one of the wings my bed fitted; the other I used as a kind of a dressing room ; in this the earth had been cut down a foot or two below the floor of the main cave; I could stand erect here; and when tired of sitting in other portions of my residence, I bowed myself into it, and stood impassively resting at full height -- one of the variations in the still shell-expectant life. Martin's servant cooked for us under protection of the hill. Our quarters were close, indeed; yet I was more comfortable than I expected I could have been made under the earth in that fashion.

    We were safe at least from fragments of shell and they were flying in all directions; though no one seemed to think our cave any protection, should a mortar shell happen to fall directly on top of the ground above us.

    And so the weary days went on -- the long, weary days -- when we could not tell in what terrible form death might come to us before the sun went down. Another fear that troubled Martin was, that our provisions might not last us during the siege. He would frequently urge me to husband all that I had, for troublesome times were probably in store for us ; told me of the soldiers in the intrenchments, who would have gladly eaten the bread that was left from our

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meals, for they were suffering every privation, and that our servants lived far better than these men who were defending the city. Soon the pea meal became an article of food for us also, and a very unpalatable article it proved. To make it of proper consistency, we were obliged to mix some corn meal with it, which cooked so much faster than the pea meal, that it burned before the bread was half done. The taste was peculiar and disagreeable.

    Still, we had nothing to complain of in comparison with the soldiers: many of them were sick and wounded in a hospital in the most exposed parts of the city, with shells falling and exploding all around them,

    Even the very animals seemed to share the genera' fear of a sudden and frightful death. The dogs would be seen in the midst of the noise to gallop up the street, and then to return, as if fear had maddened them. On hearing the descent of a shell, they would dart aside -- then, as it exploded, sit down and how] in the most pitiful manner. There were many walk. ing the street, apparently without homes.

    In the midst of other miserable thoughts, it came into my mind one day, that these dogs through hunger might become as much to be dreaded as wolves. Groundless was this anxiety, for in the course of a week or two they had almost disappeared.

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84. Gettysburg
By EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN (1863)

WAVE, wave your glorious battle-flags, brave soldiers
     of the North,
And from the fields your arms have won to-day go
     proudly forth !
For now, 0 comrades dear and leal -- from whom no
     ills could part,
Through the long years of hopes and fears, the na-
     tion's constant heart
Men who have driven so oft the foe, so oft have
     striven in vain,
Yet ever in the perilous hour, have crossed his path
     again,
At last we have our heart's desire, from them we met
     have wrung
A victory that round the world shall long be told and
     sung!
It was the memory of the past that bore us through
     the fray,
That gave the grand old army strength to conquer on
     this day!


Oh, now forget how dark and red Virginia's rivers
     flow,
The Rappahannock's tangled wilds, the glory and the
     woe;
The fever-hung encampments, where our dying knew
     full sore
How sweet the north-wind to the cheek it soon shall cool
     no more; A terrible battle July 4, 1863, by which the Southern army was forced to retreat across the Potomac this was the crisis of the war.

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The fields we fought, and gained, and lost, the low-
     land sun and rain
That wasted us, that bleached the bones of our un-
     buried slain!
There was no lack of foes to meet, of deaths to die no
     lack,
All the hawks of heaven learned to follow on our track;
But henceforth, hovering southward, their flight shall
     mark afar
The paths of yon retreating host that shun the north-
     ern star.


At night before the closing fray, when all the front
     was still,
We lay in bivouac along the cannon-crested hill.
Ours was the dauntless Second Corps; and many a
     soldier knew
How sped the fight, and sternly thought of what was
     yet to do.
Guarding the centre there, we lay, and talked with
     bated breath
Of Buford's stand beyond the town, of gallant Rey-
     nold's death,
Of cruel retreats through pent-up streets by murder-
     ous volleys swept, --
How well the Stone, the Iron, brigades their bloody
     outposts kept :
'Twas for the Union, for the Flag, they perished,
     heroes all,
And we swore to conquer in the end, or even like
     them to fall.


And passed from mouth to mouth the tale of what
     grim day just done,

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The fight by Round Top's craggy spur -- of all the
     deadliest one ;
It saved the left : but on the right they pressed us
     back too well,
And like a field in spring the ground was ploughed
     with shot and shell.
There was the ancient graveyard, its hummocks
     crushed and red.
And there, between them, side by side, the wounded
     and the dead:
The mangled corpses fallen above -- the peaceful dead
     below,
Laid in their graves, to slumber here, a score of years
     ago;
It seemed their waking, wandering shades were asking
     of our slain,
What brought such hideous tumult now where they so
     still had lain!


Bright rose the sun of Gettysburg that morrow morn-
     ing tide,
And call of trump and roll of drum from height to
     height replied.
Hark! from the east already goes up the rattling din;
The Twelfth Corps, winning back their ground, right
     well the day begin!
They whirl fierce Ewell from their front! Now we of
     the Second pray,
As right and left the brunt have borne, the centre
     might to-day.
But all was still from hill to hill for many a breathless
     hour,
While for the coming battle-shock Lee gathered in
     his power;

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And back and forth our leaders rode, who knew not
     rest or fear,
And along the lines, where'er they came, went up the
     ringing cheer.


'Twas past the hour of nooning; the summer skies
     were blue;
Behind the covering timber the foe was hid from view;
So fair and sweet with waving wheat the pleasant val-
     ley lay,
It brought to mind our Northern home, and meadows
     far away;
When the whole western ridge at once was fringed
     with fire and smoke,
Against our lines from seven-score guns the dreadful
     tempest broke!
Then loud our batteries answer, and far along the
     crest,
And to and fro the roaring bolts are driven east and
     west;
Heavy and dark around us glooms the stifling sulphur-
     cloud,
And the cries of mangled men and horse go up be-
     neath its shroud.


The guns are still: the end is nigh: we grasp our
     arms anew;
Oh, now let every heart be stanch and every aim be
     true!
For look! from yonder wood that skirts the valley's
     further marge,
The flower of all the Southern host move to the final
     charge,

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By heaven! it is a fearful sight to see their double
     rank
Come with a hundred battle-flags -- a mile from flank
     to flank!
Tramping the grain to earth, they come, ten thousand
     men abreast ;
Their standards wave -- their hearts are brave -- they
     hasten not, nor rest,
But close the gaps our cannon make, and onward
     press, and nigher,
And, yelling at our very front, again pour in their
     fire.


Now burst our sheeted lightnings forth, now all our
     wrath has vent!
They die, they wither; through and through their
     wavering lines are rent.
But these are gallant, desperate men, of our own race
     and land,
Who charge anew, and welcome death, and fight us
     hand to hand:
Vain, vain ! give way, as well ye may -- the crimson
     die is cast !
Their bravest leaders bite the dust, their strength is
     failing fast ;
They yield, they turn, they fly the field: we smite
     them as they run;
Their arms, their colors, are our spoil; the furious
     fight is done!
Across the plain we follow far and backward push the fray:
Cheer! cheer! the grand old Army at last has won
     the day!

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Hurrah! the day has won the cause! No gray-clad
     host henceforth
Shall come with fire and sword to tread the highways
     of the North !
'Twas such a flood as when ye see, along the Atlantic
     shore,
The great spring-tide roll grandly in with swelling
     surge and roar:
It seems no wall can stay its leap or balk its wild
     desire
Beyond the mount that Heaven hath fixed to higher
     mount, and higher;
But now, when whitest lifts its crest, most loud its
     billows call,
Touched by the Power that led them on, they fall, and
     fall, and fall.
Even thus, unstayed upon his course, to Gettysburg
     the foe
His legions led, and fought, and fled, and might no
     further go.


Full many a dark-eyed Southern girl shall weep her
     lover dead;
But with a price the fight was ours -- we too have
     tears to shed!
The bells that peal our triumph forth anon shall toll
     the brave,
Above whose heads the cross must stand, the hill-side
     grasses wave !
Alas! alas! the trampled grass shall thrive another
     year,
The blossoms on the apple-boughs with each new
     spring appear,

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But when our patriot-soldiers fall, Earth gives them up
     to God;
Though their souls rise in clearer skies, their forms
     are as the sod ;
Only their names and deeds are ours -- but, for a
     century yet,
The dead who fell at Gettysburg, the land shall not
     forget.


God send us peace! and where for aye the loved and
     lost recline
Let fall, 0 South, your leaves of palm -- 0 North,
     your sprigs of pine !
But when, with every ripened year, we keep the har-
     vest-home,
And to the dear Thanksgiving-feast our sons and
     daughters come
When children's children throng the board in the old
     homestead spread,
And the bent soldier of these wars is seated at the
     head,
Long, long the lads shall listen to bear the gray-beard
     tell
Of those who fought at Gettysburg and stood their
     ground so well:
"'Twas for the Union and the Flag,"the veteran
     shall say,
"Our grand old Army held the ridge, and won that
     glorious day!"

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85. How the Negroes helped the Yankees
By REVEREND GEORGE HUGHES HEPWORTH (1863)

    MANY a man who has boasted that all his slaves could be trusted, that he had often given his boy Jim hundreds of dollars to carry to the bank, and that not a hand on his plantation could be cajoled away, had his eyes opened wide on these days of our advance. Unwilling that either Confederate or Federal should confiscate his most valuable horses, he had very stealthily and carefully hidden them in the thick underbrush of the woods, a mile or a mile and a half away. Jim alone knew where they were. The Confederates came rushing by, and Jim stood with open mouth at the spectacle; and, when asked where his master's horses were, he, of course, stared in profound ignorance. When the Federal advance came along, a cavalry-man rode up on his jaded beast and inquired, --

    "Boys, can you tell me where I can get a fresh horse ? "

    And Jim was not at all bashful. He at once answered, --

    "Yes, marster: I'll show you where de old man hid his stallion; " and forthwith trotted by the side of the cavalry-man until he exchanged his worn-out hack for a fine, sleek stallion worth a thousand dollars.

    These instances were innumerable. I will venture to say, that nearly half our cavalry-horses were changed in the T6che country; and, in the vast majority of cases, it was the favorite servants who pointed out the hiding-place, and said, --

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    "You give us free, and we helps you all we can."A curious instance of this kind came under my notice. Wheelock and I were riding along with the skirmishers towards Opelousas, on two beasts that were thoroughly jaded; when a black boy rushed out from a cabin in the most excited manner, and would hardly let our horses go by, crying out, --

    "Master, if you wants me to, I will tell you where there is two splendid horses belonging to de ole man."

    "How far off ? "we asked.

    "'Bout half a mile, master; and hid in de thick cane-brake."

    "But why, you young rascal, do you come here, and discover to us your master's property? You ought to have more love for him than to do such a thing."

    The idea of love seemed to strike the boy as being very peculiar; and he only answered, --

    "When my master begins to lub me, den it'll be time enough for me to lub him. What I wants is to get away. I want you to take me off from dis plantation, where I can be free."

    It was not a particularly pleasant though a somewhat romantic thing to leave our columns, and go half a mile into the woods. The guerillas abounded; and they had no scruples whatever about drawing a head on a stray Union soldier.

    Still, we needed horses, and made the attempt. The beasts were not there. The black boy was confounded, but said he would call Jean.

    Now, Jean was the only boy on the plantation who knew where those horses were. He was a favorite servant at the "big house;" and, when the owner discovered

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that the retreat of the horses was known to some of the hands, he told Jean to remove them secretly to some secure corner, where neither the hands whom he knew he could not trust nor the Federals could penetrate.

    Jean was brought. He was forty-five years old, had a family, lived as well as a slave can live in the Têche country (which is one of the most cruel places in the State), and had received a great many favors from the "big house still he longed to be free. I said, --

    "Jean, I hear you have hidden two good horses in the cane-brake. Will you show me where they are ? "

    He hesitated a moment, as though revolving the subject in his mind, grew serious, and then said slowly and calmly, --

    "Yes, master, I will show you where dem horses is. De ole fokes will kill me near-a-most, if dey ever finds it out; but you'se de people dat sets us free, and we poor colored fokes ought to do what little we can for you."

    He led the way through fields half a mile, and then came to a very dense cane-brake. It was a ticklish place to be in; but we were in such condition, that we were willing to run some risk. Jean disappeared, and soon brought out a fine gray horse; and then, disappearing a second time, came back bringing another. We mounted with all despatch, the black boy getting astride of a very lean beast he had managed to pick up, and hastened on for our advance.

    Jean's is a sample of the kind of love the best negroes bear their masters. The more a slave knows, and the nearer he comes to being a self-supporting

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man, the less willing is he to live in servitude. With the first idea that enters a black man's head comes the desire for freedom.

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86. A Negro Regiment Under Fire
By REVEREND GEORGE HUGHES HEPWORTH (1863)

Port Hudson. below Vicksburg, was the last Confederate stronghold on the river. Taken July 8, 1863

    THE pluck of the negro as a soldier was fairly tried at the storming of Port Hudson in one of the hottest charges of the war. There were two regiments of Louisiana negroes in the right wing of the attacking force. Nobody trusted them. The West-Point generals shirked the responsibility of having them in their brigades. They were nothing but "nigger regiments," -- the exponents of a pet idea of certain crazy people in the North. The Southerners joined in the chorus of croakers, and sneered, and intimated that things were come to a pretty pass when we put guns into the hands of men who were as likely to shoot themselves as any one else, and drew them up in line against the chivalry of the South ; and so the whole current of popular feeling was against them. Still they drilled well; yes, they dressed into line magnificently, -- a stalwart, heavy-chested set of fellows! They handled their muskets, too, in very soldierly fashion; but it was only by resolutely stemming the tide, by the most independent persistence, that the regiments kept their position. When first formed, they were laid on the shelf. They camped in the mud in Algiers or Baton Rouge eighteen months, rubbing their gun-barrels. At last came the siege of Port Hudson. Every man was needed

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and, more and better, Banks had no prejudice against color. In spite of some opposition, they were put into the field by the side of white soldiers. They were quiet, remaining within their camp-lines, holding their little meetings, hardly ever riotous, seldom drunk, never trespassing beyond their lines; and their presence was soon forgotten.

    In good time, the morning came when the first assault was made. The distance between the camp of the assaulting party and the works of the enemy was a half-mile, more or less. The ground was ragged and broken, full of gullies, and strewn with timber placed there by the rebels to obstruct our progress. When our forces got near enough to the fortifications, they had to sustain, besides the direct fire upon their front, a severe enfilading fire from some heavy guns. Altogether, it was an assault that required men of the utmost daring and pluck.

    The charge was ordered. The negro regiments advanced, and very soon came into the grape of the foe. They had never smelt powder before; but (their officers say) there was an eagerness, a wild, uncontrollable enthusiasm, about them, which was quite wonderful. They charged directly in the face of the storm of bullets, square up to the ditch, which is on this side the earth-works, and six feet deep and twenty feet wide. They were most horridly cut up; yet they retired in good order, and, when called again into line, answered at once. A second time, on the double-quick, they rushed up to the ditch, and again fell back. They were dressed into line a third time, and advanced. "When within a few rods of the enemy's works,"said one of their officers, "they became perfectly

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uncontrollable. We could not keep up with them. Their eagerness never was matched. Instead of cowardice, they seemed to have no conception of fear. The ditch troubled them. The enemy, their masters, whom they love so dearly, were beyond; and they chafed beyond measure. just then, the two regiments set up a yell. They were close to the foe. It was a sound unlike any thing I ever heard, a wild, unearthly noise. It came across me at the time, that it was the slavery of a thousand years finding vent."

    The vexed question is settled for ever. The commanding general, in his official report, speaks in the most complimentary way of their behavior. They have fairly won a name, and won it by undoubted bravery, If, after this, we talk of negro regiments sneeringly, we are to be pitied for our littleness, and

    despised for our ignorance. The only difficulty to be found with them is one not often complained of. It is, that they are apt to go too far. They become passionate, fearfully excited, and their officers lose control of them. In. battle they are not merciful. So complete is their hatred of the rebels, that they want to exterminate them.

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87. Chickamauga
By COLONEL ROBERT L. KIMBERLY (1863)

    IT was after midnight when the regiment, having passed Gordon's Mills, went into bivouac in a thicket near the road. The men felt that they were on a battlefield, and were glad enough of the scanty rest This piece is inserted as an example of the detailed description of a battle, Chickamauga, fought September 20, 1863, was one of the most desperate battles of the war, and was marked by the splendid generalship of General George H. Thomas.

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that was to be bad before daylight should call them to action again. Nothing could be seen of the position, but it was certain that the troops were massed rather than strung out in line, and the road was jammed with artillery and trains. In the morning the regiment with the rest was moved further along toward Rossville on the Chattanooga road, until it was near the Widow Glenn house, where Rosecrans' headquarters had been established. Further down the road and apparently to the right of it, there broke out, about the middle of the forenoon, the sound of a severe engagement. This was renewed again and again, and the report went about that a force sent to dispute the enemy's passage of the Chickamauga, needed more than one reinforcement. Finally, soon after noon, Palmer's division was deployed in echelon and moved straight across the Rossville road to the attack. No enemy was in sight when the movement began. The formation in echelon was with the object of striking and crushing the enemy's left flank. The movement started in an open wood; beyond this was a large open field, and about half way across it a strip of woodland. The Forty-first was in the first echelon, and advanced to the woodland. But beyond this the fighting was terrific. From the edge of the woods in front there came a storm of rifle balls, and back of this were batteries in rapid action. Away to the right the battle swept, and it was plain that the enemy's flank was not found.

    The Forty-first fired its last cartridges and was recalled to replenish the boxes. This was done hurriedly, back in the open wood, and it was hardly finished when the enemy fell furiously on

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Van Cleave's division, which was on the right of Palmer's. Colonel Hazen was near the Forty-first when this happened. Some idle batteries were at hand, and Hazen quickly posted these to check the onslaught, for Van Cleave's men were beginning to come back. Then the brigade was moved into the path of the storm which was bearing back the division of Van Cleave. Colonel Wiley broke his line to the rear by companies, to let the retreating crowds pass through, and then wheeled back into line. The Forty-first was still in the open wood, and in front was a large cornfield. Through this the Confederates were swarming, but their first line had spent its force and lost its formation. Close behind came a second line in perfect order. Van Cleave's retreating regiments had broken up Hazen's line as they swept through, but the Forty-first had kept in form by breaking to the rear to let the fugitives pass, as has been told. Wiley opened on the Confederate second line, with volleys by front and rear ranks, and the advance was instantly checked. But it was soon apparent that the regiment was out-flanked. Shots began to come from the right rear. Then Wiley made a change of front to face to the right, and sent a volley into the gathering enemy there. Then a change back, to face the front and check the main advance. Never had the marvellous effect of volley firing been more clearly demonstrated; the fiery Confederates could not stand against it. The closed ranks of the Forty-first were in sharp contrast with the loose line in front and the wandering foes on the right. A hundred yards at a time the regiment fell back while loading, and easily held the enemy at bay. Then a commanding crest was reached, where a battery

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tery had taken post. Here it was proposed to stand, but the enemy did not come on. He was reforming his lines, as could be plainly seen from the crest. But night drew near, and the battle was over for the day.

    Much of the night time was taken up with getting into a new position -- slow and tiresome marching in the darkness. Next morning, before the enemy moved, the Forty-first was lying behind a barricade of rails and logs, an open field behind it. There were troops to right and left, showing that a general line of battle was posted. Rations were not abundant, and of water there was none at all. A detail was sent to fill canteens; the men did not return, but fell into the hands of the enemy, who held the water supply that was ours the day before. The intense suffering occasioned by this lack of water can hardly be imagined; pangs of hunger seemed mild in comparison. Before night, men's tongues were swollen and their lips blackened and cracked until the power of speech was gone. It was far on into the next night when that time of awful thirst was ended.

    The morning was well along when it became apparent that the enemy was advancing upon the Union lines. Nothing was to be seen in the woods to the front but soon the well-known Confederate yell was heard, and the skirmishers became engaged, falling back before the enemy's line of battle. Then the line itself was in view, coming on with true Southern impetuosity. From behind its barricade of rails, the Forty-first opened fire, and to right and left the fight was on. The Confederates returned the fire with spirit, but their advance was checked, and they did little or no damage to the men behind the barricades.

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The attacking line rapidly thinned out under the steady fire; then it became unsteady, and finally it turned and fled. This was the regiment's first experience behind a defended line. Slight as was that defense of rails, it changed the whole character of the fighting. The enemy was severely punished, as was plainly to be seen, and had been able to make no return in kind. The men began to wonder if an attacking force could cover three hundred yards or so, before a well directed fire should destroy it.

    But the battle was not over with this one successful defense. The Confederate line overlapped the Union left and had forced it back until it was stretched across the open field in the rear, and at a right angle with the general line. Then there was a b rave fight on both sides in the open ground. It was plainly seen from the position held by the Forty-first, and it was most eagerly watched. If those men on the flank failed to maintain their ground, the whole line would be taken in rear while it was assaulted in front. There were some moments of intense anxiety, and then it was seen that the Confederate assault bad spent its force. It was as stubborn a fight as one could wish to see, but the staying quality of the Union troops won. Baird's and Johnson's divisions were on the left of Palmer's.

    This doubling up of a flank occurred again that day -- the second time, the right flank. This came from a break in the Union line, made not by the enemy, but by order from the commanding general. A division (Wood's) was withdrawn from its place in line, and at once the enemy entered the gap. The army was cut in two, and most of the right was driven from the field. The general of the army

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went as far as Chattanooga. The Confederates pushed their advantage toward the Union left, until the division next on the right of Palmer's was bent back to the rear. This, like the flank attack on the left, was in view, from the position of the Forty-first, and was watched as anxiously. Also like the other flanking operation, this one failed, thanks to nothing but the steadiness of the Union troops.

    But, while these things were taking place in front and oil both flanks another peril began to grow in the consciousness of the men who could not be driven from front or flank. The cartridge boxes were being rapidly emptied, and no ammunition train was near. Everything seemed to have been swept away with the right wing. Then from the woods across the open field in rear, bullets began to whistle toward the backs of the men in the line. These shots were supposed to come from sharpshooters in the trees. A company of the Forty-first was faced about and delivered a volley into the treetops across the open. This had a good effect, there was one danger the less. But the question of ammunition pressed. Nobody knew where to find it. The four divisions of the left wing were holding their ground, but they were out of communication with the rest of the army, wherever that might be, and they had no supplies of any kind. The division generals came together, and the question of a commander came up. The three corps of the army were represented in those four divisions, but there was no corps commander present. None of the division generals coveted the responsibility of command, but it was plain that something must be done. There was heavy firing off to the right, and it was guessed that somewhere in that direction Thomas

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was holding out against the enemy that had swept away the right wing. Finally, Hazen volunteered to take his brigade across the interval, and make communication with whatever Union force might be still in the field. The brigade was withdrawn from the line, marched somewhat to the rear, and then started

"OLD ABE."

off through the unexplored woods toward the sound of battle. The movement was made cautiously but rapidly, the brigade constantly in readiness for any fortune that might befall. There were some scat tered Confederates in the woods, and a Confederate skirmish line was struck obliquely, but no other force was encountered. The way seemed miles longer

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than it was, and the relief was great when the leading regiment came upon the left of the position where Thomas had stopped the victorious enemy and held him steadfastly. Thomas himself, beloved of all thee army, rode up to take Hazen by the hand. The arrival was just in time. A desperate assault was about to come on the left of Thomas's line. Hazen's men marched through a cornfield to the crest of a low bill, and were there massed in column of regiments. Scarcely was this done when the Confederate storm burst. The slope in front of the brigade was open ground, and in a moment this was covered with heavy masses of the enemy making for the top. Hazen's regiments were lying flat. The foremost sprang to its feet, delivered its volley and went down again to load, and the next regiment just behind rose to fire and fall flat while the third put in its work; and so on. The slope was strewn with Confederate dead and wounded, but not a man could reach the crest. Along the rest of the line also the defense was successful. Night was falling fast, and the battle of Chickamauga was over.

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88. 0 Captain! My Captain!
By WALT WHITMAN (1865)

0 CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done,
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we
     sought is won,
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all
     exulting,

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While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim
     and daring;
But 0 heart! heart! heart!
0 the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.


0 Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the
     bugle trills,
For you the bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths -- for
     you the shores a-crowding,
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager
     faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head!
It is some dream that on the deck
You've fallen cold and dead.


My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and
     still,
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor
     will,
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage
     closed and done,
From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object
     won;
Exult of shores, and ring 0 bells!
But I with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

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PART VII. ON DECK

89. Attack on Fort Fisher
By ROBLEY D. EVANS (1865)

Fort Fisher protected the in mouth of the Cape Fear River, below Wilmington, North Carolina, a favorite entrance for blockade runners. The fleet was lying at Hampton Roads, Virginia.

    ADMIRAL PORTER assumed command in November, and at once began assembling a powerful fleet. Every preparation was made for active service. Boilers and machinery were overhauled, magazines, shell-rooms, and storehouses replenished, and constant target practice was had with all guns. By the end of November the largest fleet ever seen under the American flag was assembled in Hampton Roads, all classes, from the largest monitor to the smallest gunboat, being represented. Our destination was a secret, carefully guarded; but we surmised from what was taking place that some important move was contemplated, and in this we were not mistaken. It was evident from the daily target practice that the Admiral meant we should hit something when the time for action came, and the landing of the men on the beach for drill was an indication of possible shore service.

    Early in December the troop ships arrived -- thirteen thousand men under General B. F. Butler

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and still our destination was a secret. Toward the middle of Decemer all our preparations had been completed, and we put to sea under sealed orders.

    Before leaving Fortress Monroe, General Butler had proposed a powder boat, by the explosion of which he hoped seriously to injure the forts on Federal Point, including Fort Fisher. Indeed he was confident that he would dismount most of the guns and level the works. An old steamer, the Georgiana, had been loaded with several hundred tons of powder, and turned over to the navy to explode at the proper spot. A crew of volunteers had her in charge, and on the evening of December 24, took her in for the final act of her career. No man in the navy believed for a moment that she would do much harm, but none of us anticipated how little injury would come from the explosion.

    At eleven o'clock that night Admiral Porter steamed about the fleet in his flagship, the sidewheeled steamer Malvern, and made signal: "Powder boat will blow up at 1.30 A.M. Be prepared to get under way, and stand in to engage the fort! "After that there was no sleep for any one; we stood and watched and waited as the hours slowly dragged by. Half-past one came and no explosion, and we were fearful of some mishap; but just as the bells struck two o'clock it came. First came a gentle vibration, then the masts and spars shook as if they would come down about our cars; and then came the low rumble like distant thunder, while the sky to the westward was lighted up for a few seconds, and then great masses of powder smoke hung over the land like thunder clouds. Surely the powder boat had blown up, and as the fleet rapidly formed for battle

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there was great curiosity everywhere to see what the effect had been.

    At daylight we. were heading in for the fort, and almost in range, when we saw General Butler's flagship coming in at full speed, heading straight at Fort Fisher, which looked to us very grim and strong and totally uninjured. 'Everything was very quiet until the General got fairly within range, when there was a flash from the fort and a prolonged roar, and all

THE FIRST U. S. IRONCLAD.

Illustration of the first Ironclad ship, the Monitor, used during the Civil War.
the guns on the face of that work opened on his ship. If he had had any notion that he could land unopposed he was quickly undeceived, and the way that ship turned and got off shore spoke well for the energy of her fire-room force! The last we saw of her she was running cast as fast as her engines could carry her. The powder boat had proved a failure, and the General was grievously disappointed. A rebel newspaper reported that a Yankee gunboat had blown up on the beach and all hands lost.

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   We bad been up many of us all night and our only breakfast had been coffee and hard-tack. As we approached our position, Commodore Schenck sent me aloft with a pair of glasses to locate, if possible, some guns that were annoying him. It was a raw cold morning, and I had on a short double-breasted coat, in the pockets of which I had stowed several pieces of hard-tack. When I had taken my place in the mizzen rigging, just below the top, I put the corner of a hard-tack in my mouth, and was holding it between my teeth while I looked through the glasses for the guns. I caught them at once, and saw gunners train one of them around until I could only see the muzzle of it, which interested me because I knew it was pointing directly at us. There was a puff of smoke, something like a lamp-post crossed the field of the glass, and a moment after the rigging was cut four feet below me, and I swung into the mast. I at once thought of my hard-tack, but it was gone, and I never found even a crumb of it. I am sure that I swallowed it whole. When I had reported what I had made out of the battery, I was directed to lay down from aloft to my station, which was in charge of the after division of the guns; but I hesitated to do so, because my knees were shaking, and I was afraid the men would see it. However, I had to come down, and as soon as I reached the deck, I stood up and looked at my legs, and was greatly relieved to find that they did not show the nervous tremor which worried me so. I soon forgot all abou it as I became interested and warmed up to my work.

    We had only eighteen inches of water under us when we finally anchored and began firing rapidly in I.e., between the ship and the bottom.

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obedience to signal from the Admiral. There was a wreck of a blockade-runner between us and the battery at which we were to fire, and it was evident that this had been used as a target and that the range was well known. One or two shots were fired in line with it, each one coming closer to us, and then they struck us with a ten-inch shot. Four more followed, each one striking nearly in the same place, on the bends forward of the starboard wheel, and going through on to the berth deck. Then for some reason the shot and shell began going over us, striking the water thirty or forty feet away. Probably the gunners on shore could not see the splash of these shots, and thought they were striking us. If they had not changed their range when they did they would have sunk us in an hour. As it was, we hauled out at sundown, pretty well hammered, and leaking so that we had to shift all our guns to port in order to stop the shot holes.

    We had damaged the fort to the extent of dismounting some of the guns and burning the barracks and officers' quarters. When the whole line was fairly engaged the sight was magnificent, and never to be forgotten by those who saw it. No fort had ever before been subjected to such a fire, and the garrison could only make a feeble response; most of them were driven into the bomb-proofs, where they remained till we hauled off for the night. The heaviest losses on our side had been caused by the bursting of the one-hundred pound Parrott rifles ; thirty-five or forty men had beer. killed or wounded in this way.

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90. The Man Who made the Monitor
By ADMIRAL DAVID PORTER (1863)

John Ericsson, a Swede by birth, but a genuine American in his way.

    WHILE I was fitting out the mortar flotilla, "Ericsson's iron pot " was approaching completion, and I received orders from the Navy Department to make a critical examination of the vessel and report my opinion of her capabilities. After this duty was accomplished I was ordered to proceed to Mystic, Connecticut, and examine the Galena, a wooden vessel sheathed with iron plates, building there under the supervision of Commodore Joseph Smith.

    Arriving at New York, I called on Mr. Ericsson and showed him my orders. He read them, looked at me attentively, and said: "Well, you are no doubt a great mathematician, and know all about the calculations which enter into the construction of my vessel. You will have many papers to examine; help yourself, and take what you like best."

    "I am no great mathematician,"I replied, "but I am a practical man, and think I can ascertain whether or not the Monitor will do what is promised for her."

    "Ah, yes! "exclaimed Ericsson, "a practical man! Well, I've bad a dozen of those fellows here already, and they went away as wise as they came. I don't want practical men sent here, sir. I want men who understand the higher mathematics that are used in the construction of my vessel -- men who can work out the displacements, horse-power, impregnability, endurance at sea in a gale, capacity to stow men, the motion of the vessel according to the waves, her stability

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as a platform for guns, her speed, actual weight -- in short, everything pertaining to the subject, Now, young man, if you can't fathom these things you had better go back where you came from. If the department wants to understand the principles of my vessel, they should send a mathematician."

    "Well,"said I, as the inventor paused to take breath, "although I am not strictly what you would call a mathematician, I know the rule of three, and that twice two are four."

    Ericsson looked hard at me, his hair bristled up, and the muscles of his brawny arms seemed to swell as if in expectation of having to eject me from the room. "Well!"he exclaimed, "I never in all my life met with such assurance as this. Here the Government sends me an officer who knows only the rule of three and that twice two are four, and I have used the calculus and all the higher mathematics in making my calculations.

    "But,"said I, apologetically, "I know a little of simple equations. Won't that be sufficient to make me understand this machine of yours? "

    "Worse and worse! "exclaimed the inventor. "It would be better if you knew nothing. Here's a man who tells me he knows a little of simple equations, and they send him to examine John Ericsson! "

    I was greatly amused with this remarkable man, and entirely forgave his peculiarities. "Well, Mr. Ericsson,"I said, "you will have to make the best of a bad bargain, and get along with me as well as you possibly can. I am perfectly willing to receive instruction from you."

    "Ah, ha! "he exclaimed, "that's it, is it ? and so you think me a school-master to teach naval officers

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The Monitor was built on a new plan; the two guns were set in a revolving turret. what I know ? I'm afraid you're too bad a bargain for me; you must expect no instruction here. Take what you like best from my shelves, but you can't have my brains."

    "Well, then,"I said, "show me your plans in order, and, if you won't explain them, let me see what I can make of them." "Ah, young man ! "said Ericsson, "with your limited knowledge of simple equations you will run aground in a very short time. Look at this drawing and tell me what it represents."

    "It looks to me like a coffee-mill,"I answered.

    Ericsson jumped from his chair with astonishment in his eye. " On my word of honor, young man, you are vexing, and I am a fool to waste my time on you. That is the machinery that works my turn-table or the turret. I have spent many sleepless nights over it, and now a man who only knows a little of simple equations tells me it's a coffee-mill! Now what do you think of that ? "continued Mr. Ericsson, handing me a small wooden model; "that's my 'iron pot,' as you navy people call it."

    I regarded the model with a critical eye, holding it upside down. " This,"I remarked, "is evidently the casemate " -- passing my hand over the bottom "and this " -- pointing to the turret -- "is undoubtedly where you carry the engine."

    "Well! well!"exclaimed Ericsson, "never did I see such a -- But never mind; you will learn by and by the world was not made in a day."

    So we went on till at length I informed Mr. Ericsson that I thought I understood all about his "iron pot."

    He was not in a pleasant humor, evidently regarding

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me as an emissary sent by the department to try and bring him to grief. As he did not seem to be in a communicative frame of mind, I took a malicious pleasure in worrying him.

    After learning all I could possibly from the drawings and plans of the Monitor, I proposed to the inventor to go and examine the Simon-pure article, and we crossed the ferry to Greenpoint, where, if I remember rightly, the vessel was building.

    Taking off my coat, I penetrated to the innermost recesses of the Monitor, followed by Mr. Ericsson, who more than once inquired if my simple equations enabled me to comprehend the mysteries.

    "Wait till I am done with you,"I said; "then the laugh will be on you, and you'll see what my simple equations amount to."

    "No doubt! no doubt!"he replied, "but it will take a big book to hold all you don't know when you get through."

    At last, after an hour spent in examining the vessel, I emerged from the hold, followed by the inventor, who looked displeased enough. "Now, sir,"I said, I know all about your machine."

    "Yes,"he answered, sneeringly, "and you know twice two are four, and a little of simple equations."

    "Now, Mr. Ericsson,"I said, "I have borne a good deal from you to-day; you have mocked at my authority and have failed to treat me with the sweetness I had a right to expect. I am about to have satisfaction, for on my report depends whether or not your vessel is accepted by the department ; so I will tell you in plain terms what I think of your ' iron pot.' "

    "Say what you please,"exclaimed Ericsson, glaring

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at me like a tiger ready to spring; "nobody will mind what you say !"

    "Well, sir,"I continued, "I have looked into the whole thing from A to Izzard, and " -- gazing steadily at the inventor, not without apprehensions that he might seize me in his muscular arms and squeeze the breath out of my body -- "I will say this to the Goernment -- in writing, too, so that there can be no mistake."

    "Go on, sir, go on! "said Ericsson; 11 you will run on a rock directly."

    "Well, then,"I continued, "I will say that Mr. Ericsson has constructed a vessel -- a very little iron vessel -- which, in the opinion of our best naval architect, is in violation of well-known principles, and will sink the moment she touches the water."

    "Oh,"said Ericsson, "he's a fool! "

    "But,"I continued, "I shall say, also, that Mr. Ericsson has constructed the most remarkable vessel the world has ever seen-one that, if properly handled, can destroy any ship now afloat, and whip a dozen wooden ships together if they were where they could not manoeuvre so as to run her down."

    Ericsson regarded me in astonishment, then seized my hand and almost shook my arm off. "To think!"he exclaimed, "that all this time I took you for a fool, and you are not a fool after all! "

    I laughed heartily, as did Ericsson, and we have been the best of friends ever since.

    I telegraphed at once to the Navy Department, "Mr. Ericsson's vessel is the best fighting machine ever invented, and can destroy any ship of war afloat."

    After examining the Galena, I telegraphed, "I am not satisfied with the vessel ; she is too vulnerable."

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    On my return to Washington I met a high official of the navy, who said to me: "We received your telegram about the Ericsson vessel. Why, man, Lenthall says she will sink as soon as she is launched. He has made a calculation, and finds she will not bear her iron, much less her guns and stores."

    Both Fox and Lenthall soon had reason to change their opinions on this subject; both became strong advocates of Ericsson's system, and in a short time a number of much larger vessels of a similar type with the Monitor were commenced, but were not finished in time to be of use in the most critical period of the civil war, when we came near meeting with serious reverses owing to the great energy displayed by the Confederates in improvising heavy iron-clads.

    To Ericsson belongs the credit of devising the Monitor class of vessels, which gave us a cheap and rapid mode of building a navy suitable to our wants at the time. Through his genius we were enabled to bid defiance to the maritime powers which seemed disposed to meddle with our affairs, and it was owing to him that at the end of the civil war we were in a condition to prevent any hostile navy from entering our ports.

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91. The Little Monitor and the Merrimac
By CHARLES MARTIN (1862)

   COMPANIONS: I will tell you what I saw at Newport News when the Merrimac destroyed the Congress and the Cumberland, and fought with the Monitor. It

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Monitor and Merrimac.

The Monitor and Merrimac, powerful ships of the Civil War, battling it out.

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was a drama in three acts, and twelve hours will elapse between the second and third acts.

    "Let us begin at the beginning" -- 1861. The North Atlantic squadron is at Hampton Roads, except the frigate Congress and the razee Cumberland; they are anchored at Newport News, blockading the James River and Norfolk. The Merrimac, the rebel ram, is in the dry dock of the Norfolk navy-yard.

    The Monitor is building in New York City. It is determined to keep the Merrimac in the dry dock, wait the arrival of the Monitor, send her out to meet her, and in the action it is positive that an opportunity will offer to pierce and sink her. The ram is a terror, and both sides say, "When the Merrimac comes out! "The last of February, 1862, the Monitor is ready for sea; she will sail for Hampton Roads in charge of a steamer. There is a rumor that she has broken her steering gear before reaching Sandy Hook. She will be towed to Washington for repairs. The Rebel spies report her a failure -- steering defective, turret revolves with difficulty, and when the smoke of her guns in action is added to the defects of ventilation, it will be impossible for human beings to live aboard of her. No Monitor to fight, the Southern press and people grumble ; they pitch into the Merrimac. Why does she lie idle ? Send her out to destroy the Congress and the Cumberland, that have so long bullied Norfolk, then sweep away the fleet at Hampton Roads, starve out Fortress Monroe, go north to Baltimore and New York and Boston, and destroy and plunder; and the voice of the people, not always an inspiration, prevails, and the ram is floated and manned and armed, and March 8th is bright and sunny when she steams down the Elizabeth The Merrimac had been a wooden vessel in the old navy, but was cut down -- and built up with sloping bow plates.

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River to carry out the first part of her programme. And all Norfolk and Portsmouth ride and run to the bank of the James, to have a picnic, and assist at a naval battle and victory. The cry of "Wolf ! "has so often been heard aboard the ships that the Merrimac has lost much of her terrors. They argue : "If she is a success, why doesn't she come out and destroy us.? "And when seen this morning at the mouth of the river: "It is only a trial trip or a demonstration."But she creeps along the opposite shore, and both ships beat to quarters and get ready for action. The boats of the Cumberland are lowered, made fast to each other in line, anchored between the ship and the shore, about an eighth of a mile distant.

    Here are two large sailing frigates on a calm day, at slack water, anchored in a narrow channel, impossible to get under weigh and manoeuvre, and must lie and hammer, and be hammered, so long as they hold together, or until they sink at their anchors. To help them is a tug, the Zouave, once used in the basin at Albany to tow canal boats under the grain elevator. The Congress is the senior ship; the tug makes fast to her. The Congress slips her cable and tries to get under weigh. The tug does her best and breaks her engine. The Congress goes aground in line with the shore. The Zouave floats down the river, firing her pop-guns at the Merrimac as she drifts by her. The command of both the ships devolves on the first lieutenants. On board the Cumberland all hands are allowed to remain on deck, watching the slow approach of the Merrimac, and she comes on so slowly, the pilot declares she has missed the channel; she draws too much water to use her ram. She continues

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to advance, and two gun-boats, the Yorktown and the Teaser, accompany her. Again they beat to quarters, and every one goes to his station. There is a platform on the roof of the Merrimac. Her captain is standing on it. When she is near enough, he hails, "Do you surrender? ""Never! "is the reply. The order to fire is given ; the shot of the starboard battery rattles on the iron roof of the Merrimac. She answers with a shell; it sweeps the forward pivot gun, it kills and wounds ten of the gun's crew. A second slaughters the marines at the after pivot gun. The Yorktown and the Teazer keep tip a constant fire. She bears down on the Cumriand. She rams her just aft the starboard bow' The ram goes into the sides of the ship as a knife goes into a cheese. The Merrimac tries to back out; the tide is making; it catches against her great length at a right angle with the Cumberland; it slews her around; the weakened, lengthened ram breaks off; she leaves it in the Cumberland. The battle rages, broadside answers broadside, and the sanded deck is red and slippery with the blood of the wounded and dying; they are dragged amidships out of the way of the guns ; there is no one and no time to take them below. Delirium seizes the crew; they strip to their trousers, tie their handkerchiefs round their heads, kick off their shoes, fight and yell like demons, load and fire at will, keep it tip for the rest of the forty-two minutes the ship is sinking, and fire a last gun as the water rushes into her ports.

    The Merrimac turns to the Congress. She is aground, but she fires her guns till the red-hot shot from the enemy sets her on fire, and the flames drive the men away from the battery. She has forty years

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of seasoning; she burns like a torch. Her commanding officer is killed, and her deck strewn with killed and wounded. The wind is off shore; they drag the wounded under the windward bulwark, where all hands take refuge from the flames. The sharpshooters on shore drive away a tug from the enemy. The crew and wounded of the Congress are safely landed. She burns the rest of the afternoon and evening, discharging her loaded guns over the camp. At midnight the fire has reached her magazines -- the Congress disappears.

    When it is signalled to the fleet at Hampton Roads that the Merrimac, has come out, the Minnesota leaves her anchorage and hastens to join the battle. Her pilot puts her aground off the Elizabeth River, and she lies there helpless. The Merrimac has turned back for Norfolk. She has suffered from the shot of the Congress and the Cumberland, or she would stop and destroy the Minnesota; instead, with the Yorktown and Teazer, she goes back into the river. Sunday morning, March 9th, the Merrimac is coming out to finish her work. She will destroy the Minnesota. As she nears her, the Monitor appears from behind the helpless ship; she has slipped in during the night, and so quietly, her presence is unknown in the camp. And David goes out to meet Goliath, and every man who can walk to the beach sits down there, spectators of the first iron-clad battle in the world. The day is calm, the smoke hangs thick on the water, the low vessels are hidden by the smoke. They are so sure of their invulnerability, they fight at arm's length. They fight so near the shore, the flash of their guns is seen, and the noise is heard of the heavy shot pounding the armor. They haul out for

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The Merrimac never tried another fight and was at last destroyed by the rebels. breath, and again disappear in the smoke. The Merrimac stops firing, the smoke lifts, she is running down the Monitor, but she has left her ram in the Cumberland. The Monitor slips away, turns, and renews the action. One P.M. -- they have fought Since 8.30 A.M. The crews of both ships are suffocating under the armor. The frames supporting the iron roof of the Merrimac are sprung and shattered. The turret of the Monitor is dented with shot, and is revolved with difficulty. The captain of the Merrimac is wounded in the leg; the captain of the Monitor is blinded with powder. It is a drawn game. The Merrimac, leaking badly, goes back to Norfolk; the Monitor returns to Hampton Roads.

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92. Chasing a Blockade-runner
By CAPTAIN JOHN WILKINSON (1863)

Nassau, a harbor in the British Baharnas. The blockade runners carried in arms and other war material, and carried out cotton, always at risk of capture by the Union vessels stationed there for that purpose.

    WE were ready to sail for Nassua on the 15th of August, 1863, and had on board, as usual, several passengers. We passed safely through the blockading fleet off the New Inlet Bar, receiving no damage from the few shots fired at us, and gained an offing from the coast of thirty miles by daylight.

    Very soon afterwards the vigilant lookout at the mast head called out "Sail ho! "and in reply to the "where away "from the deck, sang out,"Right astern, sir, and in chase."The morning was very clear. Going to the mast bead I could just discern the royal of the chaser, and before I left there, say in half an hour, her top-gallant sail showed above the horizon. By this time the sun had risen in a cloudless

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sky. It was evident our pursuer would be along side of us at midday at the rate we were then going. The first orders were to throw overboard the deckload of cotton, and to make more steam: the latter proved to be more easily given than executed; for the chief engineer reported that it was impossible to make steam with the wretched stuff filled with slate and dirt.

   

ARRIVAL OF MAIL ON PASSAIC.

    A moderate breeze from the north and east had been blowing ever since daylight, and every stitch of canvas on board the square rigged steamer in our wake was drawing. We were steering east by south, and it was clear that the chaser's advantages could only be neutralized either by bringing the Lee gradually

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head to wind or edging away to bring the wind aft. The former course would be running toward the land, besides incurring the additional risk of being intercepted and captured by some of the inshore cruisers. I began to edge away therefore, and in two or three hours enjoyed the satisfaction of seeing our pursuer slow up and furl his sails.

    The breeze was still blowing as fresh as in the morning, but we were now running directly away from it, and the cruiser was going literally as fast as the wind, causing the sails to be rather a hindrance than a help. But she was still gaining on us. A happy inspiration occurred to me when the case seemed hopeless. Sending for the chief engineer I said, "Mr. Simoine, let us try cotton saturated with spirits of turpentine."There were on board, as part of the deck-load, thirty or forty barrels of spirits. In a very few moments, a bale of cotton was ripped open, a barrel tapped, and buckets full of the satu. rated material passed down into the fire room.

    The result exceeded our expectations. The chief engineer, an excitable little Frenchman, from Charleston, very soon made his appearance on the bridge, his eyes sparkling with triumph, and reported a full head of steam. Curious to see the effect upon our speed, I directed him to wait a moment until the log was hove. I threw it myself, nine and a half knots. "Let her go now, sir! "I said. Five minutes afterward, I hove the log again;-thirteen and a quarter. We now began to hold our own, and even to gain a little upon the chaser; but she was fearfully near, and I began to have visions of another residence at Fort Warren, as I saw what seamen call the "big bone in the mouth"of our pertinacious friend, for she was Fort Warren, in Boston harbor, used as a prison.

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near enough to us at one time for us to see distinctly the white curl of foam under her bows. I wonder if they could have screwed another turn of speed out of her if they had known that the Lee had on board, in addition to her cargo of cotton, a large amount of gold shipped by the Confederate government?

    There continued to be a very slight change in our relative positions till about six o'clock in the afternoon, when the chief engineer again made his appearance, with a very ominous expression of countenance. He came to report that the burnt cotton had choked the flues, and that the steam was running down. "Only keep her going till dark, sir,"I replied, "and we will give our pursuer the slip yet."A heavy bank was lying along the horizon to the south and east, and I saw a possible means of escape. At sunset the chaser was about four miles astern, and gaining upon us. Calling two of my most reliable officers, I stationed one of them on each wheel-house, with glasses, directing them to let me know the instant they lost sight of the chaser in the growing darkness. At the same time I ordered the chief engineer to make as black a smoke as possible, and to be in readiness to cut off the smoke by closing the dampers instantly, when ordered. The twilight was soon succeeded by darkness. Both of the officers on the wheel-house called out at the same moment, "We have lost sight of her,"while a dense volume of smoke was streaming far in our wake. "Close the dampers,"I called out through the speaking tube, and at the same moment ordered the helm hard a star-board. Our course was altered eight points, at a right angle to the previous one. I remained on deck

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an hour, and then retired to my stateroom with a comfortable sense of security.

    At one time during the chase, when capture seemed inevitable, the kegs containing the gold had been brought on deck, and one of them opened by my orders, it being my intention to distribute its contents among the officers and crew. The chaser proved afterward to be the Iroquois. Feeling confident that she would continue on the course toward Abaco, and perhaps have another and more successful chase, I changed the destination of the Lee to Bermuda, where we arrived safely two days afterward.

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93. Sinking the Tecumseh
By LOYALL FARRAGUT (1864)

    FARRAGUT had fully intended to run into Mobile Bay on the 4th of August; but the non-arrival of the Tecumseh from Pensacola, prevented him from doing so. It was with great satisfaction that he saw her steam behind Sand Island on that afternoon, and take up her anchorage with the Winnebago, Manhattan, and Chicksaw.

    On the morning of the 5th, long before day, through the whole fleet could be heard the boatswains' cheery pipes and calls of "all hands"and "up all hammocks" -- sounds so familiar on shipboard; and soon after an orderly entered the cabin and called Captain Drayton. While the Admiral, Drayton, and Palmer were partaking of their breakfast, daybreak was reported, but weather threatening rain. The clouds worked round, however, and in Mobile was defended by a fort, a powerful ironclad, and torpedoes. To attack was very dangerous.

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spite of its being Friday, the sailor's day of misgivings, they congratulated themselves on the good omen. The wind, too, was west-southwest, just where Farragut wanted it, as it would blow the smoke of the guns on Fort Morgan.

   

DAVID FARRAGUT.

    At four o'clock the wooden ships formed in double column, lashed in pairs. The Brooklyn was appointed to lead, because she had four chase guns, and apparatus for picking up torpedoes.

    At half past five the Admiral still sipping his tea,

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quietly said, "Well, Drayton, we might as well get under way." In one minute answering signals came from the whole fleet, the wooden vessels taking up their respective positions, and steering for Sand Island Channel, while the four monitors filed out of Monitor Bay, and formed in a single column to the right of the wooden ships, the leading one being abreast of the Brooklyn.

    The Confederate vessels had in the meantime taken up their position in single line across the channel, with their port batteries bearing on the fleet. The Tennessee was a little westward of the red buoy and close to the inner line of torpedoes.

    At 6:47 A.M. the booming of the Tecumseh's guns was heard, and shortly afterwards Morgan replied. As the fleet of wooden vessels came within shorter range, Farragut made signal for " closer order,"which was promptly obeyed, each vessel closing up to within a few yards of the one ahead, and a little on the starboard quarter, thus enabling such of the ships as had chase guns to bring them to bear. The ball had opened, but the enemy had the advantage, and the Union fleet now received a raking fire from forts and rebel gunboats for fully half an hour before they could bring their broadsides to bear with effect. But at the end of that time the Brooklyn and Hartford were enabled to pour in their broadsides, driving the gunners from the barbette and water batteries.

    By half past seven the Tecumseh was well up with the fort, and drawing slowly by the Tennessee, having her on the port beam, when suddenly she reeled to port and went down with almost every soul on board, destroyed by a torpedo.

    Craven, in his eagerness to engage the ram, had Barbette guns mounted on a wall, with no roof over them.

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passed to the west of the fatal buoy. If he had gone but his breadth of beam eastward of it, he would have been safe so far as torpedoes were concerned.

    This appalling disaster was not immediately realized by the fleet. Some supposed the Tennessee had been sunk, or some advantage gained over the enemy, and cheer after cheer from the Hartford was taken up and echoed along the line. But Farragut from his lofty perch, saw the true state of affairs, and his anxiety was not decreased when the Brooklyn, next ahead, suddenly stopped. He hailed his pilot, Freeman, above him in the top, to ask, "What is the matter with the Brooklyn ? She must have plenty of water there.""Plenty and to spare, Admiral,"the man replied. Alden had seen the Tecumseh go down, and the heavy line of torpedoes across the channel made him pause. The Brooklyn began to back; the vessels in the rear, pressing on those in the van, soon created confusion, and disaster seemed imminent. "The batteries of our ships were almost silent,"says an eye-witness, "while the whole of Mobile Point was a living flame."

    "What's the trouble?"was shouted through a trumpet from the flag-ship to the Brooklyn.

    "Torpedoes! "was shouted back in reply.

    "Damn the torpedoes!"said Farragut. "Four bells! Captain Drayton, go ahead! Jouett, full speed!"And the Haqford passed the Brooklyn, assuming the head of the line, and led the fleet to victory. It was the one only way out of the difficulty, and any hesitation would have closed even this escape from a frightful disaster. Nor did the Admiral forget the poor fellows who were struggling in Not a refined expression, but it is what he said.

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the water where the Tecumseh had gone down, but ordered Jouett to lower the boat and pick up the survivors.

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94. Running the Batteries
By CAPTAIN ALFRED T. MAHAN (1862)

    AT ten o'clock that evening the gunboat Carondelet, Commander Henry Walke, left her anchorage, during a heavy thunderstorm, and successfully ran the batteries, reaching New Madrid at one P.M. The orders to execute this daring move were delivered to Captain Walke on the 30th of March. The vessel was immediately prepared. Her decks were covered with extra thicknesses of planking; the chain cables were brought up from below and ranged as an additional protection. Lumber and cord-wood were piled thickly around the boilers, and arrangements made for letting the steam escape through the wheel-houses, to avoid the puffing noise ordinarily issuing from the pipes. The pilot-house for additional security, was wrapped to a thickness of eighteen inches in the coils of a large hawser. A barge, loaded with bales of hay, was made fast on the port quarter of the vessel to protect the magazine.

    The moon set at ten o'clock, and then too was felt the first breath of a thunderstorm, which had been for some time gathering. The Carondelet swung from her moorings and started down the stream. The guns were in and ports closed. No light was allowed about the decks. Within the darkened casement of the pilot-house all her crew save two, stood in silence, fully armed to repel boarding, should boarding The Confederates had heavily fortified Island No. 10 in the Mississippi River.

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be attempted. The storm burst in full violence as soon as her head was fairly down stream. The flashes of lightning showed her presence to the Confederates, who rapidly manned their guns, and whose excited shouts and commands were plainly beard on board as the boat passed close under the batteries. On deck, exposed alike to the storm and to the enemy's fire, were two men; one, Charles Wilson, a seaman, heaving the lead, standing sometimes kneedeep in the water that boiled over the forecastle; the other, an officer, Theodore Gilmore, on the upper deck forward, repeating to the pilot the leadsman's muttered, "No bottom."

    The storm spread its sheltering wing over the gallant vessel, baffling the excited efforts of the enemy, before whose eyes she floated like a phantom ship; now wrapped in impenetrable darkness, now standing forth in the full blaze of the lightning close under their guns. The friendly flashes enabled the pilot, William R. Hoel, who bad volunteered from another gunboat to share the fortunes of the night, to keep her in the channel; once only, in a longer interval between them, did the vessel get a dangerous sheer toward a shoal, but the peril was revealed in time to avoid it. Not till the firing had ceased did the squall abate.

    The passage of the Carondelet was not only one of the most daring and dramatic events of the war; it was also the death-blow to the Confederate defence of this position. The concluding events followed in rapid succession.

    Having passed the island as related, on the night of the 4th, the Carondelet on the 6th made a reconnoissance down the river as far as Tiptonville, with "Island No, 10 "was heavily fortified by the Confederates

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General Granger on board, exchanging shots with the Confederate batteries, at one of which a landing was made and the guns spiked. That night the Pitts. burg also passed the island, and at 6:30 A.M. of the 7th, the Carondelet got under way, in concert with Pope's operations, went down the river, followed after an interval by the Pittsburg and engaged the enemies' batteries, beginning with the lowest. This was silenced in three-quarters of an hour, and the others made little resistance. The Carondelet then signalled her success to the general and returned to cover the crossing of the army, which began at once.

    The enemy evacuated their works, pushing down towards Tiptonville, but there were actually no means for them to escape, caught between the swamps and the river. Seven thousand men laid down their arms, three of whom were general officers. At ten o'clock that evening the island and garrison surrendered to the navy, just three days to an hour after the Carondelet started on her perilous voyage. How much of this result was due to the Carondelet and Pittsburg may be measured by Pope's words to the flag-officer: "The lives of thousands of men and the success of our operations hang upon your decision; with two gunboats all is safe, with one it is uncertain."

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95. Escape of the Sumter
By CAPTAIN RAPHAEL SEMMES (1864)

    ON the morning of the 29th of June, hopes were excited by a report from the pilot that the Brooklyn had left her station; and speed being got up

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Semmes, later captain of the famous Alabama, was trying at this time to run out of the Mississippi River. with all haste on the Slimier, she again dropped down to Pass ' L'Outre, but only to find that the report had been fallacious. The Brooklyn was still at anchor, though a slight change of berth had placed her behind the shelter of a mass of trees. Once more, therefore, the Sumter was brought to an anchor -- , but on the day following, her patient waiting was rewarded by the long-looked for opportunity. On the morning of the 30th of June the Brooklyn was again

A BIG SHIP GUN.

reported under way, and in chase of a vessel to leeward ; and no sooner was the fact of her departure fairly verified than steam was got up for the last time, and the little Sumter dashed boldly across the bar, and stood out to sea.

    Almost at the last moment, however, it seemed as though the attempt to escape were again to be baffled by difficulties on the part of the pilot. The man on board of the Sumter lost courage as the moment of

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trial came, and professed his inability to take the vessel through the pass thus left free by the departure of the Brooklyn, alleging as his excuse that he had not passed through it for more than three months. Happily the man's cowardice or treachery produced no ill effects; for, as the Sumter dropped down the river on her way toward the open sea, another pilot came gallantly off to her in his little boat, and volunteered to carry her through the Pass.

    The Sumter had not yet reached within six miles of the bar when her movements were perceived from the Brooklyn, which at once relinquished the far less valuable prize on which she had been hitherto intent; and changing her course, headed at top speed towards the bar, in hopes of cutting the Sumter off before she could reach it. The narrow opening through the bar, distant about six miles from either of the opposing vessels, now became the goal of a sharp and exciting race. The Sumter had the advantage of the stream; but the Brooklyn was her superior in speed, and moreover, carried guns of heavier calibre and longer range.

    At length the Pass is reached; and dashing gallantly across it, the little-Sumter starboards her helm and rounds the mud-banks to the eastward. As she does so the Brooklyn rounds to for a moment, and gives her a shot from her pivot gun. But the bolt falls short; and now the race begins in earnest.

    The chase bad not continued long, when a heavy squall of wind and rain came up, and hid the pursuing vessel from sight; but it soon passed away, and the Brooklyn was again descried astern, under all sail and steam, and evidently gaining upon her little quarry. On this the Sumter was hauled two points higher up, thus bringing the wind so far forward that the

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Brooklyn was no longer able to carry sail. And now the chase in her turn began to gain upon her huge pursuer. But she was getting into salt water, and her boilers began to prime furiously. It was necessary to slacken speed for a time, and as she did so the Brooklyn slowly recovered her advantage. Then gradually the foaming in the Sumter's boilers ceased, and she was again put to her speed. The utmost pressure was put on; the propeller began to move at the rate of sixty-five revolutions a minute, and the Brooklyn dropped slowly but steadily astern. At length she gave up the chase, and at four o'clock in the afternoon, just four hours after crossing the bar, the crew of the Sumter gave three hearty cheers as her baffled pursuer put up her helm, and, relinquishing the chase, turned sullenly back to her station at the mouth of the river.

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96. Passing the Forts on the Mississippi.
By GEORGE HUGHES HEPWORTH (1863)

    WE started at four, P.M. ; and anchored just off the Bar, in the "Father of Waters,"some time the next evening. I was glad of this; for it gave mean opportunity to see the plantations on each side of the river, of which I bad heard so much.

    Early in the morning, we entered the Southwest Pass, crossed the Bar, and passed the sunken wreck of the fire-boat which the rebels had set adrift, in hopes thereby to fire Farragut's fleet. It ended its In the Gulf of Mexico.

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Farragut came tip the river in April, 1862. ignoble career as it should; finding a grave in Mississippi mud.

    The river presented no objects of interest for many miles ; indeed, not until we reached the Forts St. Philip and Jackson. Jackson is the principal work, situated on the right bank of the river, and almost immediately opposite Fort St. Philip. We saw nothing to remind us of the struggle which gave us New Orleans, except a gunboat or two destroyed during the fight, and driven as high as possible on the bank of the river. Yet, said they who saw the fight, it was a terrible contest. The rebels were fresh, eager for the fray, and reckless in their daring. They believed themselves secure against any attack of the Federals. They had strengthened their fortifications in every possible way, and had mounted guns which have since been proved excellent. A picket-guard had been stationed a couple of miles below to signal the first approach of the enemy. They could begin to fire at our boats when over two miles distant.

    Besides all this, they had three immense iron cables stretched across the river, to which was attached a bridge ; so that communication between the two forts was complete. If our fleet should succeed in getting opposite the fort, this impediment would bar its further progress; and, before it could get out of range again, it would be utterly destroyed. Our fleet-commander was aware of the existence of this chain, and destroyed it in a very neat way. The water runs, at this point, about three miles an hour. This tremendous pressure brought a great strain against the iron ; and, when the floating bridge was attached, the current pressed against the immense amount of woodwork, and strained the, cable to its utmost.

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   Our commander sent one of his fleetest boats a boat with an iron prow, and sharpened -- to stem the current at its utmost speed, and strike the cable in the centre of the river, where the pressure was greatest. The experiment was remarkably successful. The boat hit the chain in just the right place, and it parted as if by magic; one half the bridge floating to the east side of the river, and the other half to the west side. I have often, when a boy, bent a young tree, half as thick as my arm, almost to the ground, and then, striking it on the upper side where the strain was greatest, cut it completely through with the quick blow of a hatchet. It was in the same way that the great chain was broken.

    The fleet of the Union came up the river slowly, -- feeling its way along, fearing some infernal machine, -- and nothing was heard on that calm but dark night save the striking of their paddles in the water. The decks were filled with men, who expected to pay a heavy price for the victory and who were willing to give their lives. The pilot, Porter, knew every shoal, every bend, every snag. If anybody could take our fleet by those forts, Porter was the man. I have thought, what an hour of intense excitement that must have been on both sides! The rebels did not believe that our men would attempt such a hopeless task, yet kept on the alert ; and on that night, trained cars were listening to catch the sound of paddle-wheels, and trained eyes were peering through the darkness. Nobody saw the glorious stars and stripes which were floating to the breeze from the mast-head of every gunboat. Nobody saw the stars and bars which were polluting the air above the forts.

    Soon, however, the terrific conflict between right and

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wrong began. Our leading gunboats could not have been much more than half a mile distant from the fort, when the battle opened by iron hail from the rebel guns. Our boats did not answer for a while, but kept steadily on, hugging the farther shore. When, however, they were directly opposite Fort St. Philip, their voices were heard ; and they poured upon the rebels a rain which they were not prepared for. Still we kept right on ; the object being to get by the forts.

    What a picture for the historian to draw! The night was so dark, that the rebels could see to fire, only by the flashes from our guns, or perchance by the grim blackness of our gunboats, seen against the lighter background of the sky. I need not say, that our entire fleet got by the forts; and that that night's work opened for us the mouth of the Mississippi, and gave us New Orleans.

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97. An Unfortunate Cow
By FRANC B. WILKIE (1862)

    IT was a siege of intolerable length, and without any variety to break the everlasting monotony. During the weeks that we were there, there was but one event that increased the pulsation of my blood. The wooden gunboat Conestoga lay well up the river just out of the range of the batteries, There were several ammunition boats in the vicinity, which it was our duty to guard nights. During the day, the Conestoga would drop out into the stream and down till within range, and then add her voice to the thunderous concert. The siege of Island No. 10 from March 17 to April 7.

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    This vessel and the ammunition boats at night were laid up on the west, or Arkansas shore. Between us and the shore there was a swamp densely covered with cane, so that access to the boats by land was impossible. One night, about eleven o'clock, when everybody save those on duty had turned into their hammocks, the solemn stillness was suddenly broken by a hail from the deck, -- "Who goes there?" -- followed almost instantly by the report of a musket, and scarcely a second later by the roar of our larboard guns. The next moment I rushed out of the cabin on deck. It was as dark as Erebus. The whistle of the boatswain was calling the men to their places, and there was a rush of flying feet. There were the creaking of tackle, and then the flash and roar of the larboard guns of the Conestoga, as they blazed away into the woods and the darkness. Down the stream in the density of night, activity was noticeable among the twinkling lights of the fleet. Signal rockets flashed athwart the gloom; and soon the quick pulsations of a steam-tug added its voice to the clamor.

    It was tremendously exciting for a few moments. I could see no enemy; grape went crashing through the cane and trees and splashing into the water. In the obscurity all I could see that was human on the deck, when a flash from the guns lighted up the scene, was one of the ship boys -- a sucking tar of about twelve years of age apparently -- who was standing within the taffrail and blazing into the timber with a revolver as fast as he could cock it and pull the trigger. A tug came alongside from the fleet, and an officer climbed up on deck with a lantern. He disappeared down the gun deck, and a little later the firing ceased.

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    The report of the sentinel was to the effect that he heard something splashing through the water, and had challenged it, and receiving no answer had fired off his musket. Some boats were lowered and an exploration was made of the vicinity, but nothing whatever was discovered. When daylight came, amid the torn canes lay the body of a cow, or portions of a

A QUARTERMASTER'S STEAMER.

cow, for she had been riddled with a charge of grape. It was she, that, wading through the water, had excited the challenge and alarm of the sentinel, the fierce resistance of the gallant Conestoga, and a commotion which affected the entire fleet.

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98. Sinking the Albemarle
By JOHN RUSSELL SOLEY (1864)

    THE night was dark and stormy, with now and then a heavy fall of rain. Most of the officers stood or

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The Albemarle, a dangerous ironclad, lay off Plymouth, in the Roanoke River. Lieutenant Cushing of the Union navy volunteered to destroy her. sat in the forward part of the launch. The engineers and firemen were at their post by the engine, and the rest were stationed in the bow, near the wheel, and in the stern. The last were to clear the tiller ropes, in case they should foul.

    Running cautiously under the trees on the right bank, the launch proceeded on her way up the enemy's river. It was Cushing's intention, if he could get ashore unobserved, to land below the ram' board her from the wharf, and bring her down the river. To carry out this plan, it was necessary that the attack should be a surprise; but, failing in this, he was prepared to attack with the torpedo. In either case he meant to give the enemy as little warning as he could.

    Creeping along silently and stealthily, the launch approached the landing just below the wharf. just then a dog barked, and a sentry, aroused, discovered the boat and hailed her. Receiving no answer, he hailed again and fired. Up to this moment not a word had been uttered. But in an instant the situation was changed. The time for surprises was past; and Cushing, giving up without a second thought his cherished project, at once threw off all concealment, and in a loud voice called out, "Ahead, fast!"In the same breath he ordered the cutter to cast loose, capture the Southfield's pickets, and go down the river. Pushing on two hundred yards further, he saw for the first time the dim outlines of the Albemarle, on the port bow, and close aboard. The light of the fire showed a line of logs in the water, within which, at a distance of thirty feet, lay the vessel. The launch was too near the logs to rise over them at the sharp angle her course was then making, and Cushing saw that he must sheer off and turn before

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he could strike them fairly and with sufficient head-way.

    The alarm on board the Albemarle had now become general; rattles were sprung; the bell was rung violently; and a shower of rifle bullets was poured in upon the launch. Swan received a slight wound, and Cushing had three bullets in his clothing, but no one was disabled. Passing close to the enemy, the launch took a wide sweep out to the middle of the river; then turning, it headed at full speed for the ram. As he approached, Cushing with the rollicking bravado and audacity that marked all his doings, shouted at the top of his voice, "Leave the ram! We are going to blow you up! "with more exclamations of the same kind, in which the others joined. To Cushing, who went into action with the zest of a school-boy at football, and the nerve and well-balanced judgment of a veteran, the whole affair was half sport, even while the bullets were flying around him, and while be could hear the snapping of the primers, as the guns of the ram were brought to bear. Luckily they missed fire, As he came near, Cushing ordered the howitzer to be trained and fired; and he directed every movement himself, which was promptly carried out by those in the bow. He says of -- this incident in his report: "The enemy's fire was very severe, but a dose of canister, at short range, served to moderate their zeal and disturb their aim."

    In a moment the launch struck the boom of logs, abreast of the ram's quarter port, and pressed over them. As it approached the side of the ram, the torpedo-spar was lowered; and going ahead slowly until the torpedo was well under the Albemarle's bottom, Cushing detached it with a vigorous pull.

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Waiting till he could feel the torpedo rising slowly and touching the vessel, he pulled the trigger line and exploded it. At the same second, as it seemed to those in the boat, the Albemarle's gun was fired, while the launch was within a dozen feet of the muzzle. To Cushing it seemed that the shot went crashing through his boat, though in fact she was not touched. A column of water, thrown up by the explosion of the torpedo, fell in the launch, which was entangled in the logs, and could not be extricated.

    When Cushing saw that he could not bring the boat off, after refusing to surrender, he ordered the crew to save themselves, and taking off his coat and shoes, jumped into the river. Others followed his example; but all returned except three, -- Woodman, and two of the crew, Higgins and Horton. Horton made his escape, but the other two were drowned.

    Cushing swam to the middle of the stream. Half a mile below he met Woodman in the water, completely exhausted. Cushing helped him to go on for a little distance, but he was by this time too weak to get his companion ashore. Reaching the bank with difficulty, he waited till daylight, when he crawled out of the water and stole into the swamp not far from the fort. On his, way he fell in with a negro, whom he sent to gain information as to the result of the night's work. As soon as he learned that the Albemarle was sunk, he moved on until he came to a creek, where he captured a skiff, and in this he made his way the next night to a picket-boat at the mouth of the river. The rest of the party, unable either to resist or escape, surrendered.

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AN ARMY NURSE.

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PART VIII
WOMEN AND THE WAR

99. "How are you, Sanitary ?"
By MARY ASHTON LIVERMORE (1863)

Throughout the country the ladies were organized to collect supplies and forward them to the sick and wounded soldiers. In the field the troops used to call to the agen ts, " How are you, Sanitary? "The two powerful organizations were the Sanitary Commission and the Christian Commission

    IT is early morning, -- not nine o'clock, for the children are flocking in merry droves to school. The air is resonant with their joyous treble and musical laughter, as with clustering heads and interlacing arms they recount their varied experiences since they parted the night before, and rapturously expatiate on the delights of a coming excursion or promised picnic. With a good-bye kiss, I launch my own little ones, bonneted, sacqued, and ballasted with books, like the rest, into the stream of childhood that is setting in a strong, full current toward the schoolroom. I then catch the first street-car and hasten to the rooms of the Northwestern Sanitary Commission.

    Early as is my arrival, a dray is already ahead of me, unloading its big boxes and little boxes, its barrels and firkins, its baskets and bundles. The sidewalk is barricaded with the nondescript and multiform packages, which John, the faithful porter, with his inseparable truck, is endeavoring to stow away in the crowded receiving-room. Here, hammers and hatchets, wedges and chisels are in requisition, compelling the crammed

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boxes to disgorge their heterogeneous contents' which are rapidly assorted, stamped, repacked, and reshipped, their stay in the room rarely exceeding a few hours.

    I enter the office. Ladies are in waiting, desirous of information. The aid society in another state, of which they are officers, has raised at a Fourth of July festival some six hundred dollars, and they wish to know how to dispose of it, so as to afford the greatest amount of relief to the sick and wounded of our army. They were also instructed to investigate the means and methods of the Commission, so as to carry conviction to a few obstinate skeptics, who persist in doubting if the Sanitary Commission, after all, be the best means of communication with the hospitals. Patiently and courteously the history, methods, means, views, and successes of the Commission are lucidly explained for the hundredth time in a month, and all needed advice and instruction imparted; and the enlightened women leave.

    An express messenger enters. He presents a package, obtains his fee, gets a receipt for the package, and without a word departs.

    Next comes a budget of letters-the morning's mail. One announces the shipment of a box of hospital stores which will arrive to-day. Another scolds roundly because an important letter sent a week ago has not been answered, while a copy of the answer in the copying-book is indisputable proof that it has received attention, but has in some way miscarried. A third narrates a bugaboo story of surgeons and nurses in a distant hospital, with gluttonous habits, who are mainly occupied in "seeking what they can devour "of the hospital delicacies, so that little is

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saved for their patients. A fourth pleads passionately that the writer may be sent as a nurse to the sad, cheerless, most poorly furnished and far-away hospitals.

    A fifth is the agonized letter of a mother and widow, blistered with tears, begging piteously that the Commission will search out and send to her tidings of her only son, who has not been heard from since the battle of Grand Gulf. A sixth asks assistance in organizing the women of a distant town, who have just awakened to their duty to their brothers in the field. A seventh is a letter from two nine-year-old girls, who have between them earned five dollars, and wish to spend it for the poor sick soldiers. An eighth begs that one of the ladies of the Commission will visit the aid society of the town in which the writer lives, and rekindle the flagging zeal of the tired ' workers. They propose to cease work during the hot weather, forgetting that our brave men halt not on their marches, and postpone not their battles, because of the heat or of weariness. A ninth announces the death of one of our heroic nurses, who was sent by the Commission a few months ago to Tennessee -- a serious, comely girl, with heart as true as steel, and soul on fire with patriotic desire to do something for her country, and who has now given her life. And so on through a package of twenty, thirty, forty, sometimes fifty letters; and this is but one mail of the day.

    Now begins the task of replying to these multitudinous epistles -- a work which is interrupted every five minutes by some new comer. A venerable man enters, walking slowly, and my heart warms towards him. I remember my aged father, a thousand miles

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away, who is, like him, white-haired and feeble. He has been here before, and I immediately recognize him.

This is a part of war.

    "Have you heard anything yet from my son in Van Buren Hospital, at Milliken's Bend? "

    "Not yet, sir; you know it is only nine days since I wrote to inquire for him. I will telegraph if you think best."

    "No matter;"and the old man's lip quivers, his figure trembles violently, a sob chokes him, his eyes fill with tears, as with a deprecating wave of the hand he says, "No matter now!"

    I understand it all. It is all over with his boy, and the cruel tidings have reached him. I rise and offer my hand. He encloses it convulsively in his, leans his head against the iron column near my desk, and his tears drop steadily.

    "Your son has only gone a little before you,"I venture to say; "only a hand's breadth of time between you now."

    "Yes,"adds the poor old father; "and he gave his life for a good cause -- a cause worthy of it if he had been a thousand times dearer to me than he was."

    "And your boy's mother -- how does she bear this grief ? "

    The tears rain down his checks now.

    "It will kill her; she is very feeble."

    Sympathy and comfort are proffered the poor father, and after a little the sorrowing man turns again to his desolate home.

    A childish figure drags itself into the room, shuffles heavily along, drops into a chair, and offers a letter. I open the letter and read. He is a messenger-boy from Admiral Porter's gunboats, who is

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sent North with the request that the child be properly cared for. Not thirteen years old, and yet he has been in many battles, and has run the gauntlet of the Vicksburg batteries, which for ten miles belched forth red-hot and steel-pointed shot and shell, in fruitless efforts to sink the invulnerable ironclads. Fever, too much medicine, neglect, and exposure, have done their worst for the little fellow, who has come North, homeless and friendless, with the right side paralyzed. He is taken to the Soldiers' Home, and for the present is consigned to the motherly care of the good ladies who preside there.

    A bevy of nurses enter next with carpet-bags, shawls, and bundles. A telegram from the Commission has summoned them, for the hospitals at Memphis need them, and straightway they have girded themselves to the work. One is a widow, whose husband fell at Shiloh; another is the wife of a lieutenant at Vicksburg; a third lost her brother at Chancellorsville; a fourth has no family ties, and there is no one to miss her while absent, or to mourn her if she never returns. They receive their instructions, commissions, and transportation, and hurry onward.

    Ah! that white, anxious face, whiter than ever, is again framed in the doorway. Is there no possible escape from it? One, two, three, four days she has haunted these rooms, waiting the answer to the telegram despatched to Gettysburg, where her son was wounded ten days ago. The answer to the telegram is this moment in my pocket-how shall I repeat its stern message to the white-faced, sorrow-stricken mother ? I involuntarily leave my desk, and bustle about, as if in search of something, trying to think

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how to break the news. I am spared the effort, for the morning papers have announced her bereavement, and she has only come to secure the help of the Commission in obtaining possession of her dead. There are no tears, no words of grief ; only a still agony, a repressed anguish, which it is painful to witness. Mr. Freeman accompanies her to the railroad officials, where his pleading story wins the charity of a free pass for the poor woman to the military line. There she must win her way, aided by the letters of endorsement and recommendation we give her. Bowing under her great sorrow, she goes forth on her sacred pilgrimage.

    Soldiers from the city hospitals visit us, to beg a shirt, a pair of slippers, a comb, or a well-filled pincushion, something interesting to read, or paper, envelopes, and stamps, to answer letters from wives, mothers, and sweethearts. They tarry to talk over their trials, sufferings, and privations, and their anxiety to get well and join their regiments, which is better than being cooped up in a hospital, even when it is a good one. They are praised heartily, petted in motherly fashion as if they were children, which most sick men become, urged to come again, and sent back altogether lighter-hearted than when they came.

    So the day wears away. More loaded drays drive to the door with barrels of crackers, ale, pickles, sauerkraut, and potatoes, with boxes of shirts, drawers, condensed milk and beef, with bales of cotton and flannel for the sewing-room, all of which are speedily disposed of, to make room for the arrivals of the morrow. Men and women come and go -- to visit, to make inquiries, to ask favors, to offer services, to criticise and find

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fault, to bring news from the hospitals at Vicksburg, Memphis, Murfreesboro' and Nashville, to make inquiries for missing men through the Hospital Directory of the Commission, to make donations of money, always needed, to retail their sorrows, and sometimes to idle away an hour in the midst of the hurrying, writing, copying, mailing, packing and shipping of this busy place.

    The sun declines westward, its fervent heat is abating, and the hands of the clock point to the hour of six, and sometimes to seven. Wearied in body, exhausted mentally, and saturated with the passing streams of others' sorrows, I select the letters which must be answered by to-morrow morning's mail, replies to which have been delayed by the interruptions of the day, and again hail the street-car, which takes me to my home.

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100. Gifts for the Soldiers
By MARY ASHTON LIVERMORE (1863)

    A POOR girl, who called herself a tailoress, came one day to the rooms of the Commission.

    "I do not feel right,"she said, "that I am doing nothing for our soldiers in the hospitals. I must do something immediately. Which do you prefer-that I should give money, or buy material and manufacture it into hospital clothing ? "

    "You must be governed by your circumstances,"was the answer made her. "We need both money and supplies, and you must do that which is most convenient for you."

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    "I prefer to give money, if it will do as much good."

    "Very well, then, give money. We need it badly, and without it cannot do what is most necessary for our brave men."

    "I will give the Commission my net earnings for the next two weeks. I would give more, but my mother is an invalid, and I help support her. Usually I make but one vest a day, as I do I custom work,' and am well paid for it. But these next two weeks, which belong to the soldiers, I shall work earlier and later."

    In two weeks she came again, the poor sewing girl, with a radiant face. Opening her porte-monnaie, she counted out nineteen dollars and thirty-seven cents. She had stitched into the hours of midnight on every one of the working days of those two weeks.

    A little girl, not nine years old, with sweet and timid grace, entered one afternoon, and laid a fivedollar gold piece on my desk. Half-frightened, she told its story. "My uncle gave me that before the war, and I was going to keep it always. But he's got killed in the army, and now mother says I may give it to the soldiers if I want to -- and I'd like to. Will it buy much for them?"

    I led the child to the store-room, and pointed out to her what it would buy -- so many cans of condensed milk, or so many bottles of ale, or so many pounds of tea, or codfish. Her face brightened with pleasure. But when I explained that her five-dollar gold piece was equal then to seven and a half dollars in greenbacks, and told her how much comfort could be carried into a hospital with the amount of stores it would purchase, she fairly danced for joy. "Why, my five dollars will do lots of good, won't it?"

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    Folding her hands before her in a charmingly earnest way, she begged me to tell her something that I had seen in the hospitals. A narration of a few touching events, such as would not too severely shock the child, but which showed the necessity of continued benevolence to the hospitals, brought tears to her eyes, and the resolution to her lips, to "get all the girls to save their money to buy things for the wounded soldiers."And away she ran, happy in the luxury of doing good.

    A little urchin who often thrust his unkempt pate into the room, with the shrill cry of "Matches! Matches! "had stood a little apart, watching the girl, and listening to the conversation. As she disappeared, he fumbled in his pockets, and drew out a small handful of crumpled fractional currency, such as was then in use. "Here,"said he, "I'll give yer suthin' for them are sick fellers! "And he put fiftyfive cents in my hand, all in five-cent currency. I was surprised, and hesitated.

    "No, my boy, don't give it. I am afraid you cannot afford it. You're a noble little fellow, but that is more than you ought to give. You keep it, and I'll give fifty-five cents for you -- or somebody else will."

    "Git eout! "was his disgusted commentary on my proposal. " Yer take it, now. P'raps I ain't so poor as yer think. My father, he saws wood, and my mother, she takes in washin', and I sells matches, and Tom, he sells papers, and p'raps we've got more money than yer think. Our Bob, he'd a gone to the war hisself, but he got his leg cut off on the railroad, in a smash-up. He was a brakeman, yer see. You take this, now! "

    I took the crumpled currency. I forgot the boy's

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dirty face and tattered cap; I forgot that I had called the little tatterdemalion a "nuisance"every day for months, when he had caused me to jump from my seat with his shrill, unexpected cry of "Matches!"and I actually stooped to kiss him.

    He divined my intention and darted out on the sidewalk as if he had been shot.

    "No, yer don't! "he said, shaking his tangled head at me, and looking as if he had escaped a great danger. "I ain't one o' that kissin' sort! "

    Ever after, when he met me, he gave me a wide berth, and walked off the sidewalk into the gutter, eyeing me with a suspicious, sidelong glance, as though he suspected I still thought of kissing him. If I spoke to him, he looked at me shyly and made no reply. But if I passed him without speaking, he challenged me with a hearty "Hullo, yer! "that brought me to an instant halt.

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101. A Too Successful Tombola
By ELIZA RIPLEY (1862)

    IN the neighboring city of Baton Rouge we organized the Campaign Sewing Society: its very title shows how transient we regarded the emergency; how little we deemed the campaign would develop into a four years' war. There many of us received our first lessons in the intricacies of coats and pantaloons. I so well remember when, in the glory of my new acquirements, I proudly made a pair of cottonade trousers for a brother we were fitting out in surpassing style for service, my embarrassment and This piece describes the Southern organizations for the Confederate soldiers.

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consternation when I overheard him slyly remark to my husband that he had to stand on his head to button them -- they lapped the wrong way! Stockings had also to be provided, and expert knitters found constant work. By wearing a knitting bag at my side, and utilizing every moment, I was by no means

CONFEDERATE MONEY.

the only one able to turn off a coarse cotton stocking, with a rather short leg, every day.

    From the factory in our little city -- the only one, by the way, of any size or importance in the state we procured the cloth required for suits, but in the lapse of time, the supply of buttons, thread, needles, and tape, in fact of all the little accessories of the sewing room, was exhausted, and to replenish the stock our thoughts and conversation were necessarily

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turned into financial channels. I cordially recommend to societies and impecunious institutions the scheme in all its entirety that we adopted, as vastly superior to the ordinary and much maligned fair; the plan was the offspring of necessity; the demand was so instant and urgent that we could undertake no fair or entertainment that involved time, work, or expense.

    A tombola, where every article is donated and every ticket draws a prize, was the happy result of numerous conferences. The scheme was discussed with husbands and brothers; each suggested an advancement or improvement on the other, until the project expanded so greatly, including all classes and conditions of donors, that it was quickly found that not only a large hall, but a stable and a warehouse would also be required to bold the contributions, which embraced every imaginable article from a toothpick to a cow!

    The hall was soon overflowing with minor articles from houses and shops. Nothing was either too costly or too insignificant to be refused : a glass show-case glittered with jewelry of all styles and patterns, and bits of rare old silver; pictures, and engravings, old and faded, new and valuable, hung side by side on the walls ; odd pieces of furniture, work-boxes, lamps and candelabra were arranged here and there, to stand out in bold relief amid an immense array of pencils, tweezers, scissors, penknives, tooth-picks, darning needles, and such trifles; the stalls of the stable were tenanted by mules, cows, hogs with whole litters of pigs, and varieties of poultry; the warehouse groaned tinder the weight of barrels of sugar, molasses, and rice, and bushels of meal, potatoes, turnips and corn. Tickets for a chance at this A tombola is a kind of raffle.

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miscellaneous collection sold for one dollar each. As is ever the case, the blind goddess is capricious : with the exception of an old negro woman who won a set of pearls, I cannot remember anyone who secured a prize worth the price of the ticket. I invested in twenty tickets, for which I received nineteen leadpencils and a frolicsome old goat, with beard hanging down to his knees, and horns like those which brought down the walls of Jericho. Need I add that the general commanding refused to receive that formidable animal at Arlington ?

    The tombola was a grand, an overwhelming success; without one dollar of outlay -- the buildings and necessary printing bad been donated -- we made six thousand dollars. Before this sum could be sent to New Orleans, that city was in the hands of its captors.

    Thus cut off from the means of securing necessary supplies, and at the same time for facilities for communication. with those whom we sought to aid, the Campaign Sewing Society sadly disbanded. The busy workers retired to their own houses, the treasurer fled with the funds for safe-keeping, and, when she emerged from her retreat, six thousand dollars in Confederate paper was not worth six cents.

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102. "I am a Southern Girl"

Dress goods of all kinds were very scarce and dear in the South during the war.

OH, Yes, I am a Southern girl
     And glory in the name,
And boast it with far greater pride
     Than glittering wealth or fame.
We envy not the Northern girl
     With robes of beauty rare,
Though diamonds grace her snowy neck
     And pearls bedeck her hair.


Hurrah, hurrah,
     For the Sunny South so dear,
Three cheers for the homespun dress
     That Southern ladies wear!


The homespun dress is plain, I know,
     My hat's palmetto, too,
But then it shows what Southern girls
     For Southern rights will do.
We have sent the bravest of our land
     To battle with the foe
And we will lend a helping hand;
     We love the South, you know.


Now, Northern goods are out of date
     And since old Abe's blockade,
We Southern girls can be content
     With goods all Southern made.
We sent our sweethearts to the war,
     But, dear girls, never mind,
Your soldier love will ne'er forget
     The girl he left behind.

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The soldier is the lad for me,
     A brave heart I adore;
And when the Sunny South is free,
     And when the fight's no more,
I'll choose me then a lover brave
     From out the gallant band;
The soldier lad I love the best
     Shall have my heart and hand.


The Southern land's a glorious land,
     And has a glorious cause;
Then cheer, three cheers for Southern rights
     And for the Southern boys,
We'll scorn to wear a bit of silk,
     A bit of Northern lace,
And make our homespun dresses up,
     And wear them with such grace.


And now, young men, a word to you:
     If you would win the fair,
Go to the field where honor calls,
     And win your lady there.
Remember that our brightest smiles
     Are for the true and brave,
And that our tears are all for those
     Who fill a soldier's grave.

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103. The Yankee Wounded
By B. ESTVAN (1863)

    I TOOK a great interest in the fate of the poor wounded prisoners in the hospitals at Richmond, firstly, because, owing to the animosity which prevailed

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against the Yankees, I fancied they would not be much cared for; and, secondly, because I was aware, that, even with the best intentions, the Government could not do much for so many as thirty thousand wounded men. Richmond, at that time, had the appearance of a great hospital. Every public building was filled with the sick and wounded. Many of the patients had never been in action. Bad food, insufficient clothing, and want of proper attention had brought them into a state of disease. Two surgeons to attend upon six hundred patients were all I found in one hospital; happily, among the prisoners there were a few medical men, who did what they could to alleviate the suffering of their comrades. I shuddered at the spectacle I had to witness; the wounds of many had not been attended to, and their clothing was stiff from clotted blood. I did what I could to improve their condition, I went from bed to bed, promising to exert all my influence in their favor, and many a poor fellow looked me his silent thanks.

    I called upon General Winder to represent the case of these unfortunate men. Whilst every attention was paid to our own wounded and sick by the inhabitants, the unfortunate prisoners were allowed to rot and die. General Winder could not withstand my appeal, and promised me his assistance. I then appealed to the German and Irish population to come forward and do something for the poor prisoners, and in a few hours that appeal was responded to. I myself sent everything I could spare from my ward. robe. Many a bottle of wine and parcel of lint, prepared by German ladies, now found their way to the hospitals, and the Irish population, with their natural good nature, brought all the linen they could spare

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to the surgeons of the prisoners. When it is considered that the persons who did this ran the risk of being arrested by the secret police, the very smallest gifts rank as great sacrifices, for even a glance of pity at a poor sick enemy would have brought them under the suspicion of being traitors to their country. In a few days some sort of system was introduced into the prisoners' hospital. The sick were attended to and waited upon, received changes of linen, and were cheered with the hope of recovery. Many a tear rolled down their pale checks, and many a blessing was bestowed on me on the day when I took leave of them, and I left with the conviction that I had preserved the life of many a brave fellow.

    After the seven days' fight before Richmond, hundreds of wounded, friend and foe, were brought into Richmond, where for a long time they were left exposed to a broiling sun upon the platform of the railway station. I went with a friend of mine, Captain Travers, son of an admiral in the Confederate fleet, to the station, to render help. Owing to the destruction of the Merrimac, Captain Travers was out of employment, and was in plain clothes. Captain Travers was a fine-looking man, had travelled far, and was a perfect gentleman. When we reached the station, the greatest confusion prevailed; groups of wounded lay in all directions, a number of benevolent ladies, with their black servants, were distributing tea, coffee, chocolate, and broth, to the wounded.

    However, I soon observed that they took no notice of many of the sufferers. Some one touched my spur, and on looking down, I beheld one of those ghastly faces which can never be forgotten. It was that of a stately-looking soldier of the enemy, in full uniform.

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    "You are a German officer,"he said. "Yes, comrade,"I replied; and his eye brightened. "Then I beg of you, most earnestly," he said, "to get me a cup of coffee."Both Travers and myself immediately went up to a lady who belongs to one of the best families of the South, and who had just passed the poor fellow by, without taking any notice of him. 11 Madam St. Clair,"I said, "will you give me a cup of coffee for a wounded man ? ""Oh, certainly,"she said, and her servant handed me a cup. I hastened back, but whilst I was stooping down to give it to the wounded man, some one pulled me by the sleeve, and to my astonishment, it was Mrs. St. Clair, who, in a harsh voice, asked me if I was aware I was helping a miserable Yankee. " No, madam,"I replied, "I do not know that, but I know that he is a brave soldier, as is proved by his wounds."At the same time I gave this prejudiced woman a look of scorn, which made her beat a hasty retreat, and I then gave the coffee to the wounded man. Tears ran down his furrowed, sunburnt cheeks, and having somewhat recovered himself, he whispered to me, " I am a Swiss; I served for ten years in the Kabermatter regiment at Naples, but never thought I should die in such a hole as this."I endeavored to console him as best I could.

    Captain Travers now arrived with a basket of strawberries, and pressing some between his fingers, put them into the poor fellow's mouth. Whilst thus occupied, a man seized him by the arm, and said, "I arrest you."It was one of the police agents. Captain Travers drew himself up to his full height, "On what ground?"he said. "Because you are helping the enemy,"he replied, "and all the ladies here are

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talking about it.""If it is your intention to arrest me, you can do your vile work at the American Hotel, where I am staying. My name is Captain Travers."As if he had been bitten by a snake, the miserable wretch started back, pleaded duty and the instigation of the ladies as his excuse, and went away.

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104. A Nurse's Experience
By LOUISA MAY ALCOTT (1862)

    PRESENTLY Miss Blank tore me from my refuge behind piles of one-sleeved shirts, odd socks, bandages and lint; put basin, sponge, towels, and a block of brown soap into my hands with these appalling directions :

    "Come, my dear, begin to wash as fast as you can. Tell them to take off socks, coats, and shirts, scrub them well, put on clean shirts, and the attendants will finish them off, and lay them in bed."

    If she had requested me to shave them all, or dance a hornpipe on the stove funnel, I should have been less staggered; but to scrub some dozen lords of creation at a moment's notice, was really really -- . However, there was no time for nonsense, and having resolved when I came to do everything I was bid, I drowned my scruples in my wash-bowl, clutched my soap manfully, and assuming a businesslike air, made a dab at the first dirty specimen I saw, bent on performing my task vi et armis if necessary. I chanced to light on a withered old Irishman, wounded in the head, which caused that portion of his frame to be tastefully laid out like a garden, the It is worth while to know how much our fathers endured in the Civil War and how terrible war is.

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bandages being the walks, his hair the shubbery. He was so overpowered by the honor of having a lady wash him, as he expressed it, that he did nothing but roll up his eyes, and bless me, in an irresistible style which was too much for my sense of the ludicrous;

A NORTHERN BELLE.

so we laughed together, and when I knelt down to take off his shoes, he "flopped "also and wouldn't hear of my touching " them dirty craters. May your bed above be aisy darlin' for the day's work ye are doing! -- Woosh! there ye are, and

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bedad, it's hard tellin' which is the dirtiest, the fut or the shoes."It was, and if he hadn't been to the fore, I should have gone on pulling under the impression that the "fut " was a boot, for trousers, socks, shoes, and legs were a mass of mud. This comical tableau produced a general grin, at which propitious beginning I took heart, and scrubbed away like any tidy parent on a Saturday night. Some of them took the performance like sleepy children, leaning their tired heads against me while I worked, others looked grimly scandalized, and several of the roughest colored like bashful girls. One wore a soiled little bag about his neck, and as I moved it to bathe his wounded breast, I said: --

    "Your talisman didn't save you, did it?"

    "Well, I reckon it did, marm, for that shot would have gone a couple of inches deeper but for my old mammy's camphor bag,"answered the cheerful philosopher.

    Another, with a gun shot through the cheek, asked for a looking-glass, and when I brought one, regarded his swollen face with a dolorous expression, as he muttered: --

    "I vow that's bad! I warn't a bad looking chap before, and now I'm done for. Won't there be a thundering scar? and what on earth will Josephine Skinner say?"

    He looked at me with his one eye so appealingly that I controlled my laughter, and assured him that if Josephine was a girl of sense, she would admire the honorable scar, as a lasting proof that he had faced the enemy, for all women thought a wound the best decoration a brave soldier could wear.

    The next scrubbee was a nice looking lad, with

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a curly brown mane. and a budding trace of gingerbread over the lip, which he called his beard, and defended stoutly when the barber jocosely suggested its immolation. He lay on a bed with one leg gone and the right arm so shattered that it must evidently follow; yet the little Sergeant was as merry as if his afflictions were not worth lamenting over, and when a drop or two of salt water mingled with my suds at the sight of this strong young body so marred and maimed, the boy looked up with a brave smile though there was a little quiver on the lips, as he said: --

    "Now don't you fret yourself about me., miss; I'm first rate here, for it's nuts to lie still on this bed, after knocking about in those confounded ambulances, that shake what there is left of a fellow to jelly. I never was in one of these places before, and think this cleaning up a jolly thing for us, though I'm afraid it isn't for you ladies."

    "Is this you're first battle, Sergeant ?

    "No, miss; I've been in six scriminages, and never got a scratch till this last one; but it's done the business pretty thoroughly for me, I should say. Lord! What a scramble there will be for arms and legs when we old boys come out of our graves on judgment Day. Wonder if we shall get our own again? If we do, my leg will have to tramp from Fredericksburg, my arm from here, I suppose, and meet my body, wherever it may be."

    The fancy seemed to tickle him mightily, for be laughed blithely, and so did I; which, no doubt, causes the new nurse to be regarded as a light-minded sinner by the Chaplain, who roamed vaguely about, informing the men that they were all worms, corrupt

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of heart, with perishable bodies, and souls only to be saved by a diligent perusal of certain tracts, and other equally cheering bits of spiritual consolation, when spirituous ditto would have been preferred.

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105. In the Hospital
By JAMES KENDALL HOSMER (1863)

    My first visit to the hospital put me face to face with its gloomiest spectacles. A mail had come, and

IN THE HOSPITAL.

it fell to me to distribute to the patients their letters. I had been giving letters to well men, had my own pocket full, was happy myself, and had come from among men as happy as men ever are; for I have discovered the secret of happiness to be hidden in

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mail-bags. I rushed up the stairs leading to the second story of the building, the rooms of which are used as part of the hospital. Two or three doors were before me. I opened the first, and found myself alone in the presence of a corpse. It was the body of a man who had died the night before. He lay in full soldier's dress, decently brushed coat with military buttons, and with a white cloth covering the face. He was buried in the afternoon; the regiment drawn up in a hollow square, solemnly silent, while the service was performed: then standing reverently while the body and its escort with the muffled drum moved to the burial. I have heard of the wail of the fife, but never made it real to myself until then, when across the parade-ground, down the street, then from the distance, came the notes of the Dead March.

    In the next room to the one in which lay the corpse, the floor was covered with pale, sick men. Now they have rough bedsteads or bunks; but then there was nothing but the mattress under them, and sometimes only the blankets. One or two attendants, as many as could be spared from the regiment, had the care of the whole; but they were far too few. One poor man was in a sad way, with inflammatory rheumatism, which made it very painful for him to stir; -- crouching, wrapped up in blankets over the fire, or stretched out on a floor. God pity the world if it has sights in it more melancholy than a military hospital!

    The hospital of our regiment is only in part located in these rooms, of which I have been writing. Most of the patients (I am sorry to write, they are very numerous) are in a larger building, once a hotel, which lies a few rods outside the lines. Well do I know the

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road thither now, by night or day, by storm or sunshine; for, after the doctor's visits, it is my work to go to the hospital-steward after the medicines and comforts for my sick men. How many times already have I climbed the steep clay bank of the parapet, then slid down into the ditch outside! -- a hill of difficulty in bad weather, when one's feet slip from under him in the slimy soil. The old bar-room of the hotel is now the hospital-kitchen and head-quarters of the surgeon and steward. Above the bar is a flaring gilt sign, "Rainbow Saloon"; and below it, along the shelves which once held the liquors, are arranged the apothecary stores of the regiment. The steward is constantly busy, -- one of the hardestworked men in the regiment, I believe; for he prepares pills and powders by the thousand, and the rattle of his pestle is almost constant.

    In the rooms above lie the sick men, and in one apartment the surgeon is quartered. Every morning, just at light, "surgeon's call"is beaten; and from each company a sergeant marches off at the head of a long line of sick men to be prescribed for. These men are unwell, but not so badly off as to be obliged to leave their ordinary quarters for the accommodations of the hospital.

    Let us go up stairs into this second story. At the head of the staircase, the door of a room is ajar; and I see the bed on which generally is lying one of the sickest patients of the hospital, some man near to death, -- a comfortable, canopied bed, a death-bed for numbers. To-night, poor Paine, of our company, who died a little while ago, has just been laid out there. An entry runs north and south, from which, on each side, open the doers of other sick-rooms,

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where men with fever and dysentery, with agues, and racking, lung-shattering coughs, lie stretched on mattresses. Here is one with ghastly fever-light in his eyes; there, one pale and hollow-checked. Wrapped to the chin in blankets, some are; some parched with the fire of disease, -- their buttons and gay dress-coats, the finery in which they used to appear at dress-parade, hanging forlornly overhead.

    The nurses, too, looked jaded and worn: and no wonder; for, with a dismal contagion, the torpor and weariness in the faces about will communicate itself to the attendants and visitors, and the most cheerful countenance can hardly help becoming forlorn. Our chaplain and colonel (both good, energetic, and useful men) make it part of their daily duty to go to every couch, and befriend the poor fellows lying there; and their visits are the golden hours of the day at the hospital, -- waited and prayed for. The doctor's apartment is large. In one corner are piled up the "stretchers,"the cots with handles, which are meant to carry wounded men off the field. At daybreak, each day, this room is filled with the procession which answers the surgeon's call.

    Now I am a nurse in the hospital; though in the room, my " ward,"I have only two patients, and can make things more comfortable than in most of the rooms. Only two patients: but they both have this terrible fever; and I fear (God knows how much!) for this young brother. Yet I must veil my apprehension. To-night, a letter must be sent North. My heart is sinking; but I must counterfeit light, heartedness, lest they take alarm.

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106. Barbara Frietchie
JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER (1863)

An incident actually occurred in Fredericksburg which suggested this poem, by the Quaker poet; the details are all changed.

Up from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,


The cluster'd spires of Frederick stand
Green-wall'd by the bills of Maryland.


Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple-and peach-trees fruited deep.


Fair as the garden of the Lord
To the eyes of the famish'd rebel horde,


On that pleasant morn of the early fall,
When Lee march'd over the mountain-wall, --


Over the mountains winding down,
Horse and foot, into Frederick town.


Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,


Flapp'd in the morning wind: the sun
Of noon look'd down, and saw not one.


Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bow'd with her fourscore years and ten;


Bravest of all in Frederick town,
She took up the flag the men haul'd down.


In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet.

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Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.


Under his slouch'd hat left and right
He glanced: the old flag met his sight.


"Halt!"the dust-brown ranks stood fast
"Fire!"out blazed the rifle blast.


It shiver'd the window, pane and sash;
It rent the banner with seam and gash.


Quick, as it fell from the broken staff,
Dame Barbara snatch'd the silken scarf.


She lean'd far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.


"Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
But spare your country's flag,"she said.


A shade of sadness, a blush of shame
Over the face of the leader came.


The nobler nature within him stirr'd
To life at that woman's deed and word


"Who touches a hair of yon gray head
Dies like a dog! March on!"he said.


All day long through Frederick street
Sounded the tread of marching feet:


All day long that free flag tost
Over the heads of the rebel host.

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Ever its torn folds rose and fell
On the loyal winds that loved it well;


And through the hill-gaps sunset light
Shone over it with a warm good-night.


Barbara Frietchie's work is o'er,
And the rebel rides on his raids no more,


Honor to her! and let a tear
Fall, for her sake, on Stonewall's bier.


Over Barbara Frietchie's grave,
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave


Peace and order and beauty draw
Round thy symbol of light and law;


And ever the stars above look down
On thy stars below in Frederick town!

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107. A Midnight Flight
BY ELIZA RIPLEY (1862)

    THE only exact date I can remember, and that I never forget, was the 17th of December.

    The weather was warm for the season, a thick fog hung over the river, obscuring objects only a few yards distant. As I stood by the window, in the early morning, completing my toilet, the white, misty curtain rolled up like a scroll, revealing a fleet of gunboats. Far as the eye could reach, up and down and around our point, the river was bristling with An account of the leaving of a plantation on the Mississippi River.

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gayly flagged transports, anchored mid-stream, waiting for the dissipation of the mist to proceed. In a twinkling all was excitement with the hurry and bustle of our immediate departure.

    A breakfast eaten "on the fly "as it were, a rushing here and there, and packing of necessaries for our journey, God only knew whither, we did not care where, so we escaped a repetition of scenes that had made us old before our time, and life a constant excitement that was burning us up. William was despatched to the city on a tour of observation. He returned, to report ten thousand men and the most warlike demonstrations that the darky's genius could invent; pickets to be stationed away beyond Arlington, and all of us to be embraced within the lines and made to "toe de mark.""Mars Jim, and every white man what harbored a Confederate soldier de time of de fight, was to be tuk prisoner."The more William told, the more he remembered to tell; and, long before he was through with his recital, I was perplexed, bewildered, and almost distracted.

    The negro men were summoned from their quarters to help load the wagon. We put in cooking utensils, some dishes and plates, bedding and a small mattress, a few kegs and boxes of necessary provisions, a trunk of clothing, some small bags and bundles -- that was all.

    The mules safely locked in the stable, the harnesses all ready to slip on, extra straps and ropes thrown into the wagon -- too excited to sleep, we threw ourselves on our beds for the last time; too tired to talk, sore at heart; too worn out to weep. There we lay in a fitful and uneasy slumber. In the dead stillness of the night there came a low tap at our chamber

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door. "Mars Jim! "My husband was on his feet with a bound. "Your niggers is all gone to de Yankees; de pickets is on our place, and dey done told your niggers you would be arrested at daylight."The speaker was head sugar maker on an adjoining plantation, himself a slave. "Call Dominick and tell him to get my buggy ready while I put on some clothes,"was the only response. I lighted the candle and hurried my husband off -- , while he whispered directions for me to join him immediately after breakfast at the house of a neighbor, five miles back of us, which he could speedily reach by going through the woods, and to have one of the men drive the wagon, and one drive the ambulance through the'longer but better wagon-road.

    That was all -- and he was gone. I did not lie down again, but wandered around in an aimless sort of way, too distracted to do a useful or sensible thing.

    At the first appearance of dawn I aroused William to prepare breakfast, and Charlotte to get the table ready. Before the children were awake, I was down at the stable, having William and Willy hitch up the teams. I saw with half an eye that William was not in sympathy with our plans, and knew intuitively that my husband distrusted him. He who had been my husband's valet in his gay bachelor days and our confidential servant, our very aid and help in all my bright married life, had had his poor woolly head turned by that one trip to town, and asserted his independence at the first shadow of provocation. William failing me, I knew I must seek other help.

    Being ready and eager to start, I immediately went down to the quarters, a half-mile distant; there I waited, going from cabin to cabin, and walked to the William wanted to be free.

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dwelling-house and back again. Willy stood by the hitched-up teams, and Sabe, near by, held the baby in her arms, while little Henry clung to her skirts. Then back to the quarters. This man "had a misery in his back -- had had it ever since the crevasse " ; that man "never druv in his life -- didn't I know he was de engineer?"Another man "wouldn't drive old Sall-she was de balkiest mule on de place; you won't get a mile from here 'fore she takes de contraries, and won't budge a step."

    I could have sat down and wept my very heart out. It was long past noon; the harnessed mules had to be fed, and William made out to say: "We had better take a little snack, and give it up; if we stayed home, Mars Jim would come back; the Yankees didn't have nothin' 'gin him."

    At last old Dave said he "warn't no hand wid mules, but he 'lowed he could tackle old Sal till she balked."There was no time for bargaining for another driver now. I caught at Dave's offer before he knew it, only stopping long enough to bid all the deluded creatures a hasty goodby.

    Dave was hurried by my rapid steps back to the stable, and Sabe came out with the tired children. just as I thought we were fairly off, William announced, "Sence you was gone a Yankee gunboat is cum down, and I see it's anchored 'tween us and Kernel Hickey's."A peep around the corner of the house confirmed the truth of his statement. Hastily grasping a carpet-bag, lying ready packed in the ambulance, I ascended to my bedroom, took from it two large pockets quilted thick with jewels which I secured about my person, while Charlotte put the breakfast forks and spoons in the bottom of the bag.

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When I returned to the teams, everybody was standing about, apparently waiting to see what "Miss 'Lize "would do now. Summoning every effort to command a voice whose quaver must have betrayed my intense emotion, I directed Willy to mount the wagon, a few last baskets and packages were tossed into the ambulance, and Henry's little pony tied behind. I got in, then the little ones and Sabe; Dave shambled into his place in front; the curtain cutting off the driver's seat was carefully rolled up, so I could have an unobstructed view, and Willy was told to lead the way.

    So I rode away from Arlington, leaving the sugarhouse crowded to its utmost capacity with the entire crop of sugar and molasses of the previous year for which we had been unable to find a market within 96 our lines,"leaving cattle grazing in the fields, sheep wandering over the levee, doors and windows flung wide open, furniture in the rooms, clothes too fine for me to wear now hanging in the armoires, china in the closets, pictures on the walls, beds unmade, table spread. It was late in the afternoon of that bright, clear, bracing day, December 18, 1862, that I bade Arlington adieu forever.

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108. The Johnny Reb's Epistle to the Ladies
By W. E. M. (1862)

Quarter-master's.

YE Southern maids and ladies fair,
     Of whatsoe'r degree,
A moment stop -- a moment spare
     And listen unto me.

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The summer's gone, the frosts have come,
     The winter draweth near,
And still they march to fife and drum --
     Our armies I do you hear?


Give heed then to the yarn I spin,
     Who says that -- it is coarse?
At your fair feet I lay the sin,
     The thread of my discourse.

   

A CONFEDERATE SPY.

To speak of shoes, it boots not here;
     Our Q. M's, wise and good,
Give cotton calf-skins twice a year
     With soles of cottonwood.


Shoeless we meet the well-shod foe,
     And bootless him despise;
Sockless we watch, with bleeding toe,
     And him sockdologise!

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Perchance our powder giveth out,
     We fight them, then, with rocks;
With hungry craws we craw-fish not,
     But, then, we miss the socks.


Few are the miseries that we lack,
     And comforts seldom come;
What have I in my haversack?
     And what have you at home?


Fair ladies, then, if nothing loth,
     Bring forth your spinning wheels;
Knit not your brow -- but knit to clothe
     In bliss our blistered heels.


Do not you take amiss, dear miss,
     The burden of my yarn;
Alas! I know there's many a lass
     That doesn't care a darn.


But you can aid us if you will,
     And heaven will surely bless,
And Foote will vote to foot a bill
     For succouring our distress.


For all the socks the maids have made,
     My thanks, for all the brave;
And honoured be your pious trade,
     The soldier's sole to save.

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109. The Angel of the Battle-field
By SURGEON JAMES L. DUNN (1862)

Clara Barton, who lived to org nize relief for our soldiers in Cuba in 1898. Second Bull Run, July, 1862.

   THE Sanitary Commission, together with three or four noble, self-sacrificing women, have furnished everything that could be required. I will tell you of one of these women, a Miss Barton, the daughter of judge Barton, of Boston, Mass. I first met her at the battle of Cedar Mountain, where she appeared in front of the hospital at twelve o'clock at night, with a four-mule team loaded with everything needed, and at a time when we were entirely out of dressings of every kind; she supplied us with everything; and while the shells were bursting in every direction, took her course to the hospital on our right, where she found everything wanting again. After doing everything she could on the field, she returned to Culpepper, where she staid dealing out shirts to the naked wounded, and preparing soup, and seeing it prepared, in all the hospitals. I thought that night if Heaven ever sent out an angel, she must be one, her assistance was so timely. Well, we began our retreat up the Rappahannock. I thought no more of our lady friend, only that she had gone back to Washington. We arrived on the disastrous field of Bull Run; and while the battle was raging the fiercest on Friday, who should drive up in front of our hospital but this same woman, with her mules almost dead, having made forced marches from Washington to the army. She was again a welcome visitor to both the wounded and the surgeons.

    The battle was over, our wounded removed on Sunday, and we were ordered to Fairfax Station; we

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had hardly got there before the battle of Chantilly commenced, and soon the wounded began to come in. Here we had nothing but our instruments -- not even a bottle of wine. When the cars whistled up to the station, the first person on the platform was Miss Barton, to supply us again with bandages, brandy, wine, prepared soup, jellies, meal, and every article that could be thought of. She staid there until the last wounded soldier was placed on the cars, and then bade us good-by and left.

    I wrote you at the time how we got to Alexandria that night and next morning. Our soldiers had no time to rest after reaching Washington, but were ordered to Maryland by forced marches. Several days of hard marching brought us to Frederick, and the battle of South Mountain followed. The next day our army stood face to face with the whole force. The rattle of one hundred and fifty thousand muskets, and the fearful thunder of over two hundred cannon, told us that the great battle of Antietam had commenced. I was in a hospital in the afternoon, for it was then only that the wounded began to come in.

    We had expended every bandage, torn up every sheet in the house, and everything we could find, when who should drive up but our old friend Miss Barton, with a team loaded down with dressings of every kind, and everything we could ask for. She distributed her articles to the different hospitals, worked all night making soup, all the next day and night; and when I left, four days after the battle, I left her there ministering to the wounded and the dying. When I returned to the field hospital last week, she was still at work, supplying them with delicacies of every kind, and administering to their

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wants -- all of which she does out of her own private fortune. Now, what do you think of Miss Barton? In my feeble estimation, General McClellan, with all his laurels, sinks into insignificance beside the true heroine of the age -- the angel of the battle-field.

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